My Life As A Wanderlust : The Story of a Bong Gastro-Enthusiast !

Bengalis have certain typical characteristics to define them... Food, Travel, "Adda" (meaning discussions, yes Bongs discuss everything from communists to capitalists and from socialists to psychoanalysts...), and of course "Kaalture" (culture... for a Bengali, "kaalture kora" (meaning propagating one's culture, is as essential as breathing)...

So, my husband, an extremely enthusiastic specie of the Bengali clan, who has been long away from the irresistible charms of "rolls", "muglai porota", "puchka", "jhaalmuris" , all of which make up the famous street food of Kolkata.... and of course his favorite Indo-Chinese cuisine consisting of "chowmein and chilly chicken"... even the mention of these, sends my husband into a nostalgic emotional roller-coaster...  imagine his wonder and joy, when we discovered an Indian Restaurant, here in Pretoria, which serves authentic Indo-Chinese cuisine.

Before I go a little further, let me tell you a bit about what an Indo-Chinese cuisine is...

According to Wikipedia, Indo- Chinese cuisine is the adaptation of Chinese seasonings and cooking techniques into Indian tastes. This cuisine is said to have been developed by the small Chinese community that lived in Kolkata (Eastern Bengal) for over a century. Today it's one of the most well loved and famous cuisines of Kolkata and has become an integral part of every Bengali's food dictionary.

My Husband is an untiring lover of Chinese cuisine... not the authentic Chinese but the Indo-Chinese cuisine, that I have described above... in his own words, he can have Chinese, day in and day out every single day for his entire lifetime, and never be tired of it... of course, I highly suspect his devotion, but nobody ever comes between a Bong and his food...!!

So when, we, by mistake, discovered an Indian Restaurant and lo and behold... there was an Indo- Chinese menu, not just separate dishes on the main Menu, but a menu in itself... our joys knew no bound, especially, when I looked at Rahul's glowing face, I knew, this discovery meant a lot, lot more to us than anybody could ever imagine...

We had traveled almost over almost three continents, Asia, America and Africa, and no where except Kolkata, had we found this particular cuisine... of course we had searched... searched every Indian Restaurant and even the Chinese ones. We ordered with great enthusiasm and waited apprehensively, hoping, almost praying, that our dishes would meet our expectations. We had tried hard, and come far indeed...

And then they came...

Our feverish expectations were answered... the dishes were marvelous... we were overjoyed...

So if any of you gastro-enthusiastics are out there, and any of you want to taste what "Indo-Chinese" cuisine is all about, here in Pretoria (which, sadly does not have a decent Chinese restaurant), please try this restaurant called "Namaskar Restaurant" at Hatfield Corner... the ambiance is beautiful and sophisticated and the food is as I just said marvelous... trust me all those who live near Silver Stream and it's surroundings, it beats any Indian restaurants around...

So the "foodie" in us is fully satisfied now... we are a couple who love anything related to food, making it, eating it, making others eat it and even seeing shows about it... if you are a foodie like us... try new places, have new cuisines and discover a world where your tongue rules your heart...

Next on our platter is authentic African cuisine...!!!

Me Before You... A Review : Innocence Writ Large...!!!

After a long, long while, I read an out and out love story... and what's more I really liked it... I think it's been over one and a half years, that I have touched anything remotely romantic not even touching the occasional Mills and Boons romance...!!! In terms of reading , I had divulged deeply into autobiographies and non-fiction... a endevour to challenge myself into reading what is "boring" (my words) and "un-engrossing" ( again my words)... well I was doing pretty well and even reversed my thinking about autobiographies and non--fiction, which I now think are deeply engrossing and very interesting, I would go so much in saying that non-fiction actually makes you think, long after you have kept the book down.

Anyways, coming back to Me Before You, a novel, that I read recently for our book club, is written by Jojo Moyes, a British author. This is the second novel. Before reading, me and my partners at the book club, we all scrutinize the Amazon reviews... if you see the reviews of the book, the average rating that readers have provided is 4.5 stars... that was intriguing enough...  Though a word of caution here... please do not read a book, simply based on the reader's review and definitely not just the reviews of the Amazon readers. They have given an average rating of 3 stars to "A Hundred Years of Solitude"... !!!

However, coming back to Me Before You... it's a love story... yes, an out and out love story... yes I can already visualize a few yawns, especially in the male readers of this post. But before you think it's just another "girl meets boy romance" (well it is one), it also address a very deep issue of our society : Euthanasia or Mercy Killing... I really loved the way the author has integrated this much debatable topic in the book and it so seamlessly goes with the story.

