Some Memories.....of road repairs and atrocities

 November 2021

And they have done it again! 

Succeeded in maintaining their score of knock-down-one-cable-a-day! 

Barely a day after it was restored, with new cables and all, the #ChennaiCorporation sent that JCB, its weapon of destruction, and ripped apart the pole and cables of our Internet server. 

We had not had it for even 12 hours.

 And along the way, cut the Metro water connection supply of both our neighbors. 

And after all its rampaging, it sits on our road all night, in front of our house, waiting to pounce! 

I hope the Commissioner #GagandeepSinghBedi of #ChennaiCorporation takes note of the wanton and needless destruction caused by the undisciplined drivers of the JCB.

MY MOTHER’S NAVARATHRI KOLUS

Navarathri 1978, at our place in New Delhi, West Kidwai Nagar.

No colour pictures then, and even black and white pictures were rare, not everyone owned a camera.

Anyone who has celebrated Navarathri with a Kolu knows the amount of work entailed. The preparation for the Kolu starts days ahead. My mother made it a point to make new paper garlands every year for decoration, adding to the ones collected and saved from previous years. Creating them was an art in itself, and we would all be roped in to roll the coloured paper flowers. (Guess who was the lone recalcitrant roller.)  

The dolls would be arranged only on white sheets laid on the steps to set off their bright colours.  The steps were usually makeshift, set up with trunks and boxes, but nonetheless perfectly aligned.

And on either side of the steps would be what could be termed as ‘parks’. Mud was fetched in and spread, fast sprouting seeds like methi were scattered to create fields and grass. 

Nothing new, but my mother started this when I was about 7 or  8. Almost 70 years ago. And she made these Kolu happen for almost 40 years.  

One year she made small dolls out of white clay and painted them with costumes, including swimsuits, and placed them on a pool made out of a dish of water. I was 8 then, and I remember it so clearly. 

Maiji says she made her first kolu when I was two. A few dolls placed on a small table, over a lace tablecloth. And a small kolam. As I grew, so did the Kolu, and the Kolam.

My contribution in later years was to carry out her instructions, so I used to help with the making of cardboard cutouts like temple towers etc. and painting them.

Just seeing her go at it would exhaust me.

Even when the family grew and her responsibilities increased, and later with my father’s parents joining us, she did not lose her drive. 

She would make laddoos at home to distribute with the manjal / Haldi kukmkum. 

And these dolls travelled, wrapped carefully in old clothes and newspapers in their own trunk box, with us to wherever my father was transferred….from Delhi, to Trichy, to Chingleput, to Madras, to six years  in Pondy where Maiji had the grandest kolus, …and back to Delhi.

This picture , so representative of Maiji’s  spirit, was used with an article on Navarathri as celebrated by South Indians, in the Indian Express published from Delhi, in 1978.

HELP - LESS

It is an ongoing tussle between my domestic help Saroja and me.

I have told her to inform me if she is going to take a day off, so I am prepared mentally and somehow find the physical drive to do her chores. I never mind her taking the day off, (with her however it is invariably five days running) since she too has problems and may fall ill. It is just that she should let me know first thing in the morning.

 She always says yes, but from the time of the landline and 25 paise  per call from the public phone booth to now the days of the cell - she also has one  -  she never does. Giving her the telephone money to make calls never worked – she probably found a better use for it. Threats of cutting off the day’s wages never work either, she knows I won’t.

So there I remain, waiting till 8 am, and then going to our first floor balcony to check if she has cleaned the front gate and drawn the kolam – at which she is a champ. And if I see her kolam there or in our neigbour’s house, I relax and continue with my work in my office  - kitchen, that is.

But if she doesn’t then I have to start doing the vessels, clothes et al. And I do so with great energy and scolding her mentally for not calling early to let me know. Sometimes I have to fit the chores in to the schedule the days’ programme, like visits to the doctor, cooking for visitors and so on. My scoldings are no less vigorous than my hands as I scrub the vessels. And I tell myself, “Just wait till she comes, I’ll give her a piece of my mind for not calling me.”

On the second day, I am a little more prepared, for I have done the dishes the previous night, thinking if she comes she can do the rest of the work. No call, and she isn’t coming either. The clothes are scrubbed a little less vehemently, though the scoldings continue.

