My "first born"

On Valentine's Day as people are celebrating their love in innumerable ways starting from fancy dinners, romantic getaways, or simply red roses and chocolates, I also want to celebrate my love that needs no language, no words of love, and not even the commonalities of a species. It is the special bond I have with my "first born".

With Mota in early 2010

Lightning, or as we call him, Mota is our first pet. Even though May is the eldest one, Mota is our first born as we adopted him first. A big boy, weighing around 14 lbs at almost three years of age, he was still quite shy. But it didn't take him much long to become a mama's boy. Within weeks he was snuggling with me, and I still remember the day when he first put his head on my lap and slept.

Over the last seven years he moved with us from our apartment to this house, has adapted to sharing his home and parents with his two sisters and has grown into a handsome orange and white cat. Whoever sees him, the first thing they say is "wow, he's handsome!" A social eater, he has the personality of a gentleman. He just retires upstairs if there are guests, if he comes downstairs then he watches people for a while before greeting them with a friendly head bump.

With me, he has a special bond. He just loves me beyond words. The gentle purring and kneading on my belly shows that he considers me his mom (cat-mom actually). Every night he would come to me, sniff my nose and then curl up with his head on my tummy. I never knew that this bond is so deep until last week when he suddenly fell sick. What at first seemed to be UTI was actually a case of urinary tract blockage because of tiny stones, like sand, in his kidneys. Even though it is very common in male cats his age, and is completely curable, to see him suffer and meow loudly terrified Arnab and me. On the car ride from his local vet's clinic to the pet hospital, I just kept my hand on his back to make sure he was breathing. The pain, as the vet told us was excruciating, but as the pain killer kicked in, his breathing became a little easy. They admitted him to the hospital within minutes of us bringing him there and the doctors immediately started doing the tests. For the next three days all we could think was of him.

Snuggles help him recover fast

This was the first time in our lives with Mota not at home. Even though he is calm and doesn't run around all day, the house felt different without his gentle presence. I am notorious for being a heavy sleeper, and up till last week, neither sickness, nor heartbreak, not even exam results have been known to disrupt my sleep, but with Mota at the hospital, I kept waking up every few hours and Arnab and I took turns to call the hospital to enquire about him even at night or early morning hours.

We are lucky to have workplaces that let us take days off because he was in the hospital. On last Friday, we were ready to bring him home. When we got him back, he was lethargic to say the least. He had a cone on to prevent him from licking his belly, and that made him wobbly. He would just plop down next to me and sleep. If I got up, he would awaken immediately. And then I saw he was actually holding my PJs while sleeping. That's when I thought that the whole biological relationship thing is so overrated. There is just one thing called love, and that doesn't care about what you say, what gifts you give, or what relationship you have with a being. True love has no expectations, it is that feeling which makes you feel good when the other person/being is just there with you. That is why for the whole of Saturday Mota didn't leave my side. He would lay his head on my lap and fall asleep.

Arnab and I spent two more sleep deprived nights as we had to wake up to feed him (he can't eat on his own with the cone on) and to give him medicines. We are also monitoring his water intake o that the same problem does not recur. It is tough. He is confined to the master bedroom now, also using the master bath, and our room is smelling like a cat shelter! We don't seem to mind, I guess that is what labor of love is all about.
To have a soul that loves me so deeply that he can feel completely safe when I am there elevates me to a position of being loved. It is a great feeling, especially because there is no expectation. To be loved by someone this deeply are those moments in life that makes me feel good to be a human being.

PS: The house is again feeling like home, as all five of us are here once more!

Story of writing stories

I don't remember from when I started to think of stories in my mind. The first one I remember is probably from when I was around five years old. It was a story about a violet fairy. I don't remember anything else, but I think it was that time when I really loved fairies. I also loved to think of how a little fairy can choose one color and get everything in that color. Then there was a phase when I loved to imagine stories about my stuffed animals. All of them are still a huge favorite of mine. I simply LOVE them! They lived somewhere far off in little toy towns (heavily inspired by Enid Blyton's Noddy) and I still remember where they studied, what language they spoke, the name of their town, who was whose sibling, everything in details. My mom just told me yesterday that she found a card given to me on my seventh birthday by all my stuffed animal buddies.

