Here comes the Fall...

I love the fall. Maybe that's why I was blessed with an Autumn wedding. I missed this season in my entire 11 years of stay in Delhi. There, you never get to enjoy either spring or fall... only summers and winters. Hence, this year has been all the more special. I am home and the mark of Autumn has started with our 1st wedding anniversary.
To me, 'fall' signifies the heady whiff of 'xewali phool' or the night-jasmine flowers (those tiny white flowers with a saffron centre and stem) which bloom by night and fall down by morning. The tantalising peek-a-boo chill of the early morning mist, when you feel comfortably numb with a blanket thrown over to catch that extra half-an-hour's sleep. The sipping of lemon-tea sitting in the balcony amidst the little greenery that's still left on the trees and starting the countdown to those cold and foggy winter mornings' hot ginger milk tea.
Fall always make the markets turn a little more interesting than ever, with new designs of clothes and shoes and a variety of things to buy as festive gifts for friends and relatives. Just the right time and excuse for some retail therapy, more so, as it is customary. Even the local markets turn colourful, with the endless variety of fruits and vegetables that the season has to offer, resulting in heavier fares from everyone's kitchens.
Fall marks the start of a colourful festive season lined up from Durga Puja, Laksmi Puja, Kati Bihu, Diwali, Eid and Christmas, that eventually leads to a bright new year. Durga puja is always a community affair, where the whole neighbourhood chips in and not only take pride but clamour to help in. Dusshera always sees the whole neighbourhood gather in for some community function after the idols are sent for immersion and the nonchalant calorie-indulgence in gobbling up piping hot jalebis. The sprucing up of the house for Laksmi Puja and pre-diwali clean-up always means cleaning and polishing locked away silver and brass utensils and those small twinkling electric lights to do up the building on Diwali night and light up numerous diyas (earthen lamps) and burn crackers and fireworks with the family and neighbours. More indulgence with calorie-induced diwali-sweets (made in pure desi-ghee) and dry-fruits and exchanging of gifts. Kati Bihu involves the woman of the house to worship Tulsi ji (holy basil) every evening by lighting a diya (earthen lamp) for the entire month. Eid calls for lunch/dinner invitations from our Muslim family friends/neighbours, which means indulging in laughter, happiness and huge helpings of pulao, meat and sweet vermicelli.
Then slowly the winter sets in. Not a season that I look forward to, but then, winters in Assam are not so bad either. With the warm sunny afternoons to gorge on plenty of citrus fruits after lunch, or sharing cups of hot peppery soup with the family while watching our favourite soaps on TV in the evenings before dinner, I look forward for a happy winter this time at home, also hoping that my husband gets atleast a couple of days off this time to be with us just in time for his birthday in December.

A year ago TODAY

A year ago today, hubby and I got hitched.

Everyone who knew us individually, had given up all hopes that either of us would take the plunge. Though it never bothered me to think that way, I seriously began to doubt that any man was ever made for me. Being fed on a healthy dosage of romantic songs, movies and novels, I was always over-critical, suspicious and cynical about any guy who would approach me and I would crib endlessly and dig out faults with those endlessly lost potential partners. And the only ones I liked were either way too younger or already taken. Not that I never had relationships before, but they ended in strange ways. Either the guys were total jerks or something or the other never worked to last long enough. None of them could keep me engrossed for long, anyway. My friends told me that my expectations of my 'dream-guy' were way too unrealistic... he should be intelligent, well-read, have a great sense of humour, earn decent, not too ugly-looking, dress smartly, wear good shoes, have a head-full of hair, listen to good music (not Enrique-type of songs)... and maybe there were 20 other items in the list which I went on adding over the years. And every guy I used to meet used to be measured against that mental list. But I was soon made to realise by my folks and friends that I was dismissing too many guys without even giving them a fair chance! They told me to ditch the unrealistic expectations, as no one man could fit the bill (especially since Brad Pitt was already taken and George Clooney had been a confirmed bachelor so far). I was left with no choice but to start meeting guys they set me up with and pick only one thing or two on my mental list that I absolutely could not compromise on (like, him being 'straight' or that he spoke correct English, for instance). But I was not ready to settle for anything less. I longed for a guy who would also be ready to tolerate my (infamous) temper and loud mouth to go with, pamper the child in me and dote on the woman in me. And then one fine day, out of the blue, came this guy...

We met, and in that moment I thought there wouldn't be anything special brewing this time too. So many times in life we meet people, talk to them, like them instantly and then just forget all about them and we move on with our lives. But this was nothing like it. He was everything I always wanted in my guy... a nice human being, charming, fun, tall, good-looking, well-spoken and him being in the armed forces was like the cherry on the cake. We eventually hit it off pretty well. We never rushed in. We never pushed each other. I slowly began to feel this growing warmth between us and our relation just developed as forests grow... without any conscious nurture. His maturity stirred me, whereas my impatience amused him. He wooed me with his charms and slowly I felt okay to be vulnerable, as our inhibitions lowered. Before we knew it, our relationship was made official with our engagement. And ever since, we never looked back... in regret.


We just clicked and kept on clicking... at our computer mouses and the keyboards, and also at our mobile-phones' keypad buttons. And with each passing day and month, our brainwaves harmonised on their own. What else could we depend on, except those so called 'wavelengths'. Our relation just grew on those written words that flashed on our computer screens in the form of 'love-mails' and those endless hours of talking on our phones through countless sleepless nights. The long distance between us made things a little improbable for us. You can't share every feeling through emails or on the phone. But love has an uncanny tendency of making things easy for the takers. So, we made up for the lost moments when he used to visit me once in a couple of months. I was totally transformed. I stopped being the flirt I'd always been and for once, all my friends and colleagues came to believe that this time I was seriously in a relationship.

In six months time, before I knew it, we were tied in holy matrimony. I had mixed feelings in the beginning, and was as confused as he might have been. I would sometimes get upset about having to leave my job and my single, carefree life with no responsibilities whatsoever, having to concentrate less on myself now and focus more on 'us' and the society we lived in, sharing the bed with him whereas earlier I would have the entire bed to myself, expecting him to remember birthdays, death anniversaries, wedding anniversaries of friends, family and even someone in the extended family and getting offended when he did not. The wet-towel-on-the-bed habit, walking with wet slippers all around the house, leaving footmarks on the bathroom floor and saving all the dirty undear and socks to be washed on Sundays... all these things were quite a shock and annoying in the early days of our marriage, but slowly, these irritants grew into familiarity which seemed to offer great comfort and security in both our lives. I am not even getting into my habits which might have got on his nerves. I'm happy not knowing of them.