A brilliant narrative, all of the book is in first person narrative, with the female protagonist's voice writ large. I could not understand why the author chose not to showcase the male protagonist's voice. It would have been quite interesting. The story runs lucidly and the humor is dark, but subtle. I really liked the portrayal of the two main characters and how their relationship shapes up. The other characters in the book are also very interesting. Without giving the story up, I can say this much, that the book, does not mean to preach, nor does it take a judgmental view. The author tells a simple story and leaves it upon the reader to reach their respective conclusion. The story is short but very, very engaging. 

I, as a reader, really felt like being in the shoes of the characters. I give due credit to the author, for including the voices of the vital characters apart from the Protagonist... and yes, for a very practical ending... sometimes, when the conclusion does not match the expectation, I really hate the book... but here, it did, and I am grateful to the author for that.

A beautiful story, it's simple, elegant, and innocent. After a long while, I came across such an innocent romance, and I loved every bit of it.

Coursera Assignment: Crafting an Effective Writer... Week 2

List of Five Verbs:

1. Sing : Manisha loves singing and she has a lovely voice.
2. Dance: Dancing is my favorite leisure activity.
3. Write : I love writing on my blog.
4. Read : My grandpa loves reading, he reads to me every night.
5. Play : Playing outdoors increases social interaction and makes children happy.

List of Five Adverbs:

1. Loudly : He was talking so loudly, that the teacher punished him.
2. Rashly : Don't drive rashly, you might have an accident.
3. Often : He would often go walking all by himself in the woods.
4. Quite : She was not quite satisfied with her assignment, so she did it all over again.
5. Happily : The two brothers played happily by the stream.

My Life as a "wanderlust"... No End To Learning...

There's practically no end to learning new things...

An oft heard old phrase, right.... but this is something that I discovered only a few years earlier... discovered, what it really meant...

Given, like all other "normal, self- absorbed" students, I hated studying.... I mean, I really hated it.

In fact I used to be very envious of my Mom, who was a home-maker, because, she had no home work to submit, she wouldn't be punished for talking in class (which, incidentally was a constant for me)... she did not have the headache of packing her bags every night after duly consulting the time table, and there were no exams for her to be given... She just stayed home...

Oh man, how envious was I of her...!!!

Little did I know, that being a mum, had other responsibilities which were far more difficult and cumbersome than my simple, student life...

I was a diligent student, part of the reason was, that would keep my parents satisfied, my teachers happy and me, out of trouble, generally...

Of course I was pathetic in Maths and Science subjects, but they were only two out of the entire course of eight subjects... Till my tenth standard, somehow, I got through without much trouble, as I earlier mentioned, I was a diligent student, able to keep everyone happy...

The trouble came in my Tenth Standard, which was one of the worst years in my entire life, just not student life, but my entire life... Personally it was the happiest, because it was the first time, I had been in LOVE... well, it was more of a adolescence crush... but professionally, I mean being student is a full-time profession, isn't... it was terrible....

I flunked in almost all the tests, that were periodically taken in my class, and passed with mere passing grade in Mathematics in the finals.

That was IT for me... no more Mathematics, no more Physics, no more Chemistry... I just don't think I could have dealt with it anymore...

Fortunately for me, my parents thought so too...

In my 11th and 12th standard, I was allowed to take up the Arts subjects, and that's where the transformation came in...

I will forever be grateful to my parents for allowing me to take up Arts...

And it was in these classes, and afterwards in College, that I really learned...

There is a difference, between learning for mark's sake and learning for your sake... and the difference is a great deal...

The way I used to mug up stuff before, changed to understanding the subjects... History, Economics, English, they were no longer "subjects" for me anymore, they were a device to learn and understand the world.

For those two last years of my school life, student life for me was no more a rigmarole... it had become a journey... For the first time, in all my years of schooling, I looked forward everyday to a school day... and no, I did not study in school that was super cool or anything like that... in fact I studied in a public school, with the worst academic students, because no one wanted to take up Arts... where's the future in that...???

My teachers became my best friends... they helped me quench my thirst for knowing more, because I had developed  this insatiable desire for reading... No more, did I envy my mum, in fact I found her world to be quite mundane...

I did not understand it back then, but I do understand it now... I had excellent results in 12th standard, which enabled me to go, to one of the most distinguished college in my country... Just studying doesn't fetch one marks, one has to really love the art of learning... otherwise it's an utter waste of time, money, and energy... just mugging for mugging's sake does not get a person anywhere...

Even the job that I took up later in my life, I loved it... and I learned tons of stuff in it... Office wasn't a place where I would just trudge, do my work and get back, it became a place where I learned a lot of stuff, some practical, some philosophical...

