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Showing posts from January, 2013

Pani Puri

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I love food. My parents may not agree because I complain a lot about many items, but on the whole, I enjoy eating. The list of my favourite foods is quite long. But among the top contenders is pani puri. It is simply engaging, and delightfully so. I crave it often. I dream of  the puri rising out of the waters with a calm swish, but the composure is quite misleading. I know that the ragada is lying in wait to enchant and entertain. (do not own the image) First, there is that crunch of the puri...It rocks your heart and even while you are trying to bite into that puri, you smile and laugh and you feel an absurd pleasure. Then the puri bursts into your mouth and fills it with the tamarind and chilli water. It's sweet, spicy and cold. You can taste a hint of pudeena and then it's gone but it lingers like an afterthought. Then comes the ragada. It is coarse and large but warm. Sweet and spicy. Hot and cold. Crunchy and soft. It is a gastronomic pleasure. The delight of a g

Tilgul ghya!

Sankranti is not supposed to be a 'good ' festival. Babies and newly married couples do not celebrate it as their first 'festival'. Instead, they wait for gudi padwa, the festival marking the beginning the new year of the hindu calendar. But for the rest, it is one of the most auspicious event of the year. It marks the transition of the sun into the northen hemisphere and is celebrated across India. The names differ, however. In the north, it is called Lohri, in Assam as Bihu, in Gujrat as Uttarayan, Himachal as Maagh Saaja etc. It is a festival of harvest and prayers. In some parts of Maharashtra, kites are flown. But the cinema has popularised it and now, kites are flown across the country. Black is worn and we exchange halwa (sesame seed coated with crystallised sugar), til wadis (cakes of jaggery and sesame seeds) and gul polis (jaggery-stuffed bread). I personally love gul-poli as no other. It is flat and slightly hard because of the jaggery inside. I slathe

Shadows and smoke

Being a woman is hard. Being an Indian woman is harder still. I am not a hardcore feminist who demands that 'history' is 'her story' too (which is etymologically incorrect) I am, however a person raised in a household that has a strong matriarchal sensitivity. I have been raised to give my opinion in matters that I find pertinent to me or close to my heart. Never have my parents shown preference for my brother over me or treated me with a callousness that stems out of indifference and ignorance. There have been times in my life when I have discovered that equality to be specious. As I grow up, I am supposed to take my place in the kitchen with my other cousins on family functions while my male relatives discuss cricket and politics while lounging on the sofa. My female relatives are highly qualified professionals, but still they have to cook, wash and clean after the others. This is tradition, they say. I refuse to accept this. We tilt the balance in favour of mal