The Bucket List

A week back most of us were busy making lists. It was the time of "New Year celebrations" and making a to do list for the upcoming year is the cliche which has remained in fashion always. But how many of us actually fulfill all that is called "resolutions"? I do not and that is the sole reason I do not make "New year to do list". 

It was all hunky dory till that time until yesterday when I realised I am suddenly on the wrong side of 25. 

Shit! did you think I am fretting over wrinkles and under eye circles? Not that I do not resort to those kind of self fretting, but this time the realisation was more than about just growing old. It was about somethings in life which I always wanted to do but kept on pushing just by the thought of "oh! there is enough time..may be tomorrow!" What if there is no tomorrow? No! seriously, I do not intend to sound like I am dying, I only meant what will happen if the museum that I have always wanted to visit suddenly shuts down? Or the random piece of jewellery that I always wanted to own is no longer available? And to top that I have already lived 25 years of my life and have not done anything to see that happen. 

All that and much more made me think about jotting down a bucket list. A list of things which I always wanted to do and will love to do in the coming years. Bucket Lists are actually fantasy novels which we write for our own selves :) It is only those moments which make life worthwhile and for anybody who knows me, must be knowing how much I believe in the philosophy of "living for the moment".

Image Courtesy: http://marshallmashup.usc.edu/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/bucketlist.jpeg

1. Travel around the world - OK! this sounds cliched and must be there on everybody's bucket list but it had to be there for mine too. I was lucky to be born to parents who were both travel hungry. So I had the advantage of starting early. You name any of the 'to do destinations in India' and chances are that my parents have already been there and I tagged along. But one thing that travel has imbibed in me is the fact that it is not always about destinations....it is also about fulfillment. So, you will find lesser known places like Shimultola, Deogarh, Falta, Sarnath, Chandipur or Rajgirh featuring in my parents' travel map apart from the usual big suspects. Precisely the reason I want to travel and find out about anything and everything that makes the world go round.

2. Publish my own book- That is something I have dreamed about for so long that even I cannot imagine. My own book and handing out an author signed copy to one of my fans who may say "Didi, apni boddo bhalo lekhen. Ki kore je amar moner kotha bolen" ("You write so well. How do you understand my feelings so well!") Gosh! that day will be like something in the league of me owning one of those Solitaires which Sushmita Sen and Shilpa Shetty made so fashionable. Yes! that big rock I mean.

3. Read- Anything and everything. Since childhood I have been blessed with one good quality which never lets me get bored about anything. The habit of reading- anything and everything under the sun. I may have a hearty laugh about every so called trashy novel that everyone is busy writing nowadays, but the truth is that I read all of them. You can go and judge me now. But I just hope I continue to do so- from reading nondescript magazines to the latest bestseller to the ones termed "classic literature" and in both Bengali and English. I will die if I am monolingual. And probably German too ;)

4. Owning a huge rock - Admit it, if you are a girl you cannot possibly overlook the charm of Diamonds. And though my husband already gifted me a perfect piece of Solitaire during our wedding, I just wish the rocks keep on getting bigger and better with every passing year :P Come on do not give me the look about me being so greedy. Even you want to own one of those Sushmita Sen kind of solitaires. The finger ring I mean...my piece of attraction! The one that can make everyone around Super 'J'.

5. Owning the most beautiful collection of clothing/accessories- I have no qualms in admitting that I have that tinge of jealousy rushing through my veins whenever I see someone wearing something exquisite and beautiful. That may be something as insignificant as a Rupees 35 earring from the shopaholics' paradise "Gariahat". I want to own them all....even though I do not know when and what to wear that printed cotton sari I saw on that online shopping website, with. Hell yeah! I want to possess it :)

6. Meet in person all the friends and foes I made online- We have to admit that our generation grew up in a tinderbox of online complications. Friends were made,couples dated, relationships went kaput- all happened online. And there is no denying it. I have made friends, foes and random acquaintances....people with similar tastes and background. The ones if I had met in person, who would have made the so called "besties". I hope one day I meet all of them, in person.

7. Do all the routine sweet nothings-I know it is routine and boring, but who told boring is not awesome? I want to do all of them..like holding his hands and dancing down the Keukenhof fields  or prancing around in sari just like a Yash Chopra heroine in the pristine backdrops of Switzerland. I want to do all of that. Did I say that I love Bollywood? Add to that, watching ganga arati in Varanasi and watching a beautiful sunset over the Taj Mahal along with him :) I am a die hard romantic. 

8. Get married again- Yes! I have no idea how  my husband is going to react to that but I surely want to get married again..of course to the same guy! I do not mind getting married again in the traditional style- Ala red benarasi sari and gold jewellery, but I definitely want to have a beach wedding and a Vegas wedding some day. That Vegas bit is a little bit of 'FRIENDS' hangover. My mom always told that American television turned me into a crazy being :P

9. Family- I am blessed with a wonderful family and sometime in the future I want to be a mother and have wonderful kids. Not exactly now, but sometime in the future. I just hope I continue to have the wonderful close knit family that I have. My parents, my in laws, my sister-who will always remain my first kid, how big she may grow, my brother in law, my grandparents, chotoamma, dadubhai, My pishimoni, pishon, didibhai, shake da, bhai, tai, Mamabari...everyone!

10. Money- I have earned quite a bit (strangely which has also been a part of much speculation) and thankfully God has been kind on that front. I just want him to be kinder. So even though I might cry over the professional hazards (we all do, we are never happy with our own jobs!), I just want to earn some good money so that I can fulfill some bit of everything mentioned earlier. The saying goes that Money cannot buy you happiness, but yes! it can help you to reach somewhere close by. So while I am on this break and having a gala time in Europe, there is a little part of me who will be happy to go back and start playing office office again and I will not deny that it will be for the cash that flows in. After all money can definitely buy you some securities and I am not the one to complain here :)

Actually, all I want is everything :)

Special post- Chandrobindoo turns 25!

It is often told that Bengalis find expression for all their emotional travelogues (Calcutta to Howrah!) in Tagore's songs. That Dadu has given words for all our emotions, upheavals and more is something I dare not debate. As a quintessential Bengali, I very well know the effect "Aaj Jyotsna Rate Sobai Geche Boney" coupled with "Old Monk" had on my friendly neighbourhood dada- umm, let's call him Poltu da, after a painful break up with the "Shundori" (Beautiful) girlfriend who did not think twice about trading his undying love for the MBBS husband. Ah! that typical bong fascination for "lyengi". 