The third day I begin to wonder, while doing the floor, if the poor woman is very ill and can’t come to the phone, but then I tell myself, why can’t she ask someone else in the family to call. Her useless son is always hanging around outside our gate when she is working, instead of going about his job. Why can’t he come and tell me why his mother is absent, I grumble. High time I looked for another maid, I feel.

The fourth day comes but she doesn’t, and now I am weary with the chores, mine and hers, and begin to feel sorry for her, working here and in other homes, just doing the same tiresome chores to make enough money for her livelihood.

By the fifth day I am ready to fall on her neck and welcome her back.

No reprimands, no recriminations…..

FINALLY, THE FLOWERS

In full bloom

After a wait of five years, I got to catch this tree in full bloom today, with its soft cloud of yellow. I had tried to capture the way it bloomed for just a day, followed it day by day here.

Now I am content.

GRANNY'S LAMENT

I wrote this last year when my granddaughters came for a holiday with their parents, and left.
This year  my other grandchildren came and stayed, and left a couple of days ago.
Deja vu.

No screams
No tears.
No shouts,
No laughs.
No giggles,
No joy.
Granddaughters have left,
How empty is the nest

MOTIVATION........

Nothing works as well as flattery.

I fall for it, flatly, each time. 

Some weeks ago I had this lovely comment on my latest (then) blog.

 Aparna K.S. said...

"I enjoy your pics and words alike. Thought I will express it this way..."

Pleased with this remark, I took a peek at the link and was delighted to see that Aparna had seen fit to pass

on to me an award, which had been passed on to her from a blogger, in turn to be shared with ten other bloggers.

The award is the Liebster award, and  I quote from her post.

 “The Liebster Blog Award: Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, and

lovely. Started in Germany (probably) & is used to highlight new/recent/lesser known blogs or let say blogs

with less than 200 followers.(Though the original rules have changed a bit, the purpose is same - highlight

fellow bloggers' works and appreciate each other's works)

Here's a brief on how this award works:

*   Link back to the persons blog that have nominated you

*   Nominate 10 bloggers whom you feel are deserving of more subscribers & pass the award on to them.

*   Answer all questions posted by the nominator

*   Create 10 questions for the nominees

*   Contact the nominees and let them know that they have been nominated for the Liebster”

First things first. My nominator

http://ideaassortment.blogspot.in/2013/11/the-power-of-appreciation.html.

Thank you, Aparna.

And now my turn to nominate -  I am nominating the following bloggers  to pass the award on to. No, there are no ribbons or medals

or pretty tokens, sorry,  just the award.

Gowri 

Swathi

Sunitha 

Indrani 

Kamini 

 Next come the questions I have to answer. My answers in italics.

                1. If God gave you another chance to live your life all over again, which one thing would you like to

change?

                Occasions when I have been unintentionally rude to people.

               

                2 One act of kindness that you encountered.

                When a co-blogger chose me for an award and kick started me into blogging again.

               

                3One moment that you felt indebted to your creator…

                Always, for what He has given me.

               

                4 Is variety confusing?

                Only enough to make it interesting.

               

                5. One ingredient that makes a good listener…

                Silence (non-interruption) when the other person is talking

               

                6 Which one of these two you do faster: thanking people or apologising?

                Equally quick.

               

                7,. Ageing gracefully’ – What does this mean to you?

                Accepting not just myself as I am, but others as they are, without trying to change them

               

                8. If you are allowed to make one change to the ways of the world, what would you   like to change?

                Eradication of illness of any kind.

               

.               9. What constitutes a balanced life?

.               Happiness through good health and sufficient wealth.

               

                10. Has the internet globalised the world or polarised it?

                Definitely made it a smaller place.

My ten questions have been reduced to five for lack of imagination on my part. Pardon me if you find the

questions dull.

.

             1. What would you do to improve the condition of women in India?

             2. An opportunity you regret missing?

            3. If you were asked to choose one book as your companion for life?

            4. If you were asked to control prices of foodstuff where would you begin?

            5. If you were asked to set 10 questions, what would you feel like doing first? (I screamed in anguish)

 Now this is the reason I wanted to write for my blog again. A recognition , a small pat on the back, and I have

already posted one.

