A Mother’s Dream

As the clock struck the 20th hour of the day, I waited for the door bell to ring. Cooking a meal on week nights is a real chore, but with my cook, Saraswati, a mundane meal can become delicious as I feel she infuses a lot of TLC in her cooking.

She came right on time. But one look at her anguished face, and I knew that something was terribly wrong. Cradling her in my arms, incoherent words were uttered as she started sobbing profusely. Her 20 year old daughter had eloped. 

Like most migrants to Mumbai, Saraswati came at the age of 13, running away from her home in West Bengal to escape a society that had nothing to offer a girl child. Fed up of not going to school and waiting to be married off, she boarded a train and realised that her destiny had brought to Mayanagri or Mumbai. But to survive in this city was not easy, so she started working as a live in maid.

Dance bars were at their peak in the 90's and the lure of easy and great money, attracted Saraswati to this profession. Saraswati was rechristened as Priya. 

However, she found a good man, who married her and Priya once again became Saraswati.  They had a baby girl, named her Purnima, and life was all hunky dory. She started working with me once she lost her husband. Whilst I started educating her daughter, Saraswati worked her magic in various homes, saving money for her daughter's marriage. Purnima finished her 12th and started working in a call centre, where she met a colleague and eloped.

Saraswati always dreamt big for her daughter. She lived in a one room tenement, called a chawl. She wanted Purnima to live in a flat, hence the education and English speaking classes. Numerous dreams were being weaved, whilst chopping onions and stirring the pot. Today, her dreams are shattered as the boy is not educated, lives in a chawl with his parents, 4 brothers and a sister. 

I don't know how to console Saraswati. The numerous sacrifices, the hours of toiling from sunrise to sun down, making a small gold earring from the bonus she got during Diwali, the hand me downs she wore to give her daughter new clothes...now, all in vain. Seeing her cry, I just had one prayer to the Almighty, to give me the power never to cause a tear to fall from my mother's eyes…

Daddy's Little Girl

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Blue skies, white fluffy clouds and me soaring high and then hurtling down...to be caught in Daddy's arms... Every girl has this memory of their dads. I do too.Today, he is not beside me. Just one night he decided that his time was up and departed. It was just another night...

As I was waiting outside the ICU doors waiting for the doctor to bring him out of an overnight stay in the hospital for a health scare, I heard Daddy call out to me. Soul to Soul. He wanted to leave. He said he was finding it tough going. I was in a trance. I did not want to let him go. He was perfectly healthy. I fought for him. I fought with all my willpower to give him that extra strength to fight this weakness of leaving me, leaving all of us. The struggle continued for a few more minutes. Finally, he said bye.

The sobs shook me and I just looked at Bobby, my husband and told him that Daddy is no more. My Mama sitting next to me started shouting at me to shut up, screaming at me that he was going to be shifted out of the ICU in a few minutes.

I looked at my watch just as Daddy bid adieu. It was 9.15am. Twenty minutes later the doctor came and broke the news that daddy had passed away at 9.13am.

It's been a year since he died. I still can't forgive him for just quitting when he was so fit and healthy. Just ten days prior he was in the tennis court playing his daily game. He had dry pneumonia and within a few hours of being diagnosed, he died. Apart from the myriad soul wrenching moments and questions of, "could we have done more, was he suffering from before...",we had no answers.

As people celebrated Father's Day and put pictures of their dads, I was bereft. I had left home 20 years ago to make a

name for myself in Mumbai as I wanted my own identity, rather than be known as Ashok Das' daughter. What I would do now to change the course of events and time and be Daddy's little girl, all over again...

The Backup Tiffin Plan

A meal at Shilpa Mansukhani's house always needs a back up plan. With all good intentions, Shilpa better known as Bestie goes out of her way to lay a great spread, but the food lacks the bite to take it to culinary excellence. 

 

A great hostess, her house is artfully decorated, crockery and cutlery all set on the table. Juices to ice cream are stocked in the fridge. But the food.... 

I always play safe when I am invited to her house. I ask her to make egg curry because one can rarely screw up that dish. The second back up plan is that I bring some home cooked food as a goodwill gesture, but more for my gratification than anything else. This time round, I had cooked fish kalia, a bengali dish.

