A winter morning

A flower's appeal is in its contradictions - so delicate in form yet strong in fragrance, so small in size yet big in beauty, so short in life yet long on effect.

~Adabella Radici

Arranged Marriage

We all know about arranged marriages - how they work and what all goes on before you say 'yes'. I always thought it was kind of funny and makes for a perfect subject for a film. But wait, there's more to it. And you cannot really imagine until and unless you actually go for a meeting like this one...

Whoever thought of the ‘arranged’ meeting
Was surely an absolute nerd
Leaving two strangers in an isolated corner
Is, to say the least, obnoxiously awkward

You are expected to chit chat
And find out if you gel well
If yes, the shaadi is fixed
If no, you are termed as rebel

Now imagine this sweet li’l girl
In such a dreaded situation
Facing a prospective suitor
After great procrastination

She begins with a hi and a hello
And asks politely, ‘What do you do?’
Behaving like a well brought up child
Atleast till the meeting is through

She is nervous and clueless
And stares blankly at the aquarium
Just then he pops the expected question,
‘So, are you vegetarian??’

‘Do you believe in God?’ he asks next
As if it were an imperative condition
‘Neither a devotee nor an atheist am I’
She replies smartly with great conviction

‘How do you spend your weekends?’
‘What all places have you traveled to?’
One after the other the questions keep coming
Shrouded in mystery & enigma - just like a deja vu

But slowly the uneasiness begins to fade
The interview transforms into interaction
And in a startling moment she realizes
Hell, there’s some sort of faint attraction

I quite like this guy, she says to herself
And prays he too shows some sign
But time seems to run out, he has to go
Oh, the pang of this damned ‘arranged’ design

The parents say they like the girl
But leave the final decision to the guy
She realizes it’s not the arranged meeting
But what’s worse is waiting for his reply

More Kettles!

A couple of months ago I talked about my idea of making handmade gifts like this. The idea was quite a hit and 2 of my aunts asked me to make the same for them. So here I am, with 2 more kettles as my Diwali gift to them :)

It’s no secret – I absolutely love warli and try to use it wherever possible.



This one turned out to be quite interesting and for once, I was really tempted to keep it for myself! ;)



I tried to bring in a couple of things together and even attempted some birds and beasts.


For the next one I took a brighter base and did a little freehand.




Though floral is not my forte, I quite liked the final result.



I didn't do a double coat of the base this time, so the aluminium is visible in some places.




Learning from experience, I didn’t put in plants this time.
a) not many species can survive in the little space that a kettle provides
b) without the plant, it can be used as an adornment in any corner of the house





I just hope after seeing each other’s kettles the aunts don’t complain, “Bhumi gave you the better one”. You know how aunts are...

In queue are two more friends. But I believe now I’m done with kettles. Looking for another interesting base. If you have any suggestions, do let me know.

And yes, wish you all a very Happy Diwali! :)

Kitchen Confidential

I still remember the day I watched my mother as she carefully took out a shiny steel box from the cabinet of the kitchen. An aromatic burst engulfed the steamy kitchen as she opened its lid. Inside were some six mini containers, holding spices which had very unusual shapes. My little eyes shone as if I had discovered a treasure I never knew existed in my very house. She called it ‘aakha’ (whole) garam masala. But for a 5 year old girl, it was nothing short of magic.




Over the years, not much has changed. I still stand in awe when I see the simplest of ingredients being transmuted into bold, hedonistic blends of the perfect flavour. Undoubtedly, Indian kitchens still remain the Holy Grail of gastronomy – churning out dishes that make for exalting culinary experiences. And it is not merely about the food, but about a whole culture that surrounds it.

“If you don’t measure the right thing, you don’t do the right thing.”

