tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289766192024-03-08T04:41:19.000+05:30OotyBluesI grew up in Ooty, in the mountains and have missed it ever since. This blog was started on a particularly home sick afternoon. So beware, it drips with nostalgia. But also has a little bit of whimsy, some poetry and a lot of things in between.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-16146399921156385792013-04-10T16:04:00.004+05:302013-04-10T16:04:53.213+05:30Silence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On days like today<br />
When I have waited since morning<br />
To escape into silence<br />
And I finally hear the rhythm of your breath<br />
Falling into the darkness<br />
I take back all those dark thoughts I had<br />
All those minor irritations<br />
And wish I had been more patient.</div>
Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-62923556508128457602013-04-05T09:20:00.003+05:302013-04-05T09:20:56.054+05:30Moving<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's that painful time again when we have to move. Unfortunately it seems like I cannot stay put in any place for more than two years. And this time we are making the move from Sydney to Adelaide which is a much smaller place.<br />
I haven't even started packing yet, I hate to leave all our friends and the worst part is my son is going to be missing all of his. I am one of those people who have constantly had to move during my working life, and I have done it without too much of a fuss. But this time it just seems too tough to have to start all over again.<br />
We have got a house in a neighborhood I don't like too much, but as its a 6 month lease, we are hoping to find a better one in a few months.<br />
My one visit to Adelaide left me with mixed feelings. Its a small town so Prashanth will spend less time travelling to work. But we have t start on the process of making friends as we know absolutely no one there right now.<br />
It is going to be a tough time ahead but I am hoping the change will do all of us good. </div>
Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-32220895065258179252013-01-31T10:34:00.002+05:302013-01-31T10:34:26.009+05:30Discovering the pleasures of cooking<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
alchemy of spices and grains,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In
just the right proportions<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Crackling
mustard,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
perfume of curry leaves sizzling in hot oil<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Turmeric
that stains sunshine yellow <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And
chilli that packs a punch<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mellow
coriander for depth and flavour<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All
come together to create my lunch!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-35592592570929709632012-11-04T11:54:00.000+05:302012-11-11T06:03:21.718+05:30Motherhood - My Song For Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>This is my entry for the <a href="http://www.womensweb.in/articles/motherhood-a-song-for-life-contest/">Motherhood : A Song For Life</a> contest on <a href="http://www.womensweb.in/">women's web</a>. And this lovely video is a part of the contest.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/lRRCo9ySmnU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">This is probably a familiar sight
at your super market. That harried looking over weight woman, wearing clothes
that look like they have been randomly thrown together, spotted with food,
trying to finish her shopping while dragging a reluctant, screaming child down
the aisles. People who don’t have kids would just look on pityingly while the
rest smile knowingly.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That woman is me. And sometimes
it’s still hard to believe, how my life has changed so drastically. How I
swapped a career for full time motherhood. How I discovered that handling the
most difficult client is a piece of cake compared with handling a stubborn
toddler. And how quickly my conversation changed from the latest antics of my
boss to those of my baby!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My story starts one June evening,
when I discovered I was pregnant and got the shock of my life. This wasn’t something
I was remotely prepared for. My husband and I had endless discussions about how
we were going to ‘handle’ this. And yet with all those doubts and questions
going on in my head, I was fascinated with the thought of a small, tiny being
growing inside me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One scan later, after listening
to a tiny heartbeat, I was hooked. And I discovered that my body was not really
my own. This was a baby who liked to make his presence felt, and sometimes at
the most inopportune moments. I would be sitting in a meeting with my manager,
when I would have to get up and rush to the bathroom to puke. And that wasn’t the
only time. There have been very few places I visited during my pregnancy where
I did not make my presence felt. With a rush of bile!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mine was not a complicated
pregnancy but definitely an eventful one. I did a lot of travelling. We moved
to Australia. My sister got married a month before my delivery. And a sudden
complication at the end, forced me to have a premature delivery. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On 2<sup>nd</sup> march 2011, my
life as I knew it changed completely. In my limited experience of babies until
