A Tale of New Potatoes

During our first month at Blacksburg, Virginia, we had been regularly purchasing a certain type of potatoes. Suddenly one day, while shopping at the departmental store, my room-mate Arnab spotted a new type of potato and announced that we should instead purchase that. According to him, this one would resemble Indian potatoes more closely. I was initially reluctant to change but finally succumbed to his confidence.

However I was skeptical about the end-product when one day, I embarked to make aloo-bhaate (mashed potatoes, Bengali style). Except for the darned potatoes, all the other ingredients had my vote of confidence. A newly acquired bottle of sorsher tel i.e. mustard oil (the quintessential ingredient of aloo-bhaate) would purge the ill-effects of the new potato, I said to myself.

But when I popped in my first morsel of the aloo-bhaate, my worst fears were proved true - the aloo-bhaate was sweet! What torture was my room-mate forcing upon me! Was this some sort of a sweet potato?. I was ravenously hungry, so I added some more "salt" and proceeded to gulp down a few more morsels. The "salt" however failed to placate the evil potato of its' cloying sweetness.

Research has not yet proved that when a person is extremely hungry, his brain stops working. However that day, that was exactly what happened to me. Somewhere down the treacherous meal, when the hunger pangs had been satisfied a little, I started thinking rationally about the series of events that led to the devilish aloo-bhaate. Recounting the steps, I realised that all the time, I had been adding sugar instead of "salt". My only line of defense was that here in the USA, sugar and salt look the same when unpacked. Thus it was not the potatoes that were at fault. Instead it was my hunger-induced state of mind, which had made my brain unable to differentiate between the packaging of these two substances.

There are records of similar "salt-and-sugar" mishaps in the recent past. This is what Amitabh Bacchan had to say about such an incident in the movie Cheeni Kum. You shall find that in this case, the person's brain had stopped working due to other limiting factors.

Stories and Memories

Thanks to the International Friendship Program at Virginia Tech, we (my room-mate Arnab, and I) got to meet an American family. Sarah, the lady of the house and the mother of three children, is adorable just by her beautiful nature and and her excellent culinary skills. But on our second visit to her house, we got to know that she is also a beautiful story-teller. Sarah has been working in the Blacksburg court for nearly three decades now. With that experience, it is not a surprise that she is a treasure-trove of all sorts of anecdotes from the court-house.

We got to hear her stories on the second day that we visited her house. I have re-narrated some of the anecdotes that she narrated to us. But before that, I would like to mention another thing that happened that day.

Sitting outside in the porch, I was learning about American football from Sarah's son-in-law Matt. Arnab was explaining "depth-of-field" (a concept in photography) to Sarah's younger daughter. Sarah herself was busy in the kitchen. The mouth-watering aromas of her cooking, just like her good nature, seemed to permeate the whole house.

During this massive gossip and adda session, I got a moment to myself when I went to the restroom. I do not know about others but many of my deeper thoughts have come to me within the privacy of the restroom. Reflecting on the truly enjoyable time that I was having today, I was reminded of the times at my Dada-Didi's place. (Dada-Didi are a couple in their seventies, who I got to meet around two years back. Visits to their home were an infallible source of unadulterated enjoyment.) I felt that it was mighty unfair that due to my pursuing studies in the US of A, such good folks as my Dada-Didi would not be able to share similar moments of happiness with me for an indefinitely long period of time.

It was true homesickness that I felt at that time. Notably, this was another "Happy-Sad feeling" which had been evoked in me by my coming to USA.

Coming back to Sarah's stories, I have re-narrated some of the anecdotes that she narrated to us. Hope you enjoy them.

Story 1 A certain person in the county of Montgomery, Virginia was involved in the illegal activity of growing and selling marijuana. His house was full of potted plants of this "forbidden fruit".

The business was good - no one was suspicious of his activities and had things gone the way they were going, he would have lived happily ever after. However as we all know, man's mind is never at rest. This very trait of human nature made our marijuana-grower lose sleep over how to better protect his treasures. Thus he installed a state-of-the-art burglar alarm system in his house.

And true enough, one day, a burglary was attempted. As expected, an alarm was raised by the newly installed system. The sirens and lights made sure that the whole neighbourhood and the police department rushed to the site of the attempted burglary. The police were faced with a peculiar problem - they were having to arrest both the burglar, and the owner of the house which was being burgled. It was then that the marijuana-grower realised that when one is on the other side of the law, one should not be too choosy about the company he keeps.

Story 2 Then there was the other marijuana-grower who was going on vacation. He decided to keep his pot-plants in the car so that they would get ample light to live and grow. He returned to find that the plants were alive and fresh. However there was also an arrest warrant in his name.

Story 3 Then there was the time when Sarah was checking in people when they came for their drug-screening test. One day, a certain young girl was late for her test. Sarah was especially irritated by late-comers and she grimly told the girl, "I am sorry. You are late and I cannot let you take the test." The girl started pleading, in an earnest tone, "But I was late because I had cut my ear." This news surprised Sarah and she enquired as to how such a drastic event had transpired. Sarah was in for a bigger surprise when the girl replied, with a straight face, "I was running down the driveway with my chainsaw... And I tripped and fell over and cut my ear... Here have a look.", and the girl parted her side hair to show the stitches that had followed the unfortunate incident.

For a moment, Sarah was speechless. Given that the girl was in a state of mind where running with chainsaws was a normal thing, the drug test would surely come positive. Sarah was amused by the irony of the girl's earnest pleas to take the test on that day itself.

A "Bread and Toaster" Arrangement

HR of my previous company must have made a very wise move by keeping provisions for preparing bread toast in their pantry. When I saw it for the first time on my first day at office, I was elated - I could make a snack any time I wanted. And bread toast is one snack that I really love. Strange as it may sound, my loyalty for the company was strengthened by the presence of bread, butter and a toaster in the pantry!

Let us for the sake of this blog, call such irrelevant perks provided by the employer as "Bread and Toaster" arrangements. I recently was provided with a similar arrangement at my new position as Graduate Research Assistant (GRA) at Virginia Tech (VT).

