my food blog

http://food-temptress.blogspot.com/

ps - i cook only vegetarian

if we need an invention to pep up our moronic lives, i'd vote for something like an 'interest generating chip' embedded in our butts which would keep us rocking till we die.

ofcourse he may say why not leave this to the discovery process. but that is for the idealists. not humans. i say let us each have this chip and have a trigger each time life gets boring. when really we are the ones who get boring, who get silent, who become cribbers, who rot, and die each day. not to mention spread the highly contagious disease.

so dear master of super inventions, i hope you read this or dream this. pls assist your fellow beings to live better lives. thank you.

I can see the sun from where I sit in my office. I can see it beginning to set. Its still yellow. But its not harsh anymore. I can see the silhouettes of buildings through the window screens. Between me and the sun is a lone plant pot. A few leaves of the plant face me. A few face towards the sun. How do the ones which face me get any sunlight? I certainly do not emit any light. At this point, even if I did emit any, it's more likely to shrivel up the leaves than nurture them. If they told me anything, I'd probably just look at them unfixed, like I was conveniently deaf. Empathy is running real low here. with me I mean. like every year, I think I need a drastic change. one which is yet to happen. weird. what a complete waste of time. of life. maybe I need a job at grass root level to begin to appreciate this. and then maybe not, for this world is comfortably numb. like tyler says, maybe self destruction is the answer. then maybe, who cares for answers. I care for peace, that's all I know. peace of mind. stability of mind. and like all good surreal things, this remains elusive.

its been an unproductive day. there is no work at workplace. so i am physically sitting here, fulfilling the necessity of sitting all compulsory hours.
how weird is the world's norms. Very. this is proof.

there is not much to day dream about. this is not the environment. its a sealed over conditioned overly lighted room. how does one's floating energies breathe here, let alone fly? how am i to think out of the box here? and to think that my primary job on work days is to use my brains to the fullest so as to do the job which anyone could do. we do not talk about a job well done. in that respect, maybe the number of people who could do this job, would be very few. so we refrain from meaning that a job done should be a job well done. we only mean, a job done is done.

this is a weird place. this is probably the first thought i get each day. is this to suggest that i am incapable of anything else? no, ofcourse not. this is to only say, that i haven't found any other way to earn money till now. that means while i am capable of doing many things, some of them better than this, i am incapable of converting any of those into gold. or money. so i stick to this.

also next time i get the idealist kick from inside, murder me please. this world does not deserve the agony of having to put up with idealists. even the ones who offer practicality in the package deal. no, we just do not want them. we want normal people only. normal you see. with a belly and all. with gas filled up, not conscience.

also in the pipeline are juicy treats and promised glory. so ten years down the line, a certain 16th day of this month of 2006 would be written on stone. are such my levels of glory? you must be kidding. but well, this is the highest which comes here. like the presidents award. we have this award. very important. very big. who cares if my maid still shouts at me and the neighbor's cat scratches me. i got this.

so while i kick some time by trying the next flavour of tea available in the pantry, why don't you drop the sham and spill the beans...

i am trying to remember what i did on saturday, and how i seem to recollect friday and sunday, but nothing from the day between those....
so while i remember what i can't now, here's the other two days -

friday i went shopping, and window shopped. checked out the new mall, which is nice and different but has the most horrid name 'k magnum hall' in neon lights [that too of the cheap quality]. but it was good checking out 'Guess' and 'Espirit' shops, what a change ...the denim was excellent in 'Guess' and as expected was their price :( . To soothe myself, i decided i can buy a pair /year basis as indulgence [as if the rest of shopping is not but anyways...]. Then had excellent chinese at chung fa which was open. In my years in Pune, i have yet not been able to figure out when this place remains open, for the shutters always seem down to me. But friday was lucky, so i overate, and in my greed, also got the same dish packed as i'd already eaten , to eat at home later. I did eat half of the tub again when i got home only to fill myself to the limit where i started worrying if i was close to throwing up.

