A Note...

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I have been thinking. If you know me (read friends), then please refrain from sticking your tongue out at this one.

Anyhoo. As I was saying, I have been thinking and I realized something. I realized that I like change-a lot. Long periods of monotony scare me. And that is how my life has been for some time now-irritatingly monotonous.

Why am I telling you all this boring stuff, you ask. I am telling you this, because I am going to be away. Away from my blogs and probably yours as well. But I love to read. And I love to read awesome stuff for free even more. So I promise to catch up some time in the future.

You will miss me though…..Won’t ya?

Hugs

Fab week - A Tube Tale

I want to write sunny side up this time. I am trying to.

The good news is that the Calcutta underground tube, fondly called The Metro Railway, has been extended till Garia. Our very own, much appreciated, didi aka Mamta Bannerjee aka The Railway Minster, was pleased as a punch. So in order to preserve our rich culture and heritage (God bless this saintly soul), she has gone and changed the names of some old stations and kept unique names for the new ones. She really helps us learn new things, this woman. If I ever go to Garia and beyond by Metro, I will have to first find the Metro equivalent new unique underground name of the place, all thanks to her deep thoughtfulness and sheer creativity in naming and renaming the stations.

I did have to go to Tollygunge. This was me at the ticket counter, just realizing that Tollygunge has had its name changed.
Me: **Umm**
Guy behind the counter: **Stares**
Me: “Kumar….Uttam Kumar”
Guy behind the counter: **Blank expression**
Me: **Looks at him disbelievingly**
Guy behind the counter: “Oh! Tollygunge..Mahanayak Uttam Kumar!”
Me: **Phew**
And a train was missed in conversation and translation.

Esplanade
Zee and I, were headed towards Esplanade. This is probably the only station were the people entering the train are of a completely different breed altogether. I mean really.
Day1
The automatic doors swing open. A few people were standing in front of us. Two of them managed to get off. And then it started.
Zee: “Push yaa!!!”
Me: **Turns around to stare at her, suddenly reminded of not so pleasant pushing scenes from many flicks.**
In that split second, we get pushed back in, by the crowd of people waiting outside.
Me: “WHAT THE FUCK!!!”
Crowd: **Pauses to stare at the source of the Engleeesh expletive**
Me: **Seizes the opportunity to tumble out of the train**
Zee: **Once outside** "You know, I am taller. If I had been standing in front of you, I could’ve gotten us out more easily. "
Me: “Yeah? Don’t you worry. There is always a next time.”

Day2
Destination: Esplanade.
Zee is standing in front of me. Her 5’9” frame was thoroughly blocking all the light. Some healthy looking ladies were standing in front of us. The doors open. One lady manages to descend. We get pushed in even further inside the train. I keep my lips zipped.
Lady in front of Zee: “Eeee Maaa! Ooshojoo! Naabte dibena ki!?! NABTE DAO!!!” (Bengali for-"Unbearable. Won't you let us get off!?! Let us get off!!!")
Turns out she was good at clearing the way. One side of the door closes. A man is unwittingly blocking the other side with his laptop bag. The lady shoves the bag aside and steps out. We tumble out behind her.
Zee: “Don’t say it!”
Me: ** Smirk**

Day3
Yes my dears. I am a persistent fool. And this time I was headed for Esplanade, all alone. I lack brute force. So I decide to use logic. The people standing right at front always manage to get out, don’t they? So as soon as Park Street had gone by, I get up and stand behind the door. I think I even prayed a little.
Flash Back. Day2: (10.45pm)
I have applied the Loreal Copper Brown Hair Color, all over my Loreal Deep Plum tresses. I decide to leave it in for a little longer than instructed, for added effect. I wait by chilling in the cool air and browsing through blogs.
Flash Back. Day3: (8.30am)
I wake up. My hair looks radiant in the morning sun. I also have a red nose, a mild headache and some congestion in my chest. Oh well. Added frills never come cheap.
Present time
The doors open. The crowd seems all the more rowdier, now that I was witnessing them at such close quarters. They surge towards me. I feel people pushing me from behind. Why am I resisting them? I don’t know. And then it happened.
Me: **AAACHHHOOOOO!!!!!** I sneezed into my tissue.