I had heard that the Newman Library at VT stocked quite a lot of fiction books. This was in stark contrast to the Central Library at IIT Kgp, which stood by its resolve of not letting any fiction books enter its premises. (Of course, some friends at Kgp had mentioned that they had found some classical Hindi literature there.)

So one day, I decided to set aside some time to explore the 3rd floor of Newman library. This was where the fiction section was located. I was in for a breath-taking experience.

I started by asking a librarian where exactly the fiction books were located. He told me that I would find "light" reading material (e.g. Stephen King) on a popular reading rack in the 1st floor. He said that the 3rd floor housed a lot of material including a lot of "heavy" literature. If I wanted to find some particular author then I should look up the web-based catalog. However if I just wanted to browse through books to get a feel of the collection, then I could scan the racks. And this is what I decided to do.

As I started my walk , I noticed a few known authors and many others that I had not heard of. Here and there, I would notice a book that I had thought about reading for a long time. But I refrained from picking such books from the shelf just now. The racks went on and my mental list of "Must Read", and "Can Read" books kept increasing.

In certain racks, I found a concentration of particular authors. For example, Dickens' whole collection was supplemented by an array of biographies and critiques. There were Indian authors too. One of RK Narayan's books brought back memories of the time when I had bought and read it. And this time I did not have to see the price at the back of the book.

Overall, I realised that I could spend a significant amount of my Ph.D. tenure with these books. VT had provided me an totally non-technological perk and I was really thankful of that.

A New Beginning

Recently I wrote an email describing my present situation... It is extremely apt... Hence I am pasting it here...

For those who might not understand the reference, let me give a bit of a background... I have recently landed in USA to start my PhD. It is going to be a long innings here. Naturally parents and relatives in India are missing me already. This is what I wrote to my mashi (maternal aunt).

-----

"right now i am busy running around with orientation, getting furniture, getting groceries, catching the college bus etc... but it's fun right now... class or research work have not started yet... and meeting a lot of new people everyday.... so not feeling too homesick yet...

right now sharing a phone between 2 people, a laptop with a faulty keyboard (e and f do not work) between 3 people... so not getting ample infrastructure to contact everybody...

will mail in more detail later... when i have lesser time, a better keyboard, and am feeling more homesick..."

Happy Sad

A funeral is a place where one has to feel sad. But this time, for some reason, I felt a sense of happiness. I shall explain why that happened.

My grandmother's elder sister (boromashidida) had been suffering acutely for the last few months. When we got the news of her demise, it did not come as a surprise to us.

My parents and I had gone to her house to pay our last homage. Most of the ladies were crying. Boromashidida's husband was sitting on a chair outside the room in which the body was kept. Usually cheerful, I found that he had been stricken by grief. I felt sad for him - such a long and beautiful innings of over seventy years had finally come to an end. I went over to console him and held his hand.

It was his reaction which really surprised me. On seeing me, his expression changed to one of joy. He asked me when I had come to Kolkata. I had met him recently but he must have forgotten. So I reminded him that I was now working here. This pleased him even more. I could not help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the simple task I had been executing for the past two years – that of staying and working in Kolkata. It is common norm these days that boys and girls move out of Kolkata for work or education. This leaves very few people of my generation staying back in Kolkata, and available to attend these occasions.

This feeling of satisfaction, you can even call it pride, remained with me as I helped in carrying the hearse. As I did so, I could feel people’s gazes falling on me. They were probably saying, “Look at him. Such a nice boy. He has come back to stay with his parents.” I met many people that day after a long time. Many of them actually expressed such sentiments directly to me.

It also felt funny because there was something that these people did not know. That this “nice boy” was trying to go abroad for higher studies. And this was something that would take him away from his parents and his hometown for at least four years. You could say that the “nice boy” did not feel very nice about this at that time.

Anyway, I felt like sharing that day's of satisfaction with others. I am sure that there are many people staying abroad, who in their heart of hearts, pine to return to India. However, career decisions delay their return indefinitely. It is the aim of this writing to provide them a reason for their return. As the MasterCard advert goes, “There are some things that money can't buy...”

===================================================


On a different note, here's another mention of a "Happy Sad" feeling:- (Click on the PLAY button to watch the scene.)

(Also, here are the dialogues of the scene. From the movie, Cheeni Kum)

Why are you sad-sad and not happy sad?
Why are we sad? Because our hearts are heavy-heavy!
When is heart heavy-heavy? When some one hurts our heart!
Who can hurt our hearts so much? The one who is very close to heart!
Who is very-very close to the heart? The one with whom the heart feels very-very happy!
You were very happy so you are sad aren’t you?
So every thing is Happy-sad not sad-sad!

Sights. Sounds. Thoughts. In Kolkata!

One day my friend Amitangshu had come home. He is now working in Delhi in an NGO. He works on wetland conservation - a noble cause!!! His work takes him to many places. Sometimes he also goes trekking. He was showing me pics of the places he had visited, especially of his so-called 'favourite' trek. Personally speaking, my job takes me as far as the restroom from my cubicle and that's about it. And I have had some occasional walks through the hills during my trips to the hill-stations. But my experiences are nothing to compare to his exploits. So I jealously listened on.

Anyways while showing the snaps, he stopped on this truly out-of-this-world sunset pic. He said that this sight greeted him after a particularly treacherous trek. He went on to emphasise how one's life becomes complete after viewing such a sunset.

I agreed with him. But does that mean my life does not have those moments of jubilation and discovery? Well, I shall relate one incident through which I tried to create such a moment right in the middle of this choking and claustrophobic city.

It was a Sunday, the holiday of the week. But when you are a person who wants to spend 'quality' time with parents, is one who has quite a few professional goals in life, is the sort of chap who wants to keep good relations with relatives, and regular contacts with friends - then Sunday does not remain a holiday anymore. That Sunday my list of odd jobs had taken me through the better part of the day, and it was early evening then. While walking back home from a necessary but unenjoyable activity, I realised that the cacophony of the blaring horns reflected the state of my mind. I decided that I needed to spend some 'quality' time on my own. I needed a nice and quiet walk to clear out my mind. And for that, I needed a stretch of land without the horns, fumes, people etc etc etc.