Thus, through good times and bad, being both right and wrong, sharing love and quarrels, we have seen a whole year fly by, since the date we tied the knot. And after a year of marriage, I've come to being familiar seeing my husband wake up next to me when we are together or me staying happy and involved in something when he is away on 'field-duty', as easily as seeing my face in the mirror. And I have learnt that once in a while we do need to take certain things and people for granted to make our 'circle of comfort' complete. And though my beloved has some quirks which really irks me to the core, yet gives me a comfort and security, which further gives me confidence that our world will still go round! I'm hoping it only gets better from now.

The plague of the AUNTYji-s and their agonising questions

India is perhaps the only place in the world where we are taught from our childhood to address complete strangers, neighbours, acquaintances or anyone who is not even remotely related to us, as UNCLEs and AUNTYs. It is considered 'rude' to address someone (elder) by their first or even last names. And I have been completely comfortable with this culture until a few years back when I had to undergo the 'U.K. voice and accent training' and the 'UK Culture training' for my job. Slowly I learnt of some cultural similarities in American and other European society too, with a striking difference with us Indians and our culture.
For instance, there is no good thing about being 'single' in India... especially if you're a girl and over 23 years of age. The general calculation is that you graduate by the age of 21. After that, you'd be lucky to have been been spared for 2 more years after you have graduated, just in case you want to pursue a professional course, but soon thereafter, all those agonising questions and 'looks' will crowd your way, especially from those snooping neighbourhood Aunty-jis.


AGONISING QUESTION # 1: SO, WHEN ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED?
The good thing about being a single girl in India is that everyone wants to find you a groom---your parents, your relatives, your neighbours, the taxi-driver, the laundry-woman and sometimes, even your colleagues, and definitely those Aunty-jis. Everybody seems to know somebody, or their son, who would be perfect for you. You'd have been so grateful to have been saved from the manhunting routine of Ally McBeal or Bridget Jones... if only you'd also agree that that particular 'someone (or their son)' is perfect for you. I mean, where would you get the opportunity to even find that out? They would want you to get married immediately without questioning their judgement. No dating, no flirting, no slowly maturing the relationship. And they will (in most probability) steer you away from the sexy ones and settle on the most excruiatingly boring IT-type-settledin-the-U.S. of A.
No-no! Thank you so much, but I think I'll take my own sweet time to find out that man-of-my-dreams for myself.
I had come a long way in my single days from this question with my cheeky comeback:
"Auntyji, didn't my ma tell you that I'm a lesbian and till the time homosexual marriages are legalised in India, I would devote my years to serving the poor until I can legally unite with my one and only true love?"
Believe me, those Auntyjis will be too shocked to react at first, but then derive that you must be going through a lot of stress searching for a groom as there must be something wrong with your horoscope, and then might even spread the word about it around. But never will they dare bother you with the bugging question ever again.

AGONISING QUESTION # 2: HOW MUCH DO YOU EARN?
If you are one of those lucky spinsters who has a job you love and the one that even pays you handsomely, you sure have got yourself a lot of attention back home amongst your relatives and the neighbourhood Auntyjis. With the attention shifting more towards higher education and salaried women these days, and hoping that one fine day their Tina-s and Munni-s would earn as much as you do, or even more, it isn't uncommon to be asked (whether you're married or not) about how much you earn. While in other countries this is a very personal and objectionable question, our fellow countrymen (and women) don't really see the harm in sharing the news of their or others finances. Had I wanted to be a nice and harmless person, I'd have been modest and replied that I was just earning enough to support my lifestyle in those single days of mine in Delhi... enough to stay comfortably in a good locality, enough to buy books to open up a mini library, enough to take off to any place I fancy, on my own and afford those trips myself, enough to buy my own drinks whenever I wanted to party with the girls, without depending on any loser of a guy, enough to buy good clothes, shoes and accessories and watch countless movies every weekend. But ofcourse, since that's none of their godforsaken business, I used to say:
"Psst, it's a secret but I'm sharing this with you... I work for the FBI as a secret agent, my 'real' salary gets transfered into a Swiss bank account, which I haven't touched yet. So I really don't know what's my salary. Must be a lot, since I'm on first-name terms with my personal banker who also happens to be the Swiss Bank Manager. Gee!"
Again 'that' look on their faces, but I love my peace more, to even care.

AGONISING QUESTION # 3: OH, YOU'RE A HOUSEWIFE?
Taking off from the continuing trend of being an independent salaried woman, who lived life on her own terms, travelled extensively on her own and partied hard, being a 'home-maker' after marriage and wanting to settle down to a less hectic life, might bring with it its own connotations. Perhaps you are still smart enough to get yourself a high paying job, but perhaps your husband and you both agree that you have toiled enough for 11 long years before you got married, and maybe now you can do with a little relaxation because what the husband earns is more than comfortable for both of you to survive without you working. But in India, it's amazing how people will think of it as anything except that it is a personal choice.
So, when I'm confronted with this annoying and agonising question, there's no better way than proclaiming:
"No, I'm the Domestic Goddess. And this is my real place... in the house, at my husband's feet. Don't you agree?" Then bat your eye-lashing and flash your most charming smile.

(I mean, c'mon! It's not like I have a contaminable disease, for crissake!)
Here, chances are that you might be even appreciated for your newfound realisation of the essence of being a woman. But you'd definitely not be plagued with any more of that question.

AGONISING QUESTION # 4: IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT (IN YOUR MARRIAGE)?
All thanks to the age-old Bollywood film moralities and a certain Kapoor's Saas-Bahu saga on the different tv channels, a married woman in her maternal home, is seen as not fulfilling her marital duties. Nobody considers that fact that things are different when you are married to an army officer. There are times when you are posted out of a station and the husband goes out to a 'field-location' (where its not safe to keep his family) as his new posting. You have not got a quarter in your preferred location yet, and while waiting for the same, you prefer to be with your parents and siblings and childhood friends in your hometown, rather than being all by yourself in a strange city in a rented accomodation. But here again, if you have visited your parents and stayed on for a while, it is inevitable for those Auntyjis to ask this agonising line. A woman's place is by her man's side, after all. The zooming divorce rates in India these days, where it can now be confidently yet sadly called a trend, may also be the cause of your neighbour's suspicion.
On such situations, I can very wickedly excuse myself with a long sad face and also a few (did I see tears in her eyes) looks, letting my mother face the music, but I choose to retort:
"No Auntyji, I just wanted a break from all those soul-stirring, earth-shattering sex with my husband. See how much weight I've lost from all that regular exercise. Phew! Now I want him to spend some time with his mistress in the Assam-Arunachal border too. *wink!*"
Chances are that the Auntyjis from the neighbourhood will never visit your house again and even pretend to not see your mom when they cross ways. But atleast you'll have your last laugh with your mom (if you have a mom as sporty as mine)!