From around fifth grade, I became a book worm and started to read a LOT! People who love to write are those ones who invariably love to read. It is the love of reading that slowly sends us on the track of trying our hand at creating something new. In my pre-teen years I was also slowly getting exposed to science fictions, adventure stories, and my all time favorite detective stories. That is when I got a little bold and started to write adventure stories. Sometimes those would be in the outer space, whereas at others it maybe in the ocean or on a deserted island. My problem is that my mind is way ahead of my hand, that is I can think of many ideas, but then I can't really string them together as a story. Either I put too much details, or I jump from one incident to another without a proper pace. The same thing continued in my early teenage when I fell under the influence of Saradindu Bandopadhyay and his historical fictions. They are the most romantic stories I have ever read (probably the most romantic ones in the history of Bengali language) and when the heart starts to blossom in early teenage, my dreams were full of Arjunbarma, Chitrak, Bigrahapala, those brave princes and the bold and beautiful princesses - Vidyunmala, Sumitra, and the like. Even today I am still under that spell. I read some of my old half written stories while I was in Calcutta earlier this year, and I found that all the historical stories I ever attempted (all unfinished) were so heavily influenced by Saradindu that it probably falls under the category of plagiarism. In my defense, I would use Apu's idea from Pather Panchali and say that who has ever been able to light a torch by sticking it in the ashes? You need fire to light a fire. Saradindu definitely has imbibed in me an urge to create. How I would do that, I have no clue though!

There is another person who has showed us that you need to be responsible and thorough when you are writing. That person is Satyajit Ray. I spend so much time thinking about details, that I have lost my mood for writing often. Firstly, the names of the characters need to be figured out. Unless that is done, I can't think of how the characters would be. Then, where they live have to be thought and imagined. If they work, or study, then their ages must be calculated properly. Details about their jobs, or ranks have to be researched. I can't just call someone a Commander-in-chief without knowing what ranks his battalion has. I can't write a conversation between two law students if I don't know anything about the subject. Characters have to look real, and incidents have to be correct. It isn't easy. The most difficult sort of story is a detective one. It has to make sense, the clarification must sort all the points, and it must be realistic. For example, if a person murders someone, there has to be a pressing reason for it. You can't just say something vague like "oh that's because she hated him." You need to reveal enough details for the reader to be interested in the plot, but not give away the main things which would make the detective come and use his/her mind. With science fiction and detective stories, you have to be very detail oriented and clear all the points of the story. I have read some really bad detective stories and bad science fictions too, which have showed me what not to do.

I write for myself. I have probably given people six stories to read in total, and they are not the same people. I am my most severe critic, so if I like something then that is probably the best I have created to my potential. But, so far there has been no story that I've written which I like. When I read them again, I definitely feel like editing them. Either there are too much details, or the conversations sound unreal. There is also a problem about language. Should I write in Bengali, or in English? There is one story I am writing now which is set in early twentieth century Bengal. That one can be easily written in Bengali. But for most of my stories there are conversations in mixed languages, and then it becomes difficult to choose the main language for the story.

Being an ENFJ, I value human relationships a lot. That reflects in my stories. In most cases, the main protagonists are women with strong personalities. They may be love stories, or not, but those characters are very confident in their own abilities and in their lives, even in the face of difficulties. I am also very much mood driven. I started writing a story while I was in Calcutta, but after coming back to Seattle, I just can't think along the same lines, so that story is sitting unfinished. A certain thought would come and hang around for a few days. If I don't write it down fast, I'd lose it. I get to imagine the scenes like watching a movie, and I see them right in front of my eyes, then I write them down. Now, I am focusing more on being disciplined and finishing what I have started to write, unlike what I did in my teens.

