What's Up with That?

How is it that no matter how much joy and happiness these brats bring into our lives, that moment when one of us - depending on who’s been walking around carrying/rocking him – mouths “sleeping yet?” – and the other smiles and nods, and we air high-five (wi-five?) is the best, most satisfactory moment of the day? The sheer relief of having conquered another day without any major mishaps, meltdowns, embarrassing moments (“Baby, say thank you to aunty.” “Nooooo.”) is unbeatable.

And so we proceed to finally settle down and talk about our day. Get a little nightcap, watch a movie. Or if I’m chasing a deadline, get some work done.

But then how is it that when I’m finally done for the day, and go from room to room checking windows, gas knobs, picking up toys, solitary socks, I have this inexplicable need to smell his t shirt, run a hand through his hair and kiss him, not caring if I wake him, all this while pretending I’ve been cutting onions.

It’s like this sign that hangs inside my pediatrician’s office that says – Kids are a pain in the neck when they’re around, and a pain in the heart when they’re not.

Return of the Native

Back in the city that has traded its soul to the devil,
(And now, I am told, preens around in Prada).
I navigate the rusty pockets, expecting familiar facades,
Only to be gobsmacked by multiplexes with personality disorders.
Their garish overtures tamed only by the mellow comforts I call,
Home.

 The orderly haven comprising things earthy and ancient,
From granny’s creaky cupboard and its lingering smell of talcum.
To the brass jug that brazenly stamps indelible rings on the table,
From dusty trunks still caressing perfumed silks past their prime.
To the porcelain ballerina with fevicoled neckline, visible only to its offender,
I.

 A house that bides away in its private time capsule,
Nurtured by familiarity and unadulterated routine.
Its mornings, an orderly montage of canvas shoes, hymns and lemon tea,
The sole TV hard-set to a single channel, rendering useless the remote.
A brick and mortar entity, that breathes and resonates,
Unapologetic simplicity.

 I walk with trepidation, afraid of outraging its unadorned modesty,
With my insular, oppressive world of deadlines, gadgets and bucket lists.
I take back old books, pickled lemons and pictures to scan,
A fraction of this priceless algebra.
To behold, cherish and pass on,
To posterity.

Note: This post was prompted by my recent visit to my hometown, Ludhiana.

Identity

I am the crumpled BEST ticket in a shirt pocket. I am the click of a tampered taxi meter. I am the gutter choked with the spoils of a vada pav vendor. I am the second copy of a Zara on Fashion Street. I am the furtive groping of lovers on Juhu beach. I am the smudged mascara of a party girl on a hung-over Saturday morning. I am the colour-blocked wall of a pretentious cafe. I am the mehnati chappal of the fast food delivery guy. I am the cocky RJ on the car radio. I am the Bean Bag graffiti. I am the white noise of the last local. I am the young billionaire leafing through TIME in an air conditioned car. I am the stained fabric of the casting couch. I am the weekend throng at the mall. I am the endless clothesline defacing the hazy skyline. I am the nervous steps dodging strays on my way up at 2am. I am the burqa clad, hennaed hands at Haji Ali. I am brave journalism. I am the lingering perfume of the swish set at the race course. I am the identity crisis of the struggling actress by day and escort by night. I am the sharp bite of ginger cookies at a Parsi bakery. I am the Happy Hours at Jugheads. I am the stubborn paan stain on the wall. I am the sky-high heels walking a dog in a tony neighbourhood. I am the coin box at a public urinal. I am the rum-n-coke gang. I am the firm handshake of million-dollar deals struck in pigeon-hole offices. I am the neurotic dream of a fading yesteryear diva. I am the friendly banter of stairway smokers.

I am Mumbai.

I will give you wings. I will defeat you. I will pay your EMIs. I will leave you broke. I will hole you up in a high-rise. I will fade you into oblivion. I will challenge you. I will spur you on. I will prick your conscience.

I will absorb you, romance you, delight you, shock you, bed you and never completely leave you.

Quirkilicious Shopping - Quirky Indian Online Stores

Let's face it - quirky is the new cool. Be it home decor, gifts or accessories, we are always on the lookout for things that are kitschy, and better still, downright bizarre  The obvious references that come to mind are desified names and Bollywood inspired pop art, which have been around for quite some time now. And then there are brands and products that go beyond the same ol' themes and leave you gobsmacked with their quirk factor. 