AGONISING QUESTION # 5: ANY GOOD NEWS?
If you're one of those 'fortunate ones' who's finally succeeded to nail a man and got hitched, the next question is, invariably, this one. How can you be nearing your 30s or even past it and not have babies yet? Our society, incidently, revolves as it is, around marital and maternal bliss... the only essence of being born a woman. Those do-gooding angels might even offer you the number of a fertility specialist, accompanied by a miracle story of a certain Mr. & Mrs. Sharma. These kind of questions are enough to put new bride off any social occassions. Worse still are the congratulations on a (is that a) baby bump, that's in reality the after-effect of skipping your regular gym or eating too many samosas. You can try and laugh it off, but if this question still persist, try my comeback:
"Yes lots! Which one would you like to hear first? I'm going off to Goa with my girlfriends this Christmas and might even do Bangkok for some shopping from thereon. Check out these fabulous snaps of hubby and me from our last vacation. The prints have just come in and you're luckily on time. And oh, I'm totally in love with my pedicurist for choosing this lovely new shade for me. Isn't it sexy?" See... "
Chances are that the question will fade away on its own when you seem so content and happy with your current life and situations, even without you doing or saying anything nasty to the Auntyjis. It may raise a few confused eyebrows but believe me, it should definitely prevent further noises.

The Officer=The Gentleman=My Husband

Hubby has small annoying mannerisms that I have not been used to in a long while of my civil life. For instance, he will always hold the door for me in the house, in restaurants, in a car/taxi, etc. He will never let me hold any bag other than my purse even though his hands are already full. He will never start or close his plates without me whenever we are eating together, even at home... even if he's getting late for work.

On one of my bad-mood-days, I snapped at his mannerism and told him that he doesn't have to hold open the door for me because I'm a Lady. That I have all my limbs in perfect working condition, well capable of doing these things for myself.
To which he coolly replied,"Darling, I don't hold doors or bags for you because you are a Lady, but because I'm a Gentleman!"
I can do nothing much but just shuddup!

Sultan...the new king of my heart

Sultan is the little prince of Captain N (our current next door neighbour in Devlali).
Cptn. N found Sultan in an almost fatal state and nursed and fed him back to health again. Now Sultan has recovered and is growing naughtier by the day.
The first day we had shifted into the quarter, Sultan barked at us constantly. Then I went to him and started talking to him from afar. He seemed to like me talking to him. He began initiating playful tricks when I went near. If he found anything which looked remotely similar to a playball or water-bottle or slipper, Sultan would hold it into his mouth and pretend to be possessive about it. If I did not pay attention, he would throw it at me and bark slowly, provoking me to get near it. If I tried getting near, he would steal it right under my nose and run away, challenging me to catch it. That was the beginning of a successful relationship I'd had with Sultan and slowly introduced him to my hubby. While hubby smoked his morning cigarette, Sultan would go near him and try to catch the smoke rings but when hubby said 'down' or 'no', Sultan would instantly follow and obey.
Our months of a glorious summer in Devlali were spent basking in the glow of literal puppy love while training and establishing new routines for Sultan as his real owner had no time to devote to the pup. In fact, most of my time was spent incorporating him into my life and me into his. Most of my days were spent in quiet, loving solitude with Sultan. While I sat reading in the easy chair in the balcony of our quarter, Sultan would lie relaxed at my side and sigh with contentment. We were a happy couple. My heart was nourished and I felt content and full. We spent almost a month this way, until Captain N and his unit got ready to move to a new location, Sultan in tow.

During this 1 month I spent with Sultan, this is what I learnt from him:

1. Look innocent and lost when you need some extra care and attention.

2. When it's in your best interest, always practice obedience.

3. When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

4. Run, romp and play daily.

5. Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.

6. Take naps and always stretch before rising.

7. On hot days, drink lots of water and lie in shade.

8. Be loyal but be open to making new friends.

9. Never pretend to be something you're not.

10. Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

11. Delight in the simple joy of taking long walks.

12. Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joy ride.

13. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

14. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.

15. Let others know when they've invaded your territory.

16. Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

17. If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

18. When you are happy, dance around and let it show.

19. To be mischievious, yet to know when to give it up.

20. No matter how often you are criticizedor punished, not to buy into the guilt thing and pout but to run right back and make friends again.

The last laugh

Hubby comes back visibly happy from his sutta break and meets me outside the lingerie store in the Inorbit Mall (I let him have a smoke while he lets me pick up fancy lingeries... a perfect understanding suiting both our needs). I become suspicious... why he is so happy? Oh no! Must have surely done something he is forbidden of.
"Honey, what's with the grin on your face?"
"Oh nothing! I just picked up a set of Adidas deos. They're quite nice, actually."
"Hmmm... But weren't you supposed to be on a sutta break? You managed time to pick up deos too, eh? Not bad!"
"Actually, I couldn't smoke. As I was going out, the salesman lured me on to try a sniff of his stock and he wasn't just ready to let me go without testing a whiff of each first."
"So, the salesman got you again? I bet he must have sold you the worst smelling deos that he couldn't sell to anybody else."
"Do you actually think Adidas can have any 'foul smelling' deos?"
"Who knows?!"
"Ok, check out this smell..." He holds out his pulse points on both the hands for me to sniff.
"Oh God! Stop!! I can't make out anything. Its just a mixture of your sweat, your signature AXE with several new ones. Smells gross to me."
Hubby looks visibly disappointed now, not being able to prove his point. So, I try to ease it out for him.
"Ok honey. I have full faith in your choice. You must've picked up something very nice, I'm sure."

