"Nadine—you're the one with the vertebra that WON'T QUIT"
And then they stared at their lake reflections fer hours, Jennifer B.
http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/2008/09/giraffe-and-ost.html
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Let the necking...begin!
"Charles—it was love at first sight when I saw your beautiful, long neck..."
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I feel blue
Yes. I’m feeling sorry for myself again. Being sick tends to have that effect on me. As I stood this morning in the kitchen… dirty kitchen, scrounging around for a spoon that looks “clean” to eat my sago porridge, I’m engulfed in waves of self-pity. Majorly cause its pitiful that one has to cook breakfast for oneself when one is so sick. And when one has to go see the disinterested-in-your-care doctors in a big fancy hospital by oneself. And when one has to buy medicines and then remember to take them by oneself. And when your tummy hurts in the middle of the night there isn’t anyone but your own thineself who is rubbing your tummy going, “there there”… ok ok I wasn’t. But I was moaning by myself. :( I miss my mom.
Meh.
Ok anyways. I have decided on the tattoo I want. Finally. YES! Something to look forward to and worry about till I get it and then worry about how it looks. Fun. :P
No, it’s not ornamental or a bilingual motif that means auspicious in one language and turnip in another. No, it’s not my name in Hebrew. No, it’s not his name in Braille. Oooooh. Wait. That’s a NEAT idea. Hmmmm. Bears thinking over. Well, no ones going to be able to miss it once I get it. That’s all I’m mentioning at this point.
I’m more than a lil excited about it. Majorly cause it means freedom for me. For so many things that ppl take for granted, it will be a fresh start for me. I’m doing a lot of research on this, trying to find the right artist, esp. if that right artist is also located where my clients are when I go visit them in States :P cause travelling to SF to get a tattoo on a business visit to NY would just not be possible!
Thinking of the tattoo actually gives me a lot of… joy, believe it or not. There isn’t all that much to be joyful about as it is in my life. Maybe the word is hopeful. Things at work couldn’t suck more. Things at home stink… literally. My pee is sunset orange, which normally is a happy color, but not in your toilet bowl. I’m surviving on fried eggs and toast. My mouth tastes vile and bitter. I think I have dandruff. I think Cherie has it too. I have no desire to move beyond the space that is my bed and at times I contemplate if it would be ok to just pee in the bed just so I do not have to get up. My heightened sensitivity to noise, light and in particular smell is not HELPING!!!
Meh.
But thinking of the tattoo helps.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
I am a Thunder and Static kind of day!
Life Begins, new Mommieee >:D<, you tagged me which leads me to believe that you have some interest in knowing what day I wish to be, so here goes.
***
There's one and only one kind of day I wish to be and that is a thunderous, overcast, heavy with impending rain, charged with static day.
When you wake up in the morning and the sky looks dark and angry, rumbling deep in her belly her discontent with the general state of affairs, the hot arid indifference of the sun, and you just know it's going to be a wet wet, gloriously wet day. The air is charged with static, making your hair dance in the wind as you take down the laundry from the clothesline, a bitty annoying but a bitty fun, it smells slightly musty and you turn your nose up a notch to catch the deliciously effervescent scent.
Lightning flashes and streaks across the sky, the wind picks up strength, lifting petticoats and kicking up naughty dust devils, they swirl and tease the road-side trash. Thunder cracks out a loud warning setting off car alarms, startling you and making you almost spill your morning tea. Steady arms tether you close and you both stand just under the canopy of the balcony, unmistakably giving in to the joy of watching the heavens put on a pompous light and sound show.
Pitter-patter-pitter-pat-pat... fat orbs whizz down to the parched earth, crack open and turn everything a shade or so dark and very damp. The heady scent of wet earth makes your senses dance, his eyes light up with delight as you lean in for a kiss, the soft spray of the raindrops misting over your feet deliciously. The heavens pour their hearts out, enveloping you in a world of rain, turning everything into muted shades of pastel, like an old watercolor painting.
Lost in languor, the wet morning seeps into a damp evening. Snuggled close under warm blankets, the world outside the window looks clean and fresh, a soft cool breeze sneaks in ruffling the curtains. "Chai", softly whispered, just so it would not annoy you... too much."Ok baba, but you make the pakoras."
***
Even though I HATE what rain does to anything below the vicinity of my ankles, how the roads turn muddy and impassable, how the gutters swell and flood with trash, reeking of filth... not to mention how suddenly all autowalas not want to go anyFUCKINGwhere. GRRR. And oh yeah, the infux of happily swarming mosquitoes and flies. Yech.