But when you live in an area like Minto Park, such a stretch of land at 6 in the evening is hard to get. I realised that I would need to take a bus to reach such a place.

The Kolkata Maidan could have been one option. However my last experience of Maidan in the evening had made me realise that it had already become prey to crass commercialisation. Maidan in the evening is like a once-peaceful and idyllic hill station gone totally wrong. So I decided to travel in the opposite direction.

I took a bus and got off at Lansdowne Puddapukur, turned right into a lane, and started walking. Initially, the din of cars and people followed me into the lane. But as I kept walking, I found the crowds and sounds thinning. This was good. I passed beautiful bungalows. I noticed an old wrinkled woman sitting alone on a porch... an artistic sight. Some sleek cars passed by me - this area was obviously quite posh. As I walked on, the streetlights grew dimmer and I could start hearing my thoughts once again. This lane, Lovelock Lane, connected Lansdowne with Ballygunge Circular Road. I recognised that I had come here twice to drop off a very close friend. But then I had come by a different route.

I passed 'her' house and approached a fork in the road. One lane turned left. I shall talk about the other lane a little later. I took the left turn and it twisted a little more to end at an old house. It probably was of the pre-Independence era. It was different from the more modern and utilitarian Non-Bengali structures in that area. (Non-Bengali by dint of the Ganeshas greeting you from different vantage points). It even had a lawn. The lawn had probably just been sprinkled with water and it was exhaling the beautiful smell of first rain. I was admiring the relic of older times when a group of boys came out of the house. Their conversation contained usual boy's talk - girls, sports and leg pulling. They had possibly come here to make best use of the lawn - a rare thing in most houses nowadays. I became conscious that I must be looking stupid standing there and walked back quickly.

Coming back to the fork in the road, I now had the option of returning home or exploring the other lane. Now this lane was pitch dark. And it was just enough for two persons to walk side by side. I contemplated that it might be risky, not knowing where this 'blind' alley might lead ('blind' because I could not see anything once I was inside, and also it might actually have been a blind alley). Finally throwing caution to the wind, I walked in. I felt my heart skipping a few beats. And if someone had popped out from the sides then, I would have given the run of my life. Soon however I saw light at the end of this 'tunnel', and breathed a sigh of relief.

After that I decided that I had had enough exploration for the day and returned home. I felt satisfied that I had been able to simulate a sense of exploration and discovery from this incident of “alley-trekking”.

Some Self Promotion

The product I am working on (LipTracker) is being developed for Pixel Instruments, Los Gatos. The product was displayed at NAB 2007, for which I travelled to US. It received the Broadcast Engineering NAB2007 Pick Hit award.

This was the third consecutive year that the product received an award. I have been with the product for the last two NAB-s.

Previous awards were
NAB 2006 - TV Technology STAR Award
NAB 2005 - Television Broadcast Top Innovation Awards

Here's a snapshot of the Pixel Instruments website (showing off the 3 awards together)

a must read in this valentine season... in English

With reference to my earlier blog on an AnandaBazar Patrika article giving novel ways of proposing, some people had requested that I translate the anecdotes in English. Well I passed on the request to my father, and he very kindly translated a few of the anecdotes. Here they are:-

Anecdote 1

Negotiations for my marriage had been almost completed, but eventually aborted, owing to our reluctance to cough up the dowry being demanded. My elder brother had a friend, who had visited our home several times. Over the phone, he asked me one day," When are you changing your title?" Somewhat reluctantly, I blurted out the bitter truth. Some days later, he phoned up again; this time, he wanted to know whether I was looking
for a job, and also if I were going to appear for the SSC exams.

His enquiries had an air of sincerity, and I was drawn into talking to him, on all sorts of unrelated topics. It helped that he was a good listener as well. He was, however, not the type to fall in love at first sight, and I was also not that way inclined. But he phoned up again a few days later, this time wanting to know what I thought of him as a person. Quite naturally, I replied that I liked talking to him. Suddenly, quite out of the blue, he then popped the all-important question-"Will you marry me?" Without much thought, I replied in the negative. Unfazed and unrepentant, he grandly announced that then he had no option but to marry me himself. So many years have now passed, and I realize how lucky I was that he did not take my denial seriously.

- Sanchari Mukherjee @ Mumbai

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anecdote 2

Exactly nine years ago, I was stationed in a small town in Orissa, on active duty. There was a tall, handsome and alert male colleague, who had been posted several days before me. We had struck up an easy paced relationship. He was with me on a bitterly cold January evening, when I accidentally managed to spill some hot water on my hand. Fortunately, no major damage was done. But imagine my surprise when my tall, good-looking friend chose this very moment to vanish, striding away very rapidly on his long and elegant legs. I was dumbstruck, and at a complete loss for words. Suddenly, the bell rang! The ghost who had walked out had made an embarrassed reappearance. Before I could put in a word sideways, he had held out a peace offering-a tube of Burnol, and was then unashamedly asking me for my hand in marriage. I had heard of red roses being used to speak of one's love, but Burnol? Was he intending to soothe all life's cuts and burns with a tube of Burnol? He indeed was.

- Shrabani @ Baleshwar

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anecdote 3

We first met during law classes at Surendranath College. He was very much into literary activities, happily surrounded by an amazingly large number of female admirers, and I was one of them. His sister Tuku and I were inseparable, though, and we haunted the college snacks-bars .I would also regularly drop in at Tuku’s house, but he would invariably come in fairly late in the evening, dog-tired, and would almost instantly hit the hay, sawing timber without any care as to present company. At these moments, I would begin to wonder exactly whose friend I was, Tuku's or his. Incidentally, with the knowledge of two past affairs that I had had, he would maddeningly insist on being called No.3.And this in front of everyone else! You can easily guess me turning a beetroot red, much to the delight of all present. We had frequent and lively interactions at Mitali-Hatibagan and at Sweet Home opposite Calcutta High Court. But he never found it in him to say the sweet nothings that I yearned to hear.