Let me see if I am able to maintain the pace.

Thanks

MY GRANDDAUGHTER WRITES

My granddaughter Samyukta, all of four-and-a-half, has a story to tell. She drew the illustrations, and her mother wrote down the words as she narrated them. Proud me wants to share it with you .

2013-12-08

"Now, if this had been Chennai……."

It was a lovely black cardigan with little pearl buttons down the front, and I liked it a lot. My daughter-in-law Jaisri had given it to me when we went to Seattle for the first time in 1998. And it has seen me through our many visits. Soft to the touch and warm to the skin, it was ideal for a mild winter day.

And now I had lost it. I had taken it with me to Bangalore in January earlier this year, when we visited our son Sankar who was there with Jaisri and the children on a work related trip. It was a brief stay of about three days, but a very happy, fun-filled one. The weather stayed fine, and I did not need to use my black cardigan. We stayed in the guest apartment that they stayed in, and spent all our time with the two little girls, as happy and carefree as they.

Leaving them was a wrench, and it was sad to get into the train and seeing them getting smaller and smaller, waving as the super fast Shatabdi moved out of the platform.

The air conditioned coach remained comfortable and we relaxed in our seats, enjoying the coffee and snacks served en route. When it began to become a little too cool for comfort, I pulled out my cardigan and wore it. However when we reached Madras Central station, I found it was too warm, and I took off the cardigan and held on to it, while we waited our turn at the Fast Track cab counter. This is a cab facility where the customer tells the person at the counter where he wants to go and pays the fare in advance. We paid and rode home comfortably. Our driver was a quiet and friendly person, and we reached home quite quickly with not much traffic on the roads because of the late hour.

The famous cardigan

Then I realised I could not find my cardigan. I remembered I had been holding on to it, but could not clearly think what I had done with it. My best guess was that I must have left it in the car. I was ready to say a sad farewell to it, but not without making an attempt to locate it.

My husband had the receipt for the cab fare, and I called the number on it, and told the person at the other end the story of my lost cardigan. He was very polite and asked me to contact the person at the Central station counter, and gave me a number. The person at Central said he was sorry, but he was not on duty earlier, but if I told him the cab registration number he would see if he could do something. Since that was on the receipt, I was able to give it to him and he said I should call a number where I could get the number of the driver of the taxi.

By now I began to feel I was on a Mission Impossible, but decided to continue with the chase, even though it was quite late. After some attempts, I was able to connect to that number, and that person told me to go right back to the Central number since that was where we had picked up the cab. It required a lot of effort to keep my cool while I told him that the people at Central had given me the number, and could he please help. He told me he would see, and after much dilly dallying, gave me the number of the person who drove the car.

With a sigh of relief I called the number, but not with much hope of getting the cardigan back. In a previous instance I had left an expensive umbrella in a cab, and forgot to pick it up when we finished our trip, and that was the last I heard of it. The driver had claimed there was nothing in the car.

The person who now answered the phone said, yes he was the owner driver of the car with that registration number, but that somebody else was driving the car that day, but he would give me his number. And he gave me that number. I called the number, and got the driver. He remembered us clearly since we were his last fare, but said he could not check the cab then, as he had already parked it in the shed for the night. But he said he would look at it first thing in the morning, and if it was there he would bring it back to us at our place. I guessed that the shed must be somewhere distant from his home, and hence his reluctance to check then. But I did not have any hope of seeing that cardigan again. My husband who had been dissuading me from all the to-ing and fro-ing on the phone for he thought it was a lost cause, told me to forget it.

The following morning was Pongal, and we were up early. I heard the doorbell ring and wondered who it could be at 7 am. I opened the door and there was the driver from last night, with that cardigan. “Madam,” he said, “It had fallen on the floor, and that is why you did not see it.”

I was bowled over by his honesty and sincerity.

Courtesy Internet

Now I want to eat my words from the penultimate line of this post http://rajirules.blogspot.in/2012/07/stroller-in-park.html - 

"Now, if this had been Chennai……."

One Magical Evening

It was supposed to be the best view we could have of the midsummer night's moon as it rose, closest to the earth than any other day this year.

