Tring Tring…Hellooo its Me!

Ya all it takes sometimes is a single call to a old dear friend to travel past in time and reconnect. We all are so well connected that we do not feel the need to “connect”. Yes, we whats app, post pics on Insta, hashtag our experiences, share memories and do much more on fb, but somehow the real kind of connection is absent in all of those interactions. The old fashioned phone call is all you need to bring a huge smile on your face, take a trip down memory lane and infact create new memories and re-connect at a whole new level. This is exactly what happened when I recently called an old friend from another life I was so called “in touch” with on fb. It was such an instant perk me up, and guess what though we were speaking to each other after a gap of 19 years it was amazing how much we remembered about each other, our quirks and families. She called me by my maiden name, remembered menus from the birthday parties and we chatted about old times we spent together, new lives and everything that had past in between. And trust me all it really took was courage to make “that” call and conversations flew. Ofcourse we promised to keep calling and stay in touch, doesn’t matter if we fall back on whats app-ing again; we did renew our friendship and really do know what stage the other is in now. Maybe one day we will make the 2^nd call and then the 3^rd and then meet up for a coffee and rediscover each other.

I think I will now call my cousin and ask him how is he doing !

Journey of a Wannabe Potter

So well, I have been a closet potter for close to three years. Not many know my love affair with clay and it is only now that I have been feeling a bit more confident of shaping it. Like I have confessed many a times I love to dabble in various things and though my father has always been confused as to my most recent shenanigans and wonders why I cant focus, my hubs and mum are ever encouraging me.
To let you in a secret, before I started my journey with clay I hadn’t had any experience nor a friend doing pottery, my reference point was the movie Ghost and that very erotic and romantic scene by Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze the teenage me’s heartthrob (sorry SRK you weren’t around then). So with stars in my eyes I walked into Delhi Blue Pottery studio at Safdurjung and got enrolled.

Thankfully between my enrolling and joining they had switched to electric wheels else my romance would have ended before it began. Since I was recovering from that dreadful Chikungunya (no it doesn’t happen cause I feel “harr bhook ka ilaaj chicken..”). I am very filmy ji.
Anyways, my first session was about wedging the clay and well it didn’t look anywhere close to what I had imagined. Post this came centering a 500 gm lump of clay and if I say it was a struggle I would be down playing it. The studio full of veteran potters at the time centering 5 kgs of clay made me feel pottery challenged. On the flip side the elation that came with a perfect centering was no less than having done fateh on Mars. Just when I used to think now the toughest deal of the process is over; and would be beaming at the tea break came another challenge. From centering to pulling a cylinder 7 inches for 700 grams was back breaking and took me more than 6 months. Well I definitely was a slow learner where pottery was concerned and the frustration levels would mount with each disappointment, the teachers at the class kept my morale going with their wit and encouragement. I kept at it and slowly learnt how to throw a decent piece. My first piece was still a tedha medha vase but what the heck tedha hai pur mera hai.
Sometimes even I am surprised at myself, no hobby has lasted me this long and the passion and thrill grows with each well crafted piece. The thrill of putting your hand in a sack of clay, wedging, pulling, trimming and decorating each piece has a story to tell and is born out of love. Heart rates increase with each firing bisque and glaze and prayers are fervently offered to kiln gods that the piece comes out unscathed and unbroken. The joy at the end of it all is unmatched and proudly displayed at home with lengthy instructions to the maid to not touch it. Hahah an interesting anecdote, when I proudly showed off my first piece to the maid at home, she was astounded acha bhabhi aap mitti ka kaam karte ho, chalo iss baar mere liye karwa chauth ke liye karwa aap banana…I faint.
So now when I participate in a fair and someone buys my piece, there is elation of selling and a lot of satisfaction knowing someone actually shelled out money –ultimate compliment but also a bit of weird inexplicable sadness too at times. However, the best part of selling them is that it gives you an opportunity to create more and still yet more. I leave you with this:


(both the pics are taken from the internet and used here) 

Musings of a Disoriented Punju in Chitto Park

Ok so lets begin at the beginning, which is that I love my meat, chicken, fish and prawns; all tandoori or grilled or in artery choking butter gravy. However, the challenge lies in buying the fish that needs as much discretion as the art of cooking it to perfection. Ab chicken toh chicken hota hai ji, bus tangri ya poora….yeh fish toh ranges from surmai to betkhi to pomfret to singhara and so many more.

