Tour of Nilgiris

This time I am following the cyclists in a car. Next time I swear I am going to be part of the cyclists team...

http://tourofnilgiris.blogspot.com/

I think I'm hopeless

When there isn't much to do I play with colours...

Your Colors Say You Are Hopeful

When you are at peace, you are: Deeply stable When you are moved to act, you are: Confident and optimistic When you are inspired, you are: Flexible and experimental When your life is perfectly balanced, you are: Philosophical and expressive Your life's purpose is: To change the world

The Ultimate Color Test

It's so nice to hear so many nice things about myself. I didn't know that just by ticking a few colours I could gain so much praise. Get me more!

I love Saturdays

I love weekends. Rishi doesn't have to go to school and Raj doesn't have to go to work. It's so relaxing for everyone, especially me. I wake up late and stay in bed till I don't shake away that last bit of laziness and I love watching Ms. Lazy Laziness slipping away from my nails.

Saturday mornings are special for me as I get to listen to some good songs on FM Rainbow.

"You are listening to 107.1 FM Rainbow....Tindintindintintin..
When superstars and cannonballs are running through your head
And television freak show cops and robbers everywhere
Subway makes me nervous people pushing me too far
I've got to break away
So take my hand now

And then I sing along with Savage Garden
Coz I want to live like animals
Careless and free like animals
I want to live, I want to run through the jungle
With wind in my hair and the sand at my feet

Then the RJ makes her appearance again and goes off playing yet another favourite...

You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair

You live in a fancy appartment
Of the Boulevard of St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I AM SO IN LOVE WITH 'WHERE DO YOU GO TO MY LOVELY'. Isn't it true? When you are alone on your bed there are all kinds of thoughts that surround you. The whole day you are busy with your own stuff but as soon as the sun hides and it's time to say goodbye to one more day, there's a knock on the door...Rat-a-tat... Who's that? I'm Mr. Thought or Mrs. Thought. Yuck so cheesy. What am I writing? This is what happens on Saturdays.

I love Saturdays as I know that
the next day is gonna be a Sunday
I can chill out
I can go for a late night movie
I can stay up really late
I can call up all my friends who work the rest of the week

I can go and party hard

I can gulp a few Breezers without really thinking about a hangover

I can call friends over
I can have lots of fun with my family...

It's so nice that every week has a Saturday. Every Monday I wait for a Saturday and every Saturday night I tell myself that though this Saturday has come to end soon there will be another one...

So what's the POA for this evening?

A tribute to the martyrs

I shed a tear...

Is this true???

“Fight Terror. Vote B.J.P.”

Read more:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/29/world/asia/29india.html?_r=1&hp

Thanks Galdo

That's what exactly the mood of the city is.

A Wish-list for the city

1. Let's not immortalise our bravehearts by putting up political hoardings on the streets. Let's immortalise them by making their families feel proud of their sacrifice and living by their ideals of honesty and bravery, not humiliate them by politicising their deaths.

2. Let's have a system that makes me feel safe. A system that activates the moment terror strikes my city. A system that keeps my life secure and gives my children a better childhood and a safe future.

3. Let's have a government which comes together in times of crisis rather that making differences obvious even in grave times.

4. Let's have leaders with vision.

5. Let's have better equipments and pay for the police force, the army, the navy and the fire brigade.

6. Let's stop using our Black Cats for providing security to good-for-nothing politicians. Mayawaiti, Mulayam Singh Yadav and their ilk do not deserve Z-plus security; it's the man on the street who does.

7. Let's stop taking human life for granted.

8. Let's not make a mockery of the 'right to vote'. It's a privilege, so give us good electoral candidates for whom we get that indelible ink on our fingers with pride.

9. Let's raise more officers like Karkare, Salaskar, Unnikrishnan and Kamthe and let's ensure that we don't lose them to callouness.

10. Let's have a regulatory body for the media. It's sick to see some news channels boasting about exclusive reporting, only making things easy for the predators.

11. Let's have a system that keeps me informed at all times.

12. Let's live a normal, secure, happy life in this beautiful city called BOMBAY. The city died the day it was renamed.

Hoping against hopes

When I started this blog I was very certain that it’s going to be an account of an ordinary day in my ordinary life. I was certain that it’s just going to be ramblings and musings that turn my ordinary day into a note of retrospection. And that’s the reason why my blog has never discussed serious issues that required attention. I always believed and still do, that life is beautiful and that I’m lucky to be born as a human in this wonderful world that we live in. And this terrorist attack has not brought about any change in my beliefs. I’ll continue to love life and that too life in this city the same way as I used to. I am not scared to loiter on the narrow lanes of this city because some preachers of barbarism decided to stain it with blood. I breathe in this city and this city runs in my blood. I know that there are better places in this world to survive and I can afford to migrate. But I love this city too much to bid adieu to it. My eyes have refused to dry up in the last sixty hours...something or the other that I watch or read well up my eyes.

I will never forget the image of a burning Taj ever in my life. For me, the Taj is Mumbai, it’s me, it’s the splendour that represents my city.

I will never forget that a little alertness from the intelligence services would have saved my city.

I will never forget that had my city’s police force been equipped with modern weapons, the heroes of my city would have come back alive.

I will never forget that the scene where the ATS Chief Hemant Karkare got into action after wearing a helmet and assuring his colleagues that they don’t have to fear as he’s with them.

I will never forget that Ashok Kamthe spoke to his wife before setting out for the mission and assured his dad that it’s just one of those things and that he’ll reach home victorious.

I will never forget the picture on Mumbai Mirror – a distraught Mrs। Salaskar on the feet of her husband when they brought her warrior dead.

I will never forget the scene that I am witnessing on TV now, a mother of an enterprising NSG Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan trying to get a glimpse of her martyr son who was supposed to visit her this December। A mother who was waiting with the menu for the month – her son’s favourite dishes. What does it take for a father to call up a news channel and say that his only child died a martyr’s death?

I will never forget Karambir Kang, the General Manager of Taj who spent time rescuing guests while his own family – his wife and two kids – were burnt to death in the fire set by the terrorists। I cannot even begin to imagine the plight of the mother who must have found herself so helpless to see her children writhing in pain.