But I absolutely adore storms, booming thunder and crackalicious lightning, the wind wailing as if the world is truly coming to an end. The sheer power of nature and the faciniating display of it, completely rocks my senses. Most of my dreams, esp. the flying ones have an overcast weather, gloomy clouds and the soft spray of rain. I love it. When I wake up in the morning and I see its all couldy and dark, I feel euphoric. There's a promise of something fresh and clean in the air, plus it tends to make me feel reeeeeeeeally frisky. :P
Tagging ~nm.
***
There's one and only one kind of day I wish to be and that is a thunderous, overcast, heavy with impending rain, charged with static day.
When you wake up in the morning and the sky looks dark and angry, rumbling deep in her belly her discontent with the general state of affairs, the hot arid indifference of the sun, and you just know it's going to be a wet wet, gloriously wet day. The air is charged with static, making your hair dance in the wind as you take down the laundry from the clothesline, a bitty annoying but a bitty fun, it smells slightly musty and you turn your nose up a notch to catch the deliciously effervescent scent.
Lightning flashes and streaks across the sky, the wind picks up strength, lifting petticoats and kicking up naughty dust devils, they swirl and tease the road-side trash. Thunder cracks out a loud warning setting off car alarms, startling you and making you almost spill your morning tea. Steady arms tether you close and you both stand just under the canopy of the balcony, unmistakably giving in to the joy of watching the heavens put on a pompous light and sound show.
Pitter-patter-pitter-pat-pat... fat orbs whizz down to the parched earth, crack open and turn everything a shade or so dark and very damp. The heady scent of wet earth makes your senses dance, his eyes light up with delight as you lean in for a kiss, the soft spray of the raindrops misting over your feet deliciously. The heavens pour their hearts out, enveloping you in a world of rain, turning everything into muted shades of pastel, like an old watercolor painting.
Lost in languor, the wet morning seeps into a damp evening. Snuggled close under warm blankets, the world outside the window looks clean and fresh, a soft cool breeze sneaks in ruffling the curtains. "Chai", softly whispered, just so it would not annoy you... too much."Ok baba, but you make the pakoras."
***
Even though I HATE what rain does to anything below the vicinity of my ankles, how the roads turn muddy and impassable, how the gutters swell and flood with trash, reeking of filth... not to mention how suddenly all autowalas not want to go anyFUCKINGwhere. GRRR. And oh yeah, the infux of happily swarming mosquitoes and flies. Yech.
But I absolutely adore storms, booming thunder and crackalicious lightning, the wind wailing as if the world is truly coming to an end. The sheer power of nature and the faciniating display of it, completely rocks my senses. Most of my dreams, esp. the flying ones have an overcast weather, gloomy clouds and the soft spray of rain. I love it. When I wake up in the morning and I see its all couldy and dark, I feel euphoric. There's a promise of something fresh and clean in the air, plus it tends to make me feel reeeeeeeeally frisky. :P
Tagging ~nm.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Thoo!
How many times has one said that curse or wanted to say it? At times I have said it in pure jest when kidding around with friends, and at times I have muttered in under my breath wholly intending to do if suitably provoked. But would you ever really, given the opportunity to spit on someone’s face, spit on their face?
I did. Yip. Yes Siree.
I woke up on Moving Day to find Bhumi missing, and I eventually figured out that Madame’s run away. Imagine that! The fucking bitch after all the goody-two-shoes act she pulled on me for 7 months, after treating her like a fucking choti sister, ran fucking away. Just like that. Needless to say, my temper was at an all time thermometer-breaking high. The fucking moron never imagined that I'll go hunting for her, file a report with the police and come show her what PISSING me OFF means. After 3 hours of locating the crappy police station, dealing with crappy policemen who really really sincerely ought to be castrated with plastic kid-safe scissors, hunting down the placement agency in the galli's and nukkas of Badarpur Border, I stormed into the Agency, screeching like a banshee.
TeeHee. In retrospect, the reactions all round were both intensely satisfying and funny as hell. Bhumi was beyond shocked, stunned speechless as I screamed abuses at her in both Hindi (Yes... including the C-word. Yes. Me. Yes. I said the C-word. Just once tho) and my spectacular, albeit wasted on the retarded fuckwits, English. In hind sight, some of the things I said to her are admittedly whacked! My throat was parched (from the hunting expedition and all the screaming) and yet I managed to scrounge around in my dry throat and scrapped enough spit to hurl it smack dab in the back-stabbing bitches face.
Not once but TWICE!!
