April 14, 2019 is coming!

Game of Thrones (GoT) is a lot like Modi. It has a huge following, it is popular world-wide, and it’s Bhakts just can’t stand the fact that someone may not like it.  I agree there must be something to it, that it garners world-wide popularity. You don’t become a world-wide craze just like that! But why is it so hard to accept that it’s just not for everybody!

The man in the house has been a huge GoT fan for the last 4 years. 4 years back he watched the first season online. Then binged watched on the next 3 so he could catch up with the current season at the time. I could see the admiration in his eyes – like he has seen the Taj Mahal– “Vah what a masterpiece has been created!” He kept coaxing me to follow it too so he would have someone to discuss, analyze and predict with, at the end of every episode. I was, during that time, doing my 4^th rerun of FRIENDS. I passed.

Slowly everyone that I was friends with, had become a GoT fan. I sat quietly at dinners with the friends while they discussed the seven kingdoms. Finally for the fear of missing out, some time before the 5^th season, I said to my husband “OK, I will try.” The look of appreciation I got from him – to see his ardhangini finally partnering with him - priceless! He offered to watch the first season with me again, just so that I would have company. Like an art loving student who had been forced to study engineering, I sat down with him for the first episode. In the middle of it someone just jumped off the castle wall and died to death! I shrieked. “Don’t worry, you ‘ll get used to this.”, he said. “But I don’t want to get used to THIS.” I had a sleepless night that day. In just one episode I gave up.

Every year around April it was the same story. The man got more excited about “Winter is coming” than “Mango season is coming”. Shame! He would look forward to it like a little a child patiently waiting all year for his birthday gift.

It’s season 8 now and the finale (finally) and he is crazier than ever. In March sometime, as expected he told me how I had missed out on such an amazing series. “But all is not lost, you can still catch up.” For his sake I saw one more episode. A guy (pardon my ignorance cause I know not his name) was fed a special dish made of his own children by his rival - like a Haggis made of your own children. Yikessss!! I physically hit him for putting me through this mental trauma. I thought he would give up. But he is a Bhakt.

Over the last one week, the newspaper has been printing a synopsis of each season in one page. My husband has them cut out and put near my bedside. 

“Ok, you like to read, right? Maybe you can read these to catch up.” I read it. I understood nothing. “If you haven’t read the Physics book all year, the revision notes from a friend won’t help right before the exam,” I reasoned. “Hmm, so you have around 70 episodes to catch in 7 days, that shouldn’t be impossible,” he said with the same conviction that Manjrekar speaks when India needs 70 runs of the last 7 deliveries. But in his heart, he knows it was all in vain.

So, there you are GoT fans, enjoy the last season. Find out if the Starks finally come together. Find out if they all die gory deaths. But let me enjoy my mangoes watching the 3^rd re-run of “How I met your mother”, cause from where I sit, sweating in my living room chair in Dubai, all I worry about is “Summer is coming!”

Oh, masala!

I met a South African lady recently for work. The original plan was to meet in a coffee shop. A really bad sand storm meant the plan had to be changed, so I suggested “Why don’t you just come over to my place and we can discuss work over some hot masala chai.” “Perfect!”, she replied.

After the work was out of our way, while we discussed life and food, she asked me if I, like every other Indian woman, had a ‘Spice box’ in my kitchen. “Oh yeah,” I said. 

As I showed the contents of each box, she looked at me amazed.

 “So, you use all of these every day?”, she asked curiously.

“Most of them, yes.”

“That’s a lot of spices!”

“Oh, wait till you see the other Masalas that are neatly stowed in the fridge door,” I said, opening the fridge. (Thank God I had cleaned it recently 😉 )

“See, these are not used every day. But for example when I make Dosa and Sambhar..”

“Dosa – those crispy pancakes with spicy lentil soup, right?”

I smiled. “Yeah that spicy lentil soup aka Sambhar would need this Masala,” I said, pointing to the Sambhar masala.

“This is interesting.”

 “Wait, we aren’t done yet!”

I opened a kitchen drawer that that had some whole spices and some other special Maharashtrian Spices. Her eyes grew wider.

“These are local to my cuisine. If you go to South India for example, you will see a new treasure of spices there.”

“Gosh, that’s a lot of masalas!” Her face resembled the ‘Astonished Face’ emoji. 😲

"And I thought ‘curry powder’ was all you had!”

Face-palm emoji! 🤦🏽‍♀️

***

After she had left, as I sat down, finishing of the spicy Chivda that she hadn’t touched, I couldn’t help be amazed and proud of the wealth we Indians possess.

That kick we get as the Paani from the Paani Puri travels through the gullet,

The tingling sensation when we drink a glass of Rassam on a bad cold and flu day,

The comfort we experience as we take the first bite of a Kanda Bhaji on a rainy day,

The flavor that bursts in the mouth when we dig into some Spicy Misal on a cold wintery morning. I could go on.

“What a rich spice culture we have,” I said to myself ,and got up to make myself another round of 'Masala' Chai.

The chilly plant

In November last year I planted my chilly plant. In a few days it flowered, and for many more days after that nothing happened. I waited and waited some more, but it bore no fruit. I worried why? For some reason the flowers were not pollinating. I read online that chilly plants are self-pollinating, so I blew gently on them so as to displace the pollens. Two days and still nothing.  Then one site suggested I use a small coloring brush to gently move the pollen closer to the stigma.  Again, didn’t work. ☹ Then finally one evening, there was a big thunderstorm (I know, very filmy - “Toofan aya” type, right?) And lo, ‘Anther aur stigma ka milan hua!’ My chilly plant finally bore fruit. To my surprise it wasn’t the green chilly I expected. The baby chilly was plump and yellow and grew facing heaven – but it was unique and it was mine.

To think of it, gardening is so much like parenting –

• Patience is the key!
• Every plant grows at it’s own pace. Some are just late bloomers.
• You know not if you get a yellow or a red or a plump or skinny – but what you get you accept and love.
• Every plant is unique and has something to be proud of. My otherwise cute-looking yellow chilly for example, will put the Habanero to shame. Yup, I am rearing a ‘teekhi mirchi” 😉