I will never forget the tremor in the voice of a father from Haryana whose son Gautam called him up in the middle of the night and said, “Dad are you sleeping? Please put on the TV and let me speak to mom and my younger brother।” Gautam was an intern with one of the hotels and was killed in the terrorist attack.

I will never forget the way the fire-men rescued the guests moving from room to room, standing tall on their ladders, risking their own lives.

I will never forget the father at CST who kept running for help carrying his five-year old daughter। She was shot by the terrorists and was bleeding profusely. A little bruise on my son’s knee is enough to make me paranoid....

I will never forget the tremor in the voice of an Oberoi staf as he spoke on FM about a 20-something girl who was shot by the terrorist. She kept pleading that she doesn’t want to die when they shot her again.

I will never forget the two year-old who was rescued from Nariman House while his parents were still trapped inside. His birthday will always cast a gloom in his life as that was the very day his parents and grandparents were shot down by terrorists. His grandparents had flown in from Israel to celebrate his special day.

I will never forget Chef Emanuele Lattanzi who helped around 30 guests to get out safely from The Vetro in Oberoi and later rushed to resue his family comprising his wife and six-month old daughter.

I will never forget the death of Havaldar Gajendra Singh, a jawan whose life Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan was tring to serve.

I will never forget the brave front put up by the staff of The Taj and The Oberoi in providing physical and moral support to the guests and hostages.

I will never forget the funeral scenes of the matryrs who put up a brave front and fought a valiant battle before laying their lives for the nation.

I will never forget the grief on those faces who had either lost a loved one or was hunting for information on a love one.

....and I hope that we all get strength to come to terms with this enormous loss of lives, some young...some old!

A few stories...

"Don't worry...the first bullet will go through me."
A powerful line that lay fears to rest...

Read more
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/FullcoverageStoryPage.aspx?id=2cd34789-c7ac-430e-848a-8326e0cc9fffMumbaiunderattack_Special&MatchID1=4858&TeamID1=1&TeamID2=5&MatchType1=1&SeriesID1=1224&PrimaryID=4858&Headline=


"I want to be in real combat situations."
- Ashok Kamte, ACP

Read more
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/Print.aspx?Id=49a968c1-2827-4af8-9757-89f2dcd14143Mumbaiunderattack_Special
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Mumbai/He_took_on_criminals_irrespective_of_their_clout/articleshow/3766923.cms
http://www.rediff.com/news/2008/nov/27ashok-kamte-a-daring-officer-and-excellent-negotiator.htm



"My husband was a brave man."
- Wife of Martyr Vijay Salaskar

Read more
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/FullcoverageStoryPage.aspx?id=2a7bdcc4-a470-4258-b18a-25e4e09c8b33Mumbaiunderattack_Special&MatchID1=4858&TeamID1=1&TeamID2=5&MatchType1=1&SeriesID1=1224&PrimaryID=4858&Headline=The+gunslinger+with+a+heart
http://www.indiaabroad.com/news/1999/mar/05nandy.htm

His reply: just a smiley....

Read more

href="http://www.indianexpress.com/news/karkares-response-to-a-death-threat-a-smiley/391325/1">http://www.indianexpress.com/news/karkares-response-to-a-death-threat-a-smiley/391325/1

http://in.rediff.com/news/2008/nov/27tps-pays-tribute-to-hemant-karkare.htm

A Night Out in Mumbai

http://www.indiauncut.com/iublog/article/a-night-out-in-mumbai/

Chef dies a hero's death.

href="http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?newsid=1209880">http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?newsid=1209880

We have begun to wonderwas it worth risking the lives of prominent officers and if so, why?

href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Mumbai/A_sadness_envelops_the_force/articleshow/3766928.cms">http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Mumbai/A_sadness_envelops_the_force/articleshow/3766928.cms

Commendable

The best part of the Times Now presentation was the panel discussion they had with Alyque Padamsee, Farooque Sheikh, adman Suheil Seth and actor Shefali Chaya.

Suheil Seth was awesome when he very articulately spoke in his impeccable English bashing up the politicians verbally, taking names of each and everyone. He called them a bunch of wimps. Bravo! He didn't spare anyone. Not even the Prime-Minister.

"We are the biggest hypocrites when it comes to honesty and purpose."he said and appealed to everyone to boycott the elections till public woes are not solved. He even pointed at the way a shining India was lifting bodies without any dignity. Making a rightful observation, he touched upon our inefficiency to respect our heroes and to immortalise them. He even spoke of how it's difficult for a common man to reach Alibaug from Mumbai while we have these Johnnies coming on their Gemini dinghies landing on the shore of Mumbai.

Man! This guy spoke from his heart and hence it felt good listening to him.

The Splendour of Taj!

Pictures: Siddharth Nair

It just took one night...

...to kill a 100 and to injure another 200.

...to realise again that human life is not valuable anymore.

...to understand that terror can strike anytime, anywhere!

The terrorist attacks that took place yesterday once again proves that life isn't safe and secure as it used to be and terror today is not faceless.

At 22:10 p.m. we got an sms from a friend informing us about the alleged 'round of firing' at CST. We immediately switched on to news channels and saw police personnels scattered around the terminus and people walking here and there with their hands held up. Nothing was clear. At least not what lay in store for this beautiful city. Then information started pouring in about terrorist attacks in the Taj and Oberoi hotels. There were also reports of attack at Leopold Cafe. Every passing moment brought in more negative news. It was certain that a horde of terrorists had already made their presence felt in the city. As the country moved towards dawn, the more than 100 year old Taj was burning at it's dome. The Taj, the very structure that symbolises Mumbai stood there burning, with a good number of her guests trapped inside and a few taken hostage by the terrorists. So was the situation in the Oberoi Trident. The attack was so well planned that the police must have had a tough time analysing the situation as they were happening simultaneously at different places. CST, Leopold Cafe, Taj, Oberoi Trident, Vile Parle and Nariman House. And thanks to the Indian Government, the police were at least armed with outdated weapons as against the latest AK-47 that were in possession of the terrorists. It was sad to see the police force marching towards the target, most of them unarmed and without bulletproof jackets to shield them from the attack. It looked like the city had bathed in blood while several news channels flashed their 'exclusive footage', not respecting dignity of death of a human being.