Believe it or not, this charade was to carry on for a full 10 years or so, and I was more or less resigned to my spinsterhood, when suddenly Tuku's marriage talks were finalised with Sanjoy, and all members of their household became tied up with the preparations. Somehow in the midst of all this ongoing chaos, he managed to slip into our house early one morning. He had evidently been headed for the ration shop, since he was carrying 2 or 3 large jute bags under his arm. I was busy cooking for my married sisters who had come visiting with their children, and seeing him in the kitchen, you could hear a pin drop. He was unperturbed, and asked whether I could have a word with him in private, please? We were still not informal together after the 10 years or so together; but we went to our granny’s room, nevertheless. In a rush of words, he blurted out that there was a very large queue at the shop, and he had suddenly realized that he had to finalise something much more important, and he was willing to wait 6 months for my answer, but could I muster up enough courage to enter into a more lasting relationship? Dumbfounded at this sudden and very unexpected turn of events, I could only nod my head in mind-sapping relief, and thank Providence.

- Rekha Mitra @ HindMotor

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anecdote 4

One day, taking me completely unawares, my office-colleague Kabita, asked me point-blank, "Are you presently into seeing girls for a future match for yourself?" When I wanted to know why she asked, she replied that an elderly man had been making detailed queries about me. Then, I had no option but to agree that the search was indeed on for a suitable bride for me. Kabita then informed me that she had a good looking friend working for the Government on a decent pay packet, blessed with a good even temperament, who could prove to be the ideal mate for me. I told her that I did not want a working bride, but instead a stay-at-home type, who would help my mother with the daily chores. Kabita smiled and pointedly remarked that before marriage all people had great expectations from their would-be spouses, but that these changed drastically, soon after the actual event. Working girl or not, Kabita opined that all brides of today wanted to set up small, independent, cosy family-nests, which ultimately required a great deal more money from the nuclear family. Naturally, it stood to reason therefore that working girls made for a better proposition, since they could steer the family ship more effectively. At this, I could not suppress my curiosity any longer, and asked Kabita whom she had in mind for me. Serenely, Kabita smiled, and stated that she had set her eyes on me for a long time now, and would brook no refusal. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I could not make any sensible reply to her at that point of time, and such has been the story of my life with Kabita thereafter.

- Moloy Kumar Das Biswas @ Jamshedpur

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Movie Review : Before Sunset

There are some movies which have received universal acceptance as being extremely touching or extremely moving. Then there are some movies which have not yet attained that cult status, and yet when you saw them, they left a deep impression on your mind. According to me, "Before Sunset" is just such a movie.

"Before Sunset" (BS2) is the sequel to "Before Sunrise". I had watched the first movie almost two years ago. "Before Sunrise" (BS1) had ended on a predominantly melancholy note, but it also left a hint of hope. Thus when I started watching BS2, I was eager and anxious to know the fate of its' protagonists.

SPOILER : Plot details follow. Please note that people have not seen this movie and enjoy romantic things should first see both the movies before reading on.

In BS1, two people meet up as complete strangers on a train, and decide to spend the few hours till the next train, together. From evening till dawn, they roam the beautiful streets of Vienna, talking about each other's lives. There are some intimate moments too. At daybreak, according to their previously agreed arrangement, they part. Hence the melancholy. They promise to meet up in Vienna exactly after one year. Hence the hope. However, they do not exchange any contact details, fearing that such formalities might ruin the romance that had built up in their brief encounter. Hence the sequel.

BS2 takes us through the day in the lives of this same couple when they meet up seven years after that first meet. (For some reason, the girl - Julie Delpy - had been unable to keep the promised appointment in Vienna, even though she desperately wanted to.) As the movie progresses, we get to know what all happended in these two peoples' lives in the last seven years. Ethan Hawke is married, but is totally incompatible with his wife. He spent four of the last seven years writing a book on that one night in Vienna. His book became popular, which prompted his trip to Paris. Julie Delpy has a boyfriend but there's something missing in the relationship. At one point in the movie, Julie breaks down at the fact that all the guys she once thought of marrying, now were returning to her after getting married themselves. Finally, they both agree that the one night they spent together was so romantic, so perfect - that none have been able to love anyone else so perfectly after that.

The movie is about two adults trying to cope up with the whims and fancies of life which brought them together yet kept them apart. The end of the movie, which I shall not divulge, was such that it left me confused and angry. Can grown-up mature people act like this? And if circumstances make people behave in such a manner, why should fate conspire to create such circumstances.

Love, I believe, should create beautiful things. However, I failed to catch any ray of hope at the end of the movie. Or was I too obtuse? I certainly hope so.

a must read in this valentine season...

Hi

here's a writeup giving novel ways of proposing... a must read in this valentine season... (It is in Bengali)

those who can get hold of AnandaBazar Patrika Rabibashariya of 11th February 2007 can go read there.. otherwise you can download the PDF file of that page from here.

Update
Some people requested me that I translate the anecdotes in English. Well my father and I did just that. Here are some of the anecdotes in English.

Anecdote 1

Negotiations for my marriage had been almost completed, but eventually aborted, owing to our reluctance to cough up the dowry being demanded. My elder brother had a friend, who had visited our home several times. Over the phone, he asked me one day," When are you changing your title?" Somewhat reluctantly, I blurted out the bitter truth. Some days later, he phoned up again; this time, he wanted to know whether I was looking
for a job, and also if I were going to appear for the SSC exams.

His enquiries had an air of sincerity, and I was drawn into talking to him, on all sorts of unrelated topics. It helped that he was a good listener as well. He was, however, not the type to fall in love at first sight, and I was also not that way inclined. But he phoned up again a few days later, this time wanting to know what I thought of him as a person. Quite naturally, I replied that I liked talking to him. Suddenly, quite out of the blue, he then popped the all-important question-"Will you marry me?" Without much thought, I replied in the negative. Unfazed and unrepentant, he grandly announced that then he had no option but to marry me himself. So many years have now passed, and I realize how lucky I was that he did not take my denial seriously.