We have a very little part of our general human lives that are in our control, but when we are writing stories, then we can plan and do everything that we like. We can live a million lives through our characters, we can experience joys and sorrows spanning over space and time. Writing gives us immense power and empowers us with the joy of Creation.

Short hair - the pleasures and pains

The longest hair I ever had in the entire 32 years of my existence, is shoulder-length. It isn't that I don't like long hair, I do admire it on models, but for some reason it does not suit my personality. Maybe because I never had it, I don't know why, but I don't look like myself if I have anything longer than a short bob. Though there have been times while wearing Indian clothes and thinking how strange they are looking with my asymmetric pixie cut, however, in the long run the days I like my short hair outnumber the days I wish for longer hair by a huge margin.

Why do I have short hair?

From time immemorial my mother used to get my hair cut short. Probably because she has short hair, or maybe because she thought managing long hair on a little girl is difficult. I don't know why, but that is what I always had. I really wanted to have bangs, but I wasn't allowed to get those either.

Why did I keep cutting my hair short?

Around my early teenage, I started becoming quite a rebel. At that time when girls slowly turn into proper girls, I became a tomboy. Getting rid of the girlish traits became necessary and I sacrificed my hair, turned to wearing more boyish clothes and started to have the temperament of a tomcat. (This tomcat part is something my entire extended family agrees with. That is somehow the best description of me as a teenager.)
Later, in my late teens to early twenties, I discovered that there is a couldn't-care-less attitude in tossing my head which I mastered. For that having short hair helps.

When did I really regret having short hair?

On the day of my wedding. I was probably one of the very few Bengali brides who had that short hair. It was impossible to even part my hair from the middle, let alone try a tiny pig-tail. They couldn't think of having an updo, so they added tons of weird wigs. It looked disgusting. The only good thing was the whole contraption got covered by a veil.

How did it feel to have shoulder-length hair?

It felt like "too much hair". While sleeping on my side, hair got in my mouth, hair covered my face. While eating a taco, I once got sour cream on the ends of my hair (very odd feeling).

What was the best thing of having longer hair?

Getting a real updo, with a flower in my hair. I was so shocked at that event in my life!

What has been my favorite haircut so far?

An asymmetric pixie. It has the sleek look of pixie, that emphasizes the facial features. (You can't hide behind your hair). For thick, healthy hair, a good pixie accentuates the hair too, because you can't do anything to your hair that short. The asymmetric part adds a little weirdo effect that goes very well with my personality.

Note: I really love my hair. That is probably the only thing I am concerned about in my looks. I also take good care of my hair, no coloring, no extra treatments, just coconut oil, and shampoo. I also religiously wear a swim cap while swimming :)

Biryani

The last couple posts became a little serious, so I decided to lighten the mood (my mood, mainly) by writing about biryani. For those who don't know what this is, here is the Wikipedia link - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biryani

I am not going to tell you the history of this dish, neither am I going to write the recipe. Firstly, because this was my first attempt at cooking it and also because I can't write recipes (plus, this is not going to be a food blog). Here is an amazing step-by-step recipe that I followed - http://www.sharmisthadey.com/2014/10/kolkata-style-chicken-biryani/ If you follow the measurements and use the right spices, you would have a great pot of biryani too!

Dry roasted spices ready
for crushing

Basmati rice

Here's the story. I love to eat (though it doesn't show on me) and I figured out that if you know how to cook, it basically means you can eat whatever you want to, whenever you want! It is very empowering. I also don't understand why people think cooking is tough. It isn't. It is just like chemistry experiments. You add certain chemicals (spices) and they behave in certain expected ways to create an end result, which is (or should be) edible. That's all there is to it! I started treating recipes as instructions and followed them step-by-step, quite an easy task for my analytical brain, and figured out that cooking a new dish can boost one's self confidence a lot. Especially, if those are foods you have not eaten before, like French food for me. Even though I cook regularly and was getting more and more confident, I still had no idea how to cook biryani. But I love biryani. Then I searched, came across the above link and gave it a try yesterday. I realized certain things about biryani, and in the same way, about life.