Lyengi is actually an art in Bengal. One that has given rise to so many poets and singers who wrote odes to their lady loves with moist eyes and good old "Old Monk". But then again, the 90's Bengali men and women who decided to not to remain unaffected by the changes that globalisation was gradually doing to their friendly "chayer thek" wanted a more vocal alternative for their everyday being. Be it love, politics or just being Bengali. Everything which a Bengali loves.

And then came Chandrobindoo. The rest they say is history.

As a Bengali girl growing up in a South Calcutta neighbourhood in 1990's, remaining unaffected by the Bangla band scenario was impossible. I liked Bhoomi and some works of Cactus, but it was Chandrobindoo who made those overtures of Poltu Da during Durga Pujo bhashan or the continuous efforts that he made to appease the snob daughter of Mr. Chatterjee in our neighbourhood, utterly believable. Their first album had a song called "Sweetheart" and it was more than true that Chatterjee uncle's daughter had, while introducing her NRI fiance to us, had taken a special exception for Poltu da and called him- "Oh! Sujoy, meet Poltu...he is like my brother you know...he stays just opposite our house". This was 1999. NRI husband meant the big ticket to fame and she did just the same. While the above mentioned song described the Bengali woman's fascination for their "Pistuto" brothers ("cousins"), we saw more of the rakhi brother game being played just in front of our eyes. That was the first pillar of truth Chandrobindoo established for me, even though I heard the song much later but I could make an instant connection :)

To say that Chandrobindoo only gave voice to a heart broken lover's whims will be such an insult. If there was anybody who brought "humour" and "sarcasm" to the already cluttered Bangla band scene, it was them. Chandrobindoo appealed to all those Bengalis across the world who could understand our shortcomings as a race. Their song "Aamra Bangali Jaati" came during a time when we had just started jostling for our space in the world map post the globalisation. Calcutta as a city was waking up to the changing times. The times they had understood that those days of brutally romantic 70's and 80's were over. If we had to survive and make the city tick, we had to fight...but! there is always a but in a Bengali's life....the fact that we as an 'intellectual' race had to rub our shoulders with "Paanjabis" and "Meros" was completely unacceptable to us. The stiff upper lipped uncle in my neighbourhood often discarded the overwhelmingly popular Information Technology revolution and the predominance of "Made in America" in our lives as a 'Capitalist conspiracy' and that actual "Bilet" was always London and never New York! So when Chandrobindoo decided to poke fun about our stake to intellectual supremacy via the Nobel laureates that only Bengal seems to have produced, it never sounded odd. We all do that. Period. We all say "Marwaris have no kaaalturrr" and then share social space with them in Calcutta Club as we have to accept a hardworking race's claim to economic supremacy. It is even ironical that we Bengali often claim to be the "most modern, secular minded and non communal" beings. Yes! even after those 'Paaiya' and 'Mero' jokes.

This is where I feel Chandrobindoo touched the perfect chord with our generation. Their lyrics, penned by the oh! so charming Anindya and the one and only Chandril, reflected the story of our lives. My father always thought Rabindranath is the best thing to happen to literature (and I still think Sourav Ganguly is the best thing to happen to Cricket), but I also understand that the definition of what is best can never be decided in societal terms. More so when, today we are waking up to the rise of the entrepreneurial risk loving Bengali who does not mind opening their own start ups.

If that last paragraph made you think that Chandrobindoo was supposed to make light hearted music, when did it become so heavy on us....relax! For me and for everybody of my generation, Chandrobindoo will be the ones who made those expressions of love and falling out of love so easy, so gentle and so believable. I sometimes wonder whether it was the fact that the very cute Upal and the very charming Anindya in front of the microphone that made those words so believable. Anindya will probably be the only bearded man in the history of this mankind that I had a very special soft corner for. Apart from Robi Thakur that is. (That bit is always understood. I am a Bengali :P)

I met Anindya once in the Calcutta Book fair. I took his autograph and conveyed to him about how much I liked his songs. All along, I gushed like a school girl. My husband was standing besides me and he could not believe it was the same me who was still sometime ago fighting with the very obnoxious Calcutta taxi driver for a ten Rupee change!

Well! to think of what made the romantic songs, the ones I consider among the many of their songs to be my favourite, tick and stand out is a question that cannot be answered without a reference to the city which makes all of us "fall in love". The city that has "Ei shohor janey amar prothom sobkichu" written all over, for (admit it) many of us. (That is a Kabir Sumon song. Just for the uninitiated.)

Calcutta, has been a character in many of Chandrbindoo's songs. I cannot imagine the innocence of giving up everything for love or as the way the love of out lives wished happening in any other city in this world apart from Calcutta. May be it is my imagination, but in this world of everyday rush from our pigeonhole apartments in Borivali, New York, Gurgaon or Rajarhat to our air conditioned office spaces anywhere in this world- can any place offer the solace, the peace, the warmth and the love of a life long forgotten in the meandering lanes of North Calcutta?

The answer will be an overwhelming No! We all crave for that life that we left behind. I have never lived in North Calcutta. I have never lived continuously in the house I prefer calling "Home" situated in a South Calcutta neighbourhood since I was seventeen. But still, most of my memories of the life I so much loved/love, still belongs to that place. The times when the neighbourhood Poltu da sang "tomake shonabo Joy Goshayi/ Tomar babake meshomoshayi" to woo the girl of her dreams which often turned out to be every girl who crossed his path! His efforts to say "Tumi amar CPM/ Tumi amar ATM/Tumi amar series premer seshta" was commendable though! :P

I am sure there were Poltu Das' aplenty in all our lives. All of whose "Modhyobitto bhiru prem" (the faint hearted middleclass love) never came true :)

But does that stop us from falling in love? No! Because Chandrobindoo's music often celebrates the quirkiness of the unachievable. Be it love or be it the need of societal approval (again!) or the celebration of the only thing that remains constant in a Bengali's life- the long standing companion which we often prefer calling "paashbalish".

As Chandrabinoo celebrates twenty fifth year of their existence, let's raise a toast to the ones who made our growing up years the most memorable ones. The years that have often turned out to be the "bhindeshi tara" of our lives. But for the men who made the journey memorable (staring from the time I was introduced to their music by the humble(?) "Duniya DotCom" by two classmates), all I want to say is please keep making the wonderful music. Some people say that the unique humour that we associate with Chandrobindoo's songs have waned, but I think if you do not make songs like "Bola Baron"  or "Muhurtora" now, then may be the musical journey of our generation will not mature. Officially, "Aparajita Tumi" it is not a Chandrobindoo album, but the overwhelming presence of the two Chandrobindoo front men makes me include the song.