Saturday -

Sunday - Woke up desiring pakoras so went to buy veggies, came back and made gobi, baigan pakora and onion rings and ate them. These were excellent. Since sunday was Ind-Eng champions trophy cric match , so their were no other plans but to wait for 2:30pm. Efficiency seemed to be flowing and i decided to 'utilise' the 1 hour i had before the match started to try go about someplace which would give me a haircut even though i had no appointment. I tried a new salon and am very pleased with the results. Rushed home and settled down with the TV on and a book. I cannot watch cric as the only activity. Prepared yummy snack plate of haldiram dal+onions+tomatoes+aaloo+peanuts+lemon. With coke. Again, i think i overate. Watched the match and read for a while and then ate the aaloo parantha [which maid has made in morning] with paneer sabzi. This was yummy. While match hota raha. Book bhi hoti rahi. Had some tea in the evening. Match khatam hote raat ho gayi. Dinner was veggies stir fried and mixed in a quick top ramen. This did it. I had just eaten too much and i have decided to restrain next time.

I now remember what was saturday. Well, a friend's bike which had been left under n's care was to be given for servicing. So, we went to FC road and gave the bike around 1pm. They said to take it at around 5:30pm. So we decided to be outdoors till that time to save making trips home and back and then home. Ate dosas for brunch with Limca [papa ko yaad karke]. Then in the heat, only thing which could be done was hit the movies. Saw back to back shows of 'You, me and Dupree' and 'Flyboys'. Liked both, although Flyboys was nicer. Bike was ready by then. Went home after getting one heart attack per minute in the horrendous traffic. Being a rider is the worst, all you do is sit on the bike and worry who's going to hit you :( I was scared enough to surprise myself.
That was weekend.

i see so many children, teens writing blogs...and i can't help wish we had the blog world when i was a kid too. now i wrote those diaries then, which am sure many people back then did. but not the online thingie...and to imagine be a kid and have events and happenings and learnings and jokes and crushes and trailers and gossips and wonder and be carefree enuff....and then be able to write...

before we got a job and became boring and complaining and twitching and sad and gloomy adults. cribbing. and not doing anything to make life interesting but cribbing about it. by laughing at dreams. and by losing that sense of carefree wonder. and also shaming those who still indulge in it...

yes, if i had to choose an age when i'd liked to have blogged most, i would choose my school years. the years of a work-in-progress called me. because the difference now is that the work is going on, but the progress is very slow.

and my opinion could change, on another spirited day but the above would still hold true.

Years back I used to write letters to my dad. We were living in different cities and although the mobile revolution kept as connected after every gulab-jamun or chole or paneer we'd eaten and reported, we still kept in touch via the snail way. The thought occurred to me now, that this process has stopped in totality. And it has been years since this has stopped. So all in all, I am clueless in the time chaos of when the letter writing was active, even though sporadically, and when it demised without my notice. The catharsis here also leaves me to wonder at how the process has ended from both receiving ends. Does this mean that only one of my dad or me was the initiator and the other receiver. And either one died, and led to the other's death?

Sad how memory runs yonder when I am not wearing my contact lens.

I can't remember the last time I had been to the post office. Well, seems I’d spend more money sending anything which accounts as non-e-mail via couriers as the happy chaps come and collect it from me and save me the trouble of going over. I am no longer sure of where apart from the post office would one be able to get postage stamps. And that even if I got them, whether a letter would carry a 1-rupee stamp or has inflation brushed past this as well?

In no case am I getting nostalgic over the lost art of letter writing. And this is weirder. I feel nothing over it and no emotions cross me while I write this. The lost art seems to have moved beyond being lost. It’s extinct. So much so that if I ever have kids, I’d perhaps have to turn to the 'Letters' section of the encyclopedia and show them of how the previous generations found the art and then lost it in time. I will perhaps get that 'eyes in wonder' look from my kid when I admit I did also write letters once upon a time....