Hubby is happy now. Promises to buy me deos of my choice too.
"But I can't apply deos on my skin, I'm allergic, you know that. You can buy me more perfumes, though."
"No, you have too many perfumes to last you for the next 10-15 years. I think you should pick up deos now. Try spraying them like I do... lots of it above your clothes so that it doesn't touch your skin."
"What? Are we talking about deos or handkerchief perfumes? Why would I spray deos on my clothes?"
"Just try it. You'd thank me for the tip."
"Okay, if you insist".
I am almost tempted at the prospect of it. I must admit I admire the way hubby sprays his deos on before leaving for anywhere (yes! on his clothes). The masculine smell of his signature AXE prevails for a longer duration and totally kills the effect of my delicate EMOTION (Rasasi) or YESSAMIN (Avon) or COOL WATER (Davidoff) or my favourite TENDER TOUCH (Burberry). I end up smelling just like him. The only perfumes of mine which win over his deos are the strong ones like Burberry DEEP RED or YSL CINEMA, but obviously I can't afford to spray them on for casual wearing. I save these ones for those special evenings. So, now is my chance to give it back to him. I would pick up a nice smelling deo and spritz it on like him and kill the smell of his new Adidas pack of 3. Yippee!
By the end of the day, I am so overwhelmed with all my shopping, eating at my favourite KFC and watching a movie, that I completely forget about the deo to be bought. Hubby doesn't remind me of it again, of course. He is already in a state of shock from the damage done to his wallet with my other 'wholesome' shopping.
Days pass by until after 2 weeks when I am reminded of my due deodorant to be bought. In the meantime, hubby has already finished off his first one from the pack-of-3. Adidas FRESH IMPACT. Hmmmnn not so bad! I like the smell of it. And now he's opened the second...Adidas SPORT FIELD.
"It smells horrible", I complain. "I knew it. The shopkeeper made a fool of you. This deo, nobody must have picked up."
I quickly smell the third one... DYNAMIC PULSE. Okay, this one's fine. Only the second one I hate.
"But I like it, what's wrong with it?" Hubby protests.
So, that day, in our usual evening round of walks, when we are in the Umrao Plaza (a small shopping complex comprising of shops run by army as well as civilians, with blarring music and temporary eating joints, sprigging up in the evenings for the gathering crowd), we walk through a small shop full of perfumes and deos. I don't miss the opportunity to remind hubby of my due. He cannot refuse it, of course. So we go in. After testing a series of deos from Revlon Charlie Blue, Charlie Gold, Jovan Musk, Nivea, Nike, etc. I derived that these perfumes are not originals. So I ask the shopkeeper for a more Indian brand... Temptation (I quite like the ad 'sorry boys!' and I've heard it smells good too.
"Sorry ma'm. Don't have it right now. Can get it for you in a day or two. In the meantime, why don't you try this one? Its quite popular among the other ladies who come to my shop."
Saying this the shopkeeper offers me to smell the apealing TOMY GIRL.
Hmm.. I like it. Hubby likes it too. Very fresh and nice. Smells almost like the original, but at Rs.120/- I really doubt it. We pick it up anyway.


Reaching our quarter, I am quite thrilled with my new purchase and am admiring it. Hubby takes it from me, sits on the bed, and forced by his usual habit, reads up the whole of the small print at the back body of the deo can.
"Ha, ha, ha! Darling, you've picked up TOMY GIRL, have you realised? This is an alternative product to TOMMY GIRL, it claims here. After all the rec'ce (a short form for Reconnaissance... very frequently used lingo in the army) you only managed to pick up a fake. How's that for a change? Now who is cheated by the shopkeeper? Ha!"
"But darling, don't you give it to me that my picked up 'fake' still smells better than your 'original'? Surely I must have got some taste. After all, I chose you!" *wink*

Sometimes when loving silently is just not enough

Recently I read, Leonardo da Vinci spent 12 long years just painting Mona Lisa's lips. I admit, though I'm no Mona Lisa look-alike (and thank God for that!), how I wish hubby dear had spent at least 12 whole minutes looking at me romantically... those without-batting-your-eyelids, eye-to-eye lost-in-thoughts kinda gazes, you know...
I admit, I am a sucker for romance... hand-holding during a movie, barefoot walks on the beach by sunset, flowers, 'I love you's, 'I miss you's... I dig all that. And I love being the centre of attention for hubby dear. Aw, c'mon! Just tell me who doesn't enjoy some bit of attention in varying degree, anyway? Initially, those compliments and surprise elements would come from him without any suggestion or prompting from my side. But when I realized even the 'I miss yous' have stopped coming my way for the last 2 months that we are away from each other,
I gave him strong hints on the phone about my 'very happening' life here in my hometown (actually it wasn't so happening, after all), while he was doing a course someplace far off from here. I used to make up stories about how I was part of a very hip and happening party at the swankiest of the recently opened clubs in the town, how I met a certain friend from school days over FB who still happens to be single and was showering me with compliments, etc (you get the picture, right?). Why? You need to do these kind of things to make the love of your life feel jealous at times and make him realize that the person he is married to, can do with a little attention and compliments from him now and then, and that a little reminder of love never hurt anyone, anyway. Us girls like to be courted and wooed all the time like in romantic novels and movies. But the truth is that guys seldom read the books we do, or for that matter, like to watch romantic chick-flicks.
But as expected, hubby dear 'pretended' to be all cool about his wife being the 'new talk-of-the-town' and being almost snatched away from under his nose. One fine evening things went a little further. I did not answer his call and texted him instead that I'd speak to him the next morning as it was very noisy at the friend's place where I was at that time, in the midst of a party. It was 11 p.m. then. He could not go on pretending any more. He texted me back a very jealous and irate message (reminding me that I am married now and have some social responsibilities, whatsoever). The next morning when we spoke, that is when I made him realize how I feel when he gets too busy with his work and life to even take out some time for me and give me his undivided attention. Thankfully, I have noticed a change in him now and a positive one at that.

Note to all: It is not enough to love someone with your whole heart and soul and never express it. Our hearts need to be nurtured with the love and attention they crave for. Or else, they will carry on their searches for that love and attention with the quiet tenacity of the bare branches that waited through a long brittle winter, for the filigree of leaves in spring.

Springtime symphony and sweet childhood fantasy of romance

Its homecoming in springtime after a good 11 years. And boy! Did I miss this time of the year all these years away from home? You bet I did. Though strangely, I always took it for granted when I had been at home years ago.