The later is just an overwhelming culmination of the journey that we have all undertaken in our lives.

As they say "Muhurtora, Muhurter kache wrini", we all have those memories and those moments which makes this incredible celebration of life possible and an amazingly beautiful journey. As an ardent fan, I am happy the maturity in their music shows. Please keep on giving the background music and lyrics for all our everyday struggles in our lives....for those forlorn nights which are made memorable by the whisper of those long forgotten memories :)

(Image Courtesy: http://static.ibnlive.in.com/ibnlive/pix/sitepix/03_2012/chandrabindoo.jpg)

P.S.- I was in two minds about writing this post in English. Things which are close to heart, like Chandrobindoo and their songs, deserve the beauty of expression in Bengali, my mother tongue and the language the band had chosen as a medium of their creative expression. But I decided to stick to English primarily because if there are any non Bengali speaking reader of my blog (I presume that people read my blog...I am a bit self obsessed you see :P), they deserve to know the beautiful music Chandrobindoo makes. Secondly, the inherent Bengali-ness of their songs make them ethereal and universal. Do you spot the incoherence and dichotomy? That is what marks the journey of the maverick music makers of my youth and an entire generation of Bengalis special. Happy Birthday!

Anniversaries!

Ours was an arranged marriage.

Or that is how the society prefers to call it. If you ask me, I am yet to understand the difference between a 'love marriage' and an 'arranged marriage'. Can a  marriage survive without love, is a much debated question. The naysayers opine that marriage is the end of all the romance. Well! I married early in life. I was 23. But that does not mean I did not have an informed opinion about everything under the sun. I was always very clear about the kind of life partner I would ideally want. And that somewhere made my friends, family and peers believe that I was the 'love marriage' kind of girl. Presumptions! I tell you. They kill many a love story.

In my mind, my ideal man was an obnoxious mix and match of Tagore's Amit Ray, Vikram Seth's Kabir Durrani, Will Darcy (this had to be there!), Sourav Ganguly, Shahrukh Khan, Abhishek Bachchan and what not! Happens! And after all that I met my husband....one who was self confessed "Bihari bong" at heart. One who knew his gadgets, technology, world war history and trivia and financial equations better than the Tagore's "Amaro porano jaha chay/ Tumi tai, tumi tai go". That was one song that I had intended to sing for my dream man after I met him. And I fell in love with this man, head over heels!!!!

Love is a wonderful thing, actually. And one should always be open about it....in my case, yes! it was the parents who talked first...but I would not have married him if I did not find an absolute crazy reflection of myself in him. And the opposites too! Needless to say this works out in a vice versa. We talked and talked....and talked..exchanged old fashioned love letters (emails!) across different time zones and what not. Did some crazy stuff during the short lived courtship period. And we still do.

There comes the second volley of questions. You guys are so mushy and stuff...are you sure it was an arranged marriage? And I have a serious objection to that...in fact calling any marriage by names. Love can happen in your life at any time. In our case, it was the matchmaking....in your case it might be the college sweetheart you later decide to marry. But one thing for sure, no marriage can survive without the 'love' factor. And the absolutely madness that two people need to share. After all it is all part of the madness called life!

Two years have gone by since the day I wore that laal benarsai sari, decked up, took the "paan" leaves and exchanged sweet nothings with him under an overtly decorated flowery mandap (stage). There were whistles and catcalls from the friends which we always laugh about...and there was the absolutely delicious food which we could not eat due to all the tiredness. And there were friends and well wishers. Some of who who had travelled all the way from different corners of the country to be with us for our big day. I had to deal with a big make up disaster during the reception in Jamshedpur, but apart from that, everything else was perfect...grand and absolutely the way he had planned for me. There were numerous gifts from both sides but the treasured ones are the family members and well wishers which we both added to our kitty.

The memories of that day and the Reception day are still afresh in our minds. And that makes our parents think "Oh! my god! 2 years have gone?" A similar thought which often strikes us too.

2 years...and all the craziness! And then we think about the cynicism- "Marriage is the end of all romance". Really? Well! if you ask me, I will recommend marriage to everyone. It is a wonderful thing. How you make it a beautiful one depends on you. This one fairy tale that Grimm brothers assigned you to write. And it is not necessary that you need to have grand wedding, a lavish 'destination' one, an expensive make up artist or photographer, a pre wedding shoot, diamond jewellery and all that jazz!

It is perfect when it turns out just the way you want or just the way it is better!

We celebrated this anniversary away from home and loved ones, but with a bunch of new friends. There was a small party afterwards but the day was mostly spent indoors- he cooked dinner for me and uncorked the champagne. We exchanged some gifts (I am very materialistic :P) and that was it. But at the end of the day, we were happy...and that is all that mattered to us and our families and well wishers.

That happiness was all about being with someone who is your guardian angel, best friend, crazy laughter and acts partner, partner in crime, fellow travel enthusiast, an amazing support system...and everything else rolled into one! *Touchwood*

Here's to many more to come! :)

Thank you!

P.S.-I was subjected to much caustic remarks over Facebook recently for something I wrote in my last post. While I am extremely tempted to make a even more caustic reply to all, especially in the wake of the ridiculous Supreme Court judgement in the Naz Foundation case, I decided against it. There are some absolutely brilliant pieces available over the internet and I do not think that apart from making a point, which will again be lost in the question of "what is right' and 'what is wrong' kind of black and white, I can contribute more. Moreover, the brilliant man in my life made me understand a few things. One of them being that criticism- bad and ugly ones are very important for your growth as a writer, more so if you are planning to take it up seriously. Interestingly, this brilliant man and I also celebrated our second wedding anniversary on the day marked by the outrage over the Naz judgement. Irony!
To tell you the truth- my absolutely beautiful

anniversary day was somewhat marred by the judgement.
But, anyways! this post is not about all that. It is more about the mush, the absolutely Yashraj types that I am so famously fond of. The "tujhe dekha to yeh jana sanam" types. 

The women who drink, party and make merry!