- Sanchari Mukherjee @ Mumbai

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anecdote 2

Exactly nine years ago, I was stationed in a small town in Orissa, on active duty. There was a tall, handsome and alert male colleague, who had been posted several days before me. We had struck up an easy paced relationship. He was with me on a bitterly cold January evening, when I accidentally managed to spill some hot water on my hand. Fortunately, no major damage was done. But imagine my surprise when my tall, good-looking friend chose this very moment to vanish, striding away very rapidly on his long and elegant legs. I was dumbstruck, and at a complete loss for words. Suddenly, the bell rang! The ghost who had walked out had made an embarrassed reappearance. Before I could put in a word sideways, he had held out a peace offering-a tube of Burnol, and was then unashamedly asking me for my hand in marriage. I had heard of red roses being used to speak of one's love, but Burnol? Was he intending to soothe all life's cuts and burns with a tube of Burnol? He indeed was.

- Shrabani @ Baleshwar

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anecdote 3

We first met during law classes at Surendranath College. He was very much into literary activities, happily surrounded by an amazingly large number of female admirers, and I was one of them. His sister Tuku and I were inseparable, though, and we haunted the college snacks-bars .I would also regularly drop in at Tuku’s house, but he would invariably come in fairly late in the evening, dog-tired, and would almost instantly hit the hay, sawing timber without any care as to present company. At these moments, I would begin to wonder exactly whose friend I was, Tuku's or his. Incidentally, with the knowledge of two past affairs that I had had, he would maddeningly insist on being called No.3.And this in front of everyone else! You can easily guess me turning a beetroot red, much to the delight of all present. We had frequent and lively interactions at Mitali-Hatibagan and at Sweet Home opposite Calcutta High Court. But he never found it in him to say the sweet nothings that I yearned to hear.

Believe it or not, this charade was to carry on for a full 10 years or so, and I was more or less resigned to my spinsterhood, when suddenly Tuku's marriage talks were finalised with Sanjoy, and all members of their household became tied up with the preparations. Somehow in the midst of all this ongoing chaos, he managed to slip into our house early one morning. He had evidently been headed for the ration shop, since he was carrying 2 or 3 large jute bags under his arm. I was busy cooking for my married sisters who had come visiting with their children, and seeing him in the kitchen, you could hear a pin drop. He was unperturbed, and asked whether I could have a word with him in private, please? We were still not informal together after the 10 years or so together; but we went to our granny’s room, nevertheless. In a rush of words, he blurted out that there was a very large queue at the shop, and he had suddenly realized that he had to finalise something much more important, and he was willing to wait 6 months for my answer, but could I muster up enough courage to enter into a more lasting relationship? Dumbfounded at this sudden and very unexpected turn of events, I could only nod my head in mind-sapping relief, and thank Providence.

- Rekha Mitra @ HindMotor

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Anecdote 4

One day, taking me completely unawares, my office-colleague Kabita, asked me point-blank, "Are you presently into seeing girls for a future match for yourself?" When I wanted to know why she asked, she replied that an elderly man had been making detailed queries about me. Then, I had no option but to agree that the search was indeed on for a suitable bride for me. Kabita then informed me that she had a good looking friend working for the Government on a decent pay packet, blessed with a good even temperament, who could prove to be the ideal mate for me. I told her that I did not want a working bride, but instead a stay-at-home type, who would help my mother with the daily chores. Kabita smiled and pointedly remarked that before marriage all people had great expectations from their would-be spouses, but that these changed drastically, soon after the actual event. Working girl or not, Kabita opined that all brides of today wanted to set up small, independent, cosy family-nests, which ultimately required a great deal more money from the nuclear family. Naturally, it stood to reason therefore that working girls made for a better proposition, since they could steer the family ship more effectively. At this, I could not suppress my curiosity any longer, and asked Kabita whom she had in mind for me. Serenely, Kabita smiled, and stated that she had set her eyes on me for a long time now, and would brook no refusal. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I could not make any sensible reply to her at that point of time, and such has been the story of my life with Kabita thereafter.

- Moloy Kumar Das Biswas @ Jamshedpur

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I am proud to present to you...

Hi All

I am proud to present to you the writings of Srimati Mukherjee. You can read her writings at http://joc2.blogspot.com/ . Please note that the writings are in Bengali.

She is my friend Srikanta Mukherjee's mother. I found her writings to be of great quality and thought that such writing should reach a wider audience.

Blogging is a great medium through which a writer can find many readers. However like many people of my parent's generation, Srimati Kakima is not very conversant with Computers. Hence I helped her create this blog.

In the end, I will be glad if a lot of people read her blog and send her their comments at her email id, which is <srimati.mukherjee@gmail.com >. I would request you to forward this email to as many people as you can.

Regards
Kriti

PS : Thanks to my mother for doing the typing. And kudos to me for patiently answering her doubts again and again and again..... :)

What a Movie !!

I have been down with viral fever since Tuesday. Today's the 6th day and I hope to join office from tomorrow. But in these days, I watched a lot of movies on TV - "The Mummy Returns", "Zinda", "Bride and Prejudice", "Gladiator", "Airplanes II : The Sequel" etc. I watched most of these movies for the first time, since I have been quite irregular at catching up with movies for the last two years.

Of all these movies, I enjoyed Zinda the most. Though the dark and gruesome story might not appeal to everyone, I recommend it for its gripping storyline and realistic picturisation. Zinda stands apart when compared with other Bollywood fare.

PS : The songs of Zinda are haunting... Anyone would enjoy them... especially the songs Yeh Hai Meri Kahani (Strings) and Zinda Hoon Main (by Shibani Kashyap)http://www.raaga.com/channels/hindi/movie/H001015.html

I did it... I did it... I did it...

Those are lines from "My Fair Lady", a movie that I recently watched and loved.

The reason why I am uttering the same lines, is that I finished clearing the backlog at Orkut. Ever since my birthday went by, there were umpteen number of scraps to which I had not replied. Finally, with great grit, resolve and physical resilience, yesterday, I managed to reply to each of those scraps.. Phew!!!