The crowd pauses. It stares at the very bright eyed and not so bushy tailed me. It was an Oprah AHA moment. I swear. I stepped out and passed through.

I have found my savior.




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The Attack Of The....

"This is what shit looks like up close" I thought. I wished I were a guy. Guys find a strange joy in such items and in the chemistry behind it.

"Ugh" I shuddered in my mind. "Maybe I need help after all."


"What are you waiting for!?!" he asks.

That brought me back to the present. In case I haven't told you, my dear bloggie friends, I have the bad habit of drifting off to my own world and thinking crazy thoughts, just like Exhibit A above.

"Hey!" A finger waved playfully in front of my face now.
"I don't feel like it" I said. "I am full."
"Jeez! You have just nibbled at it. Oh well. Suit yourself. Do you want to order for anything else? Dessert?"
"Just an Espresso."
"I thought you were non-vegetarian now. This is some good ebi haahaa heehee. One of the best I have had."
"I'm sure."

Incident2
Two of us approach the jhaal moodi wallah.

"Bhaiya" the friend says. "Mere me, chatni dalna, khatta kam and mirchi bilkul nahi. Tamatar jyada dijiyega."
Tastes it.
"Ummm".. Thoda aur blah blah.."
"Ab chatni kum, thodi si hari mirch aur khatta kam dalke banao"

I wake up from my reverie.
"Why are you instructing him again?"
"He's making yours now."
"How do you know what I want?"
"I have noticed when you finish your moodi and when you throw it away."

Ah! Isn't that sweet. Another food obsessed person in my life.

The worst kind I had run into, were the ones in an office I had worked long back.
"Ghar ka kahnna!!!!" someone yelled and everyone tasted the supposedly heavenly, home cooked chole. I thought it tasted like chole. But aloud, the hypocrite in me wondered how it was made so well. That prompted the person who had brought it, to say this.

"It is not that good this time around. It has a little less masala. You know the gravvy is thin. Usually mummy (Yes! He said mummy!), makes awesome chole.
Another female nay aunty: "But this chole is still very tasty. You know it is all in the fingers. I can make amazing paav bhaji. Will bring some tomorrow."
Guy2: "You make very good pav bhaji. Even though we heat it in the micro wave here, it still tastes awesome. You must be adding a lot of butter yaa."
Me: (Thinking) "Thats it. I have died and reached hell. Hell is not raging with fire. It is filled with food."
Opportunist Boss who was living alone: "Hey guys! Lets have a pot luck some day. What say?"
Everyone: "Yes! Yes!."
Me: (Thinking) "No! No! I stand corrected. This is way worse than hell."


It is the attack of the foodies. That is what it is.

I just don't get it. I eat to live. All food usually tastes the same to me. Well. I mean, I can make out if something is hot/cold/spicy/sweet/tangy/blah blah. But I just cannot see what the fuss is all about. Just because something is oh! so well done and so tender and juicy and yummy, I will not have more that my fair share. Or burst into poetry over it.

What I do not get even more is, why I have so many fricking foodies around me.

I have a friend who has no spare time. None at all. But he still manages to cook up a storm on weekends.
"What will you have?" he asks. "Do you eat beef? No! Mutton then? No! Never mind. I'll make some Biryani. Or should it be fried rice with manchurian and chilly chicken? I know you are not veg anymore (Really! Been two days and everyone does!). I know you can eat chicken. Now don't make a fuss. You know how I love to cook and it is no trouble at all. Main toh waise bhi Sunday ko yehi banane walla tha."

And what do I say if someone is coming over?
"Come over yaa. We'll see what we will do. It is an open house." Which roughly translates into-you are on your own and unless we step out or order in, you will cook.

I feel completely useless now.

