Culture Curry

Hosted a bunch of friends over at my place yesterday for a night of all things Bollywood. The "plan" was to have 3 or 4 people over. It ended up being 8 or 9! Thankfully the Mater was around to help with the cooking as gourmet chef I am NOT!

The menu:
Coconut shrimp curry
Beef kebabs
Masoor Daal
Green peppers and potatoes with Indian spices
AND
Mango chutney

We watched the 2006 remake of “Don” and were alternately thrilled by the spectacular action sequences and then seconds later were reduced to hapless laughter by the very BAD sub titles!

It really is quite difficult to keep a straight face when the arch villain is sneering “Don’t think you are so cleaver. I have my vision on you.”
Or when in a moment of tender passion, the hardy hero says to his lady love, “I cannot idolly sit by and watch this injustice take place.”

Bollywood movies have come a long way. Subtitling obviously hasn’t.


And yes, if you were keeping track; I did manage to go 2 hours back and forth across the city to get my hair cut AND cook dinner for 9 of my friends - all in one afternoon!

Quick Fix

The hair situation had gotten to a critical point. I was utterly miserable in the knowledge that I looked good.... but felt terrible! So I called my hairdresser and begged her to "fit it".

And the doll that she is she managed to find 10 minutes in her busy busy day today to squeeze me in and tame my locks.

I am now the proud owner of a brand new "do".

And I'm loving it!!!

Mirror Mirror.....

Had a session with my hairdresser last Saturday as split ends were rampant. Lamented the fact that my hair looks "Blah." She gave me a new cut and style that looked great as I left the salon. Two days later, as I left for work on Monday morning I was struggling to come to terms with new hair. I realised that there was not so much love happening any more. In fact, I rather hated it!

To my surprise,
My coworker Ms. Shopaholic: I LOVE your new look! So trendy!
My other coworker Ms. Fashioneesta: Amazing cut! Love the lines!

Neither of these girls would say something they don't mean. It's not in their nature. They both reacted with genuine delight to my new style. Problem is - I STILL hated it! Every time I look in the mirror (or any reflective surface for that matter) I see a girl with helmet head. A weirdo style that does not gel with the personality. I am no style queen. I am certainly no trend follower. My hair is currently incongruent with the rest of me, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it. I cannot chop off all my hair as I am supposed to be growing it out for the September wedding. So does this mean I have to go through summer with this miserable mop? I suppose I should be glad that at outwardly I (supposedly) look good. Inwardly, I’m not so sure.

In a Nut Shell....

Was tagged by Tim and have to describe my life in 6 words. Cripes! Might as well ask Einstein to explain his theory of relativity in one sentence!

After much pondering, here's what I came up with:

Blithe dancing on sun kissed streets

I now tag Curly Girlie and The Bride. As we used to say in grade school...."pass it on, no returns"

And we raise our glasses to......

One year ago I met some of the nicest people who through their words and ways had inspired my trip to Japan. 

Cheers to Blog buddies!

The Best Cure for "Itchy Feet Syndrome"

It had been almost 3 whole months since my last travel episode, and I was ready to go on another mission of exploration and see new sights and experience new places and people. My gypsy genes were ready for another adventure and just in time, the Montreal trip materialized!

My friend The Lady Killer and his gf Ms. Perfect in Pink have been making an annual pilgrimage to Montreal's tiny brew pubs for some years now. Back in January he discovered that Via Rail Canada was advertising for fares to Montreal for as low as $59 each way and after a few mass emails out to the gang, voila, 3 days later we had a posse signed up for a trip over the Easter long weekend.

Deciding to make the very most of my foray into new territory (i:e Quebec), I pitched the idea of meeting some Montreal based clients at the same time. Boss Lady jumped at it and thanks to the hard work and efforts of my eager beaver intern, I had a bunch of meetings set up for the Thursday before. Equally nice was the fact that my organization agreed to pay for my travel costs there and back as well – hurrah!