And then came the moment of terrible loss. The death of ATS Chief Hemant Karkare, Encounter Specialist Vijay Salaskar and ACP Ashok Kamte It just took a few moments to extinguish these flames. A big loss for the people of this country. We are proud of you. You will always remain our heroes. As I type this, my mind races back to the image of a brave Hemant Karkare getting ready to confront those cowards who were targetting innocent lives to satiate their hunger for more blood. Minutes later a news flash - ATS Chief Hemant Karkare killed in the encounter.

Vijay Salaskar







Hemant Karkare

The police, the fire department, the NSG commandos, the army, the navy commandos and the common man are doing a great job to bring things under control. But a few questions still remain unanswered - Why such a drastic intelligence failure? And how did they enter the city by the sea? Is it plain coincidence that three top officials of the police force were killed in the attack?

While I am at it, the hostage drama still continues. But I'm certain that tomorrow the city will stand again, wake up a to new morrow and newspapers will carry slogans on the 'SPIRIT OF MUMBAI THAT NEVER DIES'. And life goes on....

Hai Dil hain mushkil jeena yahan...zara hatkey zara bachchkey...yeh hai "BOMBAY MERI JAAN"

Aye dil hai aasaa jeena yahan...Suno mister, suno bandhu....yeh hai Bombay meri jaan

Now is the time to act. If India doesn't wake up to actions against terror strikes now, it never will. It's high time we got out of the garb of tolerance that we have been donning for years now. Like America never forgot the image of a falling World Trade Centre, the image of a Burning Taj will forever stay in the hearts of an Indian.

P.S. A special thanks to Arnab (Or-knob) Goswami from Times Now, indeed a 'journalist on steroids'. This man has gone insane. If at all the terrorists were availing television coverage, his over-excitement would have been their information source.

Kudos to the Mumbai Police! We are indeed proud of you.

REST IN PEACE our Bravehearts. WE ARE PROUD OF YOU!

Hope....

...that's what makes me smile

...that's what keeps me going

...that's what makes me wait for tomorrow

...that's what keeps us together

...that's what we see in the flowers

...that's what you whisper into my ears

...that's what colours are all about

...that's what you feel in the music

...that's what the breeze carries with it

...that's what LIFE IS ALL ABOUT!

Pots from Gaia

रंग

रंग...इनमें खो जाने का मन करता हैं....

Creative Art & Craft Exhibition Pictures

Baygon Masala

Have you ever tried conjuring up a dish with the following ingredients:

4-5 medium sized baingan (aubergines)

2 medium sized onions

1 large tomato

1 tsp chilli powder

1/2 tsp turmeric powder

1/2 tsp coriander powder

1 tsp ginger-garlic paste

Salt as per taste

Try it...your Baygon Masala is ready. Yeah that's on the menu of a popular restaurant in Mahim.

Please don't try the recipe at home...not atleast with Baygons.

'Those DD Days'...on HT

This morning Brunch made me happy. It was more like revisting childhood and made me feel that I (and the people of my generation) belonged to another era. A few days back I had posted some youtube videos on my blog that were a major influence on my growng up years. The morning Brunch had something to share too, on similar lines. Neelesh Sharma, the writer, had touched the right spots when he spoke about waiting for the time slots to arrive to push the button that would break open the magical world of Doordarshan. Those days we thrived on DD. There never was a vast array of channels to choose from. We were bound by national television, we were bound by Doordarshan.

I remember how Sunday afternoons were always full of suspense to know the featured regional film of the day. It could be anything - Bangla, Oriya, Malayalam, Kannada, Tamil, Marathi - anything. Whatever it was, we watched with interest and undertood the film with the help of subtitles. Mondays were Chitramala days, where again the wait was for that one regional song that made you connect with your mother-tongue. Thirty minutes would be spent in anticipation - the next song is going to be a Malayalam one! Wednesdays were Chitrahaar days when oldie goldies were shown and Fridays were Chhaayageet days with a pack of new film songs.

Those days, my husband (then I didn't know him) was an avid newspaper reader, not that he has changed now. He tells me that those days the Friday Indian Express would carry a list of the possible songs that would make an appearance in Chhaayageet. On reaching school he would predict the songs that would be played in the evening, making him a big hero amongst his friends, especially his female classmates. Such was the power of television in those days!

Then there was the Pan Parag ad featuring Jalal Agha, entertaining a host of people with the immortal line 'Aur Mere Liye?', which had me go to a panbhatti to buy a strip of the product only to spit it out after taking the first few pieces in.

How I miss those days when the echoing 'Vikram Vikram Vikram' from the neighbour's house would notify me that its 5 p.m. on a Sunday! And the Nirma jingle which never really made sense to me....'Nirma Nirma, Washing powder Nirma....Nirma se aayi' was always sung as 'Nirma Nirma, Washing powder Nirma....Meri mash se aayi' . Still can't fathom the reason behind it.

How can I forget 'The Tree of Unity'? Thok! Thok! Thok! The little men would march towards the tree. The highlight was the dance...and their bantering with each other. Simply superb!

And of course Saptaahiki, the much awaited weekly programme schedule. It was an like an event that was not be missed...Hmmm!

Doordarshan taught me more about my country, it's culture, it's rural life...in short it helped me peek into the essence of India. Thanks Neelesh for walking us down through those good old days of DD! I really miss them.

P.S. I still remember these:

Aamchi Maathi Aamchi Manoos

He-Man/ Spiderman

Mickey & Donald

Dekh Bhai Dekh

Kilbil

Magic Lamp

Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi

Hum Log

Buniyaad

Ramayan/ Mahabharat

Darpan

News for the Hearing Impaired (Miza's contribution)

Mungerilal ke Haseen Sapney

Potli Baba Ki

Fauji

Circus

Khwaja Naseeruddin Hodja

Alif Laila

Akaashganga

Neev

Tamas

Chunauthi

Nukkad

Ek Do Teen Char

Mirza Ghalib

Custom-made furniture from Fab India

Now, we weren't aware of this. It was only when we visited the store in search of a particular couch that we found out thta Fab India does custom-made furniture. It's too late for us as we are almost at the final stage of completion. But the word has to be spread. They have an amazing collection of side-tables, lampshades, coffee tables, chairs, dhurries, table mats, crockery, upholstery, futons and mirrors. Yeah, thi is apart from their clothing range for men, women and kids.