Later as I sat in the car, I looked within myself at wonderment that I could lose control to that extent. That my rage would drive me to such frenzy. Point to be noted though here is that I didn’t for a nanosecond feel bad. Nope. But what concerns me is the exultation spasming through me at her reaction... stupefied fear. It felt awesome watching her cower in fear, in utter bewilderment, trying to grapple with the fact that her asinine act of just running away would drive me to insanity.
GAWD! The only thing I restrained myself (mighty proud of my restraint btw) was not to beat her to a bloody pulp, red-belt-in-karate-kiss-my-ass. Gah!
Now I'm stuck with a temp maid who talks too fucking loudly but likes the dog and cat (or pretends to! Allah hi jaane), can't cook, has ZERO sense about most things and how to do them, yaps constantly about her previous Madame and how balls-out-fantastic she was (YET she left her!) but I tolerate her cause I have to.
HATE it.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Silver Linings
Cher did something last night that just amazed me. No, she did not cook me a fancy dinner. But it was equally amazing.
It was bedtime and I called her over to come follow me to the room, when I reached the room I, out of habit, closed the door behind me, forgetting for a moment that Cher was following me. Before I could turn around to open the door, it opened. The lil miss had ambled over to the door, bumped her nosed on it and figured it was closed, so she stood up on her hind legs and pushed it open with her lil itty bitty fore paws!! AWWWWWWWWman it was ever so cute. And amazing. I know she's blind and not stupid, but still.
The D-Day is approaching. Over the weekend I shift. I have managed to arrange for the advance rent and 2 months security somehow from my own resources. I'm still about some short, but I think I'll manage for now. *phew* There's this THING hanging over my head that just will not let me relax. There's a lot going on in the office and it's driving me insane. Plus the house shifting and my natural tendencies to launch into panic attacks because any major change in my life will completely unhinge me, has not been fun. I hate setting up house. Hate the whole 2-3 weeks it takes to settle in a new home. I like things to be SET already when I get there. *sigh* I shouldn't complain. But I'm still going to. GAH!
And then I fell off the cyclerick yesterday. Which was NOT FUN! Just banged my shoulder, trying to save the laptop. The upside was that the cyclerick wala dropped me all the way to the office and I didn't have to switch cyclericks after the crossing.
It's all about the sliver linings I tell you. :P
It was bedtime and I called her over to come follow me to the room, when I reached the room I, out of habit, closed the door behind me, forgetting for a moment that Cher was following me. Before I could turn around to open the door, it opened. The lil miss had ambled over to the door, bumped her nosed on it and figured it was closed, so she stood up on her hind legs and pushed it open with her lil itty bitty fore paws!! AWWWWWWWWman it was ever so cute. And amazing. I know she's blind and not stupid, but still.
The D-Day is approaching. Over the weekend I shift. I have managed to arrange for the advance rent and 2 months security somehow from my own resources. I'm still about some short, but I think I'll manage for now. *phew* There's this THING hanging over my head that just will not let me relax. There's a lot going on in the office and it's driving me insane. Plus the house shifting and my natural tendencies to launch into panic attacks because any major change in my life will completely unhinge me, has not been fun. I hate setting up house. Hate the whole 2-3 weeks it takes to settle in a new home. I like things to be SET already when I get there. *sigh* I shouldn't complain. But I'm still going to. GAH!
And then I fell off the cyclerick yesterday. Which was NOT FUN! Just banged my shoulder, trying to save the laptop. The upside was that the cyclerick wala dropped me all the way to the office and I didn't have to switch cyclericks after the crossing.
It's all about the sliver linings I tell you. :P
Friday, July 25, 2008
Buri Nazar Wale...
... tera fucking face kala!!
GRRRR.
So goddamn pissed right now. The fucking landlord refuses to waive off the 10% renewal increase on the rent. Fucking greedy pig, I hope a thousand fleas nest in your armpits till kingdom come!
I knew it was too good to be true and I knew something will jinx it sooner than later. I fucking hate the entire fucking world right now.
***
Update- 8:09 PM
Hmmmm. So. After many discussions and advices and lectures and one coax, I called the landlord up and agreed to his terms. *sigh* I just want to be done with this and move on to the next issue on my list. I hope things look brighter once I move.
GRRRR.
So goddamn pissed right now. The fucking landlord refuses to waive off the 10% renewal increase on the rent. Fucking greedy pig, I hope a thousand fleas nest in your armpits till kingdom come!
I knew it was too good to be true and I knew something will jinx it sooner than later. I fucking hate the entire fucking world right now.
***
Update- 8:09 PM
Hmmmm. So. After many discussions and advices and lectures and one coax, I called the landlord up and agreed to his terms. *sigh* I just want to be done with this and move on to the next issue on my list. I hope things look brighter once I move.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
House Hunting
House hunting sucks ass.