Oh and Diwali is coming. I hear that the Gujju sweets from the Gujju center (No. Don't ask for details. I wasn't paying attention), is the best. You know Kaju Barfi, Badam Barfi, Namkeens and the like. You need to order weeks in advance. Also if you are ordering ladoos in Kolkata, you just have to get it from "Tiwari's".

Nauseously Yours



Image courtesy: www.catspictures.net/

Little Choco's Summer Vacation Part?

A Beginning to an End

(Continued from "The Chocolate Cake")

“Don’t get your dress or your shoes dirty. Do you hear me? Say yes.”

“Yes Mum.”

“And also do not get anything on your face or hair.”

Little Choco nodded a yes.

“Sanya! Look at you! You look like a Bengali da. As beautiful as ever.”

It was mum’s, eldest brother in law. Sarika and Sima’s father.

Mum just smiled.

“Naina” he smiled at little Choco. “Tumi kamon aacho?” (“How are you” in Bengali)

“How do you know Bengali?” asked little Choco.

When I was Captain on the ship, we used to go via Bay of Bengal and dock there sometimes. But that was a long time ago. You never answered my question. Kamon aacho?” he persisted.

“Aami bhalo. Eekhane shob unclera beeye te shaada shaada kapod kano pode? Aamader ookhane kalo or oono rong beshi kore pode. Aar pant pode. Shudu eekhane badir kapod kano pode? Kano? Tumi jano?” (I’m good. Why do uncles here wear white to weddings? Back home, people wear black or other colors more. And they wear pants to such occasions. Not clothes they would normally wear at home. Why do they do so here? Do you know?”)

“Aami tumake bhalo bhashi.” He smiled a dimpled smile at little Choco. ("I love you" in Bengali)

Little Choco realized that the man belonged to the breed of people who know just 3 lines in Bengali (Kamon aacho, Tumar naam ki and Aami tumake bhalobhashi), and insisted on using it on every person from the north eastern part of India. She made a break for it. Her mum heaved a sigh of relief.

She ran straight into Sima and Natasha.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Sima. “What are you wearing? It is so dowdy. Look at Natasha. She is looking so much nicer than you.”

Little Choco just froze.

“Look at how much silver Natasha’s dress has” Sima continued. She proceeded to count the silver.

“One, two, three…….twelve. See. It has twelve silver leaves. You look so very plain in comparison. Where did you find that dress?”

Little Choco felt the blood rush to her face. She was completely inept at crying. But she really wanted to cry now.

“What are you saying?” said a voice behind her. It was Gina.

“Take a good look at her dress. The entire front half is gold net. Wait. Let me count. One, two, three,... twenty…”

Gina counted the small golden boxes on little Choco’s dress.

“Do you want me to keep counting? And look at you two. Natasha is wearing a salwar kameez and you are wearing a patu pavada. We on the other hand are wearing dresses and are looking so much smarter than you. And what is that on your feet? Chappals!?! Sheesh! How cheap! Look. We are wearing shoes.”

Gina seemed to be on a roll now.

Sima blinked. Then she drew in a huge breath. And then, without warning, she started wailing. Loudly.

“Run!!!” Gina said.

And so they ran. They stopped only upon reaching the river bank. They could still hear faint shrieking, coming from the direction of the house.

“Will we get into trouble for that?”

Little Choco was concerned.

“Nah! She does that all the time. Every time she runs out of things to say, she starts crying. Hey! Let us throw stones into the river and see who can make bigger ripples.”

Little Choco: All right!

They did just that till the leader came with the other three girls in tow. Sima was not showing any outward signs of the hissy fit she had just had, a little while ago.

“The wedding party will come after two hours. I suggest walking down this river bank. We may be able to find out just were it ends.” the leader declared.

The five little girls agreed with great gusto. So they set out on a journey, to seek, where the sand laid river bank would lead them.

(May not be continued…)

Epilogue

Hello.