My meetings were set to begin bright and early on the Thursday, so I caught the evening train in to Montreal on the Wednesday night. 4 hrs and 10 minutes later I was wandering around Montreal’s central station looking for long lost family friend who I was to stay with for the first two nights until my friends got into town. Had not met him in over 10 years so had given him a brief description of self that ended with “look for the brown girl in the bright red winter coat!”

The Boy was nice enough to drive me to my first meeting the next morning as it was an utterly miserable day with spitting rain and a good measure of wet snow as well. As luck would have it I stepped out of the car and into a puddle which of course meant that part of my pant leg and my entire shoe was totally and utterly soaked! Urgh! Thankfully I was carrying my “meeting boots” and was able to mop up most of the mess off my pants in time to meet clients. After the meeting, made my way directly to nearest shoe store and bought a pair of nice, comfy and happy rain boots. (Did I mention that the weather was crap?) Feeling much better after my purchase – party because my feet were nice and dry and partly because I had actually found the store using my rudimentary French and partly because the boots were really quite cute (and cheap) – I proceeded to the rest of the meetings feeling lovely about life.

Caught up with the Boy over dinner that night and traded stories about eccentric uncles, nagging mothers, interesting jobs (he is a Human Rights lawyer) and travel adventures over a rather LARGE jug of Sangria. After dinner (with more Sangria) staggered around looking for the car. Decided that he was too buzzed to drive anyway, so went off for dessert and actually ended up taking the subway home.

The next day dawned bright and sunny, but with butt freezing temperatures, which is of course what you get when you go to Montreal in March. After retrieving the car (and the accompanying parking ticket) Boy drove me to the famous St. Joseph’s Oratory where I spent ages checking out the amazing collection of nativity scenes from over 135 countries.

Then over for a winter walk in the Mount Real Cemetery. Winter walk soon turned into full blown snow fight (more like hard packed ice fight) which resulted in more than one disapproving look from other walkers/visitors. It was a terribly odd feeling scrambling up onto a 6 ft high bank of snow that was packed solid so that you could walk across the top! Most annoying was the fact that boy was able to run lightly across the top while I kept sinking in every few steps. (Gah to people who can run like Sanghai deer across snow banks)

Made my way over to the hotel that afternoon to meet up with the friends. True to form they were sitting in the restaurant drinking beer, waiting for check in time!

And that is pretty much how the rest of the weekend played out as well! Over the next 3 days (and nights), we went a wandering in downtown Montréal, checked out the famous Simon’s department store, drank out of a 4ft beer “pole”, visited several watering holes and sampled a lot of the local fare.

Rambled through the quaint lanes and by lanes of Old Montréal, got lost quite a bit, but always managed to find ourselves again!

We even managed to stumble upon a shoe store that was having a liquidation sale and I found the nicest (and cheapest) pair of brown winter boots! (For those of you at home keeping count – yes, that was the 2nd pair of boots I bought in the span of 3 days)

Other than the boots, the other important purchase that I made was Mackenzie Moose II. The first Mackenzie Moose was purchased before my mega trip in Dec 2006 and he was my constant companion in Scotland and England. Somewhere between London’s Heathrow airport and my grandparents’ house in Bombay he got lost and I dearly missed my furry friend on my travels. On my return to the T Dot, I looked high and low for a replacement Mac, but no such luck. Imagine my delight on finding him again! Look for Mac in my travel pics henceforth.

Book Review - King of Bollywood – SRK and the Seductive World of Indian Cinema

More popular than Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt rolled into one, Shah Rukh Khan has dominated the Bollywood movies for over 15 years. A veritable ruler of the box office, “King Khan” story is the stuff that dreams are made of. Hailing from a small middle class family who’s roots are in modern day Pakistan, Shah Rukh Khan did what so many others only dreamed of – broke into an industry that has traditionally been controlled by only a handful of film making families and held his own against all odds. A Muslim hero in a dominantly Hindu industry (and country) The Khan’s story is one that blends family heartbreaks, guts and grit and sometimes sheer luck as we meander through one man’s journey to the dizzying heights of fame and success. The author, Anupama Chopra (who also hails from a “filmy” family) has a nice breezy style of writing and through this book we learn not only about Khan’s story but also that of Indian cinema – in all its gore and glory.