Here's a list of some of my favourite Online Indian stores that are high up in the quirk ratio!

1. Haathi Chaap: Wait a minute - elephant poo paper? Yes! They make paper, stationery, utility items and knick knacks from processed elephant poo. It’s 100% organic, safe and doesn't smell one bit. I have picked up coasters, fridge magnets, stationery and photo albums from various stores that stock their products and I just love their earthy feel and cute aesthetics.

Website: http://elephantpoopaper.com/index.html

What I love: Everything! I love that their products are both eco-friendly and pocket-friendly.

What could be better: I wish they would add more variety and expand their catalogue.

2. Chumbak.com: One of the early entrants in the Indian Online retail space, they have kept up the quirk factor by constantly evolving, improving and adding to their stock. I love their slippers, coasters, boxer shorts and gift ideas.

Website: http://chumbak.com/chumbak

What I love: They variety and the gift coupons. Also the fact that they have online sales!

What could be better: They could improve the quality of the boxer shorts. Mine looked faded after just 2-3 washes.

3. Play Clan: As the name suggests, their products are playful, mischievous and quirky. I once gifted a friend a black graphic print dress and she loved it. I can’t find it anymore and regret not buying one for myself when it was available.

Website: http://www.theplayclan.com

What I love: Quirky prints, interesting curios and quality products.

What could be better: Their products are expensive. I have to think twice before pulling out the credit card.

4. Quirk Box: It’s a well-designed website with some good looking people modelling truly stylish clothes. Their range includes apparel and accessories along with lifestyle products such as iPad covers, curios, mugs and suchlike.

Website: http://www.quirkboxed.com

What I love: Everything! Especially the jackets and dresses and iPad covers!

What could be better: Again, on the expensive side. A pair of shorts would set you back by Rs 1450.

 5. Happily Unmarried: They had me at hello (check out their cheeky welcome message and you'll know what I mean). They have some great bachelor party gift ideas! The highlights of their collection are their quirky bar accessories. Special mention to their bestsellers and UFOs (check out for yourself!).

Website: http://www.happilyunmarried.com/

What I love: Their chutzpah and their shock value. Full marks for quirkiness!

What could be better: I’m not sure of the utility value of some of the products. I enjoy browsing their collection and having a good laugh though.

6. Go Gifts: Well, quite self-explanatory, this one! They stock products that make good gifts with a whole section devoted to quirky gifts.

Website: http://www.gogifts.in/

What I love: Their bookmark clips and their portable scale.

What could be better: The range - could be better.

7. Tappu Ki Dukaan: Their products are as fun as their name. They stock clocks, and part from the usual suspects (read bar accessories, bags, home décor and kitchen products).

Website: http://www.tappukidukaan.com/

What I love: Their Potty Putter (a toilet time golf game lets you practice your putting while sitting on the pot) surely tickled me!

What could be better: The range could be better. I would love to see some fun toys, lamps and décor items.

So this was my comprehensive little list of quirky Indian online stores I love. Which one is your favourite among these?

Note: 
1. All images have been sourced from respective websites.
2. This is NOT a sponsored post. All views expressed here are my own.

Forest Essentials Facial Ubtan Review

The word 'ubtan' conjures up really pleasant images in my mind - organic, homemade and safe. The kind of stuff our grandmothers used and still swear by. I have indeed grown up hearing stories of how the women spent their afternoons oiling and braiding each other's hair and then pampering themselves with the magical Besan-Haldi-Chandan concoction that at once exfoliates, cleanses and brightens skin. 

So when I chanced upon the Facial Ubtan at the Forest Essentials store, I was tempted to take it home and slather myself in the goodness of its 100% natural ingredients. Here's my take on the product:

Authentic Ayurvedic Formulation

Forest Essential Claims: 100% natural product. A clarifying blend of fresh sun-dried ingredients for skin lightening and brightening. Regular use leaves the complexion soft and glowing with a radiant sheen.

Price: Rs 595 for 100 gm

Key Ingredients: Sundried Narangi Peel, Sun Dried Lemon Peel, Sweet Almond Seed, Gotkula, Camphor, Marigold Leaves, Anantmool, Nagkesar, Saffron Ext.