Fab India can do up your house (in India) if your order exceeds Rs. 1,00,000/-. The best part is yet to come. If you liked one of their designs but would want to go a slight variation, just let them know. Thay have artisans who will do the needful. Had we known this earlier, by now we would have settled down in our new house :-(

कटी पतंग

पतंग, मांझा, ढील, कंनी, पेंच...

याद हैं वो दिन?

Got a new kite for Rishi. Just showing it off!

Relax! Take a deeeeeeep breath.

The last few days were pretty hectic for me.

• shopping for my brother's marriage


• shopping for the new house


• supervising work in the new house


• moving stuff from one place to the other


• a new assignment - that too night shifts


• preparation for the training program


• trips to Chennai and Kerala - two trips to Chennai and two trips to Kerala in one month


• getting the renovation done at mom's place before the wedding


• dropping and picking up Rishi for his rehearsals


• an unwell Amu


• and blogging :-)

Now is the time to unwind. I love my job. It gives me ample time for myself and my family. It helps me take off my slippers and unwind for the day. Doesn't it feel wonderful to rest after a grand session of hard work?

Maya Ravan....please come to town again

I missed it! And I regret it.

Mind-blogging colours

T...Te...Tea

Chaaya, Chai, Cha, Chahaa, Chiya or Masala Chai
Call it by any name, it's nothing less than the elixir of life. You can make it in your own style by adding variants to it and still say that you are having tea.

In Mumbai there is something called a 'cutting chai'. You can find it on roadside tea stalls and around the theila, you will be surprised to find people from all economic strata - the labourer, the IT geek, the artist, the creative director - everyone. The 'cutting' gets them together. And what do I tell you about the chai? It's therapeutic. It helps you get rid of weariness, creative blocks, thirst, cold and whatever you can think of.

IRCTC chaaya in the Jayanti Janta

Another variety is the 'paani kam chai' that's served at Irani restaurants (that still keeps themselves alive). And if you are lucky you can swirl the Sulaimani, a Malabari decoction made of tea, jaggery and mint, without any milk, here in Mumbai. I got a taste of the Sulaimani at Colaba Causeway, three years back. I told you, you ought to be lucky to get this. This was at a shoe shop while the owners were being served tea. They offered me and very humbly I said 'No, thank you'. That's when I noticed that it looked different. I quickly spoke out, "I'll have that. It's Sulaimani, right?" And I loved it. It is also known as kahva in some places, though there is a slight variation in the ingredients. While jaggery, tea leaves and mint is used in sulaimani; sugar, kahva leaves, strands of saffron and cardamom pods are used in kahva.

When I'm writing about tea, I need to thank Mainland China for introducing me to 'jasmine tea'. I always thought jasmines were used in perfumes and oils or for adorning the hair. Never knew that you could make a cup of refreshing tea from these flowers.

Sanjay Nanda

A few days back I got a friend request on a social networking site. Sanjay Nanda, that was the name. Generally I don't accept the request till I'm familiar with that person or if there aren't any mutual friends. But my instincts told me to fo ahead and accept it...and I love myself for that.

Sanjay has an absolutely stunning collection of photographs and I'm amazed at his attention to details. His photographs are a worth a look. I really admire his work and I'm glad that I know him (though not on a personal level).

Lose yourself in these photographs by Sanjay Nanda

http://flickr.com/photos/talk2space/sets/

Nowhere near completion

I'm not updating the blog any more because the house is not nearing completion. It'll take another 2 - 3 weeks before we can finally move in. To add to our woes the workers have already started damaging things that we got from Crafters Antique. A beautiful chair that we'd picked up from Jew Town is absolutely damaged. Just hoping that they will mend it.

August poetry

I was browsing through Kalidasa's poetry and I stumbled upon something that refreshed memories of a rainy August afternoon.

I was attending a Dale Carnegie program on High Impact Presentation. We were asked to make presentations on casting first impressions on people. The first person to speak was Kaushik Saha (I can't remember his designation, but he was someone very important in Walchand People's First). A tall guy looming large over all of us walked to the centre of the room and took out a piece of paper from his right pocket. And then all I remember is that I was transported to a different world. After a long time I was listening to good poetry recited by someone who was absolutely loving it.

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!

Look to this Day!

For it is Life, the very Life of Life.

In its brief course lie all the Verities and Realities of your Existence.

The Bliss of Growth,

The Glory of Action,

The Splendor of Beauty;

For Yesterday is but a Dream,

And To-morrow is only a Vision;

But To-day well lived makes

Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,

And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.

Look well therefore to this Day!

Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

बड़ी उम्मीद्से

Yesterday Hope penned down these lines for me and I wish to tell her that I'm deeply touched by her gesture. Can't seem to thank her enough.

चलते चलते यूँही इक नज़र को देखा था

क्या ख़बर थी हमसाये को देखा था

More than words

This morning I woke up with a mission. No it was not about saving the world. It was a very small and simple want, the want for the video of one of my FAVOURITE songs.

'More Than Words' by Extreme. I have been listening to this song since my teenage years and I still can't get enough of it. And I sing it pretty well too. The only thing left to complete the desire would be learning to play the guitar. Once I do that, it's going to be days of eternal bliss.

10 Things to do (BEFORE I DIE)

Yesterday I had been for Dasvidaniya. A movie that touches your heart in more than one ways. It's a story about a man who has spent a major chunk of his life looking after his mother, tolerating her antics. And now he's been diagnosed with stomach cancer, with just three months to his name. He suddenly realises that all along he's been making a 'To Do List' with nothing in it for himself. And now when its time to bid goodbye to life itself he decides to pen down a list that would only cite his wishes or desires. One of his wishes, was to learn to play the guitar. Yeah, exactly like me. Now, this one part in the movie really made me wonder...'WHAT ARE THE TEN (OR MORE) THINGS THAT I WOULD LOVE TO DO BEFORE I DIE.

Well, let me try putting it down,

1. Buy a guitar and learn to play it

2. Go on a long drive with me on the wheels

3. Learn to make good caramel custard at home

4. Visit Casablanca

5. Go for a long distance cycling trip

6. Get back to my old figure

7. Hold at least one photography exhibition

8. Learn swimming (as soon as possible)

9. Fly a hang glider

10. Own a collection of pullovers...reaching there!

These are the ten things that I can think of right now. Will have to keep adding to it. Remember, Karo Zyaada ka Iraada!

