I GROW OLD
I GROW OLD
I