Even my Boss was super cool  no he wasn't hot or dashing or handsome... but he made me learn some of the most important lessons of my life, and one of them was that, there was no end to learning...

It was his "mantra" for success, he would keep on saying... "Sreeupa, there's no end to learning, everyday would teach you something, every person, whoever it is, your friend or enemy, would teach you something... you just have to be cunning enough to learn from it all..."

In due course of time, I left the job, got married, moved to another country, but those words, still stay with me...

The reason I wrote all this, because, I used to think, I am a very good writer, in fact I have a blog (which incidentally, you are reading now..!!),  my work has been published in several magazines and reputable national dailies... I worked in one of the largest newspapers of the country, but four week ago I started taking this online course about writing... and trust me, it again changed my whole perception of writing...

Once more, I learned that there was no end to leaning, and if you love something very much, you would want to learn more and more and more of it... the key is just to find out what exactly you love, and the rest you'll welcome...

I love writing, I really love, the way mere words makes magic, make you want to cry, make you want to laugh, and make you want to read more of them... I love reading stories, mine and others and I love the fact that I am still learning to be a better writer and reader of the words...

Mr. Chetan Bhagat, kudos to you... Celebrating the "Working, Career-Oriented Woman"...

Today I came across a blog, sharply criticizing Mr. Chetan Bhagat's take on why men should choose career oriented woman over a home maker.

This particular article, written by Mr. Bhagat in the Times of India, had gathered a huge number of "likes" on Facebook and had many "shares" to it's credit.

This particular author went on to criticize Mr. Bhagat's take on home makers in her blog.

Mr. Chetan Bhagat's article, I am sure, most of my women readers read it and shared it likewise, was a practical take on why men would do better to marry a career oriented woman. For reasons unknown, my fellow blogger totally missed the point.

Mr. Bhagat, I am definitely sure, (and please I am not being paid by Mr. Bhagat or The Times for writing this...) targets men as well as women in his article, people who are  ( I am hoping), educated enough to read an English daily, and also independent financially, otherwise, the article would make no sense...

And therein lies the answer to why this article was extremely important to its readers.

His idea was not to crticise "housewives", who form an extremely important strata in our society, but rather the idea that a working woman could not not be a good home maker... this was the central idea of the article, and in criticism of which, my dear fellow blogger completely missed her perspective.

Whatever critics may say, the most important indicator of women's liberation is her financial independence.

Historically if we see, marriages conducted between powerful families and women of reputable dynasties were given a totally different status, as compared to those who came from poor alliances. In fact Akbar's wife Jodha Bai, or Harka Bai, his chief wife, for most of his reign, came from a very reputable dynasty and was an essential pillar of Akbar's idea of separating religion from governance.

In India, many hundreds of middle class and upper middle class families, even now have this idea, that if a career oriented woman comes into the family as the "bahu", household work would be neglected as she would be busy with her career. This happens in really educated and wealthy households too. Therefore, nowadays, there is a surprising trend. If the guy happens to earn fairly a good salary, his parents look for a home maker, a girl, with convent education, from decent families, having higher end degrees, but willing to be a home maker.

This is one of the most widely spread matrimonial demands of prospective Indian grooms and in-laws.

Most importantly, a woman is first and foremost an individual, and therefore, she has the complete right of choosing whether to be a working, career oriented woman or a home maker.

Now, there is another class of women too... those who have willingly made a choice to be a home maker. I fall in that category, and unfortunately, this blogger, whom I am criticizing  does so too... These are the women, who have higher end degrees, and they very capable of earning a livelihood, often times, a better livelihood than that of their spouses, but they have chosen to be home makers.This choice in no way demeans them or their spouses and they are, I believe, in the minority.

To be in this class, you have to belong to that affluent section of the population, where you know, that your spouse can provide for you and/or your child all the benefits and facilities, that a double income earning family can afford. Then you have the choice of not working and looking after the household. It's as simple and practical as that. Also mind you, this decision to become a home maker, has to be solely the woman's alone, not that of her husband, or her in-laws or her parents. This section of women, trust me, fall into a very "affluent" section of the population, "affluent", because, they have a choice in this regard.

After all, as Mr, Bhagat, pointed out, in an age of expenses, a double income earning family, stands way better than single income earning household. Its so true and immensely practical.

Therefore I am totally for marrying career oriented women and working women, rather than unemployed ones. When I was dating my husband, even I was an extremely busy career woman and therefore I respect them immensely.

But unfortunately, this choice is often denied to many women.

Women are either told to give up their jobs or to temper down their career ambitions because of matrimonial responsibilities.