I was all excited about the prospect of moving house, day dreaming about how things will be this way and that way in the new place, how I'll do it up with this and that, blah blah blah... Just the hunting part has soured my mood so much that I'm no longer excited about anything. The rent rates are friggin HIGH, the rooms are friggin SMALL and Landlords are a PAIN in the ASSHOLE region. I have had 2 of them tell me on phone that they will not give to single women and they want a family with kids as tenants, they then turn around and ask, "Tumne shaadi nahin ki... kab karogi?" WTF? I wanted to retort back, "Shaadi nahin ki, lekin char bacche hain, wo chalega?"
It's not like I don't get their point. Single ppl are (lets be honest) notorious for "loud music, drinking alcohol, fighting and getting into ruckuses, walking about in knickers (men & women both), living like yahoos, messing up the place, friends dropping in at odd hours, too many opp. gender friends living in, yada yada yada" I. GET. IT. But it's still unfair. Not all of us are yahoos who spit on walls and sleep on fresh newspapers instead of fresh sheets. Some of us are really swell about keeping the place clean and will only have the steady come live them them for a couple of weeks. :P
And it's not like married ppl WITH effing kids don't create issues. But what gets me all riled up is the "respectability" factor firmly attached to married ppl. Are married ppl just by the fact that they are MARRIED, respectable? Don't married ppl walk about in knickers? Don't their kids gleefully scribble with crayons and finger-paint on walls? Don't married ppl play loud music? Don't "respectable" married ppl drink alcohol and beat their wives? How is it that all these are acceptable or ignored by these "pious" landlords? Effing double standards!
I have finalized on a place. Spoke to the landlord and yes, he did ask me the golden question, "What are your future plans? When do you intend to get married?" GRRR. I bore it with good grace, the apartment is worth that much at least! And it is a rather nice place esp. considering all the options I have seen so far, even tho it has teeny-tiny balconies. Expensive no doubt, but looking at some of the benefits it has I'm keen to snatch it asap. I'm more than a bitty apprehensive about the chikchik I might have to suffer cause I have a dog or if my heels make too much noise clacking in the corridors, not to mention if I have *ahem* male friend(s) drop by... *sigh* but I shall bear that as well with good grace (GAWD! I hope!!)
Lets be positive; since I already have suffered a lecture just last night for being negative, and hope for the best.
I was all excited about the prospect of moving house, day dreaming about how things will be this way and that way in the new place, how I'll do it up with this and that, blah blah blah... Just the hunting part has soured my mood so much that I'm no longer excited about anything. The rent rates are friggin HIGH, the rooms are friggin SMALL and Landlords are a PAIN in the ASSHOLE region. I have had 2 of them tell me on phone that they will not give to single women and they want a family with kids as tenants, they then turn around and ask, "Tumne shaadi nahin ki... kab karogi?" WTF? I wanted to retort back, "Shaadi nahin ki, lekin char bacche hain, wo chalega?"
It's not like I don't get their point. Single ppl are (lets be honest) notorious for "loud music, drinking alcohol, fighting and getting into ruckuses, walking about in knickers (men & women both), living like yahoos, messing up the place, friends dropping in at odd hours, too many opp. gender friends living in, yada yada yada" I. GET. IT. But it's still unfair. Not all of us are yahoos who spit on walls and sleep on fresh newspapers instead of fresh sheets. Some of us are really swell about keeping the place clean and will only have the steady come live them them for a couple of weeks. :P
And it's not like married ppl WITH effing kids don't create issues. But what gets me all riled up is the "respectability" factor firmly attached to married ppl. Are married ppl just by the fact that they are MARRIED, respectable? Don't married ppl walk about in knickers? Don't their kids gleefully scribble with crayons and finger-paint on walls? Don't married ppl play loud music? Don't "respectable" married ppl drink alcohol and beat their wives? How is it that all these are acceptable or ignored by these "pious" landlords? Effing double standards!
I have finalized on a place. Spoke to the landlord and yes, he did ask me the golden question, "What are your future plans? When do you intend to get married?" GRRR. I bore it with good grace, the apartment is worth that much at least! And it is a rather nice place esp. considering all the options I have seen so far, even tho it has teeny-tiny balconies. Expensive no doubt, but looking at some of the benefits it has I'm keen to snatch it asap. I'm more than a bitty apprehensive about the chikchik I might have to suffer cause I have a dog or if my heels make too much noise clacking in the corridors, not to mention if I have *ahem* male friend(s) drop by... *sigh* but I shall bear that as well with good grace (GAWD! I hope!!)