 

It was a pleasant day, and we packed a picnic dinner, and off we went to Magnuson Park to catch the moon.

 

There were too many clouds, however, and we missed the moon, but in the west was a glorious kaleidoscope of shifting clouds, catching the brilliant hues of the evening sun at nine o'clock.

All set to dine....



Where we should have seen the moon.......



This and the following pictures were just a few of the sights that evening



On our way back, we caught this view of the moon, over the cottage.

"ACHU ASAL" - DOPPELGANGER?

For once, I was going to a play without knowing anything about the storyline. When our friend, writer-director Augusto, called to invite us to his new play being staged at Narada Gana Sabha, I was happy to accept, and asked him the name of the play. ‘Achu Asal’, he said, which literally means ‘perfectly identical.’ And that was all I knew about it.

A scene from the play

It was a change to sit back and await developments in the story, which were really quite interesting. At no stage could I guess what was coming next.  The story line is briefly this  - a dead ringer for a famous actor wins a big amount in a TV show dedicated to spitting images of personalities. This person Ravinder, an MBA from IIM A, uses the money wisely and generously, and unintentionally upstages the star Jitendra, much to the annoyance of the star’s father, a film director of yester years. The father loses no chance to pull down the MBA, but has to give in when he needs Ravinder’s help at a critical stage. He thanks Ravinder for his help and asks him how he can thank him. The scene/play ends crisply with Ravinder requesting him to make movies which carry positive messages to youngsters, showing them the right path. He points out that the goal is the same, but there is a correct path, as against the short cut of crooked path to reach the goal.

As in his other plays, Augusto’s stories are strong, and show a good imagination at work. The suspense is maintained, ensuring the audience’s desire to know more. He uses to full effect his awareness of current affairs, trends in  televison programmes, and his knowledge of world cinema.

A scene at the Library

The acting was good, and mention must be made of the part-owner of the library where many of the characters meet. K. S. Pazhani  raised quite a few laughs with his delivery of the comic lines. The backdrop of the library was pleasing to the eye, and the scenes changed quickly. The muted music was soothing, and unobtrusive. Augusto chose the recorded music himself. S. K. Jayakumaran, the mainstay of most of Augusto’s plays, gave a strong performance as the headstrong and arrogant director. A light and artistic touch was provided by a brief dance (Bharatanayam) by the only actress.

Augusto is a qualified oculist and runs his optical shop in Mylapore. It is sheer passion, without thought of commercial profit, that makes him write and direct a new play every year. “All of us are in it because of our love for the theatre,” he says. The plays are staged first at the Summer drama festival of Kartik Fine Arts. Invariably he picks up a couple of prizes there every year. This one got him the Best Director award, and his son-in-law K. Raja, who acted as Ravinder, the best actor award. His son-in-law is an engineer, and runs his own industry.

RAVI'S RAMA

 Ravi Venugopal is an entrepreneur based in the USA, and is currently in Chennai, taking care of his business from here, while working on the promotion of his book, I, Rama. 

It is a story we all know, learnt at our parents and grandparents’ feet, and love - a story that never loses its freshness no matter how often we hear it or read it. My eight year old granddaughter loves the story and Rama with equal fervour.

There are reportedly about 300 version of the Ramayana, originally written by Valmiki. Ravi’s book, 

I, Rama, looks at this story from a different perspective. As the story unfolds we realise that it is the Lord himself narrating, in the evening of his life, the incidents of his youth and adolescence, to his brothers and sons, without losing his objectivity.

While Rama himself relates the main story, the tales of Dasaratha, his father, and the great sage Viswamithra, one of his gurus, are also in the first person as narrated to Rama.  The first person narrative brings the characters alive to the readers, and a little closer to them. We feel the impact the two seniors had in moulding the character of Rama.

I was impressed by the brisk style and strong characterisation, and the acuity that could see beyond legends. There are new dimensions to the characters of the two women. Kaikeyi is not at all the evil stepmother, but a warrior princess, who plans and wins battles. Her admirable foresight is the cause of Rama’s expulsion to the forest, which sets off the chain of events for the eventual destruction of Ravana. Sita is not just a demure maiden, as we have always thought of her. She is a bright person, well-versed in domestic affairs as well as the craft of warfare, and a visionary who thinks of welfare programmes. We get a glimpse of the strong-minded woman who would in the future hold her own against Ravana in Asoka vana.