But Bestie had shifted house and had a new cook. The dal

has always been good, but the suspect has  been the mutton dish. When the lid was taken off, the aroma of the  mutton rogan josh assailed my senses. I dug in without much ado.

You know the mutton curry is perfect when the meat is just tender enough to bite without breaking into slivers in your hand and when the marrow slides noisily out of the bone into your mouth and the curry looks like hot molten lava, without the chilli powder but from ripe tomatoes. 

The alu fry was just perfect to have with dal and rice accompanied by some chicken kababs. A meal like this is best had with the hand. Bestie smartly postponed her manicure date until next week. No ways the manicure would have survived the finger licking experience without tainting it with yellow food stains.

I sat cross legged on the dining table chair and did full justice to the meal, never venturing far from the mutton curry. And that my friends, is the polished plate.

Mint saunf and tamarind golis were served to me after lunch. This is Bestie, a girl who can't boil water and has never fried an egg till date. Memories of her, our buddy and soul mate, Meetu come crashing as we loll in bed after such scrumptious meals, either at my place or Meetu's. 

Bestie finally unearthed a gem in the kitchen and has ended a long standing tradition of me getting a tiffin from home.

So all our lovely friends... bravo, we have found a new address for our luncheon meets...

The Big Breakfast

Breakfast is a meal introduced to me a few years ago. All through my 2 decades as a journalist, my first meal of the day would be around 6pm after my first story would be edited and telecast.

But as health took priority, I started discovering the joy of eating early. Not always healthy, but always sumptuous. So some of the best breakfasts that I have ever devoured are...

The Keventer's breakfast at Darjeeling is a carnivorous' delight. The platter comes loaded with sunny side up double eggs, ham, bacon, salami, thick slices of bread, warmly toasted, with gooey butter and home made marmalade. Wash it down with cold coffee and pls give a healthy burp.

As a journalist, one tends to visit many places. Once while

shooting for a film called Aazaan in Bangkok. We reached location at 5 am. The breakfast served was sticky rice and pork fry with veggies. As I attacked the food with a gusto alongwith my Thai co-workers , my Indian colleagues could be heard saying, "sick", "disgusting". A full belly later, I was the only one energetic enough to shoot an action sequence from a 90 storeyed building...

After a long outdoor schedule, all I ask for is home food. And it is customary for me to have my favourite paratha and alu bhaji with the chilli pickle on the morrow of my return. No one asks me how many parathas, I am served hot ones until I am exhausted. A finger bowl is brought, and I curl up on the bed and promptly fall asleep. That is my way of recuperating.

I shall save the finest for the last.  The IHOP breakfast at

6am, post an all night shoot of IIFA in Tampa, Florida, last month. James and Olga, my friends, took me for a diner experience, which served, thick slabs of southern fried steaks ( these steaks are actually beef cutlets, smothered in cornflour and some cornflake crunchy stuff and deep fried), two fried eggs, grits, biscuits and gravy and endless cups of black coffee. 

Exhaustion attacked in all fronts... tired teeth sitting drunkenly  in a disjointed mouth, a stomach that has just realised the momentous task ahead of it to digest the food and noodly legs trying to hoist my body slumped on the booth... Oh heavens, how far is the bed, asked my satiated soul? 

Breakfast in my house is a grand meal, and comes in courses, unlike any other meal.. Fruits and nuts follow a glass of warm water, honey and tulsi leaves. Then the stuffed Roti ( cabbage or radish or potato) with a mint chutney and tea. An hour later, it's a chilled glass of buttermilk.   

Next time, anyone is in Mumbai, please drop over for breakfast. An open invitation to all who believe that eat breakfast like a Maharaja.

Dilip Saab’s Ashok Babu

Daddy has always been a die hard fan of the golden era… Actors like KL Saigal, Balraj Sahni and Dilip Kumar fascinated him. And I guess their histrionics must have extremely good because Daddy never spoke the hindi language with any finesse.

When I started journalism and got the cinema beat, my dad was a worried man. I had seen all of two hindi movies until then. Trishul when I was 8 years old and Qurbani when I was 10. And my hindi, well, lets just not start that topic. But he soon realized that he had a tenacious daughter who learnt the ropes quickly and soon became the Entertainment Head of a leading news channel.

I had my chat show then, and lo behold, the chat show was in hindi. One of my first guests on the show was Dilip Kumar and Saira Banu. I set up for the interview in their garden and commenced my interview.