P.S. Anybody wishing to sponsor can contact on mira_mira@live.in

Good morning!

This morning Rishi wanted sandwiches in his snack box and he also wanted to learn to make coriander chutney. So in the midst of getting ready for school we stole a few moments for ourselves in the kitchen with the steel plates and bowls. And look what we've got.

Malgudi Days

Those days we didn't have a TV at home. In fact TV was a luxury that only a few could afford. So in a chawl of fifty homes, only three would be in a position to own a television. We got ours in 1984. Before that we were at the mercy of our neighbours. Every day we would gather at their place for the day's viewing. On Wednesdays, it was special. R K Narayan's 'Malgudi Days'.

Aah! The moment the title track would go 'Ta na na tana nana na' the neighbour's living room would be full. It was amazing. The rendition of the track and the close-to-life illustrations are still fresh in my heart and mind. Today, the title track is a heavily downloaded ringtone for cell phones.

For old times' sake I'm putting the unforgettable title track on my blog :-)

Memories of a little girl

As a little kid there were a few luxuries in life that came in the form of National television. My favourites were these:

1. Hind des ke niwaasi sabhi jan ek hain...A song to promote National Integration. I loved it, in fact I still do. And I can sing it in that little girl's voice :-)





2. Lakdi ki kaathi, from Masoom. A beautiful song from a wonderful movie. It's a favourite with many people.
I have seen this movie umpteen number of times, and every time I see it I shed tears.



3. The title song from Jungle Book.

10th November 2002

Rishi's attempts

Indeed! You made me smile....GG

There are a few SMALL things in life that elate me:

When somebody makes my kind of tea for me (in the morning)

When my favourite music is playing in the car

When I receive a handwritten letter from someone dear to me(which is a rare treat)

When someone takes the pain to make something for me

When I find what I'm looking for

When I read a good book

When I get lost, dancing throughout the night

When I read a good poem

When I get to eat GOOD caramel custard

When I see good slip-ons for my feet (I may not necessarily buy it, but seeing it also thrills me)

When I find the right shade of lip colour

When I find the right kind of kohl for my eyes

When I see good junk jewellery

When I treat myself to a scoop of Rum Punch with cream and pineapple topping
When Rishi draws something and tells me, "It's for you"

When Amu hugs me tight (again a rare treat, she's her papa's daughter)

When I cook for my family

When Raj stops at the busy flower market to buy flowers for me

When my bro tells me that I may not get a Booker but a Cooker

When I travel by train

When I see a missed call and call back to hear the same thing, "You haven't changed one bit. You still haven't learnt to answer calls"

When I hear Rishi's teacher say "We are proud to have him in our school"

When a training batch gets over and after a fortnight I get a message saying "WE MISS YOU"

There are so many things that make me happy.

But sometimes its a small email that takes you by surprise, especially when you are the least expecting it. A mail with a picture that was designed and made exclusively for you by someone whom you haven't met or seen. Like this one,

"Count your frogs....

...before you date them".

Please don't ask me what that means. It was a dream that I had last night.

Okay, the story goes like this. Till a few months back I would regularly see dreams. Dreams that never really made sense to me. But I would remember every single detail. My mornings were an event where I would sit and seek help from my husband, asking him to interpret it for me. But all that was in vain. Of course, there were connections from real life, but those were like 'set intuitions' - only helpful in the beginning. Then my mind would wander to places that I have never been to, see things that I had never seen and meet people who were never a part of my life.

For the last few months, I wasn't seeing any dreams. In fact I had forgotten that a pattern of my life was missing. Exactly four days back I found the bottle of the 'lucky red seeds' that I was hunting for. I was elated. But the happiness was short-lived. Those seeds had lost their charm. they didn't look red any more. And I wondered - Where can I get some more of these, real red ones? I guess the thought triggered something in the 'dream faculty' of my brain. That night in my sleep, I went to a place that was high up on a knoll which also doubled up as a quarrying site. There was dust storm all around me. I walked and reached a place where I saw a few Lambadi women preparing food. As soon as they saw me, they pointed towards a wall with a tree behind it. And guess what? It was the manjadi tree and there they were - the lucky red seeds. I picked up so many that I had to ask them for an extra bag. Suddenly a man appeared and told me "You have to pay for these pictures". That's it. This was around four days back.

This morning I woke up at four. Could not go back to sleep again. So I got online for some time and then tried sleeping again. And I did sleep. At nine, my husband woke me up. We were supposed to go to Thane at seven in the morning. He told me its already nine. I sat up startled and told him that he should have woken me up. He replied, "I did try but you said let it stop raining. I don't want to drive when it's raining". "Raining? Has it been raining in the night?" I asked. At least not in the real world. I got the message. I started recollecting the events of my dream. Here it goes.

I was teaching in a school. As part of my daily schedule I was delivering a lecture on Value Education and the thought for the day was 'Count your frogs before you date them'. Can someone please tell me what this means? And every time I think of it, I just burst out laughing. What on earth does that stand for? I was asking the kids to interpret it and then there was thunder and lightning (Thank Nature for the rains! I don't know what interpretation I would have given for something so weird as that). Suddenly the school declared a holiday. And I stood outside waiting for the rains to recede. May be that's when my real husband from my real world tried waking me up and I said, "Let the rains stop".

I don't know what's in store for me tonight. Happy dreaming1

Rights of a girl child

White flowers

These days I'm on a painting spree....

The Vodafone song...I just love it

Girl on Moon

Musical medication

I'm going through the most stressful phase of my life. My house has been under civil and wood work for the last two months and my brother is getting married in the next week. All those stressful thoughts were givng me a tough time and it had started affecting happiness...which makes it a litle dangerous. That's when my friend Sel suggested something.

So it was going to be on the 31st of October, 2008 at 5:00 p.m. He reached outside the gate on his bike...yeah, bike. Now that's an altogether different story.

We left for BKC and was hunting for the venue when my eyes fell on a hunk on a bike wearing a T-Shirt that read 'PUNK ROCK'. I told my friend to follow him and it worked. We reached the place. Bought ourselves the tickets and then it was just five hours of absolute musical intoxication. After all Sel had got me to enjoy the 'Rock On Concert for Humanity'. This concert was organised to raise funds to aid victims of the floods that shook Bihar this year.