then, I knew them as these extremely cute creatures that smiled and laughed and
could be handed over to someone else when they started to cry. Now, that someone
was me, and I realized how extremely demanding they could be. They constantly needed
to be fed, cleaned or comforted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I also discovered that the
most peaceful feeling in the world is holding a sleeping baby in your arms, (especially
if they have spent the last hour crying). I discovered how a toothless smile
could melt your heart completely. How you can understand exactly what your baby
wants, even if it sounds like gibberish to others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also discovered the sisterhood
of mothers. I found that there are so many people with you, going through the
same highs, and the same problems. That they actually understand why you can
get insanely happy over your toddlers first grubby attempt at painting. And why
you can be sometimes reduced to tears by your child’s behavior. And how it
feels to put in all that effort to cook something that your child rejects after
one look. And why you still haven’t lost your pregnancy weight. All those
mothers, they really understand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My son Advaith is almost 20
months now. And I spend most of my time, running after him to ensure he eats something,
worrying if he gets enough exercise, wondering if he is watching too much T.V. and doing those
countless other things that all mothers do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I may have been many things, but now the most
important part of my identity is being his mother. And this is my song. My song
for Life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">UPDATE : It seems I have won a small prize in the contest, and I am so happy. Thank you <a href="http://www.womensweb.in/">womensweb</a>!!! </span></div>
</div>
Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-23250251930429612352011-08-05T22:12:00.002+05:302011-08-05T22:16:18.744+05:30Love -smitten LimerickMy contribution for Limerick-Off Monday at <a href="http://www.madkane.com/humor_blog/2011/07/31/love-smitten-limerick-off-monday/">Mad Kane's</a><br /><br /><br />A love smitten guy was irate,<br />Loudly bemoaning his fate.<br />The love of his life<br />Would not be his wife<br />'Coz she eloped with his best matePriyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-48063797142417327392011-07-11T22:19:00.002+05:302011-07-11T22:23:25.892+05:30Limerick MondaysMy absolutely favourite form of poetry is the limerick and im so glad i finally found this wonderful blog.<br />This is my submission for <a href="http://www.madkane.com/humor_blog/2011/07/10/fair-limerick-off/">Limerick-Off Mondays</a> at <a href="http://www.madkane.com/">Mad Kane's</a> blog.<br /><br />A gal who was lovely and fair<br />With long golden flowing hair,<br />Was rescued from her tower,<br />By a prince of great power<br />Who used her hair as a stair.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-24112081966030107502011-07-02T18:17:00.000+05:302011-07-02T18:18:07.419+05:30FearFear slowly seeps into the house as night falls. I see it in my father’s haunted eyes. He peers out of the windows looking suspiciously at anyone on the road. He goes around the house drawing the curtains and checking the locks again and again..<br />Its almost a month since the incident which turned our lives upside down, and shattered our complacence. My father was attacked by a knife-wielding man when he returned home, one night. That it happened on our doorstep, was the first shock. Fifteen years of living in peaceful surroundings with hardly another house in sight, had lulled us into a false sense of security. That it happened to my father, a gentle unassuming man, was the second. None of us really expect anything truly terrible to happen to us. Until it does. All those stories - masked men, armed robberies, knives and guns- happen to other people. We spend one moment ‘tsk’ing in sympathy, maybe a few more in ghoulish curiosity, thank god it wasn’t us and move on. <br />Guilt and fear-that is the unfortunate lot of the victims. Who realize how whole lives can change in a couple of seconds, that they might spend the rest of their lives trying to recover from those few seconds. That what seems an earth shattering event to them, is lowest in priority to the police - an attempted robbery with no loss of life and only a broken door to show.<br />There are images that play in my mind over and over again. A masked man, his eyes glittering in the light, holding a knife and a hand around my father’s throat, the normally pristine floors covered with blood from my fathers dripping hands, the front door fallen on the floor ripped from its hinges, the screaming and the silence that followed, my son lying quietly on the bed with blood on the floor all around him. <br />The endless stream of visitors, come bearing fruit, sympathy and suggestions- sell the house, shift to town, get a dog, get a watchman and so on. Things seem better for a few hours. Yet when they leave, fear seeps in again slowly.<br />Everyday darkness falls and my father, imagining watching eyes from every window, goes around drawing the curtains, imagining that anyone walking on the road is a potential threat, watches carefully out of every window, imagining that masked men can come through the door any minute, checks the locks again and again.