My upbringing in a middle class South Calcutta household taught me certain things....among them was the fact that 'good girls do not smoke and party'. All my life I tried to be the proverbial good girl. However, I am also a fan of the Aparna Sen or Helen kind of beauties, the modern and 'dakshaitey'(sorry I cannot translate that!) beauty in every sense of the word. The one who had no qualms living her life on her own terms or smoking on screen when it was a big taboo. In short, one who loved breaking rules! The two do not often have similar connotations you see and it is often the bridge between the two that normal, middle class Indian girls of my generation try to carefully tread upon. I do not smoke as I consider it to be too much of a torture on my own lungs but, yes! I love to part, dress up and have an occasional drink.

Let's accept it. Nowadays we like our woman to be 'modern'. The one who can carry off beautiful knee length dresses or wear that occasional shorts for vacations, be articulate and speak English with elan, can accompany you for parties and share a drink or two. She works, has a career and earns a double income for the family. She is ideal in every sense of the word since she would not mind trading the dress for the heavily embellished sari for a cousin's wedding. She does not like to be dictated upon, but the men do not mind as this is the way they want to see their woman, modern yet traditional. Its her choice to live her life that way, by participating in weekend parties and sharing her wisdom over the best brand of liquor but the men do not mind as its the way they prefer their woman. Eventually it is the man's choice of how he wants to see the woman. Otherwise the man completely considers it to be his right to tell her that she cannot wear the backless blouse since it reveals a lot more than he expects.

People who have bothered to read till here must be thinking that what's wrong with the man agreeing to a girl partying or her choices of clothes? or for that matter 'giving her the liberty to work' (yes! that's what it is..giving her...the right to make career decisions is of course not her own)? Is it not that for an equal society we want the man to be progressive and just like the way it is described above?

The catch lies there. Supposedly the woman refuses to oblige and sticks by her backless blouse choice? then? The answer is quite clearly written all over our horizon and faces....apply the oldest trick in the book to malign her and in today's time, use the easiest way out- that she is immoral just because she wears modern dresses, drinks, smokes and party. It is extremely unfortunate but true that the virtues that modern Indian men look for in their partners often turn out to be the vices they are fighting in the Courtrooms. That being a 'modern' woman is not easy in India.

I often think about how do you define modernity. A favourite Bengali author of mine had once written that the shade of lipstick or the amount of make up cannot decide how modern you are..you mindset, your thoughts do! Alas! as a society we have not yet been so futuristic to measure our modernity quotient on those terms. But then again, what's wrong with make up? I love wearing make up and so does many woman I know who are successful in their chosen fields- work or home making. But it is the contrast of thought that men and women in India have over the idea of make up that is horrifying. In India if a woman is wearing make up and looks attractive, it must be for a man. Most definitely it cannot be for herself. And that means you are inviting your own trouble. The trouble of being modern.

And you think people are different? No! they are not. When Tarun Tejpal wrote that horrendous e-mail, I thought it was stupid enough for a man of his stature to do something like that. But it was more of his colleague Ms. Choudhary's reactions that offended me more. It was as such as she was subscribing to everything that she had decided to speak up against till date...and that included not considering it to be her responsibility to inform the police when the charges involved were of Sexual harassment.

But more than that, I expected the rape trial of Mr Tejpal to be different. One fought on facts and evidence and definitely not on the presumptions of the woman's character. And I was so wrong! Mr Tejpal has been over the years a flagbearer of freedom of speech, or so we thought. One man whom we could trust to be modern in his thoughts, who allowed the woman in his lives to follow their dreams freely...and not judge her just by the colour of her lipstick.

And there was the surprise. Mr Tejpal's argument about the futility of the allegations pointed out to the woman's character, of her being modern and choosing to party even after the incident. Oh! yes that's such a defense you know. It does not matter that she was an employee of Tejpal's company and one who chose to fulfill her professional obligations even in the moment of personal crisis. It just mattered that her employer liked to see her that way always- smart and suave modern woman who attends parties, and when a sexual encounter does not work out the way he wants, he has the liberty to use that image against her.

After all it's always his world!

(Image courtesy: http://blog.kitchenwaredirect.com.au/wp-content/uploads/wine-glass-lipstick.jpg)

Durga Pujo to a Calcuttan- Connotations, religious and beyond!

The very first thing every year I do after I get hold of the calendar (the Roman and the Bengali one, both) is to check the Durga Pujo dates. You may call it a habit, a glimpse of joy or a routine...anything. But I am sure that I am not the only one. Bengalis are by birth emotional and the degree attached to my idiosyncrasies is wee bit more. I am the kind who would cry silently in the bathroom after watching a few pictures of my city getting all decked up for Durga pujo on Facebook and then walk out perfectly happy and sane after thinking about the 'to do's in a 'Probashi pujo'.

Frankly speaking, this is not the first time that I am away from home during Durga pujo, the significance of which in the life of an ordinary Calcuttan (and by that I mean all Calcuttans!) can be only understood by visiting the city during the time of the festival. I have heard many comparisons about Durga pujo being almost like Ganesh Chaturthi in Bombay, Hyderabad or Pune or for that matter internationally the Rio Carnival in Brazil. Amongt these I have experienced only the Hyderabadi celebrations and so I may not be qualified to comment but deep down inside, as girl growing up in a South Calcutta neighbourhood where pujo meant the excitement of discussing plans about decoration of the pandal and collecting funds way before the celebrations started, I know that Durga pujo in a Calcuttan's life cannnot be substituted.

I have no qualms in admitting that Durga pujo for me and for many like me who grew up in Calcutta had connotations beyond being just a religious festival. And there lies the spirit and warmth which makes pujo so unique. I have seen, in Hyderabad for instance, that only people who follow a particular faith as mine, Hinduism, participating in the celebrations for Ganesh Chaturthi and during the day of Visarjan a curfew is often imposed in the old city area just to avert any chances of communal tension. And to think that we Calcuttans mark the beginning of our Durga pujo itinerary by making a mandatory visit to Arsalan and by devouring the mutton biriyani! It's a pilgrimage, just like the chelo kabab or the prawn cocktail in Peter Cat or Mocambo. And of course the bhog that is served during the pujo days in the neighbourhood. Perhaps the only vegetarian fare which seems tasty to the tongue to the Calcuttan foodie :) Durga pujo is as important for gastronomical delights to be explored as hopping through the makeshift wonders which dot the cityscape for the 4 days. People visiting the city first time during the pujo often wonder that so much of creativity and thought has gone for the preparation...and that too just for 4 days. I think there are already reams of data available on the internent over how Durga pujo celebrations is almost a cottage industry in Bengal ( I am not making a point for Industrialisation in Bengal).