My earliest memories of springtime in Assam dates back to our childhood days to a season which was just perfect-the days and nights were rendered equal and it would be neither too cold nor too warm ... the weather would be fresh and clear, warm and sunny yet had the first few showers of the year for the dry leafless trees to bud out new green foliage slowly making them blossom into a variety of colorful blooms in red, pink and yellow... the cunning cuckoo birds cooing their way to the crows' nests to lay their eggs... the brain-fever birds would whistle bou koka kote (mom where's dad?) constantly, till one starts whistling with them without even knowing it... while the exotic orchids and other sweet smelling flowers of spring would bloom their best, the fragrant breeze transforming the environment into an earthly paradise...

I remember the times when we would visit both my parents native places in upper Assam during springtime. Around mid-April, with the first day of Bohag starting the Assamese new year, the Bohag Bihu or Rongali Bihu would usher in a period of great fun, merriment and colours, marking the arrival of the spring season. Young girls would colour their palms and feet with saffron pigments of freshly ground jetuka (henna leaves)... women folk would prepare assamese delicacies and snacks like pitha (dry rice cakes stuffed with sweetened coconut or sesame seeds) and laaroos (sweetened sesame or coconut balls) in every household, some women in the villages even weaving homemade bihuwans (white cotton veils with red floral patterns) to be presented to their near and dear ones as a gift expressing love and respect. During those bihu days, everyone would adorn new traditional attires like dhoti, saador-mekhela, present bihuwans to elders and loved ones, invite each other for feasts, functions and fairs organized at several places, setting a mood of festivity and gaiety all throughout Assam. The whole atmosphere would inspire unbounded joy and enthusiasm expressed through dances, songs, and other festivities. Hundreds of young unmarried men and women in the village would be seen moving about in groups, gaily dressed to perform Bihu dance. Pretty young girls would dance brisk and sensuously moving their hips, arms and the upper parts of their bodies to the rhythm of the wild beats of dhol (hollow musical drums) and to the lusty tunes of pépa (buffalo hornpipes) and gogona (another musical instrument made of bamboo), all of these played by the handsome young men. Young couples in love would sing and dance to songs woven around themes of romance expressing love for their sweethearts, whole day long, sometimes late into the night in open fields, roadsides, on specially constructed stages or performing from house to house. The young lissome girls would dress in their best traditional muga mekhela saador (a two-piece skirt-and-shawl set, woven out of golden silk fibers with red floral patterns) and red blouses, kopou phul (a beautiful white and purple colored long orchid) adorning their jet-black hair tied in neat buns and jetuka-tinted palms. The men would wear white cotton dhotis and muga (golden silk) kurtas and tie bihuwans around their heads and waists.

Every year my sister and I would gleefully listen to the romantic escapades of at least 1 young couple in the vicinity of our grandparents' neighbourhood, who would elope and get married during this time of the year... as if it was almost like a tradition that had to be followed with each passing year. And being the hard-core romantic I am, I would think to myself that one day when I grow up, I would fall in love and get married only at this time of the year, my lover carrying me in his arms into a sunset of a happily ever after future together.

Alas! Our childhood dreams and wishes doesn't always come true. My husband is neither from Assam, nor did we get married in Spring. And knowing him, I can tell, he might find all of this stupid, ridiculous and far from anything that is his idea of romance. But the fact remains that in the evenings when I go up to our terrace after sunset to feel the cool spring breeze caress my face, to let the cacophony of the songs of the various migratory birds deafen my ears to all the other sounds of civilization and to fill my nostrils and lungs with the unpolluted air mixed with the fragrance of the many spring flowers, my childhood fantasy flashes back in my mind. And it brings a smile on my lips, a sparkle in my eyes and a spring in my steps. Skipping a beat in a heart, I think of my husband who is far far away, buried in his books nose-deep at the moment...

A lost part of me

Date: 13th March' 10.
Time: Early morning.
I stared at the stick in disbelief. Two straight, pink lines. No doubt about it…PREGNANT. Oh my God! A month ago, when we had our doubts and visited a doc, she confirmed in negative. Now all of a sudden positive. I did not know whether to be happy or sad. My pregnancy was not 'unwanted' but we were not just ready to accept that the doctors can goof up on something so simple as this. I had wanted a baby badly and for so much time now. The baby bug had bitten me long long time before I was even married. But the doctors had created a lot of confusion for us over these 2 months. And this wasn't a good time for me to get pregnant as it was a time to pack all our stuff and move on to the next location. Husband was going to be away from me for a couple of months... even more. So, I wouldn't get his moral and physical support which I heard is very essential for first-timers like us. But I thought since we were going to be away from each other for a while now, the least I could do was to have our first baby from the man I loved so. And it just happened, though I didn't think God would answer my prayers and it would happen so fast. Now a mix of excitement and sheer terror washed over me. Of course I was sure I wanted to have this baby. Good Lord, what was I thinking? Husband, on the other hand, had a practical yet indifferent approach. He made it clear that since we wouldn't be together for sometime now, I would have to take care of things by myself. He had to be deeply engrossed in his studies for a very important exam that would matter a lot in his career growth. And here I was, so foolish in love carrying his child in my womb, thinking of nothing else but the tiny soul growing inside me every day. My skin and complexion glowed. Nausea was my constant companion. I had developed an undying urge to gorge on gol-gappas and South-Indian food. I could never go anywhere near food and not have the tendency to throw up. My bladder had shrunk to the size of a kidney bean, which required me to pee exactly every thirteen minutes. My body was on this wild, hormonal ride, and I had terrible mood-swings. But I was adamant. It hit me even more when we saw the first sonogram of our baby on the monitor. That's when I really and truly realized this was my baby… 'our' Baby. The past nausea-weeks, the frequent urination, and all the other inconveniences, well, they just melted away. Nothing seemed to matter anymore as I looked at this amazingly tiny person inside my womb. At just 6 weeks old, my little miracle was already formed so perfectly, yet so small… just about four centimeters... with a tiny helpless heart beating... almost like a flickering flame. But I have to say, the most amazing transformation of all... how neurotic I had become about this little person inside me. I was so happy I cried out of joy. And I was amazed to see the sparkle in my husband's eyes. How proud he looked. And happy. This was the first time I saw sheer joy in him about 'our baby' and the fact that he finally got ready to become a father. He was all caring and loving and kissed my little Buddha-belly about ten times a day. We didn't know if it'd be a girl or a boy, but my husband started calling the baby 'junior' already. When he asked me what name are we gonna decide and how, I had 2 names ready for a baby girl and a baby boy, whoever arrived. But I felt we'd have a little girl... plump and fair, who would look exactly like her dad. I'd picture her dressed in frilly frocks, curly hair with ribbon-laced pony-tails, taking her first steps, walking to school, growing into her teens, getting her driver's license, going to college, getting married, having babies of her own... her whole life would flash right before my eyes. I would have thoughts about what a big, ugly world is waiting out there for 'her'.... the one filled with bad people, heartbreaks, cancer, violence, drugs, alcohol, teenage-pregnancy, depression and suicide... and then I would go to my husband and hug him tight, thanking God that I don't just have a man who I love, but a real man to father our love child, supported by an institution of marriage, a man who is strong enough to stand by me and my baby and protect us both from the ugliness of this bad world. And I would instantly feel safe and secure. Whenever I stepped into a departmental store to shop for some summer wear, I would be automatically drawn towards the maternity section without even realizing it. I would pick up pregnancy books from bookstores when I had actually stopped to buy the latest best-sellers.
And then my nightmare began...
In the midst of all the chaos of shifting locations and our stuff from the north to the northeast, the excitement of experiencing this essence of being a woman in the truest sense, my whole world of dreams just shattered before my eyes, without me being able to do anything at all about it. I lost our first ray of hope and the soul beating inside me. I was torn apart and I had to give it all up---my dreams, my hopes, my smiles... I never felt this weak before. I cried my heart out, but I knew nobody could wipe out my tears within... nobody could take away my pain... nobody could make me guilt-free... nobody could fill the void that shadowed that phase of my life without my husband near me... nobody could give me answers to anything at all... But in that instant I realized there were many more sadder things that could have happened. I realized that whatever happens, might happen with a good reason. I realized that I cannot give up on life and hope and that we have to carry on with life as it comes to us. But most of all, I realized what it is like to be ready in all senses to really become a mother to a little person who would be born out of me some day.
The best part of this most painful experience in my life is that husband and I have discovered each other again and it feels like we have fallen in love with each other again... just like for the first time ever...