As I went through the pages, I was amazed at the futuristic tone of the book. The powers of the rishis and asuras are supernatural indeed. (Do Viswamithra’s feet ever touch the ground, or does he just glide above it?) I felt convinced that they must have come from another world, to which there are portals allowing movement to and fro.  Ravi’s narration makes it all so plausible and simple. The power of the weapons used in the battles is little short of nuclear - surely there must have been knowledge gained from outside our world, I felt.

It is obvious that a lot of research has gone into the writing of the book. It has always been a mystery to me how these busy young men, working full time, find time to write. And write not at random, but with due research. Ravi says that he bought many books, and also read up from the Internet. “I also have some senior gurus who guide me.”

Ravi has been in the USA for the last fifteen years, where he lives with wife Sri Lakshmi and daughter Ananya.  When asked “Why Ramayana?” he says, “I feel the whole picture is not clear yet. Who is Rama? Why is he important? He is living proof that there are celestials….and lots more”. His daughter Ananya is his inspiration for the book, he says.

Well done, Ravi. We look forward to the next volumes.

Ravi has his say here.  

  

A STROLL(ER) IN THE PARK

It was a pleasant, bright day in September, 2009. My husband and I were visiting my son and daughter-in-law and their newborn, Samyukta, in Newport, New Jersey. This is just across River Hudson from New York, where both of them work.

The play area is to the right

. We had arrived a few days earlier, and this was our first outing with the baby – a trip to the nearby Liberty Park. Travelling with a little baby or child needs a lot of planning –there is the stroller, which accommodates the infant car seat, without which no child can ride in a car in any part of the Unites States. Even when leaving the hospital soon after making their appearance, the days old babies have to be strapped into their car seats, which is then fitted on to the base of the seat in the back. The baby rides alone! I was horrified when I saw this first – my granddaughter Arundati barely five days old came home in the car seat from the hospital. The car seat is mandatory up to 12 years even in some states, and I often joke that, no sooner are they out of the car seats than they are allowed to drive – they can get a driving license at 16!

The stroller is usually roomy enough to hold the baby’s requirements, bottle, formula, diapers, and more – like our own stuff like sweaters, snacks, water bottles. Makes walking very simple .By simply pushing the stroller you can move baby and baggage with minimum effort. And so we got ready. The stroller was folded and packed in the backseat, with other stuff, and the car seat holding the baby fixed on the back seat. Grandparents sat proudly on either side of the baby, and with Vandana driving we were off.

It was such a beautiful day, not too warm, nor windy. The baby, barely three months old was snug in her seat in the stroller, as we walked away from the car into the park. The grass was green, the sky so blue with cotton wool clouds, and there were young trees with flowers and berries which I could not identify, and birds warbling away. 

The Statue of Liberty -at the centre of the picture

 The Statue of Liberty could be seen at a distance. It was quite idyllic. Other families with young children were around, and there were play areas for children with various equipment, other than swings and seesaws. Roughly hewn wooden tables and chairs with metal supports were placed at regular intervals for picnickers, and we found a suitable place to park ourselves. 

Ready for a walk in the stroller

The hold all stroller

The stroller with the baby! Can you spot the Statue of Liberty?

Samyukta was quite happy to be pushed around in her stroller, while lazy old me preferred to sit in the sunshine. We had brought along some food and drinks, and if not exactly lunch, it was quite satisfying. After an hour or so we decided to leave, and packed up. Baby was in the stroller, all litter put in the trash bins, and some of our stuff too hung in a bag from the stroller handle, and off we went to where the car was parked. We even put our cameras and purse in the stroller so we did not have to carry anything.

At the car the baby was lifted with the seat and placed on the base. It took a little manoeuvring, but it was done. It would require some more practice before it could be done easily. By now the baby was also getting restless. Vandana got into the driving seat and Sriram got in, and we were off.