My friends often wonder how can we Bengalis, and also the Calcutta Marwaris, Gujaratis and Biharis, who have called Calcutta home for  a long time now and that includes many of my friends who subscribe to the tought "ghar mein veg bahar non veg" (eating vegetarian fare in the house and non vegetarian outside"), eat non vegetarian food during the time we are celebrating a religious festival. My answer to the often remains that it is the same fervour with which we devour the Biriyani in a neighbour's house during Eid or eat the plum cake during Christmas. And if I miss out on the Langar food during Guruparab (also Balwant Singh's dhaba food in Bhawanipore) it will be almost blasphemy and I will not be qualified enough to call myself a Calcuttan. Calcuttans are often called a 'hujugey' lot. One who go by the wave. What else will describe the city's euphoria in descending upon Park Street on the 24th December night every year? There are numerous flipsides in attaching so much importance in celebrating every festival, but somewhere I feel that it attaches a non communal flavour to the city's diaspora. And the Durga pujo is the biggest among them all. That explains the Councillor of my ward, who practises Islam, taking active interest in making the pujo a success and never missing out on the Ashatmi bhog. That also includes the Sardars who stay near Bhawanipore being an active support in all the pujo planning.

Yes, I pray every year...and piously give my Ashtami anjali, fasting for the first half for the day and planning where to eat in the night. That is in between popping to gelusil tablets (Bengalis and their acidity!) I make wishes before the Goddess and participate in the 'Sondhi pujo' where I see thousands gather to pay homage to the mother who saved mankind. The magical moment of celebration all women kind when the 108 lights bloom in full grandeur to express their gratitude to the power of a woman. That is religious for me, extremely religious. That moment often defines the understanding of me being a "Hindu". A practitioner of the "sanatan dharma". For me, it is not remotely related to anything including eating non vegetarian food, chowmein, carrying mobile phones, going to pubs and parties, wearing what I feel I look beautiful in, being confident about myself or being friends with people of other faiths or inviting them to share the Bhog.

Calcutta, I have heard and seen, is incrasingly becoming intolerant towards the fairer sex. A year ago also I could take pride in the fact that my city is one of the safest in India, not anymore. But Durga pujo every year gives me hope. A hope that the same people who put up posters about "praying in front of the Goddess" will learn a thing or two about how not to make snide remarks about a woman wearing something you find "sexy"  in the crowd. Let her enjoy the pandal hopping or the adda ta Maddox square just like you do. Or to jostle inside the Pujo pandal just to grope her. Interestingly, it is also the time of the year when a significant number of eve teasing cases are registered in Calcutta. I do not claim I have never faced any during Pujo.

This year, I will be celebrating pujo in a faraway land. I will attend Germany's biggest Durga pujo and oen of Europe's biggest pujo, in Cologne. I am looking forward to the excitement here...very much palpable among the 'probashis'. The cultural program, the arrangements, the self cooked bhog....but deep down inside I know I will miss the crowds, the lights, the chant from the balcony while welcoming the daughter when she comes home a day before "shoshti"- "Thakur eshe geche" ("Look the deity has arrived") and the spirit that is called Calcutta.

Pujo, for us Calcuttans, will always remain a celebration of life- food, friends, adda, nostalgia and planning for the next year :)

"Ashche bochchor abar hobe"

(Image courtesy: http://www.finewallpaperss.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/durga-puja-hd-wallpaper-image.jpeg)

Wagle ki Duniya- A throwback into the times

I have to agree that this year in Germany will remain special for me. Just for the fact that it has helped me reconnect with many things I loved once, moments long lost and forgotten, friends with whom I always thought of talking but kept on delaying about the chance encounter bit- everything!

Now coming back to the part of reconnecting, I think 'Youtube" has been my godsend gift. Imagine this...early 2000's Calcutta, a young pigtailed girl having a huge crush on her maths teacher waiting eagerly for "Shudhu Tomari jonnyo"- the weekly dose of star crossed love stories on Etv Bangla every Sunday. The gawky teenager watches and develops further crushes on Parambrata, the lanky young guy as he was then, not the very handsome man that he is today, and Jishu Sengupta. Ah! I think it is not only my story. But then her parents decide that Cable television is too much of a disturbance for studies and decides to disconnect from the network.

Sigh! what does the girl do if she has not yet been able to know the outcome of the remaining episodes of the season? She simply finds them on youtube many summers later...in a distant foreign land :) And that is the reason I think youtube you were one of the best things to happen in this era of technology. In some context , it s a time machine also. Of course I did not decide to restrict my curiosities to only watching "Shudhu tomari jonnyo"... I of course went back to the good old Doordarshan days when "Superhit Muqabla" was the coolest thing to happen to me and "Phulwari Bacchon ki" (especially the episode in Fatehpur Sikri") was a dream come true. And then "Tehkikat", "Suraag" and what not! My god! a treasure trove of my childhood. I actually read up on the reams of nostalgia available on the internet surrounding DD. And there I discovered "Wagle ki Duniya". The original airing time of the show did not actually coincide with my childhood. I must be around 2 or 2 and a half years only when the original episodes were shown. I decided to watch the episodes to see what was all the jazz about. I watched only the ones available on Youtube and I am not sure if I am qualified enough to comment since not all the episodes are available online. However, I decided to go ahead as the "common man" today in my eyes have gone a sea changes from the values that Mr. Wagle bore during those pre liberalisation days.

(Image Courtesy: http://media2.intoday.in/indiatoday/images/stories//2007july/wagle-ki-duniya_030111025608.jpg)

To start with Mr Wagle did not have to bear with the computers. That made his sons' childhoods colorful as they are shown playing a lot of cricket, reading comic books, doing a lot of puzzles and stuff. But poor Mr Wagle also did not known the joys of the internet and Google. In one of the episodes he had to literally chase down a few acquaintances to gather information about planning a vacation somewhere nearby. Sounds a bit unrealistic in today's time when hotels are pre booked over the internet :). But as a 90's kid I remember all those family vacations every year where atleast once we had to tag around our fathers looking for a decent hotel. Must have been irritating then...but happy memories now! Reservation was good, but then again my dad had to go and stand in queue in front of the Railway booking office in Koilaghat Street for booking a railway ticket. There was no internet and more importantly no IRCTC website to make fun about also :)

I am not sure if the series ran further, how would  have been the portrayal of  Mr Wagle's sons' growing up. May be they would have been the faces of post liberalisation India- A haven of service industry, which on one way is boom and also a bane for our country. The best gift of the turn in tide- smart jacketed corporate honchos who made flying abroad- which till yesterday was a dream for many into a regular habit for many middle class Indians. And that was the beginning of a change. While we keep on hearing about a soda ash factory coming up or the sound of the Company siren in the background, the story knits together an India which was still walking towards a future of manufacturing industries and industries of core competency.