One of his kind

It's a special occasion...the air's scented with the sweet smell of love; I am in my best of moods and the object of my affection stands tantalizingly silhouetted against the full moon. There couldn't have been a better ambiance to induce tender loving words. In keeping with the magic of the moment, I lean across and whisper some sweet nothings into his ear. He begs to be pardoned and says, "Why are you whispering?" At moments like this, I am convinced that my husband either suffers from selective blindness (and hearing), or he could be a masochist or could it be that he really doesn't even realize when he blows it all? I feel a bit of a fraud to be picking on him, when I always thought I am crazy about him being in my life, yet deep down inside, I know, he is kinda sweet and charming in his own innocent way. He is helpful and helpless, smart and dumb, not necessarily according to the situation. But still, I can't pretend that he is perfect. He has a few intolerable virtues. For clarification, I have listed a few...

He believes in sharing. The marriage vows seem to have made a profound impact on him as he is suddenly faced with the harsh realities of another being occupying his space, house, bed and everything else. But the context of sharing and its meaning can be very conveniently changed depending entirely on the intricacies of job in hand. He will never meddle in what he considers my domain. He will keep waiting at the dining table for lunch/dinner (as I juggle with the almost-done crispy fried prawns from the stove to the table, bringing together the cutlery and the remaining dishes of the meal and my mobile rings right at that moment) and he might just announce in a humble yet piteous tone, "Honey, where's my glass of water?" My point is not that he has lived in the house much before we have been married without even discovering where the kitchen sink is, but that he thinks I have the stamina and ability to handle all of those mundane things at that same instant because that's my domain.

He has a very good memory. He is brilliant at remembering facts and figures: When was Hailey's Comet last sighted? Where was India's first computer installed? Which is Indian Army's oldest battalion? Which is the 33rd Article of the Constitution? It is obviously unreasonable to expect one so weighed down with relevant data to remember simple facts like our 6 month anniversary, or did we buy a wine-opener for our house the last time we went shopping for household stuff or we have to pay the cable-guy. These things I will have to go through remembering for life.

He tries to improve my memory. Operating on the suspicion that I actually have a good memory but pretend to have a poor one situationally, he'd ask me about things that I have never even seen or heard of before. Things/documents that he'd keep himself, but insist that I kept them safely somewhere, when they are misplaced.

He allows me to make very important decisions...because he has so much respect for my superior wisdom, nice taste and great decision-making skills, he is constantly asking me questions like "Do we need to refill our wine stock?" or "what's for dinner tonight?" or "what car should we buy?"

Advocate of togetherness. He has finally agreed to accept a few things like "our quarter" or "our lawn". But under certain circumstances, the items that were "our" joint concern, suddenly becomes "Your plants aren't looking too healthy" or on another occasion "Your curtains need a wash" or even "My cupboard and my dressing table has no space for my stuff anymore".

He will give me an honest opinion when I don't need it at all. On one occasion when I had just put on a newly purchased 'Patiala Salwar' (those harem-pants variety), he said, "Darling, what's with the joker pants? Please change into something decent." And I never got to wear my sexy 'gladiator flats' to any of the army parties because my husband thought they don't look feminine.

He tries his best to make the marriage work. At least by not even being remotely bothered or concerned about petty things that bother me so much. He is lost in his own world of work, television and sleep.

These things often remind me that I'm not perfect either and there might be so many things about me which he hates, but never complains. I ask myself...Do married people fight? Of course they do. Does this mean they are not in love? Of course it doesn't. The more you love somebody, the madder you can get with him, especially when he has mastered the diabolical art of how to emotionally harass the spouse by not retaliating, not fighting back, not even getting upset with any amount of nagging and yet stay 'happily' married with a cool and content temperament all throughout. And then when I completely lose it and burst into tears, irritable and helpless at his indifferent attitude, with a faraway philosophical gaze he announces, "Silly girl! Come here, come to me.." and hugs me tight wrapping me around with his arms on his chest, and says, "Baby, you have no idea how much I love you. I'm all yours. Now tell me what's bothering you?" That takes away all the complaints from my life. And I think to myself, "He is the one I want to be forever with". Sigh!