As always, the ride home seemed so much shorter, and we were all pleased at the way everything had gone smoothly on Baby’s first day out. We were home in no time, and we got out of the car and opened the boot to pull out the stroller, so that baby could ride home undisturbed from the car park. I just stood and stared mouth agape at the inside of the boot – the stroller wasn’t there! I called to Sriram and Vandana  who were busy getting the baby in the car seat out. They came and were equally aghast. All of us were now totally confused. “Did you put in the stroller?”  My husband and I, total newbies at this had done nothing except admire Samyukta!  Vandana and Sriram, one busy with getting the car ready and the other with the car seat had also not put the stroller in.  They too were new at this. It was already time for Baby’s next feed and her bottle was in the bag hanging from the stroller. And on top of that, Vandana’s handbag with her driving licence, camera and purse with her credit cards, were all in the stroller. We debated on what to do. I suggested that I would go to the apartment with the baby so she could be fed. But in the end we decided to drive back to the park, baby and all.

And we did. What a totally different frame of mind we were in, compared to our happy mood in the morning as we took the same route. Losing one’s cards and driving license meant a lot of unnecessary trouble - though replaceable, it would take time. The camera was precious too, it is a high end one, and many pictures were still stored there. (No, the ones you see on this page were taken with my humble Kodak.) Vandana and Sriram discussed the options they had if the stroller was missing, including complaining to the park attendants, and everything seemed so involved.

We had little hope of finding the stroller and contents. In fact I was sure we would not, but kept my fingers crossed and prayed to all the gods in the pantheon. As we turned into the car park and drove up to where we had parked earlier, we could not see the stroller. An ice cream van was there, and people were waking up to buy ice cream. I thought glumly that anyone could have removed the stroller and contents and left. As we turned, and the van was no longer in our line of vision, there! we could see it  - our stroller standing quietly where it had been left! Oh, the relief.

We got down and found everything exactly as we had left it, including Vandana’s bag.  This time we bundled everything into the boot carefully and got in for the ride home.

I just could not believe it. We had returned 40 to 50 minutes after we had left, and no one had touched this property left unattended in a public park. Now, if this had been Chennai…….

Needless to say, on our next outings, we checked and double checked to make sure the stroller was in the boot.

A LITTLE WORD PLAY

Clue:  Nag and a ram reordered Word . (7).

Solution: ANAGRAM.

 And that is what this post is going to be about.

It all started with a few email exchanges between my brothers and sisters – youtube links to some old (they have to be, because we are all over 50!) family favourites like Mustafa and House of Bamboo.

Which prompted my sister Gowri to come out with a crossword clue :

Clan is got into knots reliving past? (9)

We worked out that it is an anagram and got the answer NOSTALGIC.

All of us at home are crossword puzzle solvers, in varying degrees of competence/incompetence. My father enjoyed doing them, and he encouraged my mother and us to try them. We picked up the habit, and enjoy working on the puzzles - the more cryptic the clues the greater the pleasure. Regardless of cracking the clue my joy in racking my brains over a puzzle is great. And  the delight of getting a particularly tough  one is just unbeatable.

The simplest clues are the anagrams – but you have to find out which words in the clue form the anagrams.

I just checked with my family over their favourite anagrams, and I got these

Lives and Levis for– Elvis.

Severely Slip, Sleepy Silver, for Elvis Presley

Mr Mojo Risin  for Jim Morrison  from his song L. A. Woman

Old West Action- Clint Eastwood

Maiji remembered my father’s favourite - Webs Ran Hard!  - Bernard Shaw.

And Gowri made anagrams of the names of some of us:

Gowri - I Grow

Mohan - Oh, man!! (her husband)

Bala - A Lab

Raji - I jar!

If you work on them long enough you usually get the anagrams. A crossword clue tells you what the anagram is going to be.

For instance Elvis could be:  Singer in crumpled Levis (5).

An example from a crossword in the Guardian:

As direction, I fancy reference books (12).

With this you have to find the anagram to form a word of 12 letters to mean a word or words in the clue. (Answer at bottom).

Can you see the underlined clue which is an anagram, and the answer is boxed in

Constant practice, and your eyes zoom down on the words which form the anagram. And it becomes a fairly easy occupation to juggle the letters around and find the word.