I am little Choco. Choco is thoroughly bored of writing this series. If you knew her, you would also know that she does not stick to doing anything for long. It is pure wonder that this blog is still being updated. But she will be away a lot till the Pujos, for reasons unknown. So it is upto me to wrap up this series.
Natasha- Married a guy from Kerala and lives in Kerala.
Sima- Married a guy from Dubai but she lives in Kerala. They are not rude to Choco anymore. But then they do not talk to her much. Choco thought that was rude, till she realized that they do not talk to each other at all. I think Choco gets by because she is both talkative and rude herself.
Sarika- Lives in Dubai with husband and kids. Choco liked her a lot when she last met her. She felt that Sarika has progressed as a person.
Gina- Lives in Mumbai with her husband. Choco wishes her and her new baby all the very best in life.
The Leader- Is married and lives in Kerala but would love to move out. Chances of that look slim to Choco but with the leader, you never know. Choco is civil with both these sisters.

I think Choco should either get married herself or learn to live with the resultant taunts. She definitely cannot have her cake and eat it too. And if she had not lifted my snap out of the world wide web, I could have given her a little more credit.

Hugs to all you people

Little Choco's Summer Vacation Part 3

Happy Onam to all the Malu's around the world. This series is Choco's way of wishing everyone a flowerfilled Onam.

This picture was taken on Onam, by yours truly, last year in Kannur, Kerala. See my baby watching over the flowers without messing them up, just because I told him not to? I am not celebrating anything this year in his memory. May he RIP.



(Continued from "Little Choco's Summer Vacation Part 2")

The Chocolate Cake

"I want to discuss something important" the leader said to the five little girls sitting cross legged before her, on the terrace. "As you must have noticed, little Aunt is very sad. We need to do something for her. I suggest making a cake.

"Don't you mean baking a cake?" asked little Choco.

"No. I mean making a cake. You will see. It will be fun. Is there anything else that we can do for her, besides that? What about you Sarika?"

"I will supervise everyone" said "The Ice Princess". With that she got up and sat down on a cane chair in a corner.

The leader looked in her direction for a few seconds, lost in thought. Then she turned to Gina. "What about you Gins?"

"I can dance for her" said Gina, with a twirl and a shimmy.

"I can sing" volunteered Sima.

"Very nice. What about you Natasha?"

Natasha responded by lifting her dress, she did that a lot, and lying down flat on the floor. She then proceeded to puff up her stomach. She looked like "Thangaswami", little Choco's Math teacher. The first and last, very pregnant extremely cranky woman little Choco had seen. Little Choco disliked pregnant women very much.

"I can do this!" declared Natasha in the puffed up state.

"Oh wow. You look pregnant! How did you do that? Amazing!" cooed the leader.

"What can you do Naayanaa?"

"I can do this" said little Choco.

With that she lay down beside a still puffed up Natasha and pulled up her dress. She then sucked in her tummy to the best of her ability.

"Oh! Naayanaa! How did you do that? I can see your ribs. You look like a model baby! Very nice!" applauded a now beaming leader.

"Wow! Your undies are so pretty. Barbie and Skipper! I don't have these." exclaimed Gina peering at the said undies.

Little Choco, red with embarrassment, quickly pulled down her dress.

"Let us go then" declared the leader.

The land around the house had once been farm land. Being a river side didn't help either. They had to walk over a log and jump over some small meandering streams with tiny fish. Little Choco, the city girl, had required the most help and encouragement. She was not used to slippery surfaces. But she wasn't complaining. Finally the leader declared a space under a tree, some distance from the house, as a safe place to make the cake.

The Ice Princess was the watchdog. The leader had asked her to keep an eye out for the elders. Sima and Gina were responsible for the water supplies.
Natasha had lifted, folded and tied her frock around her waist like a "Mundu". She seemed to have an entire range of bright red undies in her wardrobe.
Little Choco and Natasha took turns mixing the mud and the water, while the leader busied herself, with making a perfect round chocolate cake, on a rectangular cardboard piece. A red rose was placed on it.

"It needs more color. Can you get Fevicol from the house Natasha?"

Natasha jumped her way to and fro with amazing speed. The cake got its white frosting. It also wished the little Aunt, the very best in life.

Now if only little Choco could have kept the memory of the aunt's reaction to the cake....

(May be continued)


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