- 1 garlic clove , mashed
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 4 cups water
- 2 tablespoons lemon juice
- ½ teaspoon salt
- 2 cups long-grain
white rice
(eg. Basmati)
The musings of a woman, a mother, a writer, a wife and a friend, a book-fanatic and a food-fanatic. Welcome to my world. Spend a moment or two and drop me a note...In anticipation.....
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Travel by stomach - Peru
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Let's do it one more time, nice and slow.
As I started going to the gym frequently, I saw more of them, determined faces willing their bodies to complete one more round, finish one more set and relishing the pain in their muscles as reward for their decision to take care of themselves. Observing the Regulars made me realize that they were not an alien sub-species, but normal people who spent their free time hiking, biking, running and walking and when the weather turned dull and cold, took refuge in this stylish and pristine ecosystem to keep their bodies going. I have joined their ranks, hoping my determination and resolve last long enough to turn this passing fancy into a way of life, to enjoy a lifetime of benefits of an active lifestyle. It is too early to declare myself a winner but I am on my way. And yes, my daughter has started playing with the neighbors and is having fun, socializing.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Travel by Stomach - Saudi Arabia
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Travel by Stomach - Greece
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Travel By Stomach
Sunday, February 5, 2012
The Unnamed by Joshua Ferris. - a painful yet gratifying read.
"No matter what happens, I will keep running/moving on/walking along..." a familiar refrain heard a number of times that shows a resolve to not be overwhelmed by life's challenges. In case of the protagonist Tim in Joshua Ferris's The Unnamed, to keep walking is not a choice. He cannot stop walking and neither can he control when, where and for how long he walks. This strange affliction predictably creates havoc in his personal and professional life. this book is the story of this unnatural life and its challenges.
It would be easy enough to stop here when reviewing this book and it would describe fairly well what the book is about. But it would not be fair. This book is exquisitely painful to read, in how it forces the reader to think and draw parallels to their life. It is an intense love story which tests the power of love over a lifetime of challenges and asks questions that people don't normally encounter in their daily lives - what do you do when you are not in control of your mind/body? What is it that defines you as a person? Is it your calling, your work, love and relationships in your life? What do you do when you are made to choose between these? Does the body have power over mind or is the other way around? Is there a difference? The narration of Tim's life deals with such metaphysical and existential themes with the depth of a philosopher's mind, yet Ferris' style and language makes the characters and their problems very contemporary. There is a subtle distinction in the language and style of the text when dealing with the here and now versus when asking, and mostly not answering, questions about the tussle between mind and body. All the requisite components of dialog, description and action blend together in a manner that follows all the rules of Strunk and White. The text is rich in metaphors but is not allegorical because the mind's struggles are as physical and painful as the effects of the elements on Tim's body during his unpredictable and uncontrollable walks. The detailed physical descriptions of the characters and settings and down-to-earth yet insightful dialog bring you right into the lives of the characters and trap you there. No sooner do you get comfortable with the rhythm of the narrative, does the author bring in hurdles to catch you off guard. The painfully lyrical language and the questions that Tim's life reflects back on oneself, keeps you on your mental toes, entirely without control.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Calling your inner nerd - Imogene's Last Stand Candace Fleming/Nancy Carpenter
Imogene Tripp is a history buff, who lives in a very quiet little town in New Hampshire. When she finds out that the old house that serves as the Liddleville Historic Society is to be torn down to make room for a shoelace factory, she goes into panic mode.This delightful book chronicles her efforts to rally the townspeople to protect the historical mansion. With references to several historical events and historical figures, this well- illustrated book appeals to the inner nerd in everyone, boy or girl. Even though the book deals with seemingly adult themes like historical preservation, fighting the establishment and pure capitalism, the author has kept the mood of the story light and playful. The book will take only a few minutes to read but each page can spark conversations enough to last an entire afternoon. A must-read for 1st-2nd graders with an appetite for adventure and history.