Note on the product by Forest Essentials: The next best to “fresh” is the “dehydrated” where everything in the herb remains intact, only the water content is removed. The finest quality herbs that are used in these powders are pure and unadulterated. Therefore, wherever practical, it is beneficial to use the dehydrated herb. When juices, milk, yogurt or rose water is added to these powdered herbs they are “hydrated” and the fullest benefits of these natural products in their entirely may be had. Perhaps not as fresh as nature intended, but closest to nature, the next best thing. 

How to use it: Depending on your skin type, take about a teaspoon of this ubtan and make a paste using rose water (for normal/oily skin) or milk (for dry skin). Let it stay on for about five minutes before washing it off. The good thing is that it doubles up as a face pack as well as a cleanser. For the mask, you will need to apply a thick layer, whereas if you’re using it as a cleanser, you’ll need a runny consistency. 

The husk-like texture could be a little rough on the skin

What I liked:

1.     The fact that it’s a 100% natural Ayurvedic formulation

2.     I like the packaging. The broad rimmed tub makes the scooping out and measuring of product easy. I’m not a fan of face packs that come in packets. Messy!

3.     The product smells good. Fresh, tangy (from the lemon peels), summery. It’s a nice pick-me-up in the mornings.

4.     It does make the face bright and exfoliates well.

What could be better:

1.     It tends to dry the skin. I sometimes add honey, malai or even a few drops of almond oil to make it a bit more moisturising.

2.     The granules feel a little harsh on the skin, especially since we’re used to non-abrasive sophisticated facial scrubs.

3.     It’s expensive but so are all Forest Essentials products.

Would I repurchase it? Yes. It may not be a miracle product but I still like to use it from time to time. Also, the ‘natural’ tag is a big draw for me. Marigold Leaves = irresistible!

Lemon Yogurt Cake

When you wake up in the morning, Pooh, said the piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"

"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"

"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same thing", he said.

Lemon Yogurt Cake

Couldn't wait!

Lemony-snicket icing!

After OD-ing on all things chocolate for several weeks, I finally woke up this morning and decided, enough is enough. There are several exotic flavours just waiting to be discovered, if only I would extricate myself from the chocolate trap. As my mind swirled with images of gooey apple-cinnamon pie, red velvet cupcakes and spongy marshmallows, it occurred to me that even Natural's Coconut ice-cream would be a welcome intervention to break the jaded chocoholic spell which had outstayed its welcome. I opened the fridge and the merry sight of shiny, happy lemons welcomed me. I could almost see them waving and piping a cheery "pick us!". In that instant, I knew I had to fish out Donna Hay's Lemon Yogurt Cake recipe and let the fun begin!

One good thing about this cake is that the ingredients are pretty simple and you'd most likely have them all in your kitchen. The best part? Every morsel promises a burst of tangy, sweet, refreshing goodness in your mouth!

What you need:

Oil - 3/4 cup

Eggs - 2
Lemon zest - 1 tbsp
Lemon Juice - 2 tbsp
Caster (fine powdered) sugar - 1 3/4 cup
Plain Yogurt - 1 cup
Flour - 2 cups
Baking powder - 2 tsp

For the lemon drizzle icing:
Granulated sugar - 1 cup
Lemon juice – 2-3 tbsp

Method:
In a large bowl, whisk together the oil, eggs, lemon zest, lemon juice, yogurt and sugar. Next, sift over the flour along with baking powder and stir until smooth. 

Next, preheat oven to 180C.

Pour the mixture into a greased baking pan and bake for 35 minutes or until cooked. While the cake is still hot remove from the tin and place on a plate. The cake looked a bit white on top so I put it in the grill for an additional five minutes till the surface looked nice and brown.

While the cake is baking, prepare the lemon frosting. Simply stir together the sugar and lemon juice and spoon over the warm cake and allow to set. Serve warm.

Graduation Day Confetti

She typed the last sentence and hit the 'save' button. Finally, her thesis was complete. The bitter compromise of a thesis. It was the reason she had spent the last six months cooped up in this 10X8" room when every pore of her athlete’s body craved to be out in the field. She belonged on the tracks, in the outdoors. She had wanted to train and compete for the Asian games, but her dad would have none of it. He wanted her to follow the family tradition and earn a PhD. She had begged and pleaded with him, but it was hopeless. Dejected, she had thrown away all her medals and trophies and burnt her certificates.