Dance Dance - 2008!

To celebrate the end of the 2008 Winter term, the students of Toronto Dance congregated at The Westway Club last Friday night for an end of term dance session. In spite of the location being rather far out and generally quite inaccessible, there were still over 120 members of Toronto Dance present and ready to shake a leg - a record number for the dance school! The last time I went to one of these dance nights, I was fresh out of my Level 1 Ballroom class and was quite bedazzled by the quick-stepping, fancy-foot working, salsa-savvy couples on the floor. This time, I could join in the quick step (with the basic steps true, but still!) and with some fancy footwork of my own I Foxtrotted, Jived, Quickstepped, Waltzed, Cha Cha Chaed, Rumbaed, Salsaed and Tangoed my way through 4 straight hours of dancing!

The next morning my feet were crying foul - but I'd had an incredible night... so I shushed them up with a warm soak and some pedi TLC.
Classes for Level 3 Ballroom begin next week, and I can hardly wait.

For anyone who will be in the Toronto area in May, and would like to indulge in a weekend of West Coast Swing dances, activities, workshops and more check out Julie Epplett's website. The costs for each of the workshops is as low as $15 and you can even get a "day pass" for 2 or more workshops/dances.
To the folks out there who have always wanted to dance and wondered what style they could possible start with - WCS is a great option for you! Its not as fast moving as Latin dances like the Cha Cha or the Salsa and I find it relatively much easier to learn. It's not a bopitty-bop dance and so its much easier on the back, hips and knees for all those damaged bods out there! I like to call it the "Jazz of Dancing" or the "Martini of Dance Drinks" - looks good when done right, and goes down smooth with the ladies!*
FYI, Julie's next beginner session starts April 1.

Starting tonight is ABC's 6th season of Dancing with the Stars. Yes, dance purists hate this show, but a purest I am not. There is room in my heart (and my TV time) for all kinds of corny shows! Half the fun of watching this show is actually watching my dad's reaction to the dancing. He rivals judge Bruno Tonioli when it comes to shouting out bizarre compliments and is far more sarcastic than head judge Len Goodman when it comes scathing criticisms. So far, he hasn't emulated third judge Carrie Ann Inaba in any way - which is good!

And finally, to end my "dance dance" blog post, I'd like to say a big "Thank you" to my 'Frisco pals Diabolical Villain and Mrs.D for inviting me to come stay at their place on my vacation. If they hadn't done that, I would not have been wandering around their neighbourhood one night.
If I had not been wandering around their neighbourhood, I would not have discovered the tiny wee little shop that sold dance apparel. If not for that, I would not have found (and bought) my first pair of dance shoes. If I hadn't bought the shoes, I would not have been able to dance 4 straight hours and yet not have a single blister!!!!

See, it pays to go to new places and visit friends!

Sights and Sounds of the City

As the subway trundled over a bridge this morning, I looked out onto the football field below. Someone had taken the trouble to spell out F*CK YOU! across the field. Now, if you're going to take the time, energy and effort; and you are an obviously innovative person, wouldn't you at least TRY to come up with something a little more creative?

I went to the ladies washroom mid afternoon. As I pushed open the stall door, I saw that the toilet seat was up. Either we have someone on the floor who is a chronic "hoverer" or someone who is on Estrogen shots. More investigation needed.

On the way home last night, I was sitting besides 2 teenage girls. As I tired to drown out their incessant chatter (which consisted of the words "like", "um" and "you know" used every other word) I happened to overhear an interesting piece of information:
Girl 1: "I found a Bon Jovi concert ticket at Union Station. I wanted to put it on EBay, but it's for tonight. Damn."
Girl 2: "Why don't you call around to sell it? Someone would want to go."
Girl 1: "I guess I will. Too bad, I could have made a lot on EBay. I heard the concert is sold out. Or I should have walked over to the ACC and sold it to a scalper."
.....and so on.