I will not be a bore about how "simple living and high thinking" dominated the times. Everything was not good about it. We may be nostalgic choose to remember only the happier time, but it was also a time when unemployment was at its peak, a time when the household decisions revolved around the question  about whether to employ a domestic help or not...whether that will push the envelope for the family budget or not. We will have to agree that the common man or the Indian middle class lives a much more comfortable life today in the terms of monetary value. I am not so sure about the emotional security part. The part which belongs to the times of job security, 9 to 5 jobs, hesitation about whether to pay the bribe or not! Yes red tapism was a part of the culture of the times but so was the belief of the parents that their children will grow to see a much better India...probably the reason why MR and Mrs Wagle did not like their son eavesdropping on their conversation about paying bribe to a government servant.

I think the new improved shining India has done enough take away that belief. And I say so because, nowadays I see parent, rich and famous, some of them have earned their positions and they deserve every bit of it. They might not like their children to go through the same struggles they have been through, but that does not mean that the value of 'humility' will also be forgone. The sense that 'you can buy everything', that I think is a problem that the young India face. Come on! I could not have contained myself in that lowly 2 BHK residential quarter shown in the series...many of us would not have. And I am justified in asking for more...the anthem of our growing up years have been "yeh dil maange more"...and is asking for more a bit too much? It never should be...We are hungry as a nation, we are hungry for everything...and probably that's the reason our parents..the same ones who taught us to be better human beings, nowadays go to each other's houses, the ones they live in as a part of their own self built old age homes, and compare the successes of their wards in the terms of the pay packets earned, the number of foreign trips made and blah blah! Imagine this in the time of Rk Laxman's common man...there were neighbours, the prying ones and the 'neighbour's envy' was palapable, but then again the same ones let you borrow their binoculars or may be their hot pot also. Can you imagine if I thought of borrowing my neighbour's binoculars today? I will die of shame and buy a new pair. Probably that is the reason the neighbours who were once considered even dearer than your relatives and knew every bit of your household story, turn a deaf ear even when somebody is probably dead in the next apartment.

And what do we do in turn? We run....we run everyday...behind the much alluring success story never knowing that our parents who are alone in a city or a town, which might have been my hometown once, spending days and nights alone in our thoughts. Because where we come from often makes us feel ashamed..too constrained for the growth story.


But who says asking for more is bad?

 

Uncertain

"It is not Rono".

Sheila's words momentarily comforted Rajita. But in her heart she knew that the unrest was yet to die down. It was almost 1:00 AM in the night and Rono, better known as Ronojoy Gupta among his colleagues, was missing for the last 72 hours.

This was he second day in a stretch that Rajita was hopping around from one hospital to another along with a bunch of friends in this unknown city. And in this unprecedented hour of terror, it appeared more and more unknown.She had been here for the past 5 years, but every time she crossed the CR PArk Kalibari, she longed to be home. In her mind home was always a city a few thousand kilometres away, a city which was already discarded as trash.

Rajita was not cynical, in fact, she had started liking Delhi over the past couple of years. She had no other option.This city meant business and had granted many of her wishes. She had wished to reach the zenith of success and she is already on her way to do so. She also met Rono here. And her life changed. Sometimes she thinks Rono was the best thing to happen to her and sometimes the gory allusion of her relationship with Rono becomes alive...the worst living crisis she could go through. Or she thought so until day before yesterday.

"Hello, Shruti....Shruti this is Ronojoy's girlfriend Rajita. Sorry for bugging, but is Ronojoy still in office?
"Hi Rajita! No, I think he left an hour back"
"Oh! actually it is almost 12:30 AM and he is never this late...so I was just wondering"
"He might be still stuck in traffic you know...the infamous Gurgaon traffic"
"Yes might be. But traffic at this hour! Anyways, Thanks"

Rajita had disconnected the call and decided to wait for sometime before informing anyone. Shruti worked late along with Rono in his office. Or so she had heard. Earlier it was the chap called Vinay. But the unusually attractive Malayalee bombshell had slowly been mentioned more frequently by Rono. It was not that a hint of suspicion never engulfed Rajita's mind. But she did not confront Rono. His perceived distance  while answering questions related to Shruti was palpable.

She waited till 3:00 AM when she decided Sheila and her husband Rahul, her first friends in the city. Sheila was her classmate in JNU. And since then it was a battle against time. The time when she apprehended that she might hear that she had lost Rono forever.Surprisingly, even her parents were concerned. They did not like Rono at all. There were plenty of reasons of not liking him. Sometimes they were so real that even she thought of breaking up with him.

Unlike her classy convent educated, JNU polished educational credentials, Rono had nothing. He was merely a small town boy with a Bachelors degree trying to find a foothold in the city. He managed to do an MBA from one of the mushrooming institutes in the city and found a job. A job that was much less paying and prestigious than Rajita's glamorous corporate affair. But that did not stop him from being assertive to the point of being oppressive, egoistic, insecure and chauvinistic. He could never handle Rajita's success or academic ventures with ease. He could never fathom or understand the cultural circle that Rajita was a part of. He was not well read and there were often instances that Rajita was left red faced because of Rono's careless comments or deliberate attempts to demean her friends. She vividly remembers an incident even today when 4 years back, just after they had started dating, she had made a half cooked attempt of introducing him to her family. Her parents were visiting her. They met at Rajita's aunt's place in Greater Kailash I which was quite the home of the rich and some famous ones in Delhi. Rono had come all the way from Karolbagh where he was staying in a rented accommodation and travelling all the way to Connought Place. After the lunch was served, everyone started eating with the cutlery. Rono did not even pay heed to anybody around and started managing the chicken leg piece with his hands. If that was not enough, while her uncle played a soft Farida Khannum number when everyone had sat down to indulge in some Bengali adda, Rono audaciously told him to stop the song- "Arey! what sleepy bogus numbers are you playing on a Sunday? Play some nice Hindi song...arrrey what is the name of that new Kareena Kapoor movie? Have you heard?" He asked Rajita's cousin, someone he did not even know 2 hours back, while patting his back and humming the song.

