Author: Deepi
The empty box of dreams
Every artist is not blessed to have a huge audience. Some times, even a beautiful voice can be heard in an empty train tunnel. There are artists who have no listeners or readers whatsoever. But they still go on, deeply in love with their craft. There comes a day, it might struck someone of their talent. But, it can be seldom. Followers will only make your mind happy. It won’t grow your art. Some artists have His presence in their emptiness. And you should truly seek what makes your soul happy.
A tiffin of hopes
It’s been a month in Gurgaon. We have almost settled. And now starts the tiffin conundrum in the mornings. What do I pack for him? What do I give as a snack to my child? The husband rejected the buttermilk the other day. It came back as is. And my child can eat any damn thing in his bus. So, it’s a win-win sometimes. And sometimes, I fail. Can’t seem to get my hands on the exotic dill leaves. So no Tzatziki in the kitchen yet. Also, it’s been two weeks I’m waiting for this mountain resident to send me her jams for the kids. So there’s hope. The food shopping never ends. And amidst all this, I’m terribly low looking at all the rejections from the editors. I don’t know which way to look at. Where do you see hope?
The Nomad
A few years ago, some time in the year 2019, I was waiting at the baggage carousel at the Chennai airport and it was taking longer than usual. I had some time on my own with my infant, so I chose to sit on one of those steel benches. Suddenly, I saw this woman on one of the benches and I don’t why, I was completely awestruck.
She looked like she’s been a traveller since years. She had a large rucksack bag around her and it looked like she had her home in this bag. Her shawl, a few tiniest toys, her trinkets and a few more accessories told me she’d been to mountains and beaches and whatnot. Every piece around her stood out for its simplicity.
The utensils she used, her water bottle, flask, small snack boxes—all told me that she’s been carrying her food all the while. Dependent on none. There was no stress on her. In fact, she was absolutely calm. Did she have her tickets? Didn’t she have a PR team to promote her travels? How was she so composed? Are travellers supposed to be this humble? It was like she had everything with her. Her heart looked full.
She was reading a book. She had a tiny, basic phone that could just make calls and send texts. She was wearing the most basic clothes (but damn comfy) and a basic watch. It was like I was learning a lesson by just looking at her. She did have a journal and a pencil with it, but nothing beyond that. No social media pages, no to-do lists, no showing off from her travels, no nothing. It seemed, to me, that her travels have made her rich in true sense. Her experiences made her kind and truly fulfilled her heart. Did she ever feel the need to reach out to hundreds of likes on social media? Why didn’t she? I could feel a shiver down my bone and felt a bit of shame. A real nomad, she was a story I will never forget.
Hello, December
It so happens this week; I come close to cooking, and get away. It’s a hate-love relationship. And the mixed feelings I get when I have to bear with the kids–sometimes I feel blessed, and sometimes I wonder when time will fly. I try to take it slow with every passing day. I’m trying my best to feel gratitude, but I fail too. May be I’m too thin. May be my craft will die. May be. I’m a bad example in front of the kids. So many maybes. Discontinued my yoga class. It’s a month with two events, and given the high price, I decided to give the class a miss. Where do we go now? With no writing assignments at hand, do I see any hope? How could I get that ego boost? Guess I’m here at the right time.
First up, I’m seeking music. Jasmine Sandlas is my favourite. And watching interviews, like I always do. Love those. I try to do a few stretches in the morning, but really can’t slow down. Talking about my wonderings in the kitchen. Have this urge to bake cakes. Need to get my hands on a good bottle of olive oil. And of course, cream cheese. Also, I really don’t know where to get dill leaves (exotic ones) from here in Mumbai. It was much easier to find those in Gurgaon. I’m trying to catch up with old cousins, thanks to the wedding season. Nail art, kids’ clothing something, learning to organise bags. All consuming my mind. I started writing a letter to an unknown person (thanks to Chitti Exchange). Now, I just need to post it. Finally, I feel like writing song lyrics behind the novels I try to read. Just in case if I put off from reading, I can sing a line or two and go off to sleep.
I made Dhokla second time in the month, and messed it up again. How? The last time I didn’t add ENO in it, so it didn’t get the fluffy texture, and this time, I added less salt. Bah! It was tasteless. After speaking to my cousin, Khushboo, I tried to fix it. Boiled half a cup of water and added salt in it. Drizzled it on the dhoklas. But it just didn’t get there. But thankfully, a neighbour gave a good tip. “Stop apologising. It was yum,” her text read.
Talking about goof-ups, I made some Dal and sabzis this week. Just didn’t find any satisfaction with the taste. I almost always hate to eat what I cook myself. Also, the husband has started eating this oatmeal, and it takes forever to cook! Still learning to cook it well.
Any wins in the kitchen? Nailed a Ragi soup (learnt it from Shalini of Early Foods). It’s just the best thing for your kid, when he or she is sick. And this quesadilla recipe that I tried (from the Terrace Kitchen) was so damn good. The husband loved it.
Christmas is round the corner. Have ordered a few books. Plan to spend some quality time with neighbours, relishing good food. And I’m dying to catch up with a few of my cousins. Hope to banish anxiety (for the time-being). It’s all about sending the right messages to the universe? May be, I need a good chat. Merry vibes come your way, dear readers. So long.