Recipe : Pai’s Corn Toast

6 pieces

Ingredients

2 tablespoon Butter
2 tablespoon Maida
1 glass Milk
Salt and Pepper - to taste
Sugar – 1 teaspoon
Capsicum diced into small bits - 1/3rd cup
Sweet Corn Kernels – 1 200gm can
Bread – 12 slices

[For the uninitiated, Sweet Corn Kernels are the type of corn, which have become the rage with cinemagoers at multiplexes across India. I used a 200g can of Green Giant Niblets, which you can get for Rs. 49/- but there are equally good cheaper packs available. ]

Procedure

• Firstly put the Kernels (about 3/4ths of the can will do) in the pressure cooker and cook till two whistles. Basically you need to bring it just to a boil so that it still retains it crispiness. (Microwave directions are also provided on the wrapper.) Drain the water and place the corn aside.
  
• Saute the capsicum in a little butter and place aside. It should also be crunchy.
  
  For the White Sauce
• Heat the butter in the kadhai and add the maida just when it starts to brown.
• Mix the two well and heat till the maida is cooked.
• Then add the milk. Add salt, pepper to taste and the sugar. Cook till it becomes a thick but flowing paste.
  (This white sauce is a basic sauce in so many dishes that every self-respecting cook should have it in his/her repertoire. For our preparation, we should also add the capsicum along with the milk so that it also simultaneously gets cooked.)
  
  
• When the white sauce is ready, add the corn. Stir for a minute and your spread is ready.
  
  The final step
• Toast 2 bread slices. Butter them. Apply the spread on the bread. Spread some cheese and pepper, cover with the other slice and serve. Yum!!!
  

PS : This sandwich is served in Coffee Pai, a coffee parlour near my house. My mom replicated it at home after having had it over there. Hence the name. Like before, the photo will come soon.

Recipe : D Chowmein

Serves 4 people

Ingredients

• Vermicelli (1 packet) - not the one which has long strands but the one which is broken into small bits
• Onions
• Vegetables : Tomato, Beans, Capsicum, Potato, Carrot - diced into cubes as for chowmein
• Spices : Heeng (Asaphoetida), Ajwain, Haldi (Turmeric), Chilli Powder

Procedure

• First heat some oil in a kadhai and fry the Vermicelli till golden brown
• Separately boil some water. In the boiling water add the fried Vermicelli after it has cooled down a bit. Add salt to taste. (Measure of water is 1 cup of water per cup of vermicelli. This is important as this determines the texture of the Vermicelli. After soaking in the water, it should not become too soggy.)
• Now fry the onions. Add the spices. After the onions have cooked a bit, add the diced vegetables. Fry till they are cooked, but only so much that they remain crunchy.
• Finally add the Vermicelli and toss around a bit. D chowmein is ready to serve.

Final suggestions : You may serve with chaat masala sprinkled on top, or with tomato sauce. Whichever way, it tastes yummy!!!

Dream Theatre : 3D

I am going to relate to you a dream that I recently had. At the end of the dream, I was put in a sticky situation. I will request my readers to suggest ways by which I might have got out of that situation.

At the end, I shall also relate the solution that I conceived in the somnolent state I was in when I woke up.

Scene 1
The dream starts an I find myself in a park with some small kids. All of us are playing with a Frisbee. Suddenly one of the kids throws the Frisbee wildly and it whizzes past all of our heads and lands in a drain.

I go over and look into the drain. To my surprise I find the Frisbee resembling an upturned dinner plate. Anyway, as the drain is full of muddy dirty water, I refrain from picking it up.

Scene 2
To my utter surprise, I find out that one of the kids playing with me in the park is actually my son. Presently I am in a room with him. I am getting ready for a party and he is jumping all over me. As I wear my tie, I promise him that I shall fight the goons to bring back his Frisbee. To add to the weight of the promise, I fire a few weighty punches in the air. My son is suitably impressed, and starts to envision me as his superhero. Leaving my son with his illusions (true or false) I leave for the party along with my wife.

Scene 3
Now I am at the party with my wife. She is presently in my arms and we are doing a slow ball-dance. I notice that she is tall, slim, dark and attractive. She is tipsy after a few drinks. However, I am totally in my senses. My mind is occupied by thoughts of the Herculean task before me.

Retrieving a Frisbee from a drain should not be a formidable task. However, the drain and its periphery have undergone a drastic transformation from one dream scene to another. I visualise the area while dancing, and I see visions of a dark and formidable street. On one side of it, there is the canal (the erstwhile drain) in which my son's Frisbee is lying. A series of workshops lie on the other side of the street and its' inhabitants look like goons coming straight out of prison. They wear dirty cargos and rag-like vests, and they seem to have muscles popping out from all over their body. In each of their faces, I see scars, pockmarks and the same lecherous and trouble-mongering expression.

If only our city had been better developed, I think to myself. Then this canal-side road would have become a beautiful promenade lined with elegant skyscrapers, much like the waterfronts of many US cities.

But for now, it is through this haven of ruffians that I have to venture to retrieve my son's Frisbee. And on top of that, I have to take my wife along with me.

Last Scene
Now I find myself driving my car at almost zero speed through that narrow lane. My wife is on the seat beside me and is sleeping as peacefully as a kitten. The car lights are on and the scumbags outside can see her. As my car inches along at snail's pace, a crowd of leering ruffians forms outside. Now I am almost at the end of the road. Soon I must stop my car. And to retrieve my son's Frisbee, I have to go some distance, leaving my sleeping wife in such contemptible and dangerous company.

There is no turning back. What do I do?

Please suggest some solutions…

The solution that I got in the semi-conscious state I found myself in, when I woke up from this bad dream......
As I near the end of the road, I spot a small door leading into a mosque. Having stayed beside a devout Muslim at hostel, I know that a prayer session must be concluding around this time. I stop the car, lock it from outside and rush inside the mosque. As soon as the prayers get over, I drag the Maulvi outside. On seeing him, the ruffians who have by now almost clambered on to my car, shy away like naughty boys caught red-handed. I request the Maulvi to guard my wife and dash off to retrieve the Frisbee. Soon I bring it back (by now, it is no more a Frisbee; it is a dinner plate) and find my wife sleeping in ignorant bliss.

Mission executed....

A Simple Experiment

By means of this blog, I request you to participate in a simple experiment. I shall outline the procedure here.