Nobody I know is as good as my brother Raja at this – he is the ace crossword solver too. But all that is a preamble to this - Taking Gowri’s clue at the top, he formed this jingle using the words ‘Clan is got’

clan is got

cat logs in

got in lacs

it can slog

go sit clan

act is long

lags in cot

cot nil sag

con lit gas

sang i clot

cats lingo

o! it clangs

losing act

last in cog

aligns cot

at closing

lo! casting

o! castling

l'coasting

l'agnostic

logicstan

nostalgic


ALL anagrams of NOSTALGIC!

Howzzat!

Answer to the Guardian clue:  DICTIONARIES 

'reference books' is the definition.(dictionary is a kind of reference book).

'as direction i fancy' is the subsidiary indication.

'fancy' indicates an anagram.

'as'+'direction'+'i'='asdirectioni'

'asdirectioni' anagrammed gives 'dictionaries'.

TAKE AWAY PUNJABI LUNCH

Sometimes I come across interesting people who have really pushed themselves to do something worthwhile, and do it well. One of these persons is Bharti Arora, an entrepreneur who has taken up the business of catering North Indian food in a hard-core South Indian area like Mylapore in Chennai, and honed it to a thoroughly satisfying skill. I wrote about her while I was with Mylapore Times, our neighbourhood paper. I order food from her regularly, especially when entertaining, and our guests also enjoy her fare. And when she started a new venture, alongside with the catering, she called to let me know. I liked her idea, and wrote about it for Mylapore Times, with whom I still maintain a friendly connection. The following piece (with a few changes) appeared in a recent edition of the paper. 


 Packing a healthy and tasty lunch for people at work is always a challenge. Here is something that Bharti Arora offers, a vegetarian lunch that is nutritious and neatly packed, and easy to eat without messing up your fingers. And because it is the staple food of Punjab, it is called Le (pronounced Lay) Punjabi – it means ‘Take Punjabi.’ The lunch pack consists of two parathas - plain, or stuffed with veggies or cheese, and a packet of pickles.

 Bharti Arora
Photos Courtesy: Mylapore Times 

The parathas are made fresh every day with whole wheat flour, and do not contain any artificial colours or preservatives. Bharti says they are made in the authentic Punjabi way and are prepared and packed hygienically. “Whole wheat flour is a rich source of dietary fibre, iron, calcium and minerals. It is more nutritious and provides a better option for a healthy diet,” says Bharti.

 Bharti has been in the business of catering, dishing out authentic North Indian food for many a year now. She belongs to New Delhi, and moved to Chennai in 1988, when she got married. She started her kitchen Vege Delights, with the support of husband Sanjiv, “to give people in Chennai authentic Punjabi food,” she says. Orders are taken on the phone, and the food is prepared in her kitchens, and door-delivered.

“We also take orders for parties and corporate catering,” says Bharti, who lives in R. A. Puram. She loves idlis and dosais, but must have one paratha meal everyday she says.

 Right now her focus is on the brand Le Punjabi and making the packed lunches accessible to as many office-goers as possible. The parathas come in these varieties - Aloo paratha, Gobi paratha, Mooli paratha, Aloo Methi paratha, Onion paratha and Paneer paratha, and are priced between Rs. 40 and Rs..60. The parathas are available at many places in the neighbourhood, and in the city too.

Bharti and Sanjiv may be contacted at 9840060200 and 9840240571.

The photos were taken by R. Saravanan, photographer for the Mylapore Times. 

THE 'BLESSED-IF-YOU-BUY-JEWELLERY' DAY

Did you hear that sound? Like something grating? That was me. I am grinding my teeth. And I do that when I am extremely irritated or angry.

I have received in my mail an invitation to go and buy jewellery on this auspicious day, Akshaya Tritaya, so that I will be blessed. And the invitation is a glossy three paged affair, with beautiful colour pictures of jewellery and silver articles. Tempting enough for anyone to go and pick up a few pieces, and must have cost a pretty penny, no doubt to be made good with the expected sales on the big day.

Not only this, newspapers and magazines were swamped yesterday (April 23) with advertisements from jewellers, inveigling people, luring them into their beautifully lit air-conditioned showrooms to buy some piece of jewellery and consider themselves blessed. The smaller jewellers contented themselves with smaller ads. The Hindu had a full page ad (from a jeweller’s?) yesterday, which also ran a sentence to the effect that The Hindu wished everyone a Happy Akshaya Tritaya Day. Today (April 24) the paper carried an apology on the front page dissociating itself from such sentiments – and rightly so.

