Overheard in the train early morning:

Little girl in lemon yellow: Why mommy? Why?

Poor mommy: Because teacher will give you.

Little girl in lemon yellow: But why mommy? Why teacher give me?

Poor poor mommy: She has to see it first and then she will give it to you.

Girl in lemon yellow: But why mommy?

This “why mommy” series went on till they reached the destination. The mommy spotted a small part of ankle was red/sore and asked: “What happened here? Why is it red here? Is it hurting?”

The girl in lemon yellow: (shakes her head and gives a sigh) I don’t know. Don’t ask me so many questions.

I almost fell off my seat. Yeah right, you little one.

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I am not a fan of travelling by aeroplanes. Much as I’d like to fly, planes are not my thing. I get scared and am this puissant creature whenever there is turbulence. But I love the views from up above. And conversations surrounding it:

Little cutiepie boy in a spiderman tee: Wooooooow! It is so bright bright, sparkling down. Wowoowwowow! Mummy dekho dekho (see see) - so many sparkling lights.

Mummy: Haan beTa (son). So beautiful…..

Little cutiepie boy: Why no light thaaat side? (pointing to a dark reagion. We were flying over Malaysia)

Mummy: They don’ t have lights there. So, it is all dark.

Little cutiepie boy: Toh phir (then) we will give some lights, hai na (isn’t it) Mummy? I don’t like dark dark. I like sparkling sparkling.

Oh, you li’l one! I hope that’s exactly what you go on to do with your life

There are so many of them. I always make a mental note to write them down but forget to.

Yes, I am referring to you – the one on the reserved seat for pregnant women. Oh, I am so sorry for disturbing you. I did not realize that you are busy gathering your gems. The heavily pregnant lady who walked in 2 stations before is too tiny to be noticed. Tinier than that ruby you got now. Or maybe you didn’t want to even lift up your head. Who likes being careless about rubies and diamonds? Humans can wait. There are far too many of them, unlike your “precious” gems that are so rare, right?

Hey, cool guy in the cool blue-green-whatever. You seem to be busy. Perhaps that’s why you haven’t realized that your music is leaking out. All the orchestra has literally leaked out! I love music too, but perhaps you are too eager in sharing your love with everyone. Sharing is good. But am not sure if that old uncle in checkered shirt who is  probably returning after a long hard night’s work  agrees.

And you! The one with the little kid. Err, I think she wants to tell you something. But ofcourse, she can wait. I mean, the drama you have downloaded is too important. You need to know who killed whom. It is after all a matter of life and death. The little one can wait.

Ouch. I forgot about you. How could I? You are the one with biggest cousin of mine. You are so absorbed in the “reality show” that you nudging and elbowing people, halting suddenly in front of an escalator with tens of people behind you and almost knocking off a little boy’s glasses, are all so understandable. I mean, if you carried a potable TV around watching important shows that change our lives, why bother about perfunctory activities such as giving way, helping and basically watching your step, right?

People call me smart. And why wouldn’t they?

 I love sci-fi. But that’s not the reason why I love this trilogy by Suzanne Collins. Throughout the trilogy – The Hunger Games, Catching Fire and Mockingjay, there is something about Katniss Everdeen, the protagonist that made me want to cling on to this through night and day until I could store it all up neatly in the deep pit of my tummy. Yeah, I devoured it. For such is the character of the protagonist. The love that the author has for Katniss’ character shows through the pages. And really, that’s not something you see about often.

The trilogy starts off with Katniss introducing the storyline. Here, I must admit that I was a little not too impressed. But that was only for about 10 pages. Once I started to know more about the nation of Panem, the ruthless Capitol that dictates the 12 districts in the most outrageous of ways and the hunger games, I just couldn’t stop.

The Capitol has its own way of entertainment – the Hunger Games. Each district sends in 2 children beteen 12 an 18 years drawn through lots for the game.   These participants have to fight it off on the arena until one is left standing. When Katniss volunteers to save her sister Prim, her character awes you. And when Katniss makes the first kill in the arena, with not much remorse, you like her more. While evil is not always the answer to evil, viewing it as justice meted out to evil changes everything. And what makes one appreciate the sequence is the kind of understanding and worldy wisdom that 12-18 year olds show in the series. Call me blinded by love, but there really is a lot more to the story than that observable on first glance.