They talked about the ticket and their options for about 15 mins. Not once did either of them say "I could have returned it to the box office - the person who lost it must be worried."

What ever has happened to common decency?

We turned our clocks back for Daylight Savings this past weekend. It was simply LOVE-ER-LY leaving the office at 6pm yesterday and still waking out into sunshine!!!

On the subway in to work this morning, a little Asian lady was trying in vain to maintain her balance as the train swerved and swayed on its way downtown. She was too short to reach the overhead bar, and too far away from the vertical poles. After she had almost fallen over for the second time, a young man standing besides her put out his arm and told her to grab on.

She was quite steady the rest of the way.

The Promise of Spring

Here's what the past weekend looked like through the eyes of my camera lens. The snow began on Friday afternoon and didn't stop until Saturday evening.

The city has recorded more than 176 cms of snow in total this winter. This is just shy of the 207 cms record set in the winter of 1938-39. Judging by this week's forecast along, we're probably going to break that record this year!

I came back into the house after almost 2 hours of shoveling and cleaning the driveway and sidewalk, sank into my bed and switched on the TV.

And there it was. The very first "Spring Themed" commercial advertising patio furniture or something along those lines.

Ah, the promise of Spring - sweet sounds to my cold and frozen ears!

A Lament for an Unknown Soul

Last Thursday night at around 9pm we received "the" call from Bombay. My mother's brother had passed away at the hospice early on the morning of February 22; less than 3 months after he was first diagnosed with cancer. It was a phone call that we had all been expecting. The last word we'd received just a few days before that was that the doctors had told the family that absolutely nothing more could be done and now it was just a matter of time. 

So when I finally heard the words that he had passed away, it was a mere numb feeling that went along with the confirmation of a fact.

Once the news had settled in, there was the unpleasant reality of the truth that I was left to deal with. The truth that I did not really mourn his passing. The truth that I did not feel a loss. The truth that his death would only slightly affect me and my daily life.

This was a person who for as long as I could remember had been at odds with most of the family. I had not said more than 5 consecutive words to him in all of my life. I had never shared a meal with him, never indulged in a laugh over common family jokes or memories and never really knew him as an individual.

Everything that I knew about him was either through hearing negative stories from other family members or watching first hand his actions and words that were very often hurtful and destructive and downright mean at times. The family got together last Friday to have a prayer service for him. The entire time I tried to focus my thoughts towards some kind of happy or positive memory. I could not think of even one.

I was highly disturbed by the fact that I had known someone for my entire life, and that I could not come up with a singular positive thought or feeling or emotion to link to him. Isn't that what one is expected to do when one thinks of the dead? Especially at a prayer service FOR that person. But try as I may, I was drawing a blank.

I wondered what the rest of the family was thinking. There were 3 siblings present that night. One of whom hadn't spoken to him in around 30 years. The other 2 met him once every few years when they went to India. What were they thinking and remembering?
I looked around the room at the respectfully bowed heads of my family. There was a sense of loss in the room. But was there a sense of grief at that loss?

And yet, if there had been tears and other signs of unabashed sorrow I probably would have been more surprised. And I would have known those to be false tears. False mourning.

So I whispered a prayer for the soul of an unknown man. A prayer that he finds the peace he was lacking in life. A peace that will be forever.

Book Review - Before Green Gables

For every one of us who fell in love with L M Montgomery's beloved character, here is a real treat! For those who might have asked - what made Anne... Anne? What gave rise to her vivid imagination? When did she begin to dream big dreams and how did she learn to spin that web of magic that drew all to her? Award winning author Budge Wilson has lovingly and tenderly taken us deeper into the journey of that bewitching little "carrots" from Avonlea and shone a light into a past that is very illuminating, often disconcerting but always inspiring. Before Green Gables is not only a tribute to Anne - but to fans of hers, everywhere.

8 days of 27

Having a birthday is always fun - for me at least. I know that a lot of folk get a bit grouchy around their birthdays coz all they seem to think about is the fact that they are "getting older". I on the other hand completely revel in birthday de-light! Seriously, a day that's all about ME..... people giving you prezzies..... and if not prezzies - lots of love and wishes and kisses..... getting together with your family and friends to celebrate - ME. Honestly, what's NOT to love about this day?