Well, I do wonder of how they used pigeons.

living in a big city

i realize i can't step out of my house and hope to walk into fields. there are none. i could only walk into more shapes evolved out of concrete.

i realize even though i live in a city which has a river flowing through it, i can hardly feel the river effect. the structures have sprouted everywhere, the waters are polluted, the beauty lies crouched beneath bridges and shadows of the civilized world around.

i realize we do not believe in the concept of public parks. for any flat piece of land could reap those millions for the already millionaire builders.

i realize i cannot cycle without the fear of being killed by the thundering traffic and public transport buses. and i cannot find a place devoid of mindless traffic.

i realize the proximity to nature is limited to the trees and a little more green still surviving.

living in a big city
living in all comforts
but living with no life around

we are a big city
and this is the price we have paid

delight.

i use a green highlighter pen. the lights are out and the green pen and the green ticks on the papers in front of me are all looking a funny yellow. and i am really liking it. everything else is looking gloomy. only the yellow on the white is striking and i am watching it with the delightful eyes or a 4 year old.

as i write, the lights are back, and i see the usual green ticks again....nothing lasts forever...

the mood is nice. and i see lots of clouds in the sky through my window.

that it's friday and the weekend is ahead makes me want to say tra-la-la-la-la out loud. LOUD.

but i will squeak a tiny yay! for now and get back to work...

yay! yay!

Such a want for rain.

A big downpour, the Mumbai type baarish. Of course, I want to be sitting curled up at home by the balcony door, just watching it, fall in multi sized drops, looking all the same, a transparent sheet in the view. Smelling the rich earth, and sipping good coffee. Watching the leaves on trees sparkle and rejoice in the seasonal bath.
Eyes glazed in the distance and the mind soothed for a while, in awe of the white spread.
The sound of raindrops falling appealing as traffic lessens and human race disappears looking for shelter.
I can almost touch the rain and feel a shiver…


This is the middle of summer, intense heat, and I get this feeling like I am missing the rain, like it’s pouring for me and that I am not feeling it enough….

And life. How often do I get this feeling like I am missing life right in front of my eyes, not touching it enough, not watching it closely…

Such a want for rain.


And stagnation. The seasonal bath that washes away all stagnation and cleanses the spirit and recharges the numbing cells. How I wish not to sink further in this debris, in this monotony I call a routine. When I am probably, already at rock bottom. Can I let the rain flood this pool, and give myself a chance to get out?

Time to rise, is it? Time to feel the shiver…

Such a want for rain. For life, for a change…

Just a smile does it...

of the mails we get from the top brass informing about others joining in the top clan, almost all men (considering v few women join in as the king of the jungle) are married with wives who are homemakers. now being a homemaker is not being a lesser mortal but having said that, one would in most cases choose to believe that all these very accomplished men have fairly educated wives carving out a niche somewhere......now i don't know why most choose to be at home....

· is it that the finances are taken care of, but is this the only reason one works for and wouldn't working for the sake of working be anyday better when worrying about the bills does not figure ;

· is it being available to attend dos and events and socials at the drop of a hat with there husbands overrules them having any professional engagements ;

· or why is that (apart from financially) a lot of women juggle work and family without the help of any full time help (i don't like the word servants , thankfully the army induces the word 'help' ) whereas a lot of these accomplished men's homemaker wives have drivers and maids and full time or not full time but very good help at hand , and yet they boast about looking after 'the home husband and children' when i would think they'd have more constructive time ;

· and why does everyone speak well of the 'homemaker' who attends all the parties but gossips about the working wife who missed the dinner due to a better commitment ......

exceptions are always there, and that is not the point here.

i don't know, but women , especially accomplished women wasting there life (which is defined as sitting by the window looking at the manicured grass and thinking, oh yeah sitting on that grass is another world, but i have my very comfy couch) makes me quiet......and sad in its way.....