A post-American America as some say. An inhuman Capitol. 12 districst that contribute in different ways – electronics, agriculture, coal etc. And this strong, honourable,independent and heroic  Katniss.  And then, there are the rest who you will love equally – Gale, Peeta, Rue, Prim and ofcourse Haymitch. Children suffering, unable to walk away.

If there is one thing I wanted more of, it would be history. How did this come about? Why were some of the customs in place at all? and so on..

Yet, all the 3 books impressed me immensely. I highly recommend it. Else, atleast the movie, though am yet to watch the first one.

Have you read this already? How do you feel about the series? Who is your favourite character?

I have been churning out some new dishes in my kitchen. I say new because, I haven’t made them before though the same cannot be said of eating. I feel more inspired to cook something new these days. Much as I have always enjoyed cooking and experimenting, I have to admit that the repertoire of the ingredients is wider and encompasses a representative from different parts of the world. Yes, from something as simple as pasta to something as exotic as saffron, I am stocking up a lot in my kitchen. My kitchen. I have begun to feel proud and carry that pride everytime I am grocery shopping. I choose my items carefully, reading their date of manufacture, their expiry, googling on my tab to see what I can make out of them, sometimes adding them to my shopping cart on a whim, sometimes getting carried away by bloggers who have made scrumptious dishes out of them and mostly because they look tempting.

That’s how ragi mudde happened. One of the staple diet of people of Karnataka (and apparently Andhra Pradesh as well), we used to get to eat this once a while on Sundays for lunch. Sundays were chosen because we could eat our meals hot and I guess somehow there are certain things you must eat on a Sunday. I line up some recipes for a Sunday(or saturday) because somehow I feel Sunday deserves it the most. Well, sadly, this did not happen on a Sunday. I made this on a wednesday ( on labour day). I so wanted K to taste this and couldn’t wait until it was Sunday. Ragi mudde with drumstick and sambhar onion (that’s what we call shallots) was made. And what a meal that was! I must have scooped half a ball off the pan when making it.

Valentine’s Day was spent at home this year. We went out for dinner on Feb 13th because that is our proposal anniversay. So, V-day at home couldn’t have been mushier what with chocolates, home-made pasta, mango madness and a surprise cake at night!

Somewhere amidst all this, I made raw banana puLi and cabbage dal (This one was purely out of laziness )

And as I write this, I have just had a lunch of rice, jeera moong dal and spicy baby potato that I picked fresh from the little Indian store near home. And boy, what a fantastic lunch that was!

There has been a lot more cooking happening. Sometimes I get so obsessed that I spend hours in the supermart and end up reaching home late and order a take-away! But that time I spend choosing my ingredients at my own pace – I cannot tell you how happy and alive it makes me feel!

While I go figure out tonight’s dinner, tell me what’s happening in your kitchen

I told you so.

K and I are also huge fans of brunches. It also just falls in line with our love for excessive and obnoxiously long hours of sleep over weekends. Why I say obnoxious is because, we sleep so late into the day at times that we need all day brunches in Singapore. Yes, we sometimes break our fast at 3 P.M. And then I was like, “Hey! Let’s do this. Let’s go to all brunch places.”. Nobody would need coaxing because with waffles the colour of gold and pancakes that melt in your mouth and egg benedicts that mean sunrise in your world, nobody would want to miss brunches here. Hence, Project Brunch.

It was just nice that we got to kill two birds with one stone when we went to Labrador National Park. We first devoured nature and then promptly settled for something more human except that the food was ambrosial.

Saying that the weather was amazing will be an understatement. Though a bit humid owing to the beachy locale, we loved being there truly. Spotting random turtles on our way was a bigger plus. If you are here, then I would highly recommend these walks. And honestly, this is what I love about Singapore; not those big malls, though I like them a fair bit too.

We spotted a beautiful cafe (Can you believe I missed the name?) and immediately wanted to try their brunch. It started raining pretty heavily and we could not have found a better place to sit and savour the food. A place where the rain and breeze ever so gently caress your love for life, peals of laughter from a nearby table where girlfriends are meeting up for a surprise birthday party and egg scrambled. And K, ofcourse.

Honestly, I could do with 4 day weekends.

The white tiger is an engaging tale of Balram Halwai who hails from rural India and how he goes on to become the No. 2 driver for a rich family and what ensues from then on.