Saffron strands in milk

Holy trinity - onion, garlic
(paste), ginger (paste)

People assume that biryani is a very rich dish, full of spices, ghee, and hard to digest combination of onion, garlic, and ginger. While it is true that all of those are indeed used, the end dish is way lighter than say, a spicy curry. Also, the flavor is more important than the taste. If the flavor doesn't seem (rather smell) right, you will lose your appetite. I kept on doing a smell check at regular intervals, and also after adding the spices, or after adding rose and keora water to make sure I am on the right track. Use of saffron is another vital thing. I have never seen saffron before, let alone use it. So when I put a few strands of saffron in warm milk yesterday and looked at the changing color of milk, I was amazed. I smelled and tasted that milk, oh, it was heavenly! It has become my most favorite spice now. Please don't use turmeric as a substitute of saffron ever, neither would it bring the delicate color, nor would the flavor be right. Also, turmeric will cover the flavor, or at least get in the way of the other spices.

The interesting part of the dish is about its subtlety. Like an aristocratic lady, who would never wear flashy or bright colored clothes, but would wear the choices diamonds, biryani doesn't have a color like curries, not does it have oil floating on top, chunks of onion, or worse still tomatoes sitting in a gravy. It has just the color imparted by saffron and a little bit by fried onions. The rice grains are all separate, you can pick them up individually if you want. It is a delicate dish made with the choicest spices and I was very happy with the end product.

PS: This was a dish cooked with ingredients from the world over. Basmati rice from India (or Pakistan), chicken and eggs from local Washington farms, Yukon gold potatoes from Canada, saffron from Spain, keora water from Arnab's local grocer at Calcutta, rose water from Morocco, and spices from all over South Asia!

Gender

This is the time of the Women's March in many cities within and outside the USA which is trying to bring women's issues in the forefront (sadly, though many women are ignorant about it and/or choosing to not support other women) and this is also when I was reading National Geographic's January issue, a special coverage on gender. There is one thing I learned, and that has opened the door to much more linked thinking, that is "gender is a spectrum". From time immemorial, we have known that gender is binary. Little kids know too that girls are supposed to play with dolls and boys with trucks and guns. Growing up, I did not have guns to play with. When I was eight, and my cousins little older, I remember our uncle giving us toys where my boy-cousin was given an electric circuit board with batteries and wires and my girl-cousin was given a mini-piano. It was normal thinking that a boy would love making those electric circuits, but ironically it has been the two girls in our family who became engineers and the one who got the electric circuit board didn't like anything technological, so that game was left at the back of his cupboard for years, only to be donated by his mom later.

Why do I like the idea that gender is a spectrum?
Because it has answered many questions I had about myself and many people around me.
If gender was binary, where would tomboys fit? What about those men who have a natural inclination towards make-up or dress designing? Our problem is that we have created boxes and we try to push and shove everyone in those boxes whether they fit in, or not. And, we try to make everyone's lives our business. We have decided that if you are a girl, you need to do certain things, like - be caring, gentle, pretty, not-so-smart (at least not smarter than your future husband), maternal (don't want kids? What kind of a woman are you?). Similarly, for boys, they - have to be strong (boys don't cry, right?), can be all rough and tumble, have to be the future breadwinner (stay at home dads are insulted, but stay at home moms are glorified). In the eastern context, there are more double standards. A girl has to be subservient and promptly make her in-laws place her home, but a boy would not go to his in-laws unless he is formally invited.

Let's try to make the world a better place for all.