Lets be positive; since I already have suffered a lecture just last night for being negative, and hope for the best.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Walk a mile in his... feet
I take a cycle rick to the Railway Crossing, and after crossing the tracks take another cycle rick to where the office is. From my house to the crossing and there on is the "back" route, where the roads (as previously ranted about) are HELL! and 80% of the time after the Railway Crossing the cyclerick walas on the other end refuse to take the back route leading up to the office. The "road" is so bad that they flat out start whining and weeping like chokri's how bad it is and I'm left with the option to either walk to the main road and flag a cyclerick down or just... walk the entire way to work.
NOT FUN.
GRRRRRR!
Now there are a couple of cyclerick walas who do not whine and are keen to make 15-20 bucks. If I'm lucky (which I'm not) I'll get one of these guys and they'll happily take me to office. This morning I was lucky! It had rained last night and at dawn, and the "road" was beyond icky, it was just this gooey mess of mud and sewage, churned to a glistening consistency by trucks and bullock carts. While I sat high above the ground only forced to deal with the bone jarring bumps and the noxious smell, the cyclerick wala has to jump on and off the cycle and drag the vehicle in order to maneuver through it all and I know most of these guys do NOT want to bother with this exertion or cannot (lets be kind) and step into the gooey mess and get their feet dirty but this guy was UNFAZED. He not only jumps right in but takes his chappals off!!
So, off we go, with my cyclerick wala walking BARE FEET in this unholy mess! I was shocked, amazed and humbled. This guy just wanted to make a living and he is ready to go to lengths to make that possible cause quite obviously he does not have a choice. I'll be off from here in a few weeks time, off to better roads but he'll be here, working these very roads. The thought of stepping into that pool of infections and diseases is close to unthinkable for me, and even if I did, I'll be scrubbing me feet till kingdom come and go see a doctor to rule out any worm infestations etc. But not this guy. This guy will probably get to wash his feet, if at all, late that night or next morning and I know he cannot afford a quack, much less a doctor. He probably does not know what teems in this squelchy mess and how dangerous some of these infestations are.
Reality check.
Yip. I have it good. way too good, even if I have to walk to work and complain about the heat and dust and how much I hate this place, I have it good.
Feet, I salute thee!
NOT FUN.
GRRRRRR!
Now there are a couple of cyclerick walas who do not whine and are keen to make 15-20 bucks. If I'm lucky (which I'm not) I'll get one of these guys and they'll happily take me to office. This morning I was lucky! It had rained last night and at dawn, and the "road" was beyond icky, it was just this gooey mess of mud and sewage, churned to a glistening consistency by trucks and bullock carts. While I sat high above the ground only forced to deal with the bone jarring bumps and the noxious smell, the cyclerick wala has to jump on and off the cycle and drag the vehicle in order to maneuver through it all and I know most of these guys do NOT want to bother with this exertion or cannot (lets be kind) and step into the gooey mess and get their feet dirty but this guy was UNFAZED. He not only jumps right in but takes his chappals off!!
So, off we go, with my cyclerick wala walking BARE FEET in this unholy mess! I was shocked, amazed and humbled. This guy just wanted to make a living and he is ready to go to lengths to make that possible cause quite obviously he does not have a choice. I'll be off from here in a few weeks time, off to better roads but he'll be here, working these very roads. The thought of stepping into that pool of infections and diseases is close to unthinkable for me, and even if I did, I'll be scrubbing me feet till kingdom come and go see a doctor to rule out any worm infestations etc. But not this guy. This guy will probably get to wash his feet, if at all, late that night or next morning and I know he cannot afford a quack, much less a doctor. He probably does not know what teems in this squelchy mess and how dangerous some of these infestations are.Reality check.
Yip. I have it good. way too good, even if I have to walk to work and complain about the heat and dust and how much I hate this place, I have it good.
Feet, I salute thee!Sunday, July 13, 2008
Malai Kofta
A staff member at work today wanted to go home a tad bitty early; it was her brothers B'day and she was making Malai Koftas for him.
Hmmmmmmm.
Past few weeks ago I read in Nids bloggie that she'd made these yummilicious koftas WITH pictures posted to torture me of course.
Apparently it's not rocket science that goes into creating this magical dish. Feeling extremely adventurous, not to mention that the visions of creamy kofta gravy was driving me literally insane, I decided to try my hand at making them.