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-41662394136730778102011-06-17T15:40:00.003+05:302011-06-17T15:42:58.331+05:30In appreciation of my coffee mugMy contribution for the prompt at <a href="http://applehousepoetryworkshop.blogspot.com/2011/06/today-i-want-to-say-something-wonderful.html">Applehouse Poetry Workshop</a>. An appreciation for anordinary thing that we use everyday. <div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal">Appreciating the humble coffee mug<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today I want to say something wonderful </p> <p class="MsoNormal">About my coffee mug</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The first thing I want to see everyday</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Steaming in the morning light</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hug its well-rounded contours </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Close to my chest and sigh deeply</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">With pure pleasure </p> <p class="MsoNormal">As warmth seeps into me</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I take a deep deep breath</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Inhale the aroma</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Of hot filter coffee</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freshly brewed</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The wide handle fits easily into my palm</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Encircled by fingers and thumb</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The soft pastel colour </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Patterned with flowers</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Are a welcome sight for sleepy eyes</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Every morning</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p></div>Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-10361490845492029132011-06-12T18:24:00.002+05:302011-06-12T18:29:09.772+05:30The Next Step<div><i>My contribution for this week on S<a href="http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/">unday Scribblings</a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Im always waiting to see</div><div> <p class="MsoNormal">Where the next step will take me</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Where I am right now</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Dosent really matter somehow</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The future is what’s exciting</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Alluring, inviting</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Will it bring something I've been waiting for so long</p><p class="MsoNormal">A chance to right a wrong </p> <p class="MsoNormal">A chance to win the game</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A chance to make a name</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The next step is waiting for me</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If only I could see what it would bring me</p></div>Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-81842230415868343052010-01-31T10:47:00.002+05:302010-01-31T10:56:41.518+05:30Simple Pleasures1. Waking up late on a sunday morning and not having to hurry to get to office<br />2. The sunday magazine and coffee in bed<br />3. The pleasure of a sharp knife cutting into soft fruit<br />4. A warm fluffy cheese omlette for breakfast<br />5. A long lazy day to look forward to<br />5. And best of all - my brand new fiery red scooty awaits below :)))Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-8645520371246394892009-12-31T18:13:00.001+05:302009-12-31T18:13:41.945+05:30Welcoming 2010The past 4 months have been an interesting time for me. I took a decision which I felt had been long overdue, and which most people viewed as risky or downright stupid. I quit a very well paying job in Mumbai to come to Chennai so that we could have the married life that we had missed out for over a year post wedding. We found a house, settled down and had (are still having) such a good time, that the lack of the job didn’t really bother me. Except that is when random people asked me if I had found a job yet, or how I managed to pass the time at home. <br />I realized that life can actually be stress free and happy, even though I missed the routine of work and going to an office, the camaraderie, I didn’t really feel something significant missing from my life, except moneywise. This was such a big revelation because I had just spent the last one year in Mumbai, working, and doing just that. It had become the central focus in my life around which everything else was arranged. To top this off, it was a job that I hated. Why did I make something I hated the central focus of my life? As do most people I know. Dissatisfied with everything in life. Constantly looking out for something else to do, that may perhaps make our meaningless lives more meaningful.<br />My mother calls us the ‘spoilt generation’. We have had things too easy so far, not had to struggle for basic necessities like our parents generation, that just any ‘job’ will do. No, it has to interest us, promise us growth in the organization, give us a good boss, and most important of all pay well. Very few, if any jobs that fulfill this criterion and even if they do, we just keep looking for the next big fix. <br />I think I needed this time, this little break to recoup my life, rearrange my priorities. And now, this seems to be a job I would enjoy, I hope to learn and grow in. I know it will be difficult balancing work and home now. I know that what we have together here is too precious to waste, I am not going to let work dominate my life. I know it wont be as dreamy as life has been these past few months. But the opportunity to stretch is beguiling, I would like to see how I cope. Its going to be an interesting year ahead.