He said :
If you like picture books and history, you will like this book. The illustrations are not realistic. I liked that there are a lot of phrases that people used in old times like "Balderdash!".
Friday, August 5, 2011
The night before.
Monday, July 18, 2011
One Amazing Thing - Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's best work yet!!
One amazing Thing is an examination of the minds of culturally diverse men and women, which reveals surprisingly similar angst and fears - of rejection, of disappointment, of the search for love - which should help bring us together in this time of strife and hatred. An exciting read that should have been a little longer.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Jungle Drums - Graeme Base
*****
She said : A gorgeously illustrated book, Jungle Drums uses simple language to convey the story of a plain little Warthog, Ngiri Mdogo. Awash in beautiful alliterative phrases like "stunning stripes", "striking spots" and Swahili terms, Base brings life in the African Savannah right into your home. Issues of vanity and insecurity are addressed in a non-condescending manner that is appealing to the young audience. The message gets through very clearly thanks to the strong narrative and beautiful illustrations. A family favorite, this book is certain to grab the imagination of any young reader brave enough to venture into the jungles of Africa!
*****
Thursday, June 30, 2011
He Said, She Said..
Let the reading begin!!!
Rating system
*****: Excellent
**** : Good
*** : Ok
** : Nah
* : Yuck!
Fancy Nancy by Jane O'Connor, Illustrated by Robin Preiss Glasser.
****
He said : I think it is very fictional. Story is well-written but it is silly, also funny. Like, you cannot go into a restaurant fancily without everyone looking at you! They will not give you any food!!
The illustrations go very well. When they write the story on each page, they draw pictures with it. Small kids can just look at the pictures and even if they do not read, they can tell the story.
She said : A well-illustrated book with a lot of attention to detail (eg: glitter on the front cover as everything is "fancy"). Where an opinionated adult might see the forced princess culture shining through in little Nancy trying hard to be fancy (ultimately in vain), for a child, it is a girl engaging in silly, pretend play and is quite funny. The narrative is fast and the author uses popular culture indications of fancy (like French words and British mannerisms) to appeal to the minds of young readers. The story has a mild suspense building up to a major event which underlines the moral of the story (which I will not elaborate on!). The illustrations demand most of the attention in the book and call for a lot of pauses before turning the pages.
All in all, a fun read, for boys and girls, alike!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I will miss you, Kuki!
Kuki Deshpande is no more. That sounds wrong. Kuki has always been there. For the last 14 years, this crazy white ball of fur has been a memeber of our family, an important one, at that. My mother and I brought him home, wrapped in a red and white blanket, in a wicker basket. I remember the excitement he had caused in our household and the first night, when he slept in our bedroom and whimpered all night. But it didnt take long for him to realize we loved him so much that we would put up with anything he dished out. And boy, did he!. He was not at all a "useful" dog. He barked all the time, but not necessarily at the right time! He didn't fetch or play ball or do any other tricks that children teach their dogs. He owned us more than we owned him. He was the third child of our family. He was a part of wedding ceremonies and birthday parties. He always made it in to the letters I wrote home when I moved to the US. The newborn babies were introduced to him as were the newly weds. When planning trips, Kuki's whereabouts were decided before we booked hotel rooms. He moved with my parents through various towns till they found their home in Pune. My father lived in a different town for the first few years of Kuki's life and I remember he didn't take to Baba all that well, initially. But that changed when we all started living together again. Oh boy! from then on, he was my father's extremely spoilt brat. My father gave him unbridled love without the restraint of discipline and Kuki relished it. Though my mother did not approve of Kuki's food habits and complained about having to clean up after him, she loved him like she did either one of her human children (maybe slightly more). Everybody who knew us knew Kuki, his crazy way of chasing his own tail when he got mad and how he growled when anyone sat near my father. With his passing, another vestige of my childhood has been erased. My brother and I don't have a baby doggie anymore. And from now on, my parents don't have to leave the ceiling fan and light on, when they step out of the house for a trip to the market.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Imagine...