Rajita's professor father was completely appalled. He could not fathom what mistake they had done while bringing up Rajita that she could make such an error of decision. Probably the most important decision in her life. They never like Rono again and the feeling was mutual. Rajita's parents try to dissuade her from pursing the relationship till date. Everytime she visits her home, her mother always try to persuade her to meet a very eligible suitor- the kind they would like for Rajita. Rajita understood their issue.

She often tried to make Rono understand that even if he did not like her parents or her family, he could at least try to be civil around them. But he was always stubborn. He called them foolish and started speaking in harsh language which hurt Rajita's understanding of being patient in a relationship. She gave up at last knowing taht Rono would not change. He was violent with Rajita often and even shouted at her nowadays. He often accused her of being too friendly with her male colleagues for grabbing the much desired promotion last year.

"You licked Malik's ass too well! Did you make a trip to his farmhouse also?" stated Rono laughing his guts out. His first reaction after hearing the news of her promotion. He knew very well how much she had worked for her success. Rajita was hurt. She was even more surprised at Rono's sense of competition when he returned home drunk next day evening and told her - "You earn more than me? I will work more and earn more than you".

Rajita often wondered why did he stick around with Rono? She was not helpless. She could do that long before but she chose to move in with him instead. A decision which hurt her parents the most. They did not talk to their only daughter for a long long time. It was Rajita's last ditch attempt to save the relationship. She thougt probably the increased proximity would make Rono understand her better. But the proximity killed even those hopes.

Sheila always asked her what was she waiting for. For Rono to abuse her physically? She did not know. Rajita's did not see any hope in the relationship. She did not want to hurt her parents but she did not want to hurt Rono also. She loved him and deep inside she hoped that the free spirited self of Rono, the one that she fell in love with, loved her too. Otherwise what would explain his anxiety and perfect nursing when Rajita was at home for a month when she had a fractured ankle. Sometimes she could not understand the twos ides of the Rono. She did not know both.

(Image courtesy: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/68/Feeding-on-Robinia_pseudoacacia-uncertain-0411.jpg)

"Rajita, Rajita.....I think you should go home....I don't think we can make any more headway today"

Sheila told her while lighting up a cigarette in front of the hospital they were visiting. There was an unidentified dead body whose description matched that of Rono. She had put all her resources in Delhi to use- informed the police, publicised the matte rin the social media, took help of Rono's colleagues and friends, but nobody was able to shed any light till now.

"Sheila please, we should just go and check the body kept at the Ram Manohar Lohia...Please!!!"
"But that is not even close Rajita.....Rono did not wear a blue shirt that day..you told, remember? Besides, the guy had a tattoo. Rono did not have one"
"Sheila please, I know that how helpful you guys have been..but there should be a limit...I am so sorry..last one...I have a hunch!"
"Rajita, that guy was admitted to the hospital by an unknown sex worker. He was found in a brothel.....Even after knowing Rono, I would not buy that"
"Neither do I....but that guy had a heart attack no? may be he was found by the sex worker....anything...please, please, please....Sheila. He was alive for a day...may be he told something."

"Sheila, I think we should go." Sheila's husband Rahul who was their silent companion through these two days spoke out. Rajita thought she and Sheila would be fine but Rahul had insisted. He did not want his wife and her friend to roam around alone in the city notorious for its misogynist fervour. Rajita did not find the city unsafe...but it was not the right time to argue.

"Okay if you guys say so".  Sheila gave in and Rahul started driving towards their destination.

Rajita sat in the back of the car. It was almost 2:00 AM now. The city was fast asleep. Yet in someways, the underbelly of the city was awake-completely. Rajita had never seen this side of Delhi. They crossed a nightclub and it seemed that the youth nowadays preferred to submerge themselves in a world of their own..only with the help of alcohol and drugs. But deep inside, Rajita did not register any of these. One  part of her hoped that it was not Rono. Another part of her was sure that it was him..even though the description did not match. That part of her sought certainity. an answer that she has been searching for long. May be n answer for future? But how could he get the tattoo? Was it a new thing? She should have known atleast. She again hoped it was not him. She uttered a silent prayer. This time she felt more confident that it was not him.

The car halted to stop near the hospital. Sheila and Rahul got down and hurriedly went inside. May be it was the early November chill outside which did not make them realise that Rajita was still inside the car. She was thinking of the future. What if it was Rono? Did he actually visit the brothel? Where did it place their relationship? Was he actually dead?

Sometimes uncertainty in life is a much more comfortable place than a dead end.  

Date a girl who loves her 'Phuchka'!

I am catching up on lots of things these days. And one of them was a fad about dating a girl who apparently read, travelled and what not...there was one on Biriyani also. Needless to say, the foodie in me said the most thumping 'aye' to that one! But I was surprised to find that nobody had written about dating a girl who knew her 'phuchka' well, very well. And so, I decided to write one. My ode to the girl who knows her 'phuchka' too well.

Ask any 'phuchka' lover and the person, if he or she is as crazily moonstruck like me, will answer by saying that the flour balls laced with tamarind water are sheer poetry making their way through your lustful hunger. Ok! jokes apart, there is no doubt that knowing one's 'phuchka' is an art. You either know it or you do not.

Date a girl who can tell you the difference between her 'phuchka' from the close counterparts called 'golguppas' or 'panipuris'. If she swears by her 'phuchka', know it for sure that she is loyal (at least to her city), headstrong and has a great taste to match.

Date a girl who can tell you the exact places where to find the best 'phuchka' in any geographical location she is. Be it Dakshinapon's Rajender's Phuchka or Vivekananda Park's Dahi Phuchka, the amazing phuchkawallah outside CR Park Market Numbe 1 in Delhi or the one in Sindhi Colony in Hyderabad- a girl who knows her phuchka well, is a connoisseur of the best tastes in the town. No less! :P

(Image Courtesy: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/25/Indian_cuisine-Panipuri-01.jpg)

Date a girl who asks you to accompany her for random 'phuchka' eating sessions. It is not only romantic if it drizzles a bit but more importantly, it is extremely easy on your pockets. You can have a date by spending only around Rs 20 to 50 (depending on the place) on the food. Mind you! I am not a big fan of McBabbar. One thing that you can be assured of that if the place is of her choice and she enjoys the 'Phuchka" she is in one of her happy frames of mind and it is a cakewalk from their on.