This year's celebrations were especially nice and actually lasted an entire week with various friends and family contributing to the birthday merriment.

It all began last Sunday when I was invited over to Menace's house for dinner and a movie and girlie chitty-chatty. Dinner with Menace is always nice. For that matter, any meal at her place is always nice. Menace is a very very good cook. And excellent hostess. And lots of fun. Yet, Menace is surprisingly single, but until then her friends (like me) benefit (a lot). For example, she makes the bestest "morning after" breakfasts. Her always freshly ground coffee and scrambled eggs and honey toast and fresh fruit are awesome to chomp down after a night of drinking with the gang. If she's not feeling too rough, she'll make you her award winning (amongst friends) pancakes and then you KNOW you're in heaven! Anyway, I digress. Menace invited me over to her place for dinner last Sunday and we watched "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" followed by the 50th Grammy Awards. Both enjoyable to watch and terribly entertaining as well!

On Tuesday, I met up with Penguin Pal to attend a special event at the Royal Ontario Museum to celebrate 100 Years of Anne. L M Montgomery's "Anne of Green Gables" is by far one of my most favourite stories and I loved the character Anne from the very first time I read about her - so many moons ago. Well think about it....little girl, big imagination, rather dreamy and chatters non stop!! Sounds familiar??
The evening was a wonderful tribute to Montgomery and a wonderful experience for "kindered spirits" to get together and experience the magic of the story from a whole new pespective. Although it was a snowy, windy, wild winter night, the room was still packed with folks who were all there to celebrate the launch of the prequel to the Anne books - Before Green Gables. We got to hear from the author Budge Wilson (who I might add is rather a dear) and from Montgomery's granddaughter and many other, all who have made that evening and this new book possible. And best of all, we were served Raspberry Cordial and Pound Cake! Could it get any more like Green Gables??? I did mention to Penguin Pal that for the high price of the admission ticket, they might have considered serving *ahem* Anne's version of cordial instead! (Insider joke, must read the book to find out.)

What made this a birthday treat you ask? Well at the end of the night as we left with freshly autographed copies of the new book tucked under our arms, I turned to give PP the money for the ticket, she waved me away and declared it to be my birthday treat! Ah the way to my heart truly is via a bookcase!

On Thursday I met up with good friend from Jays for lunch. We got to the restaurant and then realized it was Valentine's day as the trio of giggling girls gushed over themselves trying to seat us. Thankfully we'd chosen a Texan steak grill for lunch and there weren't too many lovey-dovey people around. We did have to put up with the gaggle of gigglers and our waitress (who had the inexplicable name of Whiskey) wasn't all that sharp either. Still, when the meal did arrive it was good and we got some good catching up in between bites!
On Friday, we got let out of work early (yey!) and I dashed over to the salon to indulge in my birthday treat to myself - a full pedicure with all the fixings! Lord, I needed one too judging by the stern look I got from the esthetician! Shutterbug joined me after the pedi and we had a nice saunter through Bloor-Yorkville as we window shopped. I love window shopping. And I especially love it in the Bloor-Yorkville area. The shops are all so expensive that there's simply no way you'll be tempted to buy something you see. And even if by some freak of nature you DO find something in your price range (HIGHLY unlikely), chances are it's not going to fit anyway coz most of the people who shop in that district are all built along the lines of the Olsen twins and Kate Moss. Still, I do love the beautiful window decors and its a great (and cheap) way to kill time! Very soon it got too cold to wander around anymore, so we settled down to a great sushi dinner on Yonge Street and then headed off for a night of ballroom dancing on the Danforth.

And then yey... it was D Day!!!