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-50868397246273549832009-12-28T18:16:00.001+05:302009-12-28T18:16:50.574+05:30Life and WorkThe past 4 months have been an interesting time for me. I took a decision which I felt had been long overdue, and which most people viewed as risky or downright stupid. I quit a very well paying job in Mumbai to come to Chennai so that we could have the married life that we had missed out for over a year post wedding. We found a house, settled down and had (are still having) such a good time, that the lack of the job didn’t really bother me. Except that is when random people asked me if I had found a job yet, or how I managed to pass the time at home. <br />I realized that life can actually be stress free and happy, even though I missed the routine of work and going to an office, the camaraderie, I didn’t really feel something significant missing from my life, except moneywise. This was such a big revelation because I had just spent the last one year in Mumbai, working, and doing just that. It had become the central focus in my life around which everything else was arranged. To top this off, it was a job that I hated. Why did I make something I hated the central focus of my life? As do most people I know. Dissatisfied with everything in life. Constantly looking out for something else to do, hta tmay perhaps make our meaningless lives more meaningful.<br />My mother calls us the ‘spoilt generation’. We have had things too easy so far, not had to struggle for basic necessities like our parents generation, that just any ‘job’ will do. No, it has to interest us, promise us growth in the organization, give us a good boss, and most important of all pay well. Very few, if any jobs that fulfill this criterion and even if they do, we just keep looking for the next big fix. <br />I think I needed this time, this little break to recoup my life, rearrange my priorities. And now, im ready to go. Im sure it wont be work first anymore. I know it wont be as dreamy as life has been these past few months. I hope I get to enjoy that as well.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-62983425940940347052009-12-17T15:22:00.009+05:302009-12-17T15:35:23.690+05:30How I hate housework!!!Every morning I get up, rub my eyes and think of my day ahead. Sometimes it makes me groan when I have some task I have been putting off for days, a few days it’s exciting when I have something interesting to do or sometimes I’m just nervous when it’s an interview day. Most days though, it seems to be a never ending stream of housework. This, despite having a maid who sweeps, wipes and cleans the dishes and a washing machine to wash the clothes. I know I am luckier than a lot of women who don’t have these luxuries, but that doesn’t make the rest of the work any more interesting– like folding, ironing and putting away clothes, like picking up random clothes and paper off the floor, like dusting all those “cute” little knick-knacks that suddenly don’t seem so cute any more, wiping shelves, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning… <br />The one thing that I surprisingly seem to enjoy is the cooking. Having been cooking for only a few months, anything I try is new and I try adding something extra or different to every dish I make :). A husband who is willing to experiment too and eat everything I make is definitely a big plus. So I decided to complie a list of simple and easy recipes that had worked wonders for me. <br />My recipe for this week is an absolutely wonderful chocolate cake that can be made in exactly 5 minutes, adapted from <a href="http://www.recipezaar.com/5-Minute-Chocolate-Lava-Cake-351552">here</a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OGlZw5chy6bD9m5oUyqwB-w35bJ9oidtFAhixwk8C4SX9k_9PG5oJo_wNGdHHDao_R9tjVqwxnk37H3HdhpWR8pO_s99EwCeqC1UgXXE6qXJZQAIUh-8CW_wVMuqWRDZo6c4pQ/s1600-h/DSC00992.JPG"><img style="float:centre; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OGlZw5chy6bD9m5oUyqwB-w35bJ9oidtFAhixwk8C4SX9k_9PG5oJo_wNGdHHDao_R9tjVqwxnk37H3HdhpWR8pO_s99EwCeqC1UgXXE6qXJZQAIUh-8CW_wVMuqWRDZo6c4pQ/s320/DSC00992.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416142625770763218" /></a><br /><br /><strong>5 minute Chocolate Lava Cake</strong><br /><br />Ingredients <br /><em>Cake : </em><br />1/3 cup granulated sugar <br />1/2 cup maida<br />1 teaspoon baking powder <br />1/4 teaspoon salt <br />2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder <br />6 tablespoons milk <br />1 teaspoon vanilla <br /><em>Stir In : </em><br />2 tablespoons brown sugar <br />1 tablespoon granulated sugar <br />1 tablespoon cocoa <br />1 teaspoon instant coffee powder <br />2 tablespoons milk<br /><br />In a microwave-safe cup, stir together all the dry ingredients for the cake first - 1/3 cup granulated sugar, 1/2 cup maida, 1 teaspoon baking powder, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder. Once these are thoroughly mixed, slowly add 6 tablespoons milk, and a teaspoon of vanilla. Stir till smooth<br />For the liquid chocolate sauce, mix 2 tablespoons brown sugar, 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, 1 tablespoon cocoa, I teaspoon instant coffee powder and 2 tablespoons milk. Pour into the cup with the other ingredients. Gently swirl it in; don’t mix thoroughly. <br />Cook in the microwave for 2 1/2 to 3 minutes, depending how powerful your microwave is. According to the original recipe, “ When done, it’ll look set on top, and kind of mushy around the edges”. However mine turned out firm around the edge and mushy in the centre after I cooked it for about 2 and ½ minutes. Turn the cake onto