First, I shall describe a few situations that I have encountered in my personal life. Then, I shall ask you a few questions regarding the described situations. Your role would be to honestly answer those questions.

Here and there, I might put forward some of my views regarding the described situations. I would request you to patiently hear me out. Pretty simple experiment, isn’t it? Then, let’s go ahead.

Situation 1: As I was waiting for the lift in my office building, I noticed a beautiful girl coming along. Being an early hour of the day, there was no one else nearby. As our eyes met, I noticed a hint of interest in her eyes. I was dying to start talking with the girl. I could feel the palpitations in my heart …

Question: I felt the urge to talk to this beautiful specimen from the opposite gender. Have you, in a similar situation in your life, felt a similar urge? Answer in Yes or No.

Situation 2: A (female) friend and I had visited a coffee shop recently. We struck up an interesting conversation. Flitting from one topic to another, the conversation landed on the topic of my friend’s boyfriend. She started by describing the time when they had started going around, and then talked about a bad patch in their relationship. Then, she went on to describe how they had made up. I could notice a glow of happiness in her face, as she talked about him. As I listened to her monologue, my feelings changed from one of pleasant curiousness to slight jealousy. How could these people be so happy? Must you have a love-partner to be in such a state of bliss?

Question: Have you been faced with a similar situation? Have you, at one point or another in your life, felt a similar need to have a partner? Answer in Yes or No.

My views : Now, here are my views on the situations described above. Some of you, having faced similar situations in the past, might have already found your life-partner. I believe that these ‘needs’ of mine will be fulfilled in the future. It may be in the form of marriage, or in the form of a girlfriend. My point is that there is no need for me to despair. A positive solution lies in the future.

Now, let me describe a few more situations.

Situation 3: While going for my morning walk, I pass this eating joint beside my house. If I pass it around 7 o’clock, I find boys, much younger than me, huddled together, peeling potatoes. Every day of the week, barring Sundays, they peel potatoes. During my walk, I think about my career, about the rising pollution in the city, and other such issues. I wonder what those kids think about.

Question: Have you seen small kids, slaving away at menial tasks, wasting the best years of their lives? Have you ever been worried for them? Answer in Yes or No.

Situation 4: One day, I was running a few chores during the daytime. As I was passing Minto Park, I noticed a small kid defecating behind a tree. It was a busy time of the day, and hundreds of cars were whizzing past that site. Quite a few pedestrians, like me, were also using that footpath. The kid was in full public view, but obviously he had more pressing things to attend to. Initially amazed by the sight, I noticed that this footpath had been used for similar purposes quite regularly. Unlike this child, the others had probably been careful to control their bowel movements to less busier hours of the day.

Question: Have you seen a similar pitiable sight? Have you felt injustice over the fact that some people do not get even their basic needs attended to? Answer in Yes or No.

My views : Well, I keep feeling sad when I come across these sights. I wonder why there is no natural social mechanism for alleviating these inequalities. A natural mechanism like the one that gets people married. Why isn’t there a natural movement towards addressing such social injustice?

Initially, when I set out to write this piece, I started on a pessimistic note. But since then, I think I have found a positive answer. Like my views expressed earlier, I think the solution for this injustice lies in the future.

After all, I cannot help each and every child in the streets. Much like the fact that I cannot marry each and every pretty girl that I come across in a lift. I hope I shall be able to help at least one needy child in my life. That, I think, will be similar to remaining happily married with the love of my life.

D Sandwich

I'm learning a bit of cooking. I make the breakfast every Saturday. I recently learned to make this sandwich, and it tastes great. So I thought I'd share it here. Some friends in the US, who are having to cook on their own, can easily try it out.

Ingredients:

1. Bread – 2 slices
2. Butter
3. Oil
4. 1 Cucumber – sliced into round discs
5. 1 Tomato – sliced into round discs
6. Cheese

Procedure:
Butter 2 slices of bread. Heat a very little amount of oil in a non-stick fry pan. (You can also use some butter for this). Lightly fry the non-buttered side of one slice till it starts appearing brown. This forms the outer side of the sandwich.

Take the browned bread slice off the pan. Arrange the sliced cucumber and tomato on the buttered inner side. Then add a generous sprinkling of grated cheese. Cover this with the buttered side of the other bread slice.

The outer side of the top slice of bread has still not been fried. Now gently pick up the whole sandwich and place it top down on the frying pan. That means the yet-to-be browned side of bread now gets browned. This also results in the grated cheese melting a bit, giving the sandwich its characteristic taste.

After the bread has become adequately brown, gently pick up the whole sandwich from the frying pan. Halve the sandwich diagonally.Your sandwich is now ready.

NOTE : 1 cucumber, 1 tomato and 1 Amul cheese cube usually suffice for 6 slices of bread (i.e. 3 sandwiches)

[Unfortunately, I don't have a DigiCam. But the above photo from this wonderful site at least shows almost all the ingredients required. (Except the strawberries!!)]

[Edit 11/6/2006] : Now, I have a DigiCam. The above photo is of the actual D-Sandwich.

The Interim Period

It has been quite some time since I posted something on my blog. Here are some things that I did during that time.

• Created an e-tutorial about my final year B. Tech project. Had been thinking about making one for a long time. Finally, was able to implement it in the last month. (Thanks a lot to BSNL Broadband connection at home). You can check it out here. Even if TI DSP’s are not what you usually fascinate about, you will be able to appreciate the introduction written for me, by my friend Atul Narayan. I asked him to put all his marketing skills into the introduction.
  
  
  
• Thought of a PJ. It goes like this:
  
  One day, a convoy of black Hyundai Sonata-s was proceeding along a highway. Suddenly, the first Hyundai Sonata broke down. And as a result, the whole convoy had to stop till the problem was fixed.
  
  Now, try to remember that old blind man from Sholay… At that time, he was on the way to his daily numaaz. As he was trying to cross the road, he was hindered by the serpentine queue of Sonata-s. My question is, what did the blind man from Sholay say at that time?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Read on
  
  
  V
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ”Itna Sonata Kyon hai, Bhai !!!”
  