Right at 12:05 am (just as I was nodding off to sleep) my cell phone rings! I finally get to it after first scrambling around for my alarm clock and sending various items flying off my side table and nearly overturing a full glass of water in the process! After a couple of groggy "hellos?" I finally clue in that its a friend from Australia and that snaps me awake in no time! We then proceed to chat away for the next 2.5 hours all the while totally ignoring what her bill is probably adding up to! We hadn't spoken to each other in YEARS and of course, we had tones of catching up to do. I'm SO looking forward to being at her wedding in Sydney in December this year.

My mum and dad presented me with a beautiful birthday present - jewelery from India. We're not a family that normally trades gifts at birthdays and Christmas and so on, so this was a real surprise for me!

That evening, I met up with a whole lot of my close friends at the home of the Lady Killer and Cosmo Girl. Lady Killer and I share a birthday and it was very nice to him to let me share in his celebrations as well. And in any case, almost everyone who I'd want to be at my birthday was there anyway and I just tacked on a few of my other friends to the guest list. I did also have a very new pair of amazingly beautiful boots to wear that night which added several inches to me and made me feel rather Amazonian!
Cosmo Girl had a cake all ready for me, with thankfully not ALL the candles on it! Everybody contributed to the food and as a result we had a veritable FEAST going!

And a "mini kegger too!

Sadly, I could not partake in the keg being on an alcohol free phase right now. But the one birthday drink I DID have ..... I made sure it was a good one - a pint of Innis & Gunn!

And then finally today, was the round up of my week long celebrations when my family all met at my aunt's place to celebrate my and my cousin's birthdays together. The Kimlette is born just a day before me - but several years apart!

And so ended the 8 days of 27. So far, I'm loving this new year of life!

Blood on the Dancefloor

The always insightful Jo has raised a very interesting point in her latest blog post. In short, she was talking about how Japanese schools have what ultimately equates to a "No Fail" policy so that even student who score as low as 25-30% in courses have their grades artificially inflated so that they can move on to the next level or next grade.

Reading about this, and the subsiquent comments to the post got me thinking about this whole issue from a different angle - my dance classes. Things are always fine and dandy each time I start learning a new dance style with a level 1 class. Everyone in the class is a beginner and no one is expected to know anything. But, when it comes time to register for the next level, you can pretty much group a class into 3 categories:

• Group A: students who know what they are doing and who want to continue to learn
• Group B: students who don't know what they are doing, but want to continue and are willing to practice extra
• Group C: students who don't know what they are doing and should not be allowed on a dance floor for the overall good of the class - and the rest of mankind!

The reality is that some people should not be allowed to continue to a higer level as they have not mastered the information/skills/steps from the previous level.

But of course, the dance school wants to make as much money as possible. So they allow poeple to register for an advanced level even if they know full well that the person is not capable of handling the new curriculum. Sometimes you'll get a consciencious teacher who will take the offender(s) aside and try to coach them some more, but most often these poor students are left trying vainly to follow the instructions and master complex steps and patterns when they can barely do the basics. The best case scenario is that they frustrate the folks who have taken the time to practice the steps and have essentially "done the required readings!" The worst case scenario is that they can seriously injure their parter (or others on the dancefloor) if they don't know what they're doing. And we're not just talking a stubbed toe - I've been at the receiving end of some hand yanks that have left my shoulder aching for days!

I do applaude the fact that these individuals are very obviously out of their comfort zone and are trying something new in life. I still feel that I should not be made to suffer through someone else's learning process.

After all, I too am a student there.

I too am trying to learn.

I too should have the best possible chance to do so. Without fearing decapitation in the process!

Recipe for the Perfect Masala

I first heard about author Stephen Alter last December when I was in London. Browsing through the shelves of my friend's home library, my eye caught upon an interesting title - Elephas Maximus - A Portrait of the Indian Elephant. The book was a unique blend of myth, legend, zoology and storytelling about the gentle grey giant of the Indian subcontinent. A must read for anyone who loves anything about those pachyderms! I was curious to read more by Stephen Alter, especially when I found out the subject matter of his other books and then a little more about him. I was finally able to get my hands on a relatively cheap copy of Fantasies of a Bollywood Love Thief recently and haven't been able to put it down.