Popped out both Sanjeev Kapoors recipe book and the prep method on Nids bloggie, just so I'm both inspired and I don't make any goof ups mixing this instead of that. Supposed to take under an hour to get these puppies ready, and it took me close to 3! TeeHee! I felt like I was making explosives, handling the uncooked koftas as if they will explode in my hands, splattering the grated paneer filling all over me poor face. Carefully and very very slowly I managed to make 12 dumplings and fried them one by one. Oooooooo! They looked yummy and I almost chucked the gravy part, just wanted to bite into these and be done with it.
Next, the gravy was easy peasy... actually not, I always screw up the gravy. Somehow I still don't know how to get that smooth texture in the end instead of the lumpy, gritty texture I'm left with no matter how long I cook the damn thing. I variated a bitty and instead of adding the tomato puree to the fried onion puree, I added the masalas to the fried onion puree and broiled the entire mess till it turned a nice toasted shade of brown. To that I added the tomato puree and hmmmmm I admit it did look quite close to how gravies outta look. I let it boil close to 15 minutes and gobbled 2 koftas in the interim... could not resist. :P
Finally when the gravy looked "done" I switched off the gas and added the cream. Voila! Somehow I had managed to not fuck the entire thing up and it looked close to what I order from restaurants. I dropped the fried dumplings into the gravy and spooned the gravy over the puppies a bitty. So happy and hungry that I quickly ladled up a portion of it onto my plate and stood at the kitchen counter itself and ate it all. TeeHee!
It was definitely spicy (I have a generous hand when it comes to measuring out the chilly powder) and I think next time I'll try HARD to tone down the chilly factor and make it a tad bitty more bland. It was definitely rich, cause after one kofta I was like *BURP!* and forced myself to somehow finish the other one. So happy with myself, I never imagined I could make this dish at home and never imagined that it would actually taste good. *pats back*
Hmmmmmmm.
Past few weeks ago I read in Nids bloggie that she'd made these yummilicious koftas WITH pictures posted to torture me of course.
Apparently it's not rocket science that goes into creating this magical dish. Feeling extremely adventurous, not to mention that the visions of creamy kofta gravy was driving me literally insane, I decided to try my hand at making them.
Popped out both Sanjeev Kapoors recipe book and the prep method on Nids bloggie, just so I'm both inspired and I don't make any goof ups mixing this instead of that. Supposed to take under an hour to get these puppies ready, and it took me close to 3! TeeHee! I felt like I was making explosives, handling the uncooked koftas as if they will explode in my hands, splattering the grated paneer filling all over me poor face. Carefully and very very slowly I managed to make 12 dumplings and fried them one by one. Oooooooo! They looked yummy and I almost chucked the gravy part, just wanted to bite into these and be done with it.
Next, the gravy was easy peasy... actually not, I always screw up the gravy. Somehow I still don't know how to get that smooth texture in the end instead of the lumpy, gritty texture I'm left with no matter how long I cook the damn thing. I variated a bitty and instead of adding the tomato puree to the fried onion puree, I added the masalas to the fried onion puree and broiled the entire mess till it turned a nice toasted shade of brown. To that I added the tomato puree and hmmmmm I admit it did look quite close to how gravies outta look. I let it boil close to 15 minutes and gobbled 2 koftas in the interim... could not resist. :PFinally when the gravy looked "done" I switched off the gas and added the cream. Voila! Somehow I had managed to not fuck the entire thing up and it looked close to what I order from restaurants. I dropped the fried dumplings into the gravy and spooned the gravy over the puppies a bitty. So happy and hungry that I quickly ladled up a portion of it onto my plate and stood at the kitchen counter itself and ate it all. TeeHee!
It was definitely spicy (I have a generous hand when it comes to measuring out the chilly powder) and I think next time I'll try HARD to tone down the chilly factor and make it a tad bitty more bland. It was definitely rich, cause after one kofta I was like *BURP!* and forced myself to somehow finish the other one. So happy with myself, I never imagined I could make this dish at home and never imagined that it would actually taste good. *pats back*
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Caught
I had gone grocery shopping (an errand I absolutely luuurrrvvveee!) this evening and while I was having all the fun piling stuff in my cart, it started to rain. Unfazed, thinking it must be a drizzle cause it certainly didn't look like it would rain when I'd walked to the market, I hopity-hopped between the aisles.
After paying for the purchases and requesting the shop-boys to get the goods delivered to my apartment, I walked out the corridor completely unprepared for the downpour. JFC! It was raining bathtubs! Now I'm not the sort at all who likes or lets just say "tolerates" getting wet in the rain. The whole prospect of wet clingy clothes, dripping hair, squelching feet is NOT my idea of fun. Ick.