“Nirjon Saikat-e” Film Review

The Sunday started by watching ‘Shaadi No. 1’ at Inox multiplex. As to how much I liked the movie, the lesser said – the better. Back home, I saw ‘Shrimaan Prithviraj’ on the computer. It’s an acknowledged Bengali classic and I saw it for the first time. Needless to say, it was highly entertaining.

After this, I found my parents watching another Bengali movie on the telly. The movie was called ‘Nirjon Saikat-e’ and my parents said that it was a famous oldie. Once I started watching it, I could not pull myself away. Since I liked it so much, I shall write about it here. Also, many people have not heard about it, and I would suggest them to definitely put this on top of their viewing list.

Cinema ta 30-40 bochor purono. Aar saikat ta holo Puri’r saikat. Tokhon kaar kale lokera Puri-turi gele mash-du ek katiyei ashto. Aaj kaal eto boro chuti bhaba-o jaay na. Jaai hok, shei Puri-te chuti kataate geche emon lokjoneder niyei cinema. Lokjoner moddhye ache ek-jot bidhoba buri. Shombhoboto tara ek-ee poribaar-er shodoshyo – ek sathe ghurte esechen. Taader moddhye du-jon buri non – ekjon hocche Ruma Guha Thakurta, olpo boyeshe bidhoba hoyechen. Aar ekjon hocche Sharmila Thakur, shey to bidhoba-i noy, pseudo bidhoba. Taar premik taake ekebaare biye-r mondop porjontyo giye ditch koreche – taai opomaan, betrayal-er jaala etc etc-te aajkaal shey bidhobar motoi thaake.

Aar aache Anil Chatterjee - film-er prodhaan nayok. Taar life ta ekebaare ‘mast’. Kormo khetrer dik theke shey artist ba author. Ekaai eseche Puri - shombhoboto inspiration-er jonne. Puri-te oi bidhoba buri-der sathe taar alaap hoy, taader sathe khub bondhutto hoy. Taara deke deke artist chokra-ke aador kore khawaay. Ruma ke Anil didi bole daake. Aar Sharmila to kaar-o sathe kothai bole na.

Jaai hok, ekdin enara shob shomudre chaan korte jaan. Sharmila’r to kichu tei spriha nei. Aar Anup o generally khub lazy – shey beach-ei boshe thakte chaay. Taader ke chere baaki-ra shomudre nemey pore. Tokhon Anup aar Sharmila kotha bolte arombho kore. Sharmila je khub depressed taa-i kothaay kothaay bojha jaay. Tokhon Anup suggest kore je shomudre chaan korle taar mon ta halka hoye jaabe. Sharmila gele shey-o jaabe. Sheshe anil-er onek onurodhe aar nuliya’r sahajye Sharmila jol-e naame. Kichu khon-er moddhei taar sundor mukhe ekta haashi phutey othe. Shob duhkho bisorjon diye shey ekebaare metey othey shomudre-r sathe.

Scene-ta dekhe amaar Puri’r jonne prochur mon kemon korchilo. Amaar mone aache je Puri-te giye amaar kono kaaron-e khub mon kharaap chilo. Aar shomudre chaan korte korte amaar mon-taao shob koshto bhuley gelo. 30-40 bochor aage-o loker taa hole emon-ee mone hoto. Raag hole joto chaao shomudre ke maaro; kanna pele joto chaao kaado – shomudro shob kichu-ke nijer moddhye grohon kore nebe. 30 bochor aageo je bhaabe nito, ekhono temon bhaabei nebe.

Accha ei holo shomudro-chaan er brittanto. Porey shei bidhoba-buri’r dol Konarak jaatra koren. Onek onurodh aar abdaar koraa-te bhoboghure Anil-o taader sathe jete badhyo hoy. Jaatra-ta abaar goru’r gaarite. Amra jokhon Puri theke Konarak gechilam, tokhon amader goru’r naam chilo Tata Sumo.

Konarak pouchey shekhaan-e aar ek mojaar kaando ghote. Konarak-er Sun Temple-er dewaal-e karukarjo dekhle ekta bishoye besh gyaan orjon kora jaay. Bishoy-ta holo Kamasutra. Emon kichu gyaan orjon kora-r por amaader bidhoba buri-ra Anil ke gaalagaal korte thaken. Bolen “Hotochaara! Kemon jaygay niye esechis. Sharmila jeno oi dikey ekebaare na jaay.”

Mojaar kotha ei je ami jokhon ma-baba-mashi-didi-jamaibabu-bhagne niye Konarak giyechilam amaar-o thik ek-ee experience hoyechilo. Mashi-ra ek ekta karukarjo dekhe amader bolchilo “Khobordaar oi dike takaabi na.” Ami to mukh tipey tipey heshe phelchilam. Aar amaar theke choto amaar bhagne-o chilo. Konarak jatraa-r por olpo boyoshe-ee shey onek gyaani hoye gechilo.

Finally, aar ekta scene-er kotha boli. Konarak-er surjo mondir dekhe buri-ra pherot gechen. Baaki ache shudhu Sharmila aar Anup – puro mondir-e ekaa tarai ache. Kichu ekta kothaay Sharmila khub depressed hoye jaay, bole “Beche theke ki laabh.”. Tokhon Anup taake bole, “Ki bolchen aapni? Beche to amader thaktei hobe. Ami nije onek kichui maani na, kintu ekta jinish shotyi - je ami atheist noi. Ami bhogobaan-e bishhash kori. Ami moni kori kothaao kono ekta force ache je protyek muhurte amaader jibon-ke gorche, bhangche, abaar gorche, abaar bhangche. Aar amader kaaj hocche - ei je jogot-e amader pathaano hoyeche, shekhane mon khule baacha.”

Kotha gulo amake prochur touch korlo. Ei byapaare amar feelings-tao kichuta similar.

Byaas, “Nirjon Saikat-e” niye eto-taai. Tapan Sinha’r direction-er movie. Na dekhe thakle dekhe phelun.

[Most of this blog is in Bengali. I started writing it in English, but found the feelings flowing better in Bengali. Inspired by http://jacchetai.blogspot.com/ .]