A first hand insider's view of the world of Indian movie making, ....Love Thief tells about the making of the movie Omkara an Indian retelling of Shakespeare's Othello. Set in the harsh arid plains of North India the story and characters all take on very Indian personas. Othello becomes Omkara, Desdemona is Dolly and Cassio is Kesu. The island of Cyprus is the village of Cypra and instead of warriors and soldiers the story is about a local gang lord and his lady love and his lieutenants.

More than just a telling of one movie, the book takes us through a journey of movie making that is as similar and yet as different from any other. Going behind the scenes, the author explores not only the movie but what lies behind it as well - the actors, directors, producers, musicians and the host of other unknowns on who's shoulders lie the success or failure of an industry that produces on average 900 movies a year.

Growing up in Bombay - the LA to India's Bollywood - Hindi movies were always part of my life. Although I didn't start going to see Hindi movies in the theatre until I was in high school, I remember settling down with my grandmother's maid most Sunday evenings to watch the week' showing. At a time when TV was limited to 3 channels 1 of which was in a regional language I didn't quite follow, we took what we got on TV and we cherished every moment. My grandmother was not really a Hindi movie fan, but was nevertheless obsessed with 2 particular Hindi movies - "Bobby" and "Aradhana" and because they owned the VHS we would watch those over and over until we all knew the dialogues by heart!

When I began college in my mid teens, movies... and Hindi movies in particular took on a whole new persona. There were 4 cinema halls a mere 10 minutes walk from the college and another 3 a short cab ride away. My circle of friends expanded from the very "Christian centric" group that living in a Catho-ville suburb like Bandra accorded, to a more multi cultural group from not only all over Bombay.. but all over India as well. Although everyone liked a good Hindi movie as much as the next guy, one friend in particular was passionate about the world of movies and through his passion, I was drawn into this glittering, gaudy, girating world of Bollywood at the movies.

In his book, Stephen Alter says

"The precise ingredients for a good blend of masala may vary according to the cook, but no matter what the recipe, this pungent concoction of spices excites all five senses.
Masala is the word most often used to describe a combination of elements that go into making a successful Bollywood film. Once again, the ingredients and quantities may be adjusted, with extra measures of romance, sex, violence or suspense, depending on the script. All these are simmered together to form a saucy cinematic curry that keeps audiences coming back for seconds."

And since my life is entirely devoid of masala right now - be it romantically or literally in my food, I turn to my daily dose of Bollywood to spice things up and raise a fire in my belly that keeps me warm through these oh so cold... oh so un Bollywood-like winter nights.

Gaining Perspective

Found out on Sunday that my cousin's daughter has been diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease. She is 12 years old.
This morning I heard that my mum's sister is in the hospital. The doctor's need to take some ovarian tissue samples to send for a biopsy. We won't know anything until Friday - if we're lucky.
Also heard that my mum's brother (who was diagnosed with cancer last month) was rushed to hospital as he was experiencing difficulty breathing.
Then we hear that a close friend back in Bombay was the victim of a hit and run and died due to her severe injuries. 2 other people who were crossing the road alongside her also died. 4 others are in hospital with various injuries.


Somehow a lost bag of books seems inconsequential when someone could potentially loose a father, a husband, a mother, a daughter, an aunt, a grandchild...... a friend.