As my parents were visiting, I asked them to meet me

outside Dilip saab’s bungalow at a designated time when I would have wrapped my interview. Shoot wrapped up, I thanked them and asked for their leave. As Dilip saab escorted me out, I turned around and at the spur of the moment, I requested him if he could meet my parents. A gracious man, he immediately agreed.

I ushered in a visibly shell shocked mom and dad. They sat in the drawing room and Dilip saab asked dad his name. When he said Ashok Das, the thespian replied, “in that case, you are my Ashok Babu.” They sat and chatted for over two hours over tea with biscuits, samosas and jalebis. 

The actor drew out a reticent fan and spoke on topics that had nothing to do with movies. From books to places, from history to politics…the conversation carried on, whilst me, mom and Saira Banu looked and listened.

Finally, the evening came to a close. Daddy was in seventh heaven, Mama was deeply embarrassed, whilst I thanked God for my impulsive action that brought him so much happiness. Daddy is no more with me, but I am sure as fans across the globe rush to grab a copy of Dilip Kumar’s memoirs, Daddy will be reminiscing about his time with a superstar, a legend…Thank you, Dilip saab, for making his Ashok Babu feel so special.  

The Luncheon Date

We live in the suburbs of Mumbai. Most of our work is around this area and so an appointment in Town is a big occasion. From waking up early to beat the traffic to planning our lunch, it's like a day outing.

For Bobby and me, it's a lunch date. A serious rarity when your 3 year old daughter is the centre of our universe. We zeroed in on a Parsi joint called Cafe Brittania, famous for its berry pulao and salli boti. A lunch house which has served royalty and a US President. 

The meeting was successful and we were in a mood to celebrate. But the humid heat was smothering us and the rich, spicy curry was certainly not the flavour. We settled for Chinese and headed to Ling's Pavilion, one of the oldest Chinese restaurants in Mumbai. 

Ling's Pavilion has always been out of our modest budget as struggling professionals. Once the hunting ground of the high socialites of the townie brigade, we never ventured inside. But since the deal was sweet, we decided to splurge.

Surprisingly, the prices were reasonable for a menu that served chicken, duck, pork and beef including seafood. While Bobby stayed with his ever favourite chicken and fried rice, I decided to go for the red hot beef. And the bill of fare was prawns.

Golden fried prawns in butter and garlic of substantial size was served. Succulent and hot, each morsel was drenched with the pungent garlic aroma with that faint hint of butter. The starter set the pace for our lunch. 

The chicken was surprisingly tart with the use of extra dark soy sauce. Called Mongolian Chicken, the spicy aromatic gravy complimented the bland chicken fried rice.

But the red hot beef was what got me digging in with gusto. The beef was cooked to perfection with the use of the lovely red Thai Chillies and a specially blended oil that lingered long after we had finished eating. 

 

Chinese food is like a mama's bosom. Will always feed you and the soul. You can seldom go wrong in your choice of dish. And so till our next appointment, I await our stolen lunch date with hubby dearest. 

The Big Test For Mommy

The uniform is washed and ironed. The school books are neatly labelled and put in the school bag. And my daughter, Zehn is all set to start her academic life at Junior KG.

It was just the other day, that Bobby and I were blessed with this bundle of joy. Till today, Zehn's world comprised of us, the hired help and her teacher at Euro Kids. I remember holding her hand and taking her to playschool when she was not yet 2.

Now no more lunch boxes from home, no car to drop and pick her up from school... the school shall provide lunch and will have a van to pick and drop her from the designated pick up spot. Being such a slow and fussy eater, Zehn will probably be able to swallow only a couple of mouthfuls in her lunch break. 

Her school hours will be stretched, extra curricular activities will be included, her afternoon siesta is soon going to be a thing of the past. While I am still mentally adjusting to all the changes, Zehn sleeps peacefully in my arms, her life secure in the company of two people who love and cherish her.

Her world will expand. The burden of carrying a school bag, books and education will make her a stronger individual. She will make friends, have her play dates. And she will learn that mama and papa can't be with her all day.

A woman keeps adapting to life around her... But perhaps the toughest for me will be to loosen the umbilical cord that is still tightly held by me to her. I have to share her with more people, more activities.... Am I ready for this??? No, I am not. But this is just the first step to her independence. It's tough being a mom... really tough.