a plate and the cake is ready!!! Don’t let it cook for more than 3 minutes because the liquid or the uncooked batter inside spills out and coats the cake in a lovely chocolate saucePriyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-36290774521285620422009-12-04T18:56:00.003+05:302009-12-04T19:14:45.181+05:30Horrors of a new household<div><span style="font-size:85%;">The door swung open and I stepped in a little gingerly, trying to pick my way through the 3 inch layer of dust that seemed to coat every surface. One and a half years after we were married, we were finally going to be living together- here in this messy house that had been locked up for 3 months. I had been well prepared already but it was still difficult not to scream in frustration as I looked at the dirt around me. We plunged right in, armed with brooms and mops and managed to scrub off a little of the dirt.<br /></span></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRunxEm4h7JWkDmAkBKcrytK3rw5-Sue1S5oRDZ06chpBPKHXWvvJ4ThsBl7JJf9Mu5_P7CCbOZ4g29aLsqtyRANfh0ITGpaK73zg0xYjnS7fKMigeBbdmRBoDAYNNp2B2F3svw/s1600-h/DSC00585.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411373103673676146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRunxEm4h7JWkDmAkBKcrytK3rw5-Sue1S5oRDZ06chpBPKHXWvvJ4ThsBl7JJf9Mu5_P7CCbOZ4g29aLsqtyRANfh0ITGpaK73zg0xYjnS7fKMigeBbdmRBoDAYNNp2B2F3svw/s320/DSC00585.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiw7dJTjGHJ5Lu92YhN00YECsXttA2zuFordg32m73C9DknOPjaU1a90odDNZwKtr3F3DKI2QO68PqKYhXKTokoKVMd_J6MdfV-6lzNFqZqrH_IRg77Ci-ym691v2WnHFVXuCVA/s1600-h/DSC00587.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411373105457602098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiw7dJTjGHJ5Lu92YhN00YECsXttA2zuFordg32m73C9DknOPjaU1a90odDNZwKtr3F3DKI2QO68PqKYhXKTokoKVMd_J6MdfV-6lzNFqZqrH_IRg77Ci-ym691v2WnHFVXuCVA/s320/DSC00587.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEAe7NsgWilutU9JduLLhTLtBJR2er9GCLb_KcIUxhVfhaNsWbGwqlOoun73nwhhactTK7GKUeqCnbLIYXcJEX_O_x0mnxxAtxesYu09IMgkVtuhdwuJAzxabymrJmUXikbUBCqg/s1600-h/DSC00589.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411373113776859234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEAe7NsgWilutU9JduLLhTLtBJR2er9GCLb_KcIUxhVfhaNsWbGwqlOoun73nwhhactTK7GKUeqCnbLIYXcJEX_O_x0mnxxAtxesYu09IMgkVtuhdwuJAzxabymrJmUXikbUBCqg/s320/DSC00589.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Prashanth left for office soon with a worried look on his face, imagining me dropping dead from exhaustion, no doubt. I surveyed the disaster area and decided to clean up one room at a time, starting with the bedroom. A morning spent dusting cleaning, mopping and sweeping left me clutching my back. So I entered the kitchen to take a break , but the sight was almost too much to bear. All our pots and pans had become black from salt water and corrosive sea air. It would take me a week to just scrub my way through. It took me three days to finally get the house into some semblance of order.<br />We were still eating out everyday and my next task was to get the kitchen in order. Amma arrived then, like a godsend and we happily spent the next two days shopping. The prospect of setting up house seemed to send everyone into paroxysms of ecstasy, especially the thought of buying plastic bottles in all shapes and sizes. She painstakingly washed, filled and arranged all of the boxes. The kitchen set up, we started cooking and surprising myself, I enjoyed it. Experimenting was exciting, and as long as I was trying out a new dish everyday, I was happy. Prashanth being appreciative of everything I tried, spurred me on.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid24Lm6UgKYX7ZEQT59NzWwxmOdwAGCAJQv4xxmcq7E99hKkDlaTwtascMYUei4s1e9M0GBVuekh3A3N-_TO1KNGpxNiyn8Z_I2JvjiLC-HgQf_p5A6lawJEsjGOpPwOVLOMoFGg/s1600-h/guest+bedroom.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411374952414163810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid24Lm6UgKYX7ZEQT59NzWwxmOdwAGCAJQv4xxmcq7E99hKkDlaTwtascMYUei4s1e9M0GBVuekh3A3N-_TO1KNGpxNiyn8Z_I2JvjiLC-HgQf_p5A6lawJEsjGOpPwOVLOMoFGg/s320/guest+bedroom.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipffHoujW1tQLgJn5UHB_yV5GKnrX8ZA-NyrA3s2GlshCytub_bLk_aphDwiyFWQjWxKotRvnf8v0_viFOQNdmYJNg7dM-NB-pm2_ubp2upkRNm589akaq0N_gd7TLNaEPBeOaVQ/s1600-h/sofa+on+the+floor.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411374946909585522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipffHoujW1tQLgJn5UHB_yV5GKnrX8ZA-NyrA3s2GlshCytub_bLk_aphDwiyFWQjWxKotRvnf8v0_viFOQNdmYJNg7dM-NB-pm2_ubp2upkRNm589akaq0N_gd7TLNaEPBeOaVQ/s320/sofa+on+the+floor.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuo-s7e5StLr2M3oaSOu4Vxn5nb9zCmrcpweEQWY_HYAngAVhdf970zZoOF0WcQYakaCObk2omeK9Z4ooWp25JPTQcN9AzOgE5WYyRQOaGLLyZtd8UNhJAVWhmFUpx28LahYU3qw/s1600-h/Breakfast.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411374937217266322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuo-s7e5StLr2M3oaSOu4Vxn5nb9zCmrcpweEQWY_HYAngAVhdf970zZoOF0WcQYakaCObk2omeK9Z4ooWp25JPTQcN9AzOgE5WYyRQOaGLLyZtd8UNhJAVWhmFUpx28LahYU3qw/s320/Breakfast.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M8sg9VAcrbZR742PYc3QFZVPtrsMw090tu8v9xzUR_eIhlzgWUFk953SGH_wGXU0ZjOVxPPP7x5cM40eatZZk-EQzZ-uk-QUDD0OSRo_fjDSzDbCOurvQFt3Aw7b-wxyqA3npQ/s1600-h/5inch+mattres.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411374931002277778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M8sg9VAcrbZR742PYc3QFZVPtrsMw090tu8v9xzUR_eIhlzgWUFk953SGH_wGXU0ZjOVxPPP7x5cM40eatZZk-EQzZ-uk-QUDD0OSRo_fjDSzDbCOurvQFt3Aw7b-wxyqA3npQ/s320/5inch+mattres.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcUvm4MH9r1mWh6s2mV4PrtGLak3Ksq9SJJMbccqz4zaE0h5-092DT-_wOXq_PZ2Ufinb7D2MdNUZZS-t84EqJ-ulMTM1N-a_CRmgD98UFffNux8pkn96PwyT_X_FK9Ov5kv3Vg/s1600-h/Pretending+to+cook.