Stranded I decided to wait it out with few other shoppers who too were caught unprepared for this downpour. It was ok while there were these 2 other ladies with me, the local asswipes kept a suitable distance. Pretty soon, ones husband come to pick her up and the other flagged down a cyclerick. Yippee for me. Like bees to honey (and I'm NOT flattering myself here) the doucebags gleefully gravitated to where I stood, trying hard to blend in with the poster on the wall depicting some cartoon character happily munching on corn-flakes. Not successful.
Fine. I get it. In their retarded gnat-sized brains the whole "girl stranded in the rain" evokes orgasmic visual malfunctions. WooHoo for you. BooHoo for me. Stinking sweating men, drenched in their pathetic excuse of "masculinity" and the rain, swearing, smoking and excitedly scratching their balls as they guffawed, leered and made really gag-worthy comments, I fantasized about un-taping one of the electrical wires hanging near the signboard and just oh so casually letting it fall near where they stood in inch deep water. Ohh the absolute joy of watching them dance the happy gay dance of electrocution. *sigh* Fried hair and popping eyeballs... if wishes were horses!
After about an hour (it was 9pm by then) of fantasizing and working on that thick skin I have been trying to build for 2 years now, I decided to risk the ickyness and brave the rain. I set off, hunched and walking as fast as my lil legs could carry me, ignoring the color and questionable properties of the waters flooding the the streets. I turn right for my street and it's pitch black with just the faint glow from windows of houses, barely letting me see cause it was raining so hard. I trudge on, unknowing that which lay before me was a veritable "talaab" reaching up to my knees!!! I was suddenly caught in this terrifying pool of gushing water, the rain beating down on my head, can't see for shit... one of my favorite nightmares come true.
Panic, doesn't even begin to describe what exploded in my heart, raced through my veins, hitching my lungs shut and rendered my limbs numb. I haven't had the drowning nightmares in years. And here I was living it. Again. I swear I saw spots dancing in front of eyes, just how it used to when I'd have an panic induced asthma attack. No. That's NOT where we are going now are we trooper? Uh-Huh. I'm thankful for my sheer grit that I didn't completely lose my head and talked my myself into moving my legs, one at a time, telling myself that it's real not a dream, there's nothing in the water making it's way towards me, the lil bumps and nudges I feel against my legs are just twigs and trash, I can breathe, one puff in and one puff out, I have full control and I can walk out of this. Inching forward I used the cars parked on the sides to feel my way out to the bend and into another street. The water level was up to my shins here and manageable. There were no cars parked here, so stumbled around a bit and came to the other bend. The water was only ankle-deep, and I could see my gate further ahead, relief flooding through me. I literally ran home, feeling a lil stupid at my panic attack and how childishly I lost control of my faculties, yet quivering happily to be where there was light and the comfort of my home.
This isn't the first time this has happened to me. Years back I was caught in another downpour, with no ride home and decided to head out, foolishly believing that I possessed the gumption to tackle deserted roads and pouring rain on me own. Not. I must have fallen close to 3-5 times that night, stumbling around in the flooded streets, tripping into pot-holes, breath wheezing through constricted capillaries, desperately convincing myself that the water I was floundering in wasn't teeming with creepy-crawlies. I manage to make my way to a local market, stranded in front of a sole dingy pan-wala at 10:00pm, drenched and scared shitless cause all I encountered there too were just these asswipes, making me realize how ineffective my gender really is. I had made so many calls that night, requesting from friends to family to come pick me up, getting all sorts of excuses why they can't, and finally I got through to my cuz who actually could. While I waited for her to get done with work and come get me, I stood outside a fast-food joint, weeping my heart out, sucking on my inhaler, hoping I don't pass out. She finally arrives, shocked to see the state I'm in, blubbering like a hysterical baby, so happy to see a familiar face. Dropping me home, my Mom is even more shocked cause I was running 104 fever by then, a lil... ok a lot outta my mind, blabbing stuff that made no sense to her, clinging to her and crying like the world was ending.
Hmmmm. How did this get so long?
I don't hate the rain. As long as I'm indoors and/or with company. I actually love stormy weather, love lightning and thunder claps, static making my hair dance. Love the emotions cloudy weather evokes in my heart, tempting me to take flying leaps off windows and balconies. But the actual presence of water and darkness are too close to a dream I have had since I was child, that I have worked hard to beat it to the back of oblivion, never to rear it's ugly head again.
After paying for the purchases and requesting the shop-boys to get the goods delivered to my apartment, I walked out the corridor completely unprepared for the downpour. JFC! It was raining bathtubs! Now I'm not the sort at all who likes or lets just say "tolerates" getting wet in the rain. The whole prospect of wet clingy clothes, dripping hair, squelching feet is NOT my idea of fun. Ick.
