When you travelled by train as a kid and your dad stepped out to buy food and you stressed that the train would move and he’d be stranded on the platform? Even my nostalgia is anxious.
Love that our cook says "Uda doon?" instead of "shall I throw this in the bin". Very mafia like punishment for badly made fried eggs, rotten tomatoes and the rest.
Getting older is just shortening friends lists, lengthening naps, loosening clothes, fastening seat belts, pacing drinks, hastening exits, hungering for snacks, lingering in banks, angling for back massages before you finally begin screaming at colony kids ringing your doorbell.
I just had a pure Bangalore moment, when my filter coffee was placed right next to my secondhand book from Blossom. Now waiting for five auto drivers to reject me, so this experience can be complete.
My Tamil isn’t going to translate very well here but, each time I was sick my grandma never forced me to eat anything she’d just say, “vaai ku venugaradhu sappdu”- eat what you desire to eat. And I use this for every kind of low day and it works :)
Is it me or does no one like to listen anymore? Most people just rattle off information about themselves and ask zero questions about the other person. (Said with ref to a guy I met recently) I wonder if it’s freelance work culture that every interaction feels like “networking.”
Our cook gifted me this ‘Veni’ or ‘fati’ as they call it in Konkani. I’ve always admired it on women here but never knew the intricate craft behind it. The flowers are real buds (‘tagar’ not jasmine), the beads are made of seeds sewn over w fabric…(1)
Always feels like tearing a bit of your own skin when you write about the people you love. Anyway I wrote this from my heart, do read if you can spare the time. About grief, mothers, daughters and heat in the kitchen. For
@enthucutletmag
Being very brown I usually resist wearing brown for fear of looking too dull or drab. But I’m loving this shade of brown and the warmth it brings.
#towelstokeepitreal
My cat passed away recently, I’m still grieving but grateful for people who understand the particular pain of losing a pet. Not everyone does. It’s awful to lose someone so loving who was part of every moment of your day. And the msgs that come from a place of knowing feel ♥️
I read Orhan Pamuk and romanticised Istanbul ofc but met some women who scoffed at him, annoyed at what he wrote about their city- offended by his wealth and privilege. They gave me another list to read. Don’t know what to make of this reaction, but mean to read this list.
I’m in awe of every kitchen garden success. If you have blossoming tomatoes, brinjal, basil or bhindi anything...growing in your pots and gardens, do share a photo. This is from my mum’s garden- tomatoes slowly ripening.
Being a ‘grammar Nazi’ is a privilege no? For me, a good writer is one who transports me, moves me, makes me think. If we’re gauging writing by grammar we will lose too much.
I really love people who love to cook for other people. They’re the best kind of people. Some of them watch you eat and light up from within like pleased, little glo-worms (remember those?) Anyway these are some special peeps.
Although the Tamil language is filled with gorgeous descriptions of hues, meant for sarees- Ramar blue (the skin of Rama), araku (red mud), sunset orange, MS blue (for the singer Subbalakshmi who was partial to this shade) and so many more.
Insane how much the sun affects my mood. One sunny day between 15 gloomy af ones and suddenly the spirit soars. Nothing would ever make me move to Scandinavia.
Was speed reading a bunch of essays and came across this line that made me stop out of sadness for its bitter truth. "No one in the world ever wants to exchange places with an underprivileged Indian wife."
I doubt any readings will come close to the joy of reading to hilarious, adorable kids. Attention spans are dangerously low but the thought/energy that goes into capturing it makes every reading special. Thank you
@KitabKhanaBooks
and
@kgafest
for this lovely afternoon.
I say this a lot but one of the best things about Mumbai is the independence it offers me as a woman. I absolutely detest having to depend on anyone to drop me home. But in Mumbai with an extra dupatta, phone and earphones for company I’m free to exit at will.
Sharing this everywhere cause I’m so excited/delighted that my book is at Blossom bookstore — a childhood haunt, a refuge between other Church St activities and the subject of many desperate print ads in early copywriting days.
Happy to report that I finished a book on Jan 1st (before you roll your eyes-I’d been reading it for a month) and started a new one. Plus I left my phone in an auto and the auto driver made sure to find me and return it. Humans + books have had a great start in 2023. 🤞🏾
At the end of the Mumbai university protests someone began singing the national anthem- an untainted rendition where everyone joined in, of their own free will. And for a moment there was hope.
“Head weight” was a funny and rather apt term I heard only in Chennai to describe pompous people. “She has too much head weight.” Lol. Miss some Peter potufyings.
No one needed to know this but I cannot understand mint and chocolate as a thing. Maybe it’s cause I once had a Corner House ice cream that tasted like chocolate and toothpaste and I’ve never recovered from it.
Worked like a donkey, died every so often for this beautiful project that made it all worth it. Go read, from A-Z, The Concise Dictionary of Indian Hair, photographed by Aishwarya Arumbakkam and written by me
Wherever in the world you go, at night men walking alone often saunter but women take hurried and hasty steps. Haven’t found a woman walking alone at night sauntering.
Exactly half way in and really loving this book. Have also been an SRK fan since I watched Fauji 🤷🏼♀️ I may be biased but the insights into each fan, the cold hard stats, the “ground reality uncle” humour, the sprinkling of gossip. This is a very enjoyable book.
Just read an apparently African term for ‘social media lurkers’ or people who just lurk and watch your life- called ‘monitoring spirits’ and it’s so accurate. I love it.
I want is one of those long holidays where you wake up and think about where to find breakfast, hit a museum, feel cultured, inhale lunch, nap under a tree, pour down a shot of coffee, wander around till you hit a bar, find a quaint local spot for dinner and plan the next day.
One is expected to recover from the loss of a grandparent because of age and infirmity. But what if that grandparent was almost like a parent to you? It’s been a hard week and I’ll always miss my kind grandmother who had the rare trait of being genuinely interested in others.
Finally watched ‘While We Watched’ and was moved to tears. Between those endless slices of bleak cake- Ravish Kumar’s (and his team’s) commitment to the truth is one of the few reasons we have even a shred of hope today.
Browning onions till an aroma fills the kitchen, lightly frying mutton till it’s tender-ish. Slow cooking+collecting thoughts to the rhythm of 5 whistles. Simmering it in puree till it’s a deep brown. Breaking it with a spoon till it falls apart, soft and ready
#SoothingCooking
You could be ancient, independent, married, CEO of PepsiCo or whoever but if you’re an Indian girl your mum’s going to monitor the time you get home at night and eyeball you with varying levels of grumpiness depending on your time of entry, the next morning.