The human species prides itself on its imagination. As far as we know (mostly because we do not communicate with them), no other species has the ability to imagine like we do. We have credited most of our significant achievements on being able to imagine things that would have seemed impossible.
Merriam-Websters defines imagination as the act or power of forming a mental image of something not present to the senses or never before wholly perceived in reality.The truth however is that imagination is wholly influenced by what we know of our reality, of what experiences in our lives have informed us about the world we live in, about what is and is not possible. When we imagine, we have a reference beacon very much in the reality. That is why we imagine aliens with a humanoid appearance; with a head and a torso-like structure ending in appendages. When we imagine heaven, it is the most beautiful manifestation of nature we can recreate from what we have seen or heard or read. If you close your eyes right now and imagine the place you most want to be, chances are it will bear striking resemblance to a picture you have seen on TV, on the Internet or in a magazine somewhere. We consume so much information, solicited and otherwise, that it is practically impossible to think of something which does not have a basis in our reality. Our art forms, even though they might involve tremendous imagination on the part of their creators, also reflect a familiar consciousness.
I recently watched the movie, Close encounters of the Third Kind. Even allowing for the 30 years that have passed since this movie was made, what struck me most about it was how we all were (and still are) restricted by our imagination. Extraterrestrial life exists? Sure and it looks almost like us, has attributes like us like music and touch and yes, just like a human facing a strange situation or a stranger, the first reaction is to fight. Whether it is in the design of the next generation vehicles (which will still have wheels and have contact with the ground) or a superbly made movie like Up, we are very much restricted by our imagination.
When a child is young, two or three years old, it begins to comprehend the world around itself. It does not have enough data about the world to imagine events based on "real" facts. That is why a 3 year old can have tea parties with 5 dolls and 2 horses while engaging in pleasant conversation with all of them about the flying dragons. This does not seem impossible to the child's mind. That is real imagination. As the child grows older, we encourage the child to use her imagination in her studies, to think creatively and "out of the box". But when she does that, she is reminded that though it is very creative, the answers to the questions have to be arrived at, using a conventional and hence, effective method that has been favored over the years. In essence, the imagination of that child gets systematically culled as she grows into an adult in our society. By then, the exposure of that child to the "ways of the world" has happened in its entirety and try as any teacher might, that child can only think so much out of the box. There is no escaping the box from then on.
Albert Einstein once said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” How many of us can separate knowledge from imagination? Aren't we all the prisoners of our knowledge-tinged imagination?
Thursday, April 28, 2011
It rained this afternoon.
The clouds had given fair warning. They had been talking to the meteorologists for the last two days telling them how urgently they needed to get rid of the load they were carrying. The experts, in turn, had passed on the word to the lay people to expect severe thunderstorms in the latter part of the day. They were always so accurate. Such accuracy can come only from getting the news at source -hence the clouds had to have spoken to them. All morning long, the clouds gathered around the town. Some gliding on the gentle breeze that blew from the east. The heavy dark ones, full to the brims managed to drag themselves without losing a single drop. It started getting darker and darker as more of them came. Women rushed out to get the clothes from the clotheslines. Some people shut down the windows while others opened the doors and sat at the stoops, waiting. A flock of swallows made a final dash to get out from under the ominous clouds. And then as if on cue, the first drops started to fall. Gently, haltingly - as if testing the lay of the land. And then it stopped. Nothing moved, not even air as everyone waited to see if the rest would follow. And sure enough as if satisfied that the land they were about to fall on was worthy enough, the floodgates opened. A rush of water started to fall from the sky, enveloping everything in almost a fog of water drops and accompanied by the loudest of shhhhsssss, first in a straight line and then with gay abandon. It rained as If there was no tomorrow. It rained as if this was the last gathering of clouds that would ever grace this land. It rained so hard that it stopped people in their tracks and sent them scurrying under the awnings along with the squirrels and the magpies. It rained with a rhythm that could only be played out by master conductor, Mother Nature, herself. It rained with a purpose. It rained this afternoon.