I have a friend in Pipariya, a small town in Madhya Pradesh, who is independent, earning a healthy income and living alone in Mumbai. Unfortunately, her parents have been unable to find a guy suitable for her, because of the fact that she's earning... this still happens in India, mind you.

I also know of another woman, who lives in USA, here in Overland Park, and earns more than her husband. She's a dear friend of mine and she's the best home maker I have seen.

I do not think being a home maker is demeaning, but I do wholeheartedly support Mr. Bhagat's idea of marrying a working woman rather than an un-employed one and I also support the idea of being a career-oriented woman or a working woman rather than a mere home-maker.

If at any stage of my life, I feel, I have had enough as a home maker, I should have the choice to resume the mantle of a working woman and vice versa. This choice, is crucial in the debate of "Home Makers VS Working Wives" and would be the true indicator of women's liberty and empowerment.

And mind you, no one in the world, has a right to tell a woman to give up on her job or diminish her career ambitions, unless, he/she has provided her with the particular job.

Trust me, having been both a career woman, and an home maker now, I truly believe that a working girl, will bring a perspective to the marriage, which is far better than marrying your average "stay-at-home" girl or having a home maker as a wife.

Unfortunately prospective Indian grooms and their parents have a long way to go to understand this.

And my dear ladies... career oriented ones and home makers, please stop critising the few Indian males, like Mr. Bhagat, who have taken up cudgels of  promoting our rights, you are only harming yourself and us...

My life as a "wanderlust" ... The Story of Sarada

As in my previous post, I had promised, that I would write about some of the wonderful people and places that I have visited during my travels, this post is my first endevour to fulfill that promise.

I wanted this story to be the first, because it's a story of an incredible woman. This incident took place in the year 1998 in the month of April. I mention this story specifically, because there are so many women, and in so many different circumstances, and each have their own brave tales to tell... this is such a story, the story of Sarada, an ordinary woman, but incredible because of the circumstances she's in.

This story takes place in a small town in of Londa, more specifically, the Londa Railway Station... Londa is situated in the Belgaum district of Karnataka, India. It's a really beautiful town, with breathtaking views of the Sahyadris rising up. There are generally two types of people who come to the Londa station. The first are the trekkers who are interested in going up the Sahyadris, and the second group generally, change trains here for the further journey upto Goa. My family and I fell into the second group.

Back in the 1990's, Konkan railways, which connects Mumbai and Margao in Goa, did not have many trains in operation and as my father was being transferred from Jabalpur in Madhya Pradesh, taking the right connecting train was even more difficult... so we undertook a long journey, from Madhya Pradesh, to Mahrashtra to Karnataka and finally to Goa. Londa fell in our Karnataka section of the trip.

When the train stopped in Londa, very few people alighted. It was afternoon and the month of April. The summer sun was already making it's presence felt and there were very few porters available.

We were approached by one, who took a hard look at the number of cases we were carrying and asked us our destination. When we told him that we were taking a train from this station itself, and we merely needed to change the platform, he pointed out that there was a bridge to be crossed and that with the amount of luggage we had, he would charge at least 70 bucks.

Now Indians, and especially Bengalis, have an inherent habit of bargaining... no matter the money was being paid by the Indian Government, my parents and I promptly indulged in a bargain. The fellow, probably was feeling too sleepy... contrary to agreeing or disagreeing, as is the norm of a successful  bargaining, he simply left.

So here was, a family of four, stranded on a platform, with the summer sun beating down upon us, and in a few minutes it looked as if the entire station has gone on a siesta, except for us. There was not a single person milling around, not even stray dogs were found, the few stalls of books and paraphernalia had already closed with "lunch time" hanging on their downed shutters. The last departing porter gave us a reassuring advice, wait till the next train arrives and someone would be there to help us... well the next train that would arrive was the one we were supposed to take, so his advice was completely wasted on us... but we chose not to point it out to him.

As we were staring up at the stairs to the bridge, gathering up our luggage and planning on a strategy as to who would carry what, we met her... she was a frail looking woman, in a red sari, no footwear and a large red "bindi" on her forehead... she came up to us, and signaled with her hands, where we were headed.

 Our first impression was that she was a beggar, and thus consequently, we chose to ignore her. As my father picked up the first suitcase and started heading, she ran to my father, and started snatching it from his hand... we jumped up, thinking she was a mad woman, and my mother and I started screaming for help... then she started pleading to us, again with the signs to stop screaming... she painfully explained that she was a porter.

When we understood, what she was trying to convey, we were extremely taken aback, a woman porter, that too one who could not speak or hear... we didn't know whether to be impressed or suspicious...