And they were performing:
Something Relevant
Pindrop Violence
Dream Out Loud
Pentagram
Parikrama along with Saif Ali Khan (who turned out to be a major disaster)
Shaa'ir & Func
Avial
The Raghu Dixit Project
Kailasa
Them Clones
Shaan
Kunal Ganjawala
Shankar, Ehsaan, Loy
Farhan Akhtar and Arjun Rampal

And some celebrities to add glamour to the show:
Sharukh Khan
Preity Zinta
Zayed Khan (Who said that we are all brothers and sisters of the same mother called India. Now what on earth does that mean? Anyway he was booed away by the crowd who was there to listen to music.)
Shabana Azmi and Javed Akhtar
Hritik Roshan (With that Greek God look of his, he rocked the stage while the Rock On team performed.)

Those five hours were like a musical extravaganza. Kailasa as usual was incredible, so was Parikrama. Pentagram has definitely lost it's charm. There was a plump Vishal trying to keep up with the musical notes panting and gasping for breath. The Raghu Dixit Project was also a good dose of vibrancy. Raghu's performance is still ringing in my head. And he's got the sweetest smile I've ever come across. A very contagious smile. The so-called 'politically aware and ideologically driven' Avial charmed the crowds with the rendition of their Malayalam songs. The vocalist Tony came dressed in a kurta and lungi and bowed to the crowds with the typical Keralite namaskaram. Though most people could not follow the lyrics, they enjoyed the music. Parikrama too met expectations with Nitin Malik as the vocalist and the mind-blowing violin rendition of Imran Khan.

Them Clones and Shaa'ir & Func were fairly okay. Dream Out Loud was again great.

And then they usurped the stage. Farhan and his team along with Hritik. They started with the 'Rock On' song and ended with the 'Meri Laundry' song. Yeah they sang only two numbers. I would've loved it if they sang 'Sindbad, the Sailor' instead of the title song. But never mind...let's not be greedy.

Now after all those musical tablets who, on the phase of Mother Earth would even think of a word called 'STRESS'? For me music and dance are two inextinguishable flames of my life that keeps me going. They are my stressbusters!

And hey Sel! Thanks a lot!

A Frangipani and some Sugar Swirl

A Billy Joel freak..who believes in conversions

My better half had never been a big time Billy Joel fan. He only knew that Billy Joel was the one who sang 'We didn't start the fire' and then he would ask me if it was the same person as Bruce Springsteen. I would look at him scornfully. I mean how can two people with two different names be the same. Forget it! I better not delve deep into it. It so happened that I had bought myself 'The Essential Billy Joel' and I really wasn't finding time at home to listen to it. So I did the best thing. I kept the CD in my handbag, thinking that I can listen to it in the car. As soon as I took it out, I could see my hubby staring at me from the corner of his eyes, also trying to concentrate on the road below the wheels of the car. He was listening to Abida Parveen. Boy! I don't understand what she sings, but I do like the melancholy in her voice. But listenng to her on a drive inside Aarey Colony, doesn't work boss. So I just questioned with my eyes, sought permission to play Billy J. "I hope it's nice to listen to", said the man on the wheels in his very stern voice. I told him..."Mark this day, you are gonna get converted".

It's been a few months since this incident. I heard the CD on that day and now I'm hearing it today, while I'm typing this. And that's only because the car is at the service station and the stuff inside are lying at home. And guess what? My husband can differentiate between Billy Joel, Eric Clapton and Bruce Springsteen...thanks to me. I love that man for his songs....no, not my husband, but Billy J. I truly love my husband, so he better not sing :P

In fact, if I ever go on a dream date, it has to be with Billy Joel. I would ask him to sing these songs:

Piano Man (It's such a beautiful rendition)

You're my home (A song for a crazy romantic...like me ;-))

She's a woman to me (My caller-tune, the most beautiful song ever written for a woman. I can never get enough of this song. It's been my callertune for the last three years. And being the crazy woman that I'm I even go to the extent of dialling my cell number from other phones just to listen to it play on my phone...:-))

Just the way you are (For someone madly in love)

Honesty (It's such a lonely word coz everyone is so untrue)

The River of Dreams (Love the lines)

....and Movin' Out too....and may be 'My Life' too.

and I would love to do the jive on 'Only the Good Die Young' (I'm listening to it right now. Hey Bosco, can I start my dancing lessons again. Strictly Rock n Roll, no Salsa.)

That would be for the first date with Billy Joel. I have another list for the second date and another one for the third.

LSBT

Life Sucks Big Time, especially if you make the mistake of hiring an ___________ for your __________!

Smitten by a song

This is the song that's currently playing on my laptop. It's one of the most beautiful ballads to have hit my senses in a long time.

Yeh Tumhari Meri Baathein, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Yeh Hamari Mulakate, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Beete Yuhin Apne Saare Din Raat
Baaton Se Nikalti Rahe Nayi Baat
Phir Wahin Baathein Leke Geet Koi Hum Likhe
Jo Dil Ko Haan Sab Ke Dil Ko Chu Le
Baathein Suron Mein Yuhin Pighalti Rahen
Baathein Geeton Mein Yuhin Dalti Rahen
Oooo..Na Na Na Na Na Na…Oooo
Geeton Mein Haan Humko Khusiyon Se Haan Saja De
Jo Sune Gaaye Woh Hum Se Gaaoon Na
Yeh Tumhari Meri Baathein, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Yeh Hamari Mulakate, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Beete Yuhin Apne Saare Din Raat
Baaton Se Nikalti Rahe Nayi Baat
Phir Wahin Baathein Leke Geet Koi Hum Likhe
Jo Dil Ko Haan Sab Ke Dil Ko Chu Le
Baathein Suron Mein Yuhin Pighalti Rahen
Baathein Geeton Mein Yuhin Dalti Rahen
Yeh Tumhari Meri Baathein, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Yeh Hamari Mulakate, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Beete Yuhin Apne Saare Din Raat
Baaton Se Nikalti Rahe Nayi Baat
Phir Wahin Baathein Leke Geet Koi Hum Likhe
Jo Dil Ko Haan Sab Ke Dil Ko Chu Le
Baathein Suron Mein Yuhin Pighalti Rahen
Baathein Geeton Mein Yuhin Dalti Rahen
Oooo..Na Na Na Na Na Na…Oooo
Geeton Mein Haan Humko Khusiyon Se Haan Saja De
Jo Sune Gaaye Woh Hum Se Gaaoon Na
Yeh Tumhari Meri Baathein, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Yeh Hamari Mulakate, Hamesha Yuhin Chalti Rahe
Beete Yuhin Apne Saare Din Raat
Baaton Se Nikalti Rahe Nayi Baat
Phir Wahin Baathein Leke Geet Koi Hum Likhe
Jo Dil Ko Haan Sab Ke Dil Ko Chu Le
Baathein Suron Mein Yuhin Pighalti Rahen
Baathein Geeton Mein Yuhin Dalti Rahen