Till now I have been relying on the good old Green Chik Chop to deliver fish and to be frank getting freezing stares (all puns intended) at my choice of frozen fish by the Calcutta born and bred mother-in-law. Also not to mention the comments about taste, texture and pricing. So when a Bengali friend volunteered to go “machi” shopping with me I was elated and we headed to Chitto Park. Another friend joined in and to be very frank we felt like virgins in the market that knew its fish and prawns well. Guided suitably we chose to pick up Surmai and Betkhi fillets for a cook off. For obvious reasons we chose fish with “no kaantaa bhaiyaji” oops dada ! We gaped at the rows of fish, fish heads and traversed our way around it. By the way we went to Market No.2 cause our Bengali insider told us that Market No. 1 has snob value and hence the prices are higher.

From the shop next door we also picked up the ready made mustard powder to be able to dish out a perfectly turned in mustard fish. Yum yum. Well if any one of you know a no fail recipe for the same please pass on before the mustard powder expires.

On our way back home a doubt niggled at us, did we buy right? Did we really check the gills? Did we get a good deal? So we called up Green Chik Chop and asked them the price for Surmai which we were told was Rs900 a kilo. Ha ! Ha! And we had managed it at around 560 a kilo. Good deal isn’t it? This sounds almost like a “coming of age” story, but trust me IT IS. Next time, believe it or faint, it will be prawns.
PS:For the equally disoriented Chitto Park is Chitranjan Park in Delhi !

Love You Ravana

I fell in love with Ravana, holy attitude be damned. And no, I am not into bad boys but this one looked so cute. Yes, referring to the kathakali styled, heavily made up, tush shaking Ravana of the Sri Ram Bhartiya Kala Kendra’s musical drama Sri Ram.

Unwillingly I have to admit that despite considering myself a true blue Dilliwaali or so I claim, I had never seen this Ramlila, and I swear I didn’t realize I was missing something. Per chance a good friend had 2 spares on the day of the event and called me at the nth hour to join her with my son and I jumped out of my bed, I was napping, got ready in 2 minutes and met her at the venue. Even though we had the premium Rs 500 tickets the free seating required us to queue up outside the gate by 6pm. The foyer leading up to the open air stage was decorated on both sides by paintings and calligraphic renditions of the name RAMA in many languages. Getting a good comfortable sofa in the 4^th row from the front, we settled to watch what would be an awesome learning and entertainment for all of us.

Into its 59^th edition this Ramlila, as per its director Padma Shri, Shobha Deepak Singh, is a “perfect synergy of idealism, grandiosity and reality- a beautiful symphony of a magnificent tapestry of costumes, lighting, choreography and music.” And we nod our heads in agreement. It is all this and much much more, a peek into the story of Rama and Ravana who without each other could not have been what they are. I have always felt that Ravanas tragic flaw was his majestic ego and a bit of lust, he is much better than many Ravanas that we see on the streets these days. But well this post is not about being skeptical or negative, it is about this evocative drama that inspires one to think beyond the realms of black and white. It is all about the shades of grey (and not the 50 shades that you are smirking at).

Beautifully crafted stage came alive with lovely dances, amazing sound track that told the story, a slide show that was like headlines and poignant yet over acting  the way theater should be. This Ramlila did not remain untouched by the usage of multimedia including a bit of animation that has been introduced this year. The fact that the Ramlila is reinvented and includes elements of innovation makes it as new for anyone who is watching it year after year. My friend, a design instructor at a leading Delhi college and her daughter were equally mesmerized as if they were watching it for the first time and that’s saying a lot, isn’t it?