Stranded I decided to wait it out with few other shoppers who too were caught unprepared for this downpour. It was ok while there were these 2 other ladies with me, the local asswipes kept a suitable distance. Pretty soon, ones husband come to pick her up and the other flagged down a cyclerick. Yippee for me. Like bees to honey (and I'm NOT flattering myself here) the doucebags gleefully gravitated to where I stood, trying hard to blend in with the poster on the wall depicting some cartoon character happily munching on corn-flakes. Not successful.
Fine. I get it. In their retarded gnat-sized brains the whole "girl stranded in the rain" evokes orgasmic visual malfunctions. WooHoo for you. BooHoo for me. Stinking sweating men, drenched in their pathetic excuse of "masculinity" and the rain, swearing, smoking and excitedly scratching their balls as they guffawed, leered and made really gag-worthy comments, I fantasized about un-taping one of the electrical wires hanging near the signboard and just oh so casually letting it fall near where they stood in inch deep water. Ohh the absolute joy of watching them dance the happy gay dance of electrocution. *sigh* Fried hair and popping eyeballs... if wishes were horses!
After about an hour (it was 9pm by then) of fantasizing and working on that thick skin I have been trying to build for 2 years now, I decided to risk the ickyness and brave the rain. I set off, hunched and walking as fast as my lil legs could carry me, ignoring the color and questionable properties of the waters flooding the the streets. I turn right for my street and it's pitch black with just the faint glow from windows of houses, barely letting me see cause it was raining so hard. I trudge on, unknowing that which lay before me was a veritable "talaab" reaching up to my knees!!! I was suddenly caught in this terrifying pool of gushing water, the rain beating down on my head, can't see for shit... one of my favorite nightmares come true.
Panic, doesn't even begin to describe what exploded in my heart, raced through my veins, hitching my lungs shut and rendered my limbs numb. I haven't had the drowning nightmares in years. And here I was living it. Again. I swear I saw spots dancing in front of eyes, just how it used to when I'd have an panic induced asthma attack. No. That's NOT where we are going now are we trooper? Uh-Huh. I'm thankful for my sheer grit that I didn't completely lose my head and talked my myself into moving my legs, one at a time, telling myself that it's real not a dream, there's nothing in the water making it's way towards me, the lil bumps and nudges I feel against my legs are just twigs and trash, I can breathe, one puff in and one puff out, I have full control and I can walk out of this. Inching forward I used the cars parked on the sides to feel my way out to the bend and into another street. The water level was up to my shins here and manageable. There were no cars parked here, so stumbled around a bit and came to the other bend. The water was only ankle-deep, and I could see my gate further ahead, relief flooding through me. I literally ran home, feeling a lil stupid at my panic attack and how childishly I lost control of my faculties, yet quivering happily to be where there was light and the comfort of my home.
This isn't the first time this has happened to me. Years back I was caught in another downpour, with no ride home and decided to head out, foolishly believing that I possessed the gumption to tackle deserted roads and pouring rain on me own. Not. I must have fallen close to 3-5 times that night, stumbling around in the flooded streets, tripping into pot-holes, breath wheezing through constricted capillaries, desperately convincing myself that the water I was floundering in wasn't teeming with creepy-crawlies. I manage to make my way to a local market, stranded in front of a sole dingy pan-wala at 10:00pm, drenched and scared shitless cause all I encountered there too were just these asswipes, making me realize how ineffective my gender really is. I had made so many calls that night, requesting from friends to family to come pick me up, getting all sorts of excuses why they can't, and finally I got through to my cuz who actually could. While I waited for her to get done with work and come get me, I stood outside a fast-food joint, weeping my heart out, sucking on my inhaler, hoping I don't pass out. She finally arrives, shocked to see the state I'm in, blubbering like a hysterical baby, so happy to see a familiar face. Dropping me home, my Mom is even more shocked cause I was running 104 fever by then, a lil... ok a lot outta my mind, blabbing stuff that made no sense to her, clinging to her and crying like the world was ending.
Hmmmm. How did this get so long?
I don't hate the rain. As long as I'm indoors and/or with company. I actually love stormy weather, love lightning and thunder claps, static making my hair dance. Love the emotions cloudy weather evokes in my heart, tempting me to take flying leaps off windows and balconies. But the actual presence of water and darkness are too close to a dream I have had since I was child, that I have worked hard to beat it to the back of oblivion, never to rear it's ugly head again.
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