 And yet, being her father’s daughter and having inherited his mean stubborn streak, she had gone ahead and signed up for an obscure course. Something she had no interest in. It was mind numbingly boring and she felt an extreme sense of detachment while doing her research. Which suited her just fine. All she had to do was fill the required number of pages with words. It took her six months and during these six months, she had not spoken to anyone, including her father. Especially her father.

 She took a look around. The room bore palpable marks of six months of her isolation from the world. Coffee rings on the table. The bruised dart board, the sole witness to her 2 am depression fits. The faint stench of cup noodles in the air. And then, her eyes fell on her Nikes, lying defeated under the table. Suddenly, she had to get away. From it all.

 She looked at the time. 3 am. Can’t go out. Stupid hostel rules. Feeling like a deflated balloon, she picked up a crossword and solved it in 5 minutes. Didn’t help much. She was getting restless. No, she had to run. She changed into her track pants and laced up her shoes. Then she tiptoed out of her room, went down the hall and stood in front of the door. She held her breath and tried the knob. Bingo! No lock. And then, without switching on the light, she pressed a button and got on the treadmill.

 Disclaimer: This is the female version of one of my favourite movies - Udaan.

Routine

Last night they broke up. He was her first crush. First love. First kiss. First everything. Her last thought as she cried herself to sleep was that she might never wake up. That the world as she knew it was over.

And yet, this morning, she woke up to the same annoying Marimba at 6, just as she had in the last five years. Squinted at the same sun as she drove to work. Parked in her usual spot. The coffee tasted exactly as it did on any other day. Even the little potted plant at her desk looked as hopeless as ever.

During lunch hour, she went to the restroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Nothing struck her as out of the ordinary. She still looked the same. No tinge of pain. No trace of trauma.

Nothing to mark that today she wasn’t the same person she was yesterday.

Ishqiya

Everything had to be perfect. Anything less just won't do.

She started with the flowers. Her first choice would have been red roses, the unmistakable symbolism for true love, but he was allergic to roses. She smiled at the irony. She would have to settle for carnations then. Red carnations, her second most favorite flowers. She carefully read the labels and picked the ‘Laced Romeo’ variety. Double irony. She had to smile again. “Two dozen, please.”

The deli was next. She bought cheese, cold cuts, mushrooms, capers and fresh rosemary. Passing the confectionary section on her way to the check-out counter, she caught a whiff of their Belgian chocolate mousse. She hesitated for a moment or two but finally decided to give it a miss. “We probably won’t even get to desserts,” she thought,  a naughty smile playing on her lips.

She made a few more stops. Planet M, the liquor store and finally, the chemist.

Reaching home, she set to work. Flowers in the crystal vase. Food on the table. His favourite music in the CD player. Silk cushions on the rug. Scented candles all around. Champagne chilling in the ice bucket. Two flute glasses glowing softly in the candlelight. She ran a critical eye over the room. Perfect.

“And now for the most important detail.” Opening her purse, she took out the brown envelop from the chemist’s. Five drops in his glass. She bit her lip, paused, and then added two more or good measure. “Just to be sure.”

She had just finished getting ready and was putting on her pearl earrings when the doorbell rang.

Her unfaithful love was home for dinner.

Tathaastu

Even from a distance, Sister Agnes could sense that something was horribly wrong. There was a look of pure terror on his face. He was sweating profusely even though the hospital’s central air-conditioning threatened to freeze her to the bones. She caught a few more details as he closed the distance between them and rushed past her towards the waiting area. The worry lines on his forehead, the pained expression on his face, and finally, the ICU Visitor's badge hanging around his neck.

That explains it, she thought to herself. The kindred soul that she was, Sister couldn’t stop worrying about him. She wondered if it was a sick child. Or an ailing parent. Spouse maybe? A dear friend, perhaps. Finally, she said a silent prayer for him and asked the kind angels to put an end to his ordeal and help him smile again.

 Someone up there heard her prayers because as soon as he flushed, there was a huge grin on his face.

Like this big:

:D