It couldn't get any better

31st Dec 2009. We were all set to celebrate our first New Year Eve together as a couple. But as my husband was getting ready preparing to attend the NYE do at our popular army celebration joint, like every other year, I suddenly couldn't bear the idea of being stuck in another boring and formal army party, strictly following a dress-code, mannerism and all things that wouldn't just let me have my hair down. So I coaxed him to take me elsewhere to someplace where no one would recognize us and especially where there wouldn't be any army people around. The very thought of welcoming the New Year amongst strangers thrilled me. I think I was getting sick of being with the same people for too long. Husband knew better than to say otherwise. So, for general peace, he decided to take me for a special dinner at the KC revolving restaurant in Jammu. We went there expecting a fully-booked, no-parking scenario, but man! were we in for a big big surprise?!

Our luck couldn't have got better. To our surprise, a New Year Eve bash was being organized at the restaurant for Rs. 3,000/- a couple as a cover charge for unlimited snacks, dinner, drinks & a belly-dance included amongst the other attractions of the evening. Staying in Delhi for 11 years, I have never heard of such a deal before. It was such a steal for the price we paid. We looked at each other and I controlled by sudden urge to scream for joy. My husband pressed my hand tight as if he knew by instinct what I was capable of doing. That was a reality check on me and I held myself back from doing anything embarrassing.

We went in to enjoy the evening, me still expecting there might be a catch somewhere and it just can't be true. But it was. My husband had scotch and I sipped on red-wine, gorging on delicious non-veg snacks while watching a (not-so-state-of-the-arty) belly dance and some other lively performances. We also had a close couple dance after the stroke of the midnight clock as we wished each other a very happy new year. Later we enjoyed a scrumptious dinner comprising of seafood and Italian exotics. The tiramisu fully satisfied my taste buds and I was in a state of a Strasbourg goose before Christmas.

We both came back home fully-fed, happy and refreshed. The NYE couldn't have got any better. Happy New 2010 to all!

Movies I watched in 2009

S.N. Date Time (hrs) Cinema Movie
1 01st Jan'09 22:40 PVR-Select Citywalk GHAJINI
2 11th Jan'09 10:10 PVR-Anupam MADAGASKAR 2
3 11th Jan'09 12:00 PVR-Anupam THE ACCIDENTAL HUSBAND
4 17th Jan'09 10:40 PVR-Anupam CHANGELLING
5 17th Jan'09 13:20 PVR-Anupam AUSTRALIA
6 25th Jan'09 15:15 Cinemax-Hyderabad SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE
7 25th Jan'09 18:30 Cinemax-Hyderabad RAAZ 2
8 31st Jan'09 10:00 PVR-Priya LUCK BY CHANCE
9 07th Feb'09 11:00 PVR-Priya DEV D
1007thFeb'09 14:00 PVR-Priya MERE KHWABON MEIN JO AAYE
11 08th Feb'09 14:00 PVR-Anupam MARLEY & ME
12 01st Mar'09 11:10 PVR-Priya DELHI 6
13 01st Mar'09 14:00 PVR-Priya THE PINK PANTHER 2
1401st Mar'09 16:00 PVR-Priya THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN B
1507th Mar'09 11:00 PVR-Priya 13 B
16 14th Mar'09 10:05 SPICE-Noida GULAAL
17 15th Mar'09 10:00 SPICE-Noida LITTLE ZIZOU
18 20th Mar'09 10:00 SPICE-Noida STRAIGHT
19 22nd Mar'09 12:15 SPICE-Noida THE READER
20 22nd Mar'09 13:55 SPICE-Noida CONFESSIONS OF A SHOPAHOLIC
21 22nd Mar'09 16:25 SPICE-Noida FIRAAQ
22 04th Apr'09 18:30 SAPNA-Eok 8 X 10 TASVEER
23 05th Apr'09 21:30 PVR-AnupamTHE SISTERHOOD OF TRAVELLING
24 08th Apr'09 10:00 SPICE-Noida ALOO CHAT
25 09th Apr'09 10:00 SPICE-Noida AA DEKHEN ZARA
26 13th Apr'09 10:55 PVR-Anupam ONE MAN ARMY (ONGBAK 2)
27 13th Apr'09 12:50 PVR-Anupam THE INTERNATIONAL
28 18th Apr'09 11:55 SPICE-Noida DASHAVATARA
29 26th Apr'09 11:00 PVR-Priya MONSTERS VS ALIENS
30 26th Apr'09 13:15 PVR-Priya WATCHMEN
31 06th May'09 16:30 FUN CINEMAS-Ghy REVOLUTIONARY ROAD
32 16th May'09 12:20 PVR-Anupam MY MOM'S NEW BOYFRIEND
33 17th May'09 13:50 PVR-Priya 99
34 25th May'09 12:05 PVR-Anupam DETECTIVE NAANI
35 25th May'09 16:30 PVR-Anupam ELEGY
36 07th Jun'09 11:00 PVR-Priya STAR TREK
37 09th Jun'09 10:00 SPICE-Noida ANGELS AND DEMONS
38 13th Jun'09 16:45 PVR-Anupam GRAN TORINO
39 17th Jun'09 10:00 SPICE-Noida KARMA
40 21st Jun'09 10:10 SPICE-Noida 17 AGAIN
41 21st Jun'09 12:20 SPICE-Noida BRIDE WARS
42 28th Jun'09 21:00 K C Cineplex-Jammu NEW YORK
43 06th Jul'09 09:55 SPICE-Noida KAMBAKKHT ISHQ
44 08th Jul'09 09:45 SPICE-Noida ICE 3
45 14th Jul'09 10:20 SPICE-Noida MORNING WALK
46 19th Jul'09 12:15 SPICE-Noida THE HANGOVER
47 20th Jul'09 09:50 SPICE-Noida TRANSPORTER
48 20th Jul'09 12:00 SPICE-Noida PROPOSAL
49 21st Jul'09 09:45 SPICE-Noida SANKAT CITY
50 21st Jul'09 12:30 SPICE-Noida SHORT KUT
51 15th Aug'09 17:00 ANURADHA-Ghy KAMINEY
52 16th Aug'09 20:00 APSARA-Ghy LIFE PARTNER
53 13th Sep'09 15:40 GOLD-Ghy QUICK GUN MURUGAN
54 30th Sep'09 18:00 ANU EGA-Chennai WHATS YOUR RAASHEE?
55 18th Oct'09 18:00 K C Plaza-Jammu ALL THE BEST
56 06th Nov'09 15:40 K C Plaza-Jammu AJAB PREM KI GHAJAB K
57 19th Nov'09 16:30 MSP MULTIPLEX-Pathankot TUM MILE
58 12th Dec'09 12:30 K C Cineplex-Jammu ROCKET SINGH
59 30th Dec'09 18:30 K C Cineplex-Jammu 3 IDIOTS