Reaching Mumbai

saturday 25/10, 6:30pm, kochi airport, departure lounge, bombay awaits, freedom within hands reach

nrakesh78@gmail.com

That's his status message for the day.

Bread Omlate

Don't go by the spelling, he makes awesome omelettes.

Grandma, are you reading this?

My paternal grandma passed away when she was ninety-two and I was twenty-one. The last few years of her life gave me a lot of memories that bring a smile on my lips.

Grandma always disliked me as I was not docile and homely like her other grand-daughters. She always thought that I was hoydenish. Now what could I do? I was born into a family where boys were in majority. My uncle has two sons. And my parents, a girl and a boy.

My father hails from a family of seven - they were five sisters and two brothers. The sisters got married off and had families of their own and they believed that girls are not human beings but creatures that were born to lead life in a particular manner. Fortunately my parents thought otherwise. My dad believed that a daughter should be pampered and spoilt. The result - me!

I loved denims. I loved bikes, I still do. I loved laughing out loud at silly jokes. I loved playing cards. I loved climbing trees. I loved rolling on the grass and jumping on the hay stack. I loved sitting with my cousins discussing serious issues. My grandma had not seen a girl do these things as she hadn't been exposed to a world like that. And I refused to understand because I never saw young girls confined to the four walls of their big houses. We both were like two ends of a road that would never meet.

I still remember how she was happy to see her grandsons jumping on the haystack. Then she looked intently and walked towards the haystack. She saw a little girl, with hair all open, jumping and screaming with joy. "You! Don't you understand? I've warned you so many times not to jump around like this?" As if I cared.

My annual visits to Kerala would last a month. The whole month my uncle and parents would be fed up of my grandma's constant carping. But neither me nor my grandma would give up. She would keep threatening me that she would exchange me with the tribal woman's daughter. "Ha ha! What fun!" I would exclaim. Man...that pissed her off so badly.

Then I grew up. I was nineteen. It was time for the annual visit.

As usual she came running to the car looking for my brother. I stepped out. She stopped as if something obstructed her steps. Slowly she came to me. She ran her old frail hands on my face and on my hair. Her eyes welled up when I smiled at her. She saw a bangle on my wrist and a thin chain on my neck. She saw kohl in my eyes. For a change I was wearing salwar kameez. She hugged me tight and kissed me. She said she was sure that I would change.

Had I changed? No I hadn't. I was still the same. It was just that I had started respecting sensibilities of other people.

Then it was just me. I became her favourite grand-daughter. She would keep advising me on skin care, on marriage, on almost everything that a woman could think of. She would tell my dad that he should not get me married to a man who would ask for dowry. Look for someone who would come seeking her love. Someone who would respect her as a woman. Someone who would respect her opinions. I was stunned. Her values in life were so much like mine...

But it took both of us a long time to realise it. Today she is no more. She went through a demential stage before passing away. And during that phase she would constantly ask me who I was. And every time I would remind her that I was her favourite child's daughter.

The reply was always the same, "Why do you say that? Why don't you say that it's your favourite grand-daughter?"

Memory lane

This is the lane on which I learnt to ride a bicycle.

The mysterious brown eyes

I'm back from Kerala after a week of fun with my cousins. Wish I could stay back. Actually it was not a week. I left on the 7th and reached Kerala on the 9th and came back to Mumbai on the 14th. Took three days to reach Kerala. Yeah...our very own, long-forgotten Jayanti Janta (JJ).

Remember? The very dry and hot Andhra, the fragrance of mallikai in Tamil Nadu and some cucumber salads in Karnataka. And finally you reach destination Kerala. But this time as the monsoon clouds decided to extend their stay, Andhra was looking beautiful with a blend of yellow (from the sunflowers) and green (the paddy fields).

The reason for taking up this tiring and tormenting journey was quite silly actually. Long ago when I used to travel to Kerala by the JJ, I would invariably come across this tribal family that sold stuffed squirrel toys. Sounds eerie...right? Well, it's not. These tribals would hunt for squirrels to fill their hungry stomachs and then make beautiful toys out of the skin that remains. Mongooses and squirrels were there forte. And the toys always ceased to look like toys. They looked amazingly real.

In this particular family, there used to be a little girl whom I used to see every year. She was probably my age. She would wait for the train to slow down so that she could display her wares and earn a few pennies. She was dirty and looked as if she hadn't thought of a bath for the last so many years. Her clothes were soiled and they always emitted a dirty stench. But her face was so beautiful that it had the power of taking you into a state of trance. Her light brown eyes would never fail to charm the onlooker. And her lips were always red as she would be constantly chewing on a paan. There was something about this girl that called for immediate attraction.

Now this was long back, around fourteen years or so.

Since the coming of the Netravati Express, the JJ route remained as a historical reference. And so did that tribal girl. Now, when I got a chance to travel by the JJ again I was mighty thrilled.

I was eagerly waiting for the train to cross the Maharashtra border. Once we reached Andhra, I refused to even sleep, dreading the thought that my sleep may come in the way of my encounter with that tribal girl. I had images of her waiting at the station, running towards the slowing train with squirrels and mongooses.

But I was disappointed. The stations kept passing one after the another. My eyes were growing weary and I was losing hope. I was really getting desperate. It was as if I got this last chance to meet a friend with whom I had only shared glances and not a single word, a friend who once SOLD her toys to me, a friend who was like me but maybe not as fortunate. The feeling is inexplicable. My brother kept scolding me for losing sleep for someone whom I didn't even knew, though he too remembered seeing the brown-eyed girl.