Things I Lost in the Taxicab

H had organized karaoke night on Friday to meet up with a friend (who we shall call Dandylion) from out of town after a long long while. It had been simply ages since we'd done karaoke and it was also nice to meet new people - friend's of the Dandylion. Didn't do a whole lotta drinking that night as now thanks to the mess in my tummy it just makes me really ill, so was quite content with 2 pints.
Guess everyone else was making up for me as when we finally left the bar, I ended piling into a cab with a drunk Dandylion, a very drunk H and a drunk out of his mind friend of the Dandylion. After some argument over whether or not we were dropping off drunk friend of D's, we made the decision to take him back to H's with us as dude would not have been able to find the board side of a barge in his present condition. Also, he made a pathetic face and whimpered "I don't want to go home." Barely did we pull up to H's house did drunk dude bolt out of the cab and hurl all over neighbour's dive way. I gave my bag to the girls and told them to head in while I paid off the cab and scrapped the boy off the sidewalk. Boy was sending conflicting messages such as "I'm fine, I'm fine... just leave me alone." And then when I started to walk away "Where are you going? Don't leave me!!" I had just sent off the cab when boy declared "I want to go home", which meant that I then had to walk/drag/ support him to the main road and flag down a cabbie. Then spend persuading cabbie to take him home when cabbie realized that I wasn't going too.
In all this confusion it wasn't until the next morning that I realized that a bag with books - that I had JUST bought that evening had been left behind in the cab. I was even MORE upset when I remembered that the bag also contained my fav red shawl and new sweater. I was devastated when I realized that I'm probably not going to see any of those items ever again.

I called the cab company, but they told me to call the police coz they just hand over found items to them. Filed a report with the police, but really am quite sure that in the food chain of police follow ups "missing bag of books" falls very very low on list.

Farewell to:

• The Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency - Alexander McCall Smith
• The Penelopaid - Margaret Atwood
• Parker Pyne Investigates - Agatha Christie
• Can you keep a Secret? - Sophie Kinsella
• Playing for the Ashes - Elizabeth George

Am currently in mopey condition.
Yes Yes... I know... "Perspective" you say to me. I realize that things could have been way worse and that I could have lost purse or money or credit cards or other "valuable" items. But to me - books ARE valuable items, and I think I'm even more upset because I had gotten all of them for such a good price!

H did try to cheer me up with comfort food and apple-cinnamon tea and we all watched Dirty Dancing together and hooted and hollered every time we saw Patrick Swayze's nipples! But *sigh* I will give a tiny sob on Monday morning when I have to leave for work and cannot wear my beautiful red scarf.

Book Review - The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency Series

If ever you are looking for a book that is guaranteed to make you feel upbeat and cheerful, then look no further than McCall Smith’s series about Precious Ramotswe and her detective agency. Set in the arid dust bowl of the Kalahari in Botswana, the series follows Mma Ramotswe as she goes about fulfilling a life long dream by setting up a detective agency in her town.

Peppered with colourful characters like the serious but sensible assistant, the steady dependable fiancé, the bossy matron who runs the nearby “Orphan Farm” and many many more, the series gives us a good insight into the home and heart of the African way of life. The author’s love for Africa and Botswana in particular is very evident by his portrayal of the people and the country through a series of interconnected short storylines.

The pace of the book matches the pace of traditional Botswana – slow and steady, mixed with the company of good friends and family. So make time for a cup of bush tea on a shady veranda and doing this like Mma Ramotswe you will find that life’s problems present answers to themselves and in the process you will find out just what you wanted to find out about your new next door neighbour!

First Memory

When I think back, the very farthest back that I can remember is of a time when I'm sitting at the table in my grandparent's house and my grandmother is feeding me. And as she spoons the food into my mouth she's crooning something in Konkani.
Probably saying "Lord, this child is a fussy eater!"

Anyway, that's my first memory - what's yours??

New Year Blues

2008 has started off on quite an upsetting note. Several family members have been affected with ill health and the general mood is one of somber recollections.

My mum's estranged brother was diagnosed with cancer in early December and his prognosis is not good.
My dad's brother (ironically also estranged) had a minor heart attack on New Year's day shovelling snow.

And just when we thought that we had no more "estranged" relatives that could be affected - my grandfather; my darling wonderful grandfather - had a little "episode" that the doctor termed as early cardiac failure and what he so eloquently describes as "the lights going out, then coming back on".
He's had 3 attacks so far since last Friday, each increasingly intensive than the first.

The weirdest part is that he seems quite OK in between these attacks. When I last spoke with him a few days ago, he was quite chipper and started off the conversation with "Baba, where in the world are you right now???"

Sense of humour - check!
Awareness of surroundings - check!
Awareness of persons and who they are - check!

Most Bizarre.
And Most Worrying!