(1) i think that we should keep our gobs sealed when it isn't really necessary to exhale certain trains of thought which are cryptically voiced out, leaving a severed understanding.
especially when the environment is jolly , and the adjectives are all happy.


(2) i also think it takes a lot, to keep away from unnecessary unhappiness and wasted moments.
wasted moments thanks to the silence which hangs, and the distance which creeps in, and the body that cringes, and the eyes that lose the twinkle, and the smile which is forced...


(3) i also think that one must open one's gob (thereafter) and clarify point (1) when the thought was 'xyz' and the expression resonated 'abc' so as to prevent the occurrence of point (2) happening.


i would like to say here, for no one's information but only as a reminder to myself, that i fail miserably executing point (3) and then (2) is almost inevitable.

it has nothing to do with ego. or sudden loss of speech. i get quiet and sad myself, perhaps at my first execution gone haywire [point (1) --->leading to point (2) ]. it kind of cripples my otherwise verbose neatly laid out expressive stream of thoughts.

i do think i speak my mind quite well.

but i also know when i do not speak my mind well, i ruin it pathetically.

today is a day when i am very excited.
like i can feel the raindrops falling over parched leaves and
them turning green in joy [when actually the sun's merciless
outside].

i have no agenda, no plan. i will be doing nothing exciting. i
will leave office, go buy vegetables, go home, try to find news in between
all the advertisements in times, walk around the house...
i may probably not even do the usual, i may do nothing and bore myself, or end
up sulking...

but i am feeling very excited.

feelings are a funny thing. surely.

i have visions of cooking a sumptuous meal today. the past is
evidence to such plans fizzing even after all the raw materials
were in place, and she had gone over all the steps , including
garnishing in her head. 'her head'. and the end witnessed the only steaming
bowl of the-maggi-more-than-2-minutes...
but that doesn't stop me right 'now' to do my head work...

on a particular day like this i could get into the chatting
mode. the excitement would act as an ideal catalyst to be
verbose, and gossipy, and witty and silly..but surely i will not be
meeting/seeing anyone today. so how does the nonsense spill
out..where where

my eyes are twinkling. i can feel it. and i look left and right,
and even though there is nothing nice to observe, nothing much to consume,
but everyone [even the morons] are seeming very nice and
acceptable ...

feelings are funny. they are moody.
they erupt when you're stashed stuck lazy . especially lazy. when you will have
laid it all out nicely in the head but, only there....alas
they seem to hide - i mean the exciting nice feelings seem to hide when
you're having a bad day waiting for a spark inside of you to
brighten you up. they particularly cannot be found when
everything and everyone seems obnoxious and you wait for magic
to brighten things up..

oh these silly silly moody unaccounted unrealized feelings..

talk about being whimsical
talk about sulking in the end...

What Color Is Your Lucky Underwear?

http://www.blogthings.com/whatcolorisyourluckyunderwearquiz/



How Scary Are You?

http://www.blogthings.com/howscaryareyouquiz/

a long long break is what i wish. and rain.
how much i am missing the rain today ? lots.

the screen on my window makes me feel like it's never a new day.
its the same view. over and again. each day.
the same blue. making it all look exactly the same.

and i can watch the population zoom zoom away
men women cattle

india is such a buzzing place. sacchi.
if there is one place in the world where activity is actively
alive, its here. its refreshing in its own way.
you can sit on your balcony and just watch the world go by.
and you can never get bored. the images change so fast.
the promise never dies. of a new sight.

children running.
cars honking.
endless traffic.
traffic jam.
someone spitting.
trees watching.
clouds hovering.
men working.
women working.
men walking.
cattle trodding.
aeroplane flying.
kites flying.
dirt flying.
guards idling.
smoke rising.
someone shouting.
doggies barking.
doggies pooing.
men peeing.
children pooing.
[please it's not all dirty]
big trucks roaring.
poor cycles struggling.
young guns speeding.
advertisement boards tanning.

the sun rising.
the sun blazing.
the sun glaring.
the sun setting.


and its bedtime soon.