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411374923156199058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcUvm4MH9r1mWh6s2mV4PrtGLak3Ksq9SJJMbccqz4zaE0h5-092DT-_wOXq_PZ2Ufinb7D2MdNUZZS-t84EqJ-ulMTM1N-a_CRmgD98UFffNux8pkn96PwyT_X_FK9Ov5kv3Vg/s320/Pretending+to+cook.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I discovered just how demanding a house can be. There’s something to be done everyday – the gas, the telephone, electricity, some pipe leaking, something we forgot to buy – it seems never ending. But its worth it when I just take a look around and think that its my home - a dirty house that somehow transformed itself into a home. Plus a beach that’s a 5 minute walk away more than makes up for any other disadvantages I think :) </span></div></div></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs04uojUXPK8QWnm3Vyxkm9xnBMtZuYkcL38lWlAifNN3wrz8CPgejzvwVsgILYsgO5mJVJHm_6XoXmP482M4G7ODlqOphUbDC-rNgbcOab_YH6sbR_9qmVwjf2_gRPNoUOnZIA/s1600-h/64.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411375858919458770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs04uojUXPK8QWnm3Vyxkm9xnBMtZuYkcL38lWlAifNN3wrz8CPgejzvwVsgILYsgO5mJVJHm_6XoXmP482M4G7ODlqOphUbDC-rNgbcOab_YH6sbR_9qmVwjf2_gRPNoUOnZIA/s320/64.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPtYlhDh8i1Ao3dLGoYnsvIl-uDvtpYPY1IgCw5SE4KKguDF3jwAvc_8-hzJZZ5zbKLeQdLD2oGAyU00kQzAKSXAGreEtAFTmnSoyNlDAD9Z4SvtsLIhqFZF12b0ga-77MMRE-A/s1600-h/Welcome+home.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411375852714086818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPtYlhDh8i1Ao3dLGoYnsvIl-uDvtpYPY1IgCw5SE4KKguDF3jwAvc_8-hzJZZ5zbKLeQdLD2oGAyU00kQzAKSXAGreEtAFTmnSoyNlDAD9Z4SvtsLIhqFZF12b0ga-77MMRE-A/s320/Welcome+home.JPG" /></a> </div>Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-35479721209751304562009-11-25T09:07:00.002+05:302009-11-25T09:21:46.225+05:30SeaWhite moonlight traces a path on the restless sea<br />The waves, silver mirrors as they crash on the shore<br />Sand stretches smoothly into the distance, unblemished<br />The sea dances a wild dance tonight and we are its only witnesses<br /><br />What sudden whim brought us here, this rain-scented night,<br />While clouds gather on the horizon?<br />Why does it fascinate, this ceaseless motion?<br />Rise and fall, fall and rise.<br /><br />For now, it’s just us and the sea, bound by different spells<br />Wind and water, power and fury, elements unleashed<br />Our hopes, our worries, our lives<br />We forget, as our insignificance stares us in the facePriyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-6789801577796130182009-10-08T21:46:00.002+05:302009-10-08T21:48:01.761+05:30Coming HomeThe bus swayed dangerously to one side on its way down, righted itself in time, and rushed forward to take the next curve. The driver, oblivious to the plight of its occupants was intent only on getting down the hill in the fastest possible way. I clutched desperately at the lemon in my hand, tried, failed and proceeded to deposit the contents of my stomach down the sides of the bus. Task accomplished, I sat back and tried not to feel guilty at the frowns from the other passengers. I had done this journey at least fifty times a year and yet had never felt good about it once.Another hour and our ordeal was over as we reached the rolling plains. We still had some distance to cover.<br />Sindhu and I were so excited, we could barely sit still. Amma predictably fell asleep in the last half an hour of the journey and had to be shaken awake as our destination neared. We got off, vomit-stained and weary.<br />At last I could see Thatha sitting on his rocking chair on the broad verandah. Ammachi anxiously scanning the road, looking out for us. We were enveloped by people as we reached. Questions, hugs, smiles. It was good to come home.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-62650008590279382632009-09-24T20:45:00.000+05:302009-09-24T20:47:05.726+05:30The sun came outShe looked at herself in the mirror and saw what she had become. Brown eyes dulled by pain, unruly hair that hadn’t been brushed in a while, a tired face. That was exactly how she felt – tired and dull. It had been over a month now and time seemed to have done nothing to erase the pain. She found it easier if she didn’t think about it, in fact if she did not think at all. She spent all her time, curled up on the sofa, gazing out of the window. The weather outside seemed to sympathize. It had rained for most of the time they had been here.<br />Her parents were worried. It would have bothered her once, the look on their faces. But she shut them out now, like she had shut out everything else. It was exactly 2 months today, to the day she had been married. They both hadn’t been able to stop smiling, their happiness bubbling over. It had been a perfect wedding. They had a whole month together, and he was gone. One more victim in the rising number of accidents, one more statistic. How did it really matter in a population of over a billion?<br />She was lucky, they said. Lucky not to have been there, lucky to have escaped, lucky not to have witnessed it. What did they really know about luck? Where was meaning now? What did she have to live for? Her life seemed a bleak empty landscape, matching the weather outside. Her parents had brought her back home, away from anxious and well-meaning relatives. Who talked about her in hushed whispers, about poojas and second marriages, the evil eye and bad luck. She seemed not to hear or see. Nothing mattered anymore, really.