I loved the pace that the story moved at, fast yet not missing the milestones. What stayed with me as a deep after-thought post watching it, that usually never made an impact when one is reading the text, were these 2 episodes. One was that of Kevat the boatman, who ferries Lord Ram, Sita and Laxman across the river. When they reach the other shore, Kevat humbly refuses to take any money for his services, saying to Ram that you and I are both boatmen, I take people across the river and you take them across from this world towards moksha. Second came when Ravan was killed by the arrow of Lord Rama, and Ravana  pronounced that i am still victorious I will get to your kingdom (the Lord’s kingdom heaven) before you get to mine. I mean I almost had tears in my eyes, the way it was played out and said. To do the acts beautifully for almost close to a month each day requires much conviction and faith.

The dances were beautifully choreographed, in particular the dance by the golden deer was spectacular. Another scene that got standing ovation was when Bharat meets Ram in the forest and wants to take him back to where he belongs. The way Bharat runs and skids to lie prone in Rama’s feet was followed by thunderous clapping.

The arti and coronation when Lord Rama reaches Ayodhya and the deepawali scenes/dances deserve a special mention. The stage wore a look of festivity and divinity, the chiming bells, the diyas in the dancers’ hands and the royal seating of Rama and Sita with Hanuman and the rest of the family was straight out of a temple. To have achieved that look that inspired most in the audience to bow down or clap along was out of this world.

Post the Ramlila, we took selfies with Ravana, Ram and Sita and they all obliged. No photography is allowed while the show is in progress, so some of the pics in this post are not mine and taken from the Internet. Infact though I missed taking pictures, I realized that the moments soaked in were much more impacting than pictures framed, it is true the eyes will see what the camera won’t.

Thank you dear friend to have thought of us, its an experience we won’t forget in a hurry. For any body reading this, staying in Delhi and not have gone for it; you are missing much my friend. This year it is on till November 9^th. 

Haldighati - From Valley of Battle to Roses

Like Arjuna’s steadfast focus on the eye of the fish, our Udaipur trip was focused on everything Maharana Pratap, rest all was ancillary. On Day 1, after a breakfast fit for the kings at Devigarh by Lebua, we started on our journey to Kumbhalgarh fort via Haldighati.

On our way to Haldighati museum we stopped at the first Maharan Pratap bill board that we spotted and yes got ourselves clicked with it. The son was super excited and this trip was actually planned for his adoration of “Pratap”. Watching the tele serial of the same name infact it feels that Maharana Pratap is not only a part of the family he could be our son’s bff.

Anyways moving onwards we came across a small Maharana Pratap cave and stopped the taxi with flailing arms all over; it was an unplanned stopover, and yes we did have a very tight planned itinerary. The stop revealed a cave and a temple built around it, we were told that Maharana Pratap used to have his secret meetings with his allies here and that this cave that was once a secret passage has been blocked now. Its quaintness was what made it so beautiful.

Hopping back into the taxi, on our way to Maharana Pratap museum we noticed many vendors sitting under small make shift tents selling rose sherbet, gulkand and rose water. Not visible from the main road, we learnt that there are large farms where “Chaitri Gulab” variety of rose is cultivated.

Driving through the Haldighati range fills you up with sadness and pride at the same time, thinking of the bloody battle that ravaged so many families, the parks and monuments made in the memories of the valiant and the fact that one is standing at that same spot, can become a bit unnerving. Haldihgati got its name from the yellow haldi-like colour if the sand.  Rakht Talai, known such cause of the blood pool that formed as the result of the battle, is the exact spot where the battle was fought between Maharana Pratap and Akbar’s Man Singh. We could not go there because of time crunch but visited Badshah Bagh on the main road before the Haldighati pass where the Mughal armies had pitched their tents and on june 21^st 1576 Pratap’s army had their first encounter. Today it is an ASI protected monument with a beautifully developed park.

Off the road, slightly uphill is Maharana Pratap Memorial. Beautifully built and maintained the black statue of the king on his horse with “surya” emblem on the sides of the platform evokes respect for all that the Maharana stood for. 

From here we proceeded to the museum and were surprised to see a heavy crowd thronging the place. They have a guided sound and light show every 15 minutes, and a short documentary film on Pratap. Walking through the dark gallery the tableaus have been created on both sides and light up accompanied by the recorded information on the life and milestone achievements of the Maharana. The museum has been developed and is maintained all by the efforts of an individual promoter Mohan Lal Shrimali.

