My Baba

M5 on her bunk bed.

I hugged my son in law, and told the little one, “He is my Baba. I’m going to take him along with me”. Thoroughly alarmed M5, her hands went round her father’s neck, she denied my words, “No, he is my Baba”.

“No, he is mine”.

“Why didn’t you bring your own one?”

“I don’t have one”.

“You have”.

“Who?”

“S uncle”.

“He is my son”.

We all were laughing by then.

Yesterday Nola was taking me for a haircut. I was putting on my sketchers, when M5 told me I couldn’t wear TJ’s (her brother) shoes. “These are mine”. I pointed out to her. She insisted that they were her brother’s. I explained to her that TJ wears shoes two sizes bigger than me, so I couldn’t possibly wear his shoes.

At that moment TJ strolled by wearing his own. M5 spotted him, and was satisfied.

Later on when I was wearing my flip flops she noticed, and chastened me once again,”You cannot wear my mother’s footwear”.

“But I’m not wearing your Mama’s. Her’s are bigger than mine, and besides the one she wears were bought by me”. She kept staring, trying to believe me.

She brought me her drawings to show them to me.

The black lines are meant to be the earth, and the orange one is the sun.

Here the black and blue lines are shown as earth, and the shape in the corner is the moon.

PERSUADING BABA

The dialogue went on like this, “We are still going. You know Baba,I told you Baba we are going to the pool.” This was IB asking his father to take them to the pool. He was talking while gliding down on the stairs’ railing. At lunch time IB asked both his parents. Both said, “No.” They had their own reasons. Baba was tired from cutting his roses and tending the vegetable patch and Mama had earlier given Brunch to her friend and family. So, she was equally tired.

IB kept up pressure on his Baba. At lunch both his parents kept saying no. He climbed up to his father’s lap to put added pressure. Earlier he had recited, “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo to decide who should take IB and the other two to the pool. The ‘mo’ ended on Baba and IB’s mother was ecstatic on getting scot- free.

IB kept reminding his father, “I picked you Baba by saying Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. All the while, Baba protesting, “I am tired IB…….O.” IB’s father likes to add an O to his children’s names. IB kept running down the stairs to Baba’s side at intervals, trying to wear him down with his child’s logic, amid Baba’s protestations that he was tired.

Baba didn’t budge from his stance and finally IB gave up.

This was between my son and grand son.

IB showing me his goggles and air apparatus.

A FAVORITE DISH

One of my favorite dish is Pulao. It’s an Urdu name for a rice dish. My memories go back to my childhood days. Back to Baba, (my father) when he was alive. It was a tradition in our home that on Sundays we had Pulao for lunch. It was a must and never to be missed routine. It had raisins, almonds, apricots,mutton,chickpeas and rice. We used to stuff ourselves with it.

Fast forward to me after marriage. I didn’t know cooking. I took time to learn how to cook. Fortunately I learned from magazines, friends and by watching other people. Woman’s Weekly and Woman and Home from UK were my guides in baking. My other must have mag was from US, Good Housekeeping. I simply loved it for ages. Still do.

I will always feel indebted to some of my friends who gave me their recipes. Now back to my Pulao dish. The basics I learned by watching my mother in law, whenever my husband left me at her home. This happened at regular intervals. He would be posted to a new place or in winters he would be called to ‘Army School Of Mountaineering and Snow Warfare’ to conduct Courses in Skiing, Mountaineering and Snow Warfare. I would be without a home and so would be back to m in law.

She was really great at cooking. So this is a family recipe with additions and alterations by myself. I like it made with mutton but it can be made with chicken. The ingredients are as following:—–
Basmati or any long grain rice 2 cups, soaked 1/2 an hour before cooking
Mutton 3/4 kg 🐐 or 1 whole chicken cut into pieces🐓
Chick Peas 1 cup, cooked
Almonds3/4 cup, blanched and skin removed
Raisins, washed and fried for a little while, till they fluff up
Garam masala made up with black pepper, zeera (cumin seeds), a few sticks of cinnamon, 4 large cardamoms, all finely ground
Cloves. 6
2 large onions, sliced
A piece of ginger and 8 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
Salt to taste
Oil 3/4 cup.
2 Tomatoes, chopped

This recipe is enough for four people.

Cook meat till it’s tender. Fry onions in oil till golden brown. Add meat, ginger and garlic. Add tomatoes. Add 1 tsp salt and 1 1/2 tsp garam masala to the mixture.Fry for a few minutes. Remove the fried meat with a slotted spoon. Put 4 cups of water or left over broth from meat. Let it come to a boil. Now add chick peas and rice and 6 cloves, plus salt to taste and another 1 1/2 tea spoon of garam masala. When the whole thing comes to a boil, lower the heat. Cover. When water is partially absorbed, add meat, raisins and almonds. Cover and simmer on low heat till rice is cooked and water absorbed.😋

My Sis

I made a cartoon on my previous blog and I was worried. You will ask why? Simply because my sister is a stickler for truth. She will be at you like a dog gnaws at a bone, if she notices a slight discrepancy in what you say or do.

That cartoon was based on a friend, who visited after a gap of eight years.

My sister and I discovered each other later in life. She was away living with grandma. When she joined us (father and the other siblings) Baba (our father) passed away. We were together at uncle’s house, but I was busy with exams and got married soon after I finished.

We took baby steps towards each other in the ensuing years. I can say that now we are friends. We got to know each other. Unlike me, she dresses beautifully. She looks immaculate even after a twenty-four hours long flight. I wonder how she does it? In comparison, I look like a scarecrow. She cooks like a dream. Her house remains tip top. Sadly, she suffers from Parkinson’s disease, and is heroically battling it.

ME

My Idea Of Heaven

I discovered books as a child. My mother died when I was about five years old. My siblings and I were divided among our relatives. The youngest one, who was ten days old, went to our maternal grandma. My ten-month-old sister went to my father’s mother. My father took my older brother (eight years older than me) along with him. My three-year-old brother and I went to live with my elder uncle. After a period of four months, when our father came to see us, I clung to him and refused to let him go without us. Baba (my father) took us with him but was unable to look after my kid brother as he was away from home a lot because of his army duties. Baba had to leave him with his mother.
I used to be alone in the house most of the time. Lala (my elder brother) would be out playing with his friends. That’s how I discovered books and found a totally different world from the world I lived in. It was a world of magic for me. Snow White, Cinderella and the Mermaid Princess became my friends. I came to know dragons, wizards and Greek Mythology. Hercules and Zeus came alive. When I would wake up, I would find books lying near my pillow, brought by Baba, and left for me. When I was in grade six, I think I finished reading all the books in our school library.
As I grew older most of my pocket money was spent on books. When I could not buy, my time was spent in bookstores. My younger brothers by that time had come to live with us and the three of us would be visiting the local bookshops on bicycles. My favorite authors at that time were Leo Tolstoy, Jane Austen and Agatha Christie.
Alas! such a heavenly atmosphere could not last forever. My husband disliked books as much as I loved them. He only read his military books and newspapers. With my husband and two kids to look after, the world of books became a distant paradise.
Now with time on my hands, I have re-discovered my lost world. For me books are fun. My books are my companions. They were that in my childhood as they are now. I have to confess though I may go down a few notches in some people eyes but one of my favorite authors is Stephanie Meyer. I love her vampires and all, though I do not like the movies made so far based upon her books. My other faves are Suzanne Collins and Jodi Picoult.
My idea of bliss is to curl up with a book in a quiet place with no one disturbing me.