<br />Home was the hills, the cold air, the comforting house and memories of childhood. She started going for long walks alone, hoping that physical exhaustion would help shut out the pain. The rest of the time was spent on the sofa hardly eating or sleeping.<br />Her mother mentioned one day that she had met Shika, who had asked if they could meet. To her own surprise she agreed. The meeting was swiftly arranged before she could change her mind. Shika, with whom she had been inseparable for two years in school. Her closest friend for a long time until work and life had thrown them apart. She wondered what would she say when they met, would they have anything left to say after so many years? She wanted to cancel, but picking up the phone and calling was too much of an effort. It seemed ages since she had last had gone through the motions of any social conversation. Silence had been her only weapon, her only means to cope.<br />The day dawned, dark and depressing as it had been for the past month. Rain lashed the windows, the road was a muddy river. She couldn’t go in this weather she decided, and felt relief, tinged with a little disappointment. Suddenly by afternoon the rain stopped, the weather cleared. She did not have the energy to make an excuse, she went out to meet her friend.<br />Shika came and enveloped her in a hug. The mists cleared a little. They went to a little coffee shop, so they could talk, and sip coffee in awkward moments. Suddenly the years seemed to disappear, they talked as if they had never been apart. There was so much to say and so little time to say it. She talked and talked and talked. About her husband, dreams they had had, the wonderful times spent together and how it suddenly vanished in a second. She didn’t know how precious it had been till it had disappeared. Shika merely nodded. Listened and held her hand through the tears.<br />It was finally time to leave, and they walked out together into the sunshine. The sun had come out so that the 2 friends could meet.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-46799886396829590442009-09-22T19:55:00.002+05:302009-09-22T20:01:53.028+05:30AdulthoodI took a step towards adulthood today<br />Some childish innocence slipped away<br />A little less noise<br />A little more poise<br />Though maturity is still plodding on its wayPriyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-50362741276844488462009-08-20T11:29:00.002+05:302009-08-20T11:35:21.718+05:30An Ode to PositivityOh Positivity! Where were you, in times of misery,<br />When only cold winds of anger and self-pity surrounded me?<br />Why do you appear only in bursts of sunshine,<br />When all seems well with the world?<br /><br />Oh Fair weather friend! What are the charms that<br />Authors of self help books have seen in your eyes?<br />Will you not reveal to me, the 'Secrets' of the universe?<br />Or show me the ways to 'think and grow rich'?<br /><br />Would you please stay? Would you make me realise<br />That the glass is really half full, that the pit i am in<br />Could have been deeper and bleaker,<br />That the darkest hour of night is just before dawn sets in?<br /><br />Oh Positivity, my friend! Where art thou?Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-5303950098685275442009-08-01T12:31:00.003+05:302009-08-01T12:49:14.860+05:30HolesHoles in the ground, I wish I could disappear into<br />They never appear when I want them to<br />People knocking, asking for things i dont wanna give<br />Wish I could learn just how to live<br /><br />Rabbit holes transport you to wonderland<br />Will I find mine close at hand?<br />Coz I just wanna run far far away<br />Find a hole that would be my hideaway<br /><br />Holes in my heart, I've shed many a tear<br />People in my life appear and disappear<br />Angry words, hurt and disappointment<br />Wish they would go away somewhere permanent<br /><br />Rabbit holes transport you to wonderland<br />Will I find mine close at hand?<br />I just wanna run far far away<br />Find a hole that would be my hideaway<br /><br />Holes in my head black and endless<br />Thoughts i dont wanna think or express<br />Things I dont wanna remember, places I dont wanna go<br />Carefully skirt around them, but they are still there I know<br /><br />Rabbit holes transport you to wonderland<br />Will I find mine close at hand?<br />I just wanna run far far away<br />Find a hole that would be my hideawayPriyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-5778767535858459942009-01-22T09:08:00.003+05:302009-01-22T09:18:26.186+05:30Early Morning OfficeI had forgotten what it felt like to come into office on an early morning. Sunlight pouring in through the windows and an empty expanse of cublicles, the water cooler free of people, the cafeteria just getting ready for breakfast, the AC not freezing cold. And the total silence.<br />It's nice to watch the office slowly fill up as people come in and start work. Switch on their computers, check their emails, drink some coffee, banter with friends. And then start their endless phone conversations.<br />The office machine slowly wakes up to life, and the human cogs start turning. The wheels will grind on late into the night.<br />But for now its an empty office.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-36283889802389528002008-11-20T08:49:00.003+05:302008-11-20T08:56:55.921+05:30Oh What Freedom this!!!It's been a long long time. I have to come to office early to do this. :)<br />What shall I write about today? Theres everything and nothing. I've been thinking about the process of novel writing. How do authors construct a story, fit charachters into it and govern everything about them? Its a feeling of immense power but incredibly difficult. How do they ever decide that this is the way the story is goins to happen, this is the way this charachter is going to behave and this is the way I am going to write it. I for one cant even think of a story I want to write about.