Televison news reports said people were swarming around jewellery shops, and that these shops had been open from early in the morning to accommodate shoppers.

Are we really so gullible?  When did this desire to get blessed by buying gold come into being?

A few years ago we were completely ignorant of this day. But soon when traders ran out of ideas to sell their wares, other than for Christmas, Pongal and Deepavali, they chanced on other ‘sale’ tactics -- like Aadi,  summer, school opening, pre-monsoon, post monsoon, you name it. Every second month there is something to celebrate and hold a sale. But nothing has picked up like this – Akshaya Tritaya.

Akshaya is a Sanskrit word meaning undiminishing, and Tritaya only means the third day after the New Moon. It is considered an auspicious day for giving to charity, so that the giver is blessed manifold. Somewhere along the way, the meaning got twisted by jewellers and their ads, and I think people began to read it as ‘charity begins at home’ and started buying a small piece of jewellery as an auspicious start.

From there it has grown to gargantuan proportions. I saw that some jewellery shop had invited Kerala chendai players with their typical hypnotic beat to lure shoppers into spending at their shop. And we have begun to feel that we will be cursed if we don’t buy jewellery on Akshaya Tritaya.

I am all for jewellery and the pleasure it gives us women to wear them, and all for buying jewellery. But I do not want to be browbeaten into it.

Happy shopping folks!

TWO SURPRISES

Well, well, well. It never rains but it pours. Here is my poor neglected blog, practically moribund, when out of the blue it is given two awards in a period of three days.

Two dear blogger friends have separately presented the awards. I am so touched, honoured and delighted by this gesture of Resmi  (http://flowersncolors.blogspot.com/)and Happy Kitten. http://under-the-tree-of-tranquility.blogspot.com/2012/03/award.html

Who would have thought it!

Both are Liebster awards (which in German means 'favourite') yet they are different

From Resmi:

From Happy Kitten

The awards come with some simple rules to be followed

Award No. I:

 Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.

Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.

Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.

Present the Liebster Blog Award to 5 blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed.

Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment on their blog.

Award No. II

Link back to the person who gave you the award.
Pick 5 people deserving of the award and notify them on their blogs.
Post the award on your blog and spread the love.

The rules are the same! The best bit is that I am expected to pass on the awards to five fellow bloggers.

This now brings me to an elevated status as I can choose five bloggers whose posts I enjoy, and confer on them the awards. And what is best – since they are two different awards, it means I can chose ten bloggers to give the awards to.But even then, never enough to share with all those whose blogposts I enjoy reading.

I would really like to include my mother Lalitha Ramakrishnan (Maiji, as she is famously known ) and her blog, http://lifeinpondicherry.blogspot.in/ which is incredibly interesting because of her memories and records of things past, but I desist. And for the same reason, I must pass up my sisters Gowri and Viji's , and cousin Kamini's blogs, who are all three terrific writers. No nepotism!

 I am delighted to name ten blogs which I find interesting. 

The Liebster Award I share with:

Dinakar's Mysorean Musings,  a kind of diary and has many interesting tales from the recent past  

Flower Girl's  Madras Ramblings, all about nature  

Gauri Gharpure's Short and Sweet, which has short verses illustrated by herself.

Asha's musings & ramblings, about matters that affect her 

Song of The Waves, a blog by Abraham Tharakan, with fantastic pictures and  stories about Kerala 

 The Liebster blog with

Indrani's i Share, a blog full of lovely photographs and her travel records 

Rajesh's My India , a travel post with great pictures.

satchitananda's From Life's Pages, a blog of posts about the world around her. 

Ramakrishnan's Ramblings and Musings, a beautifully illustrated travel blog http://sankriti.blogspot.in/

Sunita's  The Urban Gardener full of pictures and tales of her lovely garden

 I am consumed by pangs of guilt at the stepmotherly treatment I have meted out to the blog, and shall seriously go back to the days when I was more active here. And try to justify Resmi’s and Happy Kitten’s faith in me. Thanks Resmi and Happy Kitten.