The book is actually a collection of letters in 7 parts to the Chinese Premier who is on a visit to India. Set to be realistic and harsh, the tone of the letters is just that. And satirical? Very. Balram talks of how the India portrayed to the foriegners is not the real India. He traces his life from a “wanted” poster of his all the while connecting the dots to the events that led him to become a murderer. Descriptions of both ends of the spectrum ( the rich and the poor) and the wide disparities are highlighted throughout the book.

Balram comes across as someone unrepentant for his actions. The author probably intended to show this character off as being the pragmatic, “call a spade, a spade” protagonist. The narrative is engaging in quite a few parts, the harsh realities of India are depicted well in certain sections and overall, there are a few sentiments I shared with the author. The life of a driver is something I didn’t know much about. This book has attempted to provide an insight into their lives to some extent.

Yet, somehow this book did not work its magic on me. The character failed to induce much empathy. I did not understand certain actions and felt angry at some instances of insensitivity. I felt as though the protagonist was himself a puppet in some parts. It may not be just another rags to riches story but I felt it could have been crafted better. I cannot put my finger on it but this book did not see me getting into the shoes of the main character. Not because I haven’t been in those circumstances but because the character did not strike a chord. At times I felt angry and Balram’s unrepentant tone throughout did not help much. There is quite a bit of India bashing happening. So, if you don’t like that, then you may not enjoy several parts of the book.

Having said that, I did finish the book pretty fast hoping for something better to happen in the succeeding pages. There are a few issues I concurred with Balram towards the end. While it did make me think in some parts, I did not emerge enlightened whatsoever. I guess I expected something more all along. Not a good attitude, frankly speaking.

A couple of weeks back, I showed you a sneak peak into an Origami project I had undertaken.

Time to show you the almost done kusudama ball. I say “almost” because I am yet to find some elegant beads for the thread ends before it goes on my inspiration board. Or maybe K’s study. His “study-o” can do with some colour.

The fella needs to dry up a bit. But I am so excited. What I love about origami with glue is the opportunity to stick fevicol all over my fingers and then peel it off slowly, one layer at a time, occasionally closing the mouth to avoid drooling. Don’t understand that? Ah, in that case, don’t even try.

The flowers were ready long back. So when the omelette soaked in the curry, I finished gluing them together. It does need some patience but as long as you have fevicol to peel off your hands, there is peace.

I probably should have waited until I added the beads. Impatience is not a good trait (not always). But knowing that still doesn’t stop one from showing off with a squeal of delight, does it?

Meet Robbie -

and, Scoobie -

Ever since Chintu interned at iRobot, I always longed to have them A month or two back, we got our own Robbie the Roomba. It was quite a sorry sight to see him all alone moping when we went off to work. So, we decided to get him a girlfriend. And that’s how Scoobie the Scooba happened.

They have a weird way of expressing love. He sweeps while she mops. And I could cry over and over again everytime they sniff my feet and change direction. So cute.

Here’s wishing them years and years of togetherness. And lots of love.

It’s almost as if nothing goes right. You are desperately wishing that it all goes fine but it doesn’t. On the other hand, things only seem to NOT happen in your favour.

You want to please someone but you just can’t. Not that pleasing someone is your priority but if that someone means a lot to you, it makes a world of difference.

You try, try harder but you only seem to go the other way. More looks and more stares. More glares as well. Tears run down your cheeks but you feel angry at yourself with every passing moment. You wish you could make the tears stop and not be such a weakling and the next instant you actually like to cry because it is your own way of letting out. Silent muffled cries.

You hate the silence. You can feel smirks. Some even dare to be sympathetic. Their audacity is apalling.

And then you have this realization that you are not really trying. You have tried but not really been at your best.  And what follows is a whole conflict of emotions – the why, the how, the what, when are all at war with each other screeching and vying for your attention.

When you fail to realize what went wrong. And why? Why were comparisons even made? Aren’t all of us different?

How desperately you wish all this was not true. All was a dream. Everything. Every little thing. Just wake up and resume to be the “awesome” one.

But things don’t stop like that. You need to work. You need to get up, dust off your pants and start new. Get back to being yourself, the happy self where you don’t fight others. You don’t fight yourself either. You just do what you have always wanted and do it the best way you can.  Ofcourse you can do it. Who can’t?

I could almost feel and hear the inner voices as she parked her wheelchair with a teary face but fiery eyes.