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-41989429249109375542008-08-30T18:53:00.000+05:302008-08-30T18:54:38.286+05:30Why are you Late Today ?The door bell rings suddenly, insistently, shaking me out of my slumber and I walk bleary eyed to the door. The maid awaits, having managed to wake me after four attempts at the bell. Our morning alarm clock is late again. And I know that we will be rushing to office, running around desperately to catch an auto-wallah willing to take us the short distance to office, cursing the traffic, and generally doing what most Mumbaikars do in the morning.<br />“Why are u late today?”, I question querulously, “Don’t you know we have to get to office by 9, and can’t be waiting for you?”. She does not answer, just staggers around unsteadily while she attempts to sweep the house. I notice, and think for the umpteenth time that we need to get a new maid, this one seems to be getting worse by the day. But there just doesn’t seem to be the time to do anything nowadays. I rush to office, oblivious to any problems but my own.<br />Another day dawns, more leisurely this time. The bell wakes me up again. I even attempt a smile today, from the general good cheer of the weekend stretching ahead. I make some tea while she cuts the vegetables. Only when I am about to drink it, does it occur to me to offer her some. She becomes a human suddenly, just the same as me. A few questions and I learn her story. Married at 18, four kids already, and a drunk for a husband who beats her up regularly. The last time he had done that, she had had to go to hospital for a week and couldn’t walk properly after that. She still came to work anyway because she’s the only earning member now. Economic independence and women’s liberty. This is not what they mean, surely?<br />The door bell rings again. She seems terrified. “If it is my husband, tell him that I have left. Please. He will drag me home if he finds me here”. I open the door to find blood shot eyes. I smell the alcohol on his breath. I hold the door open an inch, and say she has left. He repeats the question, and I my answer. More irritably. Insistently. I slam the door shut on his face, wishing instead that I could give him a taste of his own medicine.<br />She smiles at me gratefully. We are allies now. Friends in a way. She may remain a terrible cook, and a sloppy worker. But she’s turned more into ‘Madhuri didi’ now, from being just ‘the maid’.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-32294343776190753722008-04-03T22:25:00.002+05:302008-04-03T22:41:17.388+05:30The Incredible Kindness of PeopleWe often hear stories of people complaining about how they have been unfairly treated by others. I think its an in built human trait that we focus on the negatives rather than the positives. But i have often been amazed by the sheer kindness that people can exhibit sometimes without expecting anything in return.<br />I was on my first trip to Mumbai, alone on a train from Chennai, visiting the IIT campus for a competition. Solely dependent on some vague instructions provided by the event organisers I was a little nervous about how to get to the campus from the station. Asking a few people in the compartment around me, elicited immediate directions and warnings. One man actually got down in the station along with me, put me on a taxi after issuing dire warnings to the driver and even went to the extent of calling me after half an hour to inquire if I had reached safely. I was incredibly touched. And delighted. That a total stranger should go to so much trouble for me expecting nothing in return was surprising to say the least.<br />Ive tried to do my bit too after that, helping strangers with heavy luggage, giving up seats on buses for old people, exchanging berths on trains. Little bits of kindness here and there. People view me suspiciously sometimes, but they make someone's day a little brighter sometimes. And they are surprised too by the kindness of strangers.Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28976619.post-17459012969187761152008-04-01T19:39:00.003+05:302008-04-01T19:51:48.905+05:30Transition times<span style="color:#003300;">My life has been always neatly divided into phases. There was school, college, Wipro, MBA so far and now my married phase is about to begin. But I think its those in between transition times that are the hardest to define and get through. Looking back now I think they were what helped to adjust from one phase to another and changed something inside me. Helped me grow up from a school going child to one supposedly ready to face the challenges and sudden independence in college. And then from an immature college student to an excited then bored office goer.<br />I am in a transition time right now, and I have the feeling of having lost my moorings, of being afloat and patiently waiting to reach somewhere, to start the next phase. I can already feel the time slipping away, the time I want to cling onto and remember - as a spoilt grandchild, as an independent woman, as a daughter with the freedom to make her own decisions, as a child who doesn’t have to think about what others might think of her actions. Time to just sit at home and while the hours away, reading a book or sleeping or just doing nothing without feeling guilty about it. This is one of the most precious times to me and i intend (hopefully) to use it well.</span>Priyadarshinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12056928587735068480noreply@blogger.com3