Haldighati battle (1576) was also the one where Maharana Pratap lost his loyal horse, Chetak. A chattri buit in the memory of the mount where he died is called Chetak Samarak. A couple of meters away from the Maharana Pratap Museum, it does deserve a short stopover just to soak in the courageous feat and think of a beautiful man-animal relationship.

गिरता न कभी चेतक–तन पर¸ 
राणा प्रताप का कोड़ा था। 
वह दोड़ रहा अरि–मस्तक पर¸ 
या आसमान पर घोड़ा था।

A poem by Shyam Narayan Pandey

From here we moved on to Kumbhalgarh fort, where Maharana Pratap was born. I told you, didn’t I, ours was a packed day. 

Of Bumpy Landings into Maharaja Suite at Devigarh by Lebua, Udaipur

A curious case of missing center seats in the plane while scrutinizing our tickets and an eventual realization that it is a 2x2 seater small air craft by Jet. A hilarious introduction of a couple of crew present on board (hilarious cause the list finished before it started) and an equally expected bumpy touchdown by the pilot Rahul, a name my son won’t forget in a hurry. That was the beginning of our 4 day action packed holiday in Udaipur or really if you ask me our hot trail of following Maharana Pratap through Mewar’s forts and palaces.

MRP (as is fondly called by son and his friends) is a popular historical figure with them, the imagination having been fueled by the teleserial of the same name on Sony on this veer putra. Not a TV watcher and bad with dates I was being corrected and reprimanded for my lack of knowledge in the matter but confess I must, I came out equipped with stories of valour, strength and a great deal of sense of patriotism and respect for the Maharana clan. 

Our landing at the Maharana Pratap airport was as you have noticed much dramatic and equally dramatic was our double upgrade to the suite with private swimming pool in Devigarh by Lebua. A 40 minute ride by the car on an uphill winding road led us to a beautifully restored fort hotel, in the middle of a sleepy village that wasn’t so sleepy when we checked in since there was a wedding going on that night and the loudspeakers were blaring Sheila and Munni with equal gusto. On checking in we were greeted with showering of rose petals from the Ganesh Dwar and offered subtly flavored rose drink while the husband completed check-in formalities.

Now, this calls for a short review of the hotel. Well maintained with manicured lawns, high reaching fort walls, dreamy landscape of hills as far as you can see the horizon, very very well mannered and attentive staff that each time they saw you joined their hands in “namstae” and greeted you with cheer, much in contrast with our stay at Trident Udaipur that looked and felt equally bland after a stint at Devigarh. Our room with the pool was nothing short of a royal treatment, at the entrance to the suite was a very well created trishul and Shiva installation, an inviting pool and typical Rajputana sit outs complete with low seating. These definitely made early mornings almost surreal and an hour to look forward to, what with sipping tea (made by husband; even better, actually more shocking than anything else), surveying the expanse and soaking in the loud chatter of the birds. An amazing property, I must say with the only deviation being the F and B prices, prohibitive.

our private sit out 

Devigarh by Lebua

Since it was late evening that we had checked in, all we had to do was soak in the dimly lit fort and have our dinner. Except that the beer that we had at the hotel’s restaurant that costed us a cool Rs500/- per pint (we had 4 pints that night, poor unknowing us!) our adventure that night was limited. I still can’t get over the pint, whoever said size matters was right, a pint-size can happily take your happiness (am I making good Sindhi sense?!). Well the food made up for the shock, the Lal maas that we had was superlative and so was the chicken accompanied by Rs 200/- each roti/parantha. There I go again. I told ya, this meal was an adventure. Anyways retiring to the room with a most awesome view that we were promised the next morning was a solace. Another day. Another story. 

Ah did i mention that at Delhi airport we got lucky to have bumped into Saifeena; yes Saif and Kareena. Got sonny boy's pic with Saif while Kareena was at the cashier at WH Smith. 