Finally the last station at Andhra arrived. I saw those brown eyes and dishevelled hair. My heart skipped a beat. There she was. Still the same. Selling the same stuffed toys. She still bore the look of a fourteen-year old. Her lips hadn't changed colour which meant that she was still addicted to paan. Our eyes met. Maybe she was also waiting for me. She started tracing her steps towards me. There was a sudden pat on my elbow. It startled me. I smiled at the old woman who was begging for something to eat. I gave her a few bananas. She blessed me for being considerate and walked away. I looked up to see my tribal friend. She had disappeared. She wasn't there. She was never there.

My brother looked at me and said, maybe she was there on one of the platforms and you must've failed to recognise her. You were looking for a fourteen-year old. She must have grown into a woman now.

Yeah...quite possible. She must have grown-up into a fine young woman. Maybe she was married to a drunkard. Maybe she had gone through hardships. Maybe she isn't alive anymore.

I think I should end this search. I will always have her in my heart, deep in the innermost recesses of my mind. Beautiful as ever. Then why hunt for her?

Madness, isn't it? Sheer madness.

For Laurent

ORCSD

It's high time I consulted a psychologist. That too before my husband goes bankrupt. Fortunately he doesn't mind me spending as he feels that street shopping is any day reasonable compared to shopping from branded stores.

I agree. I totally agree.

I have never been attracted by the stuff that they sell in big showrooms. It's just not my style. I've often found the best picks from streets. This evening I had gone to buy a few things from Hill Road, Bandra - a haven for street shoppers. You get everything there. From sexy lingerie to cool formal clothing - all on the streets, very reasonably priced and if you know to haggle, you can bring the prices further down. I was boggled by the sheer colours of slip-ons (for my feet) hung neatly on nails that served like pegs. Pick up whichever you want for Rs. 150 per pair. Wow! I just picked up four pairs. I'm obsessed with funky slip-ons. And the ones that I bought look pretty cool.

Then I picked up anklets...one for Rs.10/- I just picked up two. Phew! Another obsession. And there, at a distance I saw a fellow selling harem pants. Don't give me those glaring looks, just bought two pairs. Actually wasn't too fascinated by the collection. And what else did I buy...let me think. Yeah I bought capri pants too. And what else? Oh...I was tired shopping. So I came back home. But now I regret it, I feel I could have hung around for some more time.

See! This is why I think I need to see a psychologist. I always regret not shopping for some more time. What would this mental disorder be termed as? ORCSD - yeah , Obsessively Regretful Compulsive Shopping Disorder.

Howlers at work

My wrists are having a tough time typing this, after the wrestling session with sorghum flour. It was terrible. My poor wheat flour is such a sweetheart. It has never given me trouble. Am I forgetting something here? Yes, I am.

As a new bride I had a tough time with wheat flour too. My husband's family had this penchant for eating chappatis in the night. And since I had taken over as the daughter-in-law it was now my duty to ensure that the family got it's chappatis on time. My mom-in-law was very sure that I was a useless, well she was right. At least I didn't know how to make chappatis. Good, round, light, soft chapattis that would melt away in your mouth. And the secret to it was well-kneaded dough with the right proportion of water. Now this was something I hated doing. It always took a lot of time and I never got it right. Either the dough would become gooey or it would sit staring at me, hard as rubber. And if at all I managed to make it reach the pan on the stove, it would only land back on the plate with a black makeover and someone would ask me switch on the exhaust. But soon I learnt to manoeuvre the dough as per my way. Soon they would just see me disappearing into the kitchen, to be back with a casserole full of soft, perfectly round chappatis, in no time. In fact, my father-in-law (who was always a fault-finder) freaks out on me and says that it's only when I'm around that he feasts on chappatis. That's an achievement for me.

But yesterday marked the beginning of a new story. My husband has been advised to abstain from wheat and wheat and wheat products. So I'm trying out new rotis with ragi flour, pearl millet flour, corn flour, gram flour and rice flour. Yesterday was the first day. And it was bad when I started off. I struggled and struggled and struggled. But the kneaded dough always looked deceptive. All the while I kept pleading to the sorghum flour to surrender, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. My mom-in-law empathised with me. She told me that the sorghum flour that she got last time was not so yellowish in colour. I stopped kneading. I picked up the flour packet to ensure that it was not adulterated. Gosh! It read 'Makai Atta' - Maize flour. Now where on earth did I read 'sorghum flour'? I peeped into the shopping bag and there at the bottom, beneath that monstrous bunch of coriander leaves lay the flour packet and I read it and reread it and re-reread it. I started the whole process again. But at least this time it was better. Finally I made some rotis which tasted yum with the dill leaves cooked with garlic and groundnuts, the recipe of which I had taken from the girl at the bill counter in the supermarket. She must be a good cook as the dish really turned out well. And all's well that ends well. Oh...it hasn't ended. It has just begun. This evening the kitchen lab is going to attempt making ragi rotis...Ha Ha Ha!

My frangipani

I'd rather have frangipani on my table than diamonds on my neck.

- Emma Goldman

I brought a small change in that quote. The original quote had 'roses' instead of frangipani. But I don't really adore roses as much as I adore frangipani or jasmines. To be honest I wouldn't mind settling in the Hawaii, where I can see frangipanis everywhere around me. I can wear them on my hair, my waist and my ankles and still there will be so many left that I can make a bed out of it. Wow! That would be amazing.

We have got two frangipani trees in our compound. Forget plucking a flower from those trees, you dare not even cast an eye on it. My mum has got her informers working over time. The news spreads like wild fire. The other day, I looked around the tree if there were some flowers on the ground, but bad luck, there was none. So what's the next step? Very simple. Take off your slippers, stand on your toes, stretch yourself and try to reach the closest branch. Not working? Try jumping. Yeah...got it! Just pluck one beauty, leave the rest for the tree. Suddenly I heard a voice behind me. "Do you know who's daughter you are?" I was all prepared with the answer. "Hmm...that...actually...You know what? Rishi wanted to take a flower to school. So I thought...." and I turned around. It was my husband. How mean!

That's the little beauty I got after a lot of struggle :-)

Look at it.

Have you seen anything more beautiful?
Have you seen anything more perfect...more simple and yet so fragrant?