In this large sub-continent, there's a large state. And somewhere in this large state, there's a small-ish dusty town. And in this small-ish dusty town lined with dusty, crowded streets, narrow lanes and untidily planned buildings is a church with a garden around it. And leading out of the garden to one side is a … Continue reading The Mission
Sleek, smooth and reassuringly solid, their ivory-toned, silky-smooth handles slid comfortably into my palms. I had been seeing them around for ever. They were used as butter knives, to spread jam, slice cheese, fruits and even cakes. They had their own box lined with white satin and each knife also had its own slot in … Continue reading It was the knives that started it all!
Just back from attending the Commandant's Rehearsal of the Passing out Parade. The same crisp morning air, the sun rising over the Quarter-Guard and the rays flashing through the branches of the trees that line the parade ground, with the Sinhagad fort looming imposingly in the background. The familiar shouts of 'Praaaadee..Savdhan, Praaaade Vishram' that … Continue reading POP @ NDA. (Revisited)
'C' is for the Christ child born on Christmas Day. 'C' is also for all the cakes baked for Christmas Day. From watching my mother bakes varieties of cakes, to baking them myself, to now watching my daughter successfully try her hand at all sorts of cakes at Christmas; this is one festive tradition that … Continue reading The best cake of Christmas- my piece de resistance!
My father was a man of few words, but also a man who knew many words. He could read, write and speak Urdu, his English was impeccable, his Hindi fluent and he taught Chinese. His diction was flawless; all those tricky 'k', 'kh' 'z' and 'gh' sounds which are typical to Urdu, he uttered with … Continue reading The Archivist. (a tribute)
In 1986, following my father's retirement, my parents and I moved out of our comfortable 'sarkari' bungalow into a housing colony being constructed on the stony, dusty and barren slopes of a hill on the outskirts of town. Being an upcoming neighbourhood, the infrastructure was poor at best. The water supply was erratic, we were … Continue reading Rain, rain, come again; come again and stay all day. Little Janu wants to play in the rain.
For the longest time ever, mutton gravy and 'jeera' rice have been a Sunday staple for lunch in my life. And, although I've relished several variations of it over the years, the best mutton gravy I've had was always in the small town of M.P when we used to visit our relatives during the summer … Continue reading From Sunday- with love.
My daughter returned yesterday after spending a night at her grand-parents' place. In the course of our conversation she excitedly mentioned that late at night she had seen 'a real owl!...an actual owl...can you believe it....??...a real Owl...!!' There was more about it's curved beak, round gleaming eyes and wide wings as it flew away. … Continue reading This one’s for the birds
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