These things are baseless. Let's get out of these stereotypes, and stop containing people in buckets. A person is first a human being and then anything else. Look at a kid as a unique person with his or her individual likes and dislikes. Figure out what he or she likes. Don't mould her choices based on your ideas, or worse still, society's expectations. There is a friend of mine who (and his wife) wanted to stop their daughter from getting in the pink madness. They intentionally chose a theme of blue and yellow for her birthday, but most of the guests brought pink colored gifts and some even wore pink clothes. Introduce them to all kids of toys. There is another person I know of who insisted that his daughter not change tires, because "some tasks are good to be left for men to do". My niece told me last year that she doesn't play cricket because at school the other kids said it is a boys' game. Her dad explained to her briefly, as much as possible to a five-year-old, that everyone can play cricket and there is nothing called a boys' game. Then this year we played cricket with her at home. She enjoyed it immensely! Take the moments when you can help bring some change, and do something. Even if it is a tiny thing at that time, it may have a big impact later.

Pic courtesy - Yana Das (From Womens' March in SF)

U. Ray and Sons

There are people who impact you quite directly with their ideas and teachings. In most cases they are our parents, close relatives, some teachers. It can also be friends, or older siblings/cousins. There are also a kind of people who impact us indirectly. The good thing about them is that, you don't have to share spacetime with them. For me, there have been innumerable people who have shaped my thoughts and plans, dreams and speech, but I have never met them. Like, Rabindranath, through his songs and poems have touched the hearts and minds of every person who loves Bengali. Swami Vivekananda has never ceased to believe in our strength even at times when we doubt ourselves. Netaji has shown how one man can build an army, Nazrul has imbibed in us the will to stand up even when we can't. Saratchandra, Saradindu, Narayan Ganguly, Syed Mujtaba Ali have enriched our lives with stories. Ashapurna has shown us our roots, which for one thing has helped me be even more grateful to Vidyasagar and Rammohan Roy. They have all done their parts, and they have all succeeded in bringing up a generation that put most emphasis on education and chose "plain living and high thinking". Now that generation is no more, the mall going, partying kind of people definitely have forgotten everything they could have been immensely proud of. But I am not writing about them, I am writing about me.

100 Garpar Road

Not a single day goes by where I have not read or thought or talked about these people I just mentioned. They are part of my life, they are part of my thoughts. However, even out of them, there is one family which has helped shape me holistically. That is the family of Upendra Kishore Ray Chaudhuri. Apart from the Tagores, I don't know of any other family where everyone was so talented. By everyone, I really do mean every single person. They could write, sing, paint, excelled in sports and studies, were pioneers in multiple aspects of the society. I think the Tagores were far more philosophical and hard to reach, but the Rays were more approachable, fun, and way more mortal. The best thing about them is probably the fun part, they all seemed to be enjoying life. It would be totally wrong to think that they had perfect lives, Upendra Kishore, Sukumar and quite a few of their relatives had a small lifespan but to think of their lives just as a count of years would be unjust. They gave us centuries of work and ideals even in their short lives. They tried to bring up young kids across Bengal who would be inquisitive, bright and would concentrate on building healthy bodies as well as healthy minds. The children's magazine "Sandesh" (meaning both news and a Bengali sweet) was created from this legendary press U.Ray and Sons that has brought up generations of children quite successfully. The various articles throughout a century have focused on science, literature, animals, history, mythology, biographies, science fiction, detective stories, riddles and puzzles, nonsense rhymes, kids' competitions for writing, painting, and even stories on film making. The able editors have translated many stories from across the world and have introduced Bengali kids to a whole wide world. It is through the pages of Sandesh that I was introduced to scientific articles about the Sun, about Orion, I read Greek and Norse mythology, and have laughed and laughed at the funny antics of Pagla Dashu (crazy Dashu) and his friends. Satyajit Ray introduced us to detective stories, but while telling us about the adventures of Felu-da and Topshe (who we all think of as our cousins) he taught us history, geography and instilled in us good habits of reading about a place before visiting it, of being responsible and not writing about something without doing your due diligence of researching about it, taught us the etymology and right pronunciations of innumerable English words, and has also taught us about strength of character all while engrossing us in those world class stories. Satyajit Ray has also introduced Bengali film to the world audience. His masterpieces - Pather Panchali, Sonar Kella, Joy Baba Felunath, Charulata, Mahanagar, Agantuk, Nayak, are still unparalleled.