An army wife never cries while waving off her husband goodbye

Distance doesn't always make the heart grow fonder. My husband is in the Indian Army. I had a vague idea of what I was getting into when I got married to him, but had romantic notions of running into his arms at the airport or railway station, each time he would come home from his field location. But the first time he went out to the field for 2 weeks, left me craving for him to get back home as soon as possible. I used to enjoy staying on my own earlier during my single days, but now I don't like being alone. It is too quiet, disconcerting. Ever since my husband left, I felt uncomfortable being on my own.
He came back and in less than a week, he had to go again today... this time for a little over a month and to a place where there is no mobile network coverage. The last 5 days seemed as if we were living on borrowed time. Each minute was precious... especially, in the last 24 hours. We were trying to spend maximum time together, getting pending tasks completed in the midst of his work and my ladies' meet and family welfare programmes. We managed to watch a movie together, dined out, went out shopping and even opened up a joint account. Last night we hardly slept for a couple of hours. I helped him pack his bags, reminding him of the small knick-knacks that I knew he would miss out on if I didn't, that he would be needing to stay out for a month.
Early morning today the vehicle reached and as the 'batman' (or 'buddy' as my husband calls him) rang the doorbell and started loading husband's bags into the vehicle while I made breakfast and he got dressed, my heart started growing heavy. After breakfast as husband gave me a big hug and a goodbye kiss, proceeding towards the vehicle, the jawans stood there saluting and opening the vehicle door for him, cheering loudly JAI HIND, SAAB (may the victory be India's, sir), I felt very proud to be married to a man of such honour. But as I waved him goodbye and saw the vehicle soon getting away out of sight, my heart was filled with a sudden loneliness... as if it was going to swallow me up.
The house suddenly seemed so huge and empty again. Every nook and corner of the house seemed to remind me of him somehow or the other. The civilian t-shirt and track-pants that he wore last and had left for washing... his safety boots on the shoe-rack... our joint-photo framed on the bedside table...
I took out our wedding album and slowly looked at all our wedding snaps all over again. I burried my face into his still warm t-shirt and just couldn't fight back my tears. Quickly I brushed off the tears from my eyes that was streaming down both my cheeks, remembering that an army wife must never cry when her husband leaves.
Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder, after all...

Of culinary blunders and evolvement

A major chunk of my single life saw me feeding on my home-made instant noodles, pasta in white sauce, pizzas, ham sandwiches or an occassional whole meal when I felt that craving for rice (which all rice-eaters from north-east do, once in a while). I knew how to cook whole meals, but the effort to cook for a single person was just not worth it. So, I had never had the need to practically cook proper meals all the time...except for those occassional times when we friends would get together for those special lunches and dinners.
Whenever I used to visit home, ma used to pamper me with all my favourite things to eat. I never had to cook while at home 'cause dad is an even better cook than ma. Back in Delhi, my workplace used to provide both lunch and dinner, so eventually over all these years, I always took cooking for granted, though I love eating.
When I quit my job 2 months before my marriage, the prime aim was to go home and learn some cooking from my mother. My husband-to-be was quite picky about food, I discovered, and he had a great taste in the things that he chose to eat. The brilliant cooks at the army officers' mess had literally spoilt them with an overdose of 5-star rated food. But then, things never work out exactly like we plan... well, not always. The time just before one gets married is usually a time when everyone is busy pampering the bride-to-be. So, not to mention my ma not letting me enter the kitchen (lest I should burn my hands or cut my fingers just before the d-day), also practically each day there was an invitation from our neighbours, friends or relatives, right upto a week before the wedding day. So, my plan to learn cooking from my mother went kaput. After our wedding, the in-law's kitchen was actually not a good place to experiment my culinary skills. My husband hails from the south and their taste of food is quite different from ours. So, just like a good daughter-in-law should, I decided to stand there, assisting my ma-in-law with chopping of vegetables or making tea or helping her open a certain jar for condiments...in short just watched and learnt some new dishes which were easy to make and suited both mine and hubby's taste-buds.

After we reached Jammu (where my husband and I are based right now), both of us started eating at the officers' mess until our kitchen was set. As a part of the welcoming ceremony, I was asked to make the first meal for 10 odd officers and their families...'assamese dishes'. I made my husband very proud by cooking a delicious 3-course assamese meal for all. Everybody was quite impressed. I was quite happy myself at how things had turned out to be. But suddenly everthing changed when I first started cooking at our own kitchen... the meal I cooked turned out to be horrible. The rice was overcooked, the dal was still hard and settled at the bottom while water gathering on the top with very less salt and too much of turmeric, the vegetable dish had lots of salt and got slightly burnt...the only saviour was the naga-style zero-oil chicken (learnt from my naga friend). I just didn't know what had gone wrong... if it was the result of trying so hard to cook a very good meal for my husband or the fact that everything was so new and unfamiliar in the new kitchen. But the fact remained that when I lay that horrible food on the dining table that fateful noon for lunch, tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt so sorry that the first meal I had cooked for my husband at home had to turn out this way. Nonetheless, hubby ate the food without a word...just enough to satisfy his hunger. I knew the food was bad... even I couldn't eat it. But he just wouldn't utter a word of complaint. The next meal was no better either. Hubby still didn't complain....just ate lesser and lesser. He would just make an excuse that he wasn't so fond of that vegetable or that particular dal just didn't suit his stomach. After two days and four meals, I started getting a hang of things. I began concentrating more on what I was cooking and how I was cooking them. The permutations, combinations, a few last-minute tips from ma & ma-in-law and my natural feminine instincts too, made the taste of things improve. I started introducing assamese dishes to my husband's palate and noticed him going in for second helpings. He started enjoying the meals at home and looked forward to eating at home more than eating outside. An occassional "Can you make that sour fish curry today?" or "assamese brinjal mash"(bengena pura) or "that zero-oil chicken" were so relieving to hear. I knew I was on the right track. There was no looking back after then. I started reading and following recipes from magazines (thank you FEMINA and GOOD HOUSEKEEPING) and from the internet.

Today after 2 months of tried and tested experiments, I can proudly claim that I can cook nice whole meals and entertain atleast 20 people at a time with ease, besides rustling up hubby's favourites in a jiffy. And then ofcourse, I can always pick up the phone and ask my ma & ma-in-law for those special tips which comes with their years of experience. Those two numbers are now on my speed-dial list.