But interesting, in India we don’t really follow measurements. Here, ingredients are measured out by practiced ‘instruments’ – by hand. Indian cooking is not like preparing cakes where you can say, “add 2 tsp. of sugar”. Instead, it’s a more liberating practice where you follow the dynamics of ‘andaazan’. And after having cooked quite some meals, I defer from believing that ‘andaazan’ would simply mean ‘approximately’. It’s more than just that. It’s about having the freedom to experiment and add a bit of what you think would possibly make the dish taste more delicious.

At the same time, unlike western culinary quickies, traditional Indian cooking involves great patience. It’s about letting the curries simmer on a low flame; of grinding the spices leisurely, allowing the aromatic flavours to ooze; of churning the sheera at regular intervals for hours together until it attains that perfect golden allure…Definitely, it’s more than just patience at work; it’s passion.

And the love affair with food doesn’t end there. There’s always the dollop of ghee to top it all or the generous helping of ‘gud’ in the thali. In other words, it is an unadulterated vision of life as a pleasure-seeking activity, where the need to provide our bodies with the nutrients alongwith an unabashed portion of fat is really okay.

Having cooked for a substantial number of years now, I would like to believe that I have only begun to unravel the mysteries that make any food well worth its salt. A friend once said, “Never cook when you’re angry; the food wouldn’t taste good.” Food, then, is as much about the ingredients as about the ‘jazbaat’ of the person who prepares it. The pangs of the hostel-fed stomach, when it thinks of ‘ma ke haath ka khaana’, is certainly no exaggeration in that respect.

Surely, cooking isn’t as easy as our mothers make it out to be. Like all great arts, it is something that requires dedication, passion and the ability to pick up those nuances that help create a masterpiece. It is a complex concoction of traditional methods, culinary secrets, social respectability, gratification and ofcourse a heady dose of love. In the words of Linda Henley, “If God had intended us to follow recipes, he wouldn't have given us grandmothers.”

Happily Unmarried

When it comes to getting on your nerves, there's nothing that beats aunts. They come, talk nonsense and walk away. This one's one of those many conversations - aunts in their oh-so-characteristic fashion.

Hello beta, how are you?
Saw you when you were this little
And now look at you!

You were so naughty
Kept pulling my hair pin
Now you are so well-mannered
Just grown darker and a little too thin

Oh, so you are working?!
That’s a good way to pass time
Now society is so modern
In our days, it was considered a crime

You must be knowing cooking-shuking
Afterall, that is a must even today
For no matter how much you study
Eventually, you have to make chapatis everyday

It's high time you get married
25 years is quite late
Then people will start talking nonsense
Leaving a sweet girl like you irate

But thank your stars, for I have brought
A perfect match your way
5.10’, fair and studied till class 12
But my my, what an impressive pay!

Don’t go by his criminal looks
Neither take note of his bulging fat
After marriage even girls gain weight
You know, in sindhis it’s like that

Now don't think too much
Or keep waiting for that 'soul mate'
Some compromises you have to make
Rest, i'm telling you - leave it to fate

I think I must leave now
But do think about this proposal
Any more details you want to know
I'm always at your disposal

When nostalgia hits

Like drops of water
that create a ripple
in the calm blue lake

Thoughts of you
enter my mind
and reverberate

Aargh!!

I’m not in the best of moods
So please bear with my rants
The fucking client doesn’t seem to end
His uncanny wants

One day he turns copywriter
And writes some shit
Says, ‘This is what I want,
Just refine it a bit.’

The other day he’s art director
Oh, he even draws the layout!
Sends it to the creative team
And says, ‘Call me incase of doubt’

Never satisfied with 2-3 options
He always asks for more
‘Kuch aur naya dikhao,’ he demands
As if he’s shopping in a garment store

His whims and fancies
Grow vicious day by day
Turning every brilliant ad
Into just another cliché

At times I feel like going
And tearing him into pieces
Neither a pig nor a dog is he
Hell, he belongs to a different species

But then, there’s little I can do
Afterall he is the client
Our salaries are thanks to him
So I better not be defiant

After such series of attrocities
When you get tired and highly pissed
Even you’d agree with me and say
Well, demons on earth do exist