Introduction to Satyajit Ray happens at a pretty early age, but I came to know Leela Majumder well in my late teens. She and I share a common bond as we are alumni of the same school. I read her "Kheror khata" and laughed. Even now when I am stuck for ideas to write a humorous speech for Toastmasters, I translate her anecdotes and repeat them. They can, even after decades, very easily make an international audience laugh. I read her cookbook like a fiction and it is hard for me to decide which I enjoy more - cooking, or just reading the book. Her cookbook, dedicated to all the girls of Bengal has been my most favorite cookbook ever. I like her style of writing and her choice of recipes. Same with her autobiographies - "Aar Konokhane" (written mainly for young readers) and "Paakdandi" (for adult readers), those books make me feel like she is sitting right in front of me and telling me those stories. Her writings have made Sukumar Ray (her older cousin, Satyajit Ray's father) take a human form and come alive. I can see Upendra Kishore coming up the stairs with the first copy of Sandesh straight from his press. I see them laughing and singing, Upendra Kishore showing little kids how to watch the moon with a telescope, them making up stories and drawing cartoons.

When I was young, I learned new things from these books. As I am growing older, I feel that they, through their own lives have shown us how to have a close knit family, how to bring up kids who are close to Nature, and how little people need to really have a happy life. It brings me back to Jerome K. Jerome's thought in Three Men in a Boat, that we need to get rid of the lumber of our lives that we pile up our tiny boat with. This family didn't have that lumber, that is why their boat was so easy to pull.

They have faced sorrow, the grave sadness of losing your loved ones at an early age, financial crisis that came with it and their lifelong love, Sandesh being discontinued as their press had to be sold. But they have left a legacy. That legacy lives amongst happy, inquisitive children, children who lose themselves in books, who write weird stories and create impossible experiments, those who love Nature and them who finally grow up to be happy, responsible, global citizens. We have got so much from people who didn't know us but loved us so much that they gave up all their time, money and energy to bring us up right. We just need to be grateful to them and keep the legacy intact.

The City of Joy

Churmur

I was taken on a trip to see the new parts of Calcutta, towards New Garia, where wide highways with multiple lanes are propping up, the well-lit roads have numerous modern high rises on both sides. The area is complete with supermarkets and the best part is the extension of the Calcutta Metro Railways to cover the southern, eastern and under-the-river channel. It is really great. A city has to move ahead to the future, and Calcutta, albeit after a long time, seems to be catching up. Since last time, I am seeing the city to be much better and cleaner like any decent city should be. The supermarkets are stacked with things like olive oil, bakeware, and toilet tissue, stuff which were not really available easily here in the Bengali areas. A ton of fancy restaurants have also come up. One doesn't need to go to Park Street for continental food any more. Steakhouses and pubs have become quite common and even though they don't really match the Bengali mindset, I think this is a part of globalization we will all have to come to terms with.

Fish fry

While on vacation from Seattle, the stuff I crave most are all available from the street hawkers in Gariahat. For some reason, I feel that Gariahat, with all the clothes, purses, mehndi, and household goods shops that you see on the street has more charm than even Champs Elysees. Here the hawkers at least still call me "didi". I prefer "didi" (elder sister) or even "mona" (a special term of endearment used for young girls, only by people originating from East Bengal) over the massively used "madam" these days, especially at the shopping malls. The phuchkawala in front of our house is still here and he still makes those heavenly mouth-watering phuchka and churmur. He remembers me and makes his usual joke of adding too much green chillies because he knows I don't eat spicy food.

Calcutta to me lives here in the woven cotton sarees, small cups of tea, jhaalmuri, and in the crowded buses. It is in the taste of fish, where the mustard paste is blended right, in the chocolate sandesh of Bhim Chandra Nag, in the smell that wafts in the moment you enter Nahoum's confectioners, and through those innumerable walks along noisy, crowded, and quite dirty streets that engulf you in a sense of warmth and belonging.