My Date with Tso Pangong

I wouldn’t lie, I have been pretty enamored with the picturesque setting and shiny emerald waters surrounded by high mountains and looking sexier than Kareena Kapoor in her bridal attire. Well yeah, I am talking about the climax scene of 3 Idiots shot besides the world’s highest salt water lake. A lake that presents itself as a shimmery blanket of waves and holds much enigma, I promised myself I will “one day” visit THE Pangong lake. I got reminded of my promise to myself when I saw the love of my life SRK (yeah snigger as much, I am not changing my mind. He is my first love) diving into the lake to save the panting, screaming Anushka Sharma in Jab Tak Hain Jaan. It is another thing that some people say she did not dive into Pangong lake, but who cares. By the way I had already got the warning by my son, “mom don’t even try to dive in…SRK wont come to save you!!”
Hows and Whens hadn't been thought or planned but it was an idea whose time had come. Especially so when I saw and eventually took the plunge (no, Not in the icy waters) and booked for an all women tour to Leh with Women on Wanderlust. In our 5 day itinerary, besides the other amazingly breathtaking landscape visits this one was the jewel in the proverbial crown. We set off early in the morning since the travel time from Leh to Pangong and back was estimated to be about 5 hours (150kms) each way. Enroute we ascended the gorgeous snow laden peaks on one of the best and highest motorable roads. Considering the icy weather in Leh with much snowfall it is an admirable feat to be driving on roads so nicely maintained by the army just as the season began.
    
We had to cross Changa La Pass which is almost at 18k feet above the sea level, on our way to Pangong. No wonder the landscape was all heavily covered with stacks of snow many feet deep. It was a sight to behold, I don’t think words can aptly capture the essence of either how we felt or what we saw. The winding road wove through piles of snow and looking out of the bus window the snowy sculptural shapes seemed like works of art, drops that were frozen in time as icicles, the small peaks that lay delicately balancing on thick snow almost like a ballerina. It was a wonder to behold, the spirit and grit of humans that have made even these treacherous terrains as their own, one could not stop marvelling at the roads and the electric poles, and the super efforts of the army to keep it all going. I pause here for a BIG SALUTE to them and all the agencies who keep the country well oiled and borders well guarded.
The whites were broken only by the colorful prayer flags swaying in the wind singing the glory of the Lord God who made it all. When we reached Chang La Pass a small but functional café served us hot tea and the quintessential garama garam Maggi. Even though we were covered with layers and layers of warm woolens and wanted to spend more time, we could not prance about for more than 15 to 20 minutes in which we scurried around to click some pics and hopped right back into the
bus to head towards Pangong Lake.

From here the descent began and the first look of the Pangong was as awesome as was imagined. We parked at the site and was greeted with a well spread piping hot buffet lunch at guess where, the 3 Idiots Café. It was such a moment of gratitude, not only was the food amazingly yum and fresh, the Café was equally hospitable. Giving into the demands of 20 women for hot black coffee, tea with little milk no sugar and maybe 20 ways to make it too. Post lunch we ambled across to the lake site, ambled yes not only cause we were stuffed but also we realised that running at such an altitude and getting out of breath was not a great idea. The 150 km salt lake with around 2/3rds of it being in China is a beautifully picturesque stretch of water, surrounded by majestic mountains and ever changing color of the water. The waters almost magically change the colours with the changing hues of the sky and is at its greenest green when the sun is out. Per chance on our visit the sky was overcast, obviously disappointing us though just a little. You can not be in the area and not marvel or be meditative with such tranquil surroundings. It is true that nature connects self with self. The waters were freezing cold and we were in thick woolens it was a tough deal but we did put out fingers in and wriggled our socks-less feet in the water. It was an equally amusing sight to watch the newly wed honeymoon couples in short dresses and bare sleeved tees posing a la Titanic…but well the young …stop don’t label me old …I am above all this you see…we are mature women.



Post our date with the emerald shores we retreated to the Café for coffees before the goodbyes. As luck would have it there were strong gusts of winds just as we were sipping the last dregs of the coffee and the clouds made way to the Sun. And guess what the Sun did, it gave us the most awesome view of the colours of the lake and we ran back to click some and take it all in with loads and loads of gratitude and came back with indelible memories.