We slowly started loading up the suitcases onto her head... when the limit of two cases was reached, my mother asked my father to take the other two, since she was so frail, we didn't really trust her to carry everything.... she again signaled, she was very able to carry the extra two suitcases, and they were also promptly loaded up...with four cases piled up on her head, and two duffel bags on her right arm, she slowly started to mount the stairs. I and my brother kept matching her pace, because we were sure she would topple over. She again signaled to me regarding which platform to go to, and I signaled back. When we reached our destination, she slowly unloaded the suitcases and the bags and waited. We weren't sure what we were supposed to do, and my father took out a 50 rupee note... she again signaled that she didn't want the money now, but when she would load the luggage on the train. We were surprised and really touched.

As then happens with all Indian families, we squatted on top of our luggage and waited for our train to come. She squatted on the floor nearby.

My mother, this is one trait I share with her... whatever the circumstances, we need to talk. My mother promptly started a conversation with her. Now it was the most strangest conversation, I have ever witnessed. No a single word was spoken between the two speakers, the entire conversation was through actions, yet the witnesses present could clearly understand what was being spoken.

What transpired from the conversation was as follows.

Her name was Sarada, she pointed at a Hindi tatoo on her arm to let us know of this fact, she was married, her husband was also a porter, infact the same one who had told us that there would be someone to help us... she had three children, and she helped her husband out in the business of pottering.

She looked after the noon shift, when there wasn't many trains and passengers, while her husband took a short nap. He would be back, she said in about an hour, and she would go to pick up her kids from school. She had three children, two daughters and one son and yes they all went to school. Her husband and her children could all speak and hear, only she couldn't. Her husband, she pointed out did not drink or beat her, as is the norm in most poor Indian families. When my mother pointed out that she too could take rest, instead of laboring in the hot syn, carrying such huge luggage... she explained to her, that she really believed in earning herself, and being independent and  in fact, it was her earnings, which made it possible for her children to attend schooling. She also pointed out that because both her husband and she earned, it has been possible for them to make a "pucca" house for themselves.This, she pointed out smiling, was an achievement,  as they were the only porters here in Londa to have one. We were stunned listening to her story.

In an era, (this was 1998, remember?) where women's lib was only a lip service, here was a woman, disable so as to speak of, but far more advanced and far more capable than, many quite able ones. She was poor, she couldn't even hear or speak, and yet here she was, doing a job, that in India, is quite clearly a man's domain. We could not hide our appreciation and respect for her.

Shortly our train came, and she again loaded each and every case, with care in our designated compartment and my father was so happy that he paid a hundred bucks to Sarada. Soon as the train left the station, we could see Sarada's red sari fluttering up in the wind as she slowly mounted up the stairs.

My life as a "wanderlust"... The Beginning...

When I was a little girl, my parents took me to an astrologer in Kolkata, India, where I was born.

The astrologer couldn't predict anything much, except that I would keep travelling throughout my life.

My mom, who is a bit of a non-believer, found this prediction very annoying. Of course I would travel, in fact, I would grow up travelling, because of an evident reason:  my father had a transferable job.

Since my birth, thus, I have been travelling.

 Mind you, many a times, when I was younger, I have hated it... but slowly I embraced it. 

It was as if I was born to travel, go to different places and then again move on.

I like to think of my like as a river. I know it sounds philosophical, and my readers would go..."ohhh...nnnoooo.... spiritualism and stuff..." but it's true... a river, never returns from where it starts it's journey.

It has almost been the same way with me, though I did return to the place where I was born, for a few years until I set off again.

These days, living in a place, for more than five years at a stretch, has become an anathema to me...

I like travelling... not at all for the thrill of adventure, but just for the plain, simple fact, that I get bored, living at one place all the time. 

I would like to tell you my story... it's a story of a girl, who was born in very ordinary circumstances, and her destiny turned her life to be extraordinary.

I know a lot of you know me personally and of course, I do not strike you as an "extraordinary person" in any way. Yes, I am probably extremely ordinary, but the travels I have done and the people I have known have been extraordinary indeed and I like to believe (even if it's in my mind), that I have lived and I am living a very extraordinary life, not because I am different but because the people I have known, and the places I have gone to, have been different.

As I tell my story, I would like you to be a part of it.

If you searched within yourself, each of you would discover an "wanderlust" in yourself.

The place you are in now, did you ever imagine you would be here?

What brought you here? 

Where would you be in five or ten years from now?

Do you know the answers to them all?

Mark Twain once said, "Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than, by the ones that you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbour, catch the wind in your sails... Explore, dream, discover..."

Reach deep within yourself, bring out your wanderlust stories and relive each moment.

I welcome you to my journey and hope I will get a glimpse of your's too.