P.S. Date a girl who fights for her right over 'phau phuchka' (free one). If she does, she is going to save you a whole lot of money while arm twisting her way through bargaining for Diwali or pujo shopping :)

The Amartya Sen debate-Why am I enraged as a woman?

I have been watching the election circus which will soon be telecast live in our drawing rooms, with as much interest as any other ordinary Indian of my age. To put the record straight, I have a habit of reading up stuff. I read up the newspapers and I am in the loop. But I am simply disinterested! Why? because it is all the same. The mumbo jumbo that goes on every 5 years. Every time there is this towering figure who is the centre of attraction. Our politicians prefer talking about the person more rather than concentrating on issues. Issue based politics and policy decisions are not part of our Parliamentary system and it is high time we accept that.

A few years back the entire Indian polity was utterly confused about what to do with Sonia Gandhi and her origins. The 'bahu' brigade justified her lineage with our age old 'culture' and what not and the people who proclaim themselves to be the true upholders of ancient Indian culture detested her. This time it is none other than the charismatic Gujarat chief Minister Narendra Modi who is in the limelight. I have heard from my peers that Mr. Modi is an excellent administrator and after hearing a few speeches on youtube about his vision of Bharat and her development, I am a tad convinced. May be because it will be  a decision between who is the lesser evil(?)- the kid who refuses to grow up, who does not show up to take any responsibility anywhere, anytime, whose party has been responsible for some of the biggest scams in the recent times and someone whose credibility for some (high funda?) inclusive growth is under scanner, always.

Yes, we all like development. Economic ones per se. I come from a state which is a living example of how economic decay has led to the complete destruction of the moral fibre of the society. I am from West Bengal, I am from Calcutta and I proudly say so. But the incidents and the facts and figures that I encounter everyday makes it a very difficult decision for me to stay back in the city I love. I had given up a well cushioned job in another city to be here. I took a pay cut. But I was happy. Not that everyone will be. I am talking about the very little opportunities that the place offers nowadays. It's a hard truth that I have no option other than accepting.

But this post is not about that. I see a point in Modinomics because my state is an example about how your basics in economic growth needs to be in place for you to survive. A world renowned Economist, a Nobel Laureate does not agree with me. Fair enough, Amartya Babu, you are entitled to have your opinion. And so are you Chandan Babu. Everyone can have their opinion. The fundamentals of our Constitutional practice, which is so eloquently depicted in one of the brilliantly written documents of recent history, records and recognises that. A little knowledge of our ancient Indian culture and scriptures will reveal that it has always been that way. 'Sahanshilata' is a part of our Indian way of life.

But what enrages me and engulfs with utter disgust is the way how the debate about whether Mr. Modi is an ideal Prime Ministerial Candidate or not is progressing. I for one will choose him over the 'other'. But the campaign on various social networking sites which personally attacks Mr. Sen by circulating morphed pictures of her daughter, actor Nandana DevSen, is malicious, hurtful and tragic to say the least. The pictures question the right of Mr. Sen about expressing his opinion on the grounds that he failed to impart moral lessons to her daughter.

My question is even if Nandana DevSen participated in those nude photoshoots, how is that even related to the debate? She is an actor. I do not find her to be a good one, but it is her chosen profession. Ms. DevSen is a well read lady and she is capable of making her decisions on her own. It is her right over her own body and how she prefers to use it (photographed or not!) is completely her domain of choice. Her father has no business being ashamed of it. The point about imparting moral lessons to the daughter about how she can pose and act in such films or for such photographs is a disgracefully patriarchal one. And that makes me even more concerned when we are going through the times when women in our country are raped over their choice of clothes, not on the heinous mental indifference of the man. This very attack again brings to fore that even after those promises of changing mentality, nothing actually has changed.

And I am surprised that nobody is questioning that. Reminds of Charles Dickens all over again :)

P.S. I am equally enraged about 65 elected representatives seeking a third party referral from a foreign government about grant of visa to one man. Obsession has new limits.

Recipes that can save your life!

I have been off from the blog for sometime and there are not plausible explanations probably. The relocation and the settling down here bit took a little toll. But right now I am all set :) First thing first, I am in love with Europe! it's open air cafes, rich history, people, cultural canvas and food! The last one- umm! may be!

I am a Bong who swears by her rice and fish or chicken curry! A 'bheto bangali' to the core and for me to stay in a land where rice is eaten sparsely was a challenge that I faced from the very beginning. And I have a thing for everything spicy. So when I could not figure out green chillies on the racks of the neighbourhood supermarket, I was disappointed to say the least.

But then again, Indians are geniuses! A visit to the Asian store and all my fears about living a bland life here (foodwise only :P) were dispelled. The hilsa available here is no less than the Podma variety. And who does not know the orgasmic expression on the face of a Bong when he hears about "Podmar Ilish".

This does not mean although that I donned the hat of Masterchef within a day. I am lucky that my husband is absolutely non fussy about food. In fact he can survive on Continental fare, bread butter stuff, for days. But I am not naive not to know about the way to a man's heart ;). So my first visit to the the Asian store ensured that I buy "Chicken Masala' and mustard oil.

The Indian style chicken curry is really easy to make and great to eat if you want  a touch of home abroad. Marinate the chicken with Yoghurt (mild variety), salt, turmeric, chicken masala, onion paste and one green chilly if you want the spice count to be high, for 3-4 hours. While cooking add mustard oil in the pan and fry some diced onions, mix it with ginger garlic paste, chillies and add a bit of salt and turmeric again. You can make the chicken curry more bong by adding potatoes (who can forget our fascination with potatoes!) in the curry. But make sure the potateos are well cooked and edible. My suggestion- fry the potatoes a little bit in the beginning. Take them out of the pan and in the same oil fry the onions and the rest. After the onion in the pan turns softer, add the potatoes and mix it well with the mix. After stirring for 2-3 minutes, add the marinated chicken along with the yoghurt mix. Mix the ingredient properly for around 5 minute and then add sufficient water for cooking. Cover the pan with a lid and let it cook for some 10 to 15 minutes. You can add a little bit of that Kashmiri lal spice for the colour.

Half and hour and your tasty chicken curry is ready! Eat it with Rice or Roti as your prefer.

I am sorry I do not have a photograph as this not a dedicated food blog, but all I want to say is, this curry can actually taster super and make you feel good :)

(To be continued....)