Motherhood Saga
I’m stuck. And so beautifully stuck. After my second child, life has taken a turn towards Godknowswhat. It’s just the kids, and me, the blocks, and the weird toy noises. And there’s a constant effort to put the jigsaw puzzle pieces of my marriage in place. I have tasted bitterness in a real sense. Seen days and nights when I saw no inspiration sitting in my balcony—albeit the green pots and a nice view from my high-rise apartment)—anxious as to what the future beckons. Almost lost faith in everything. Sanity. Not found. Self-love? Not found. The thought that may be, my husband doesn’t like me anymore (who would, really? I really needed HELP). With my echoing words, my endless pain I just didn’t know how to go ahead with the new changes in life. A house help who would be with me 24 hours a day. Managing him, and my rage. Such a task. And not minding my tongue in front of the in-laws. Life is always not the same. Who knew better than me. My only constant strength would be writing but sadly, that too went for a toss.
Seek love, find love
The last time music came to my help was when I was in college. Everything sucked at college. I dreamt so much, hoped to do so much—but nothing happened. It was only when I was in the pits, music rescued me. After 11 years of marriage, here I’m, finding my fingers on a harmonium and raga notes to learn. God does want me to help myself. These are downs and ups you can’t help but witness. Let it flow. Let it flow. Seek self-love. Not just by sitting with your phone. Do something about it. And then came a yoga instructor who is now helping me with my mental blockages. “Please forgive me. I’m sorry. Thank you. I love you.” Started telling this to myself. “Call me when you’re up at 3AM in the morning next time. That’s just when you need to meditate,” my beautiful yoga instructor tells me. Damn. There is God in small things. Two beautiful kids, a loving husband, and an amazingly supportive family, and I’m still trying to make sense of life. May be. May be. I can now see a flicker of light towards the end of tunnel that I’m going through.
When life gives you chillies, make a thecha!
I like food that I haven’t really explored earlier. And it’s surprising. Some marathi flavours, and some English. Ah! Those crispy toasts, insane amounts of butter and cheese. And of course, chocolate sauce. Don’t ever underestimate that bowl of delicious chocolate mousse. Mends unbelievably. Always remember. When you have only chillies in your fridge. You can still create a delicious meal. All you need is thecha and a crispy (aka kakari) roti! That said, keep hogging on those crunchy salad bowls. You need it. Your body needs it. And keep working on that dressing, one vinegar bottle at a time.
Ciao
On the other side
2021 was a tremendous year for me. Different battles to fight. Both on the outside and the inside. And cooking went on the back burner. I imagine myself sitting with my girl, telling her how I survived the year. An unplanned pregnancy, my mother’s cancer treatment, raising a toddler with different views at home, coming face to face with my insecurities–there’s been so much on my mind. And, there is COVID-19. Can’t even begin with that one.
I came to live with my parents during my pregnancy, with my husband and my toddler. The toughest day that I can remember was the first day of getting covid. I was in my eight, and the acidity almost killed me. But then I survived.
What I can’t get over with is the fact that my mum had to undergo so much. Mammogram, chemotherapy, hair loss, her own insecurities. I can feel what she’s going through, and it really makes me want to think, this could be it. Life is so uncertain. It can change in a second. But she survived it. And she even defeated covid in the middle of her chemotherapy. Damn.
So, here I am, telling you how I struggled last year. And I’m not ready to look at the bright side. Anxiety only grows deeper. But here’s the magical part.
I was recently blessed with a daughter. Hell, I always dreamt that. And I have survived my ten years of marriage. How, I don’t know. Mom is getting her health back. It’s wonderful when I see her name on my phone, five times a day.
But, I don’t want to cook. Writing is easier than cooking. Those kitchen bottles bring no curiosity in me. I don’t want pasta. I just want to survive this journey of motherhood. And keep a bit of my mum’s recipes on my bedside table. And I shall be all right.
Here are a few snippets from the posts I shared on my page. I started writing these tiny posts when I was down with COVID.
That’s about it for 2021. I hope you combat 2022 with a fierce passion to bring a new ray of hope in your life. May God show mercy.
Chai Masala
This spice mixture is the holy grail for me, when it comes to my teas or Dhoodh Chai (a traditional drink that has a combination of tea and milk). How you like your tea is matter of habit, more than anything.
At my in-laws’ place, most of the people like the basic tea which has tea, milk, water and sugar. The milk-water ratio is 50:50 for them. But, at my mother’s side, the teas are loaded with this masala. A normal person will start getting hiccups if you take a few sips of my mother’s tea. And the milk-water ratio is 30:70–so it’s thin in consistency and darkish brown in colour. We don’t drink our tea in China cups but in small steel tumblers and steel plates (that resemble saucers).
Usually, mum gives me this masala so that I’m always stocked with it. When my mum visits me, she would expect me to have some fresh ginger for her teas; or, chances are there, she might carry a large piece in her bag. Ginger and chai masala is a must in her tea. And gradually, I have noticed that I can’t do without it too. Just the ratio can be different.
Recipe: My mother’s Chai Masala
Ingredients: 10-15 gm cardamom pods, 20-25 cloves, 50 gm black pepper, 1 piece of nutmeg (jaiphal), 1 piece of dry ginger or saunth or 3 gm ginger powder (the size of the nutmeg and the dry ginger should be almost the same).
Method: Chop the nutmeg into pieces and then put it in the grinding jar. Add all the whole spices in and churn till you can get a coarse powder out of it. Store it in a clean container. I like to add 2 to 3 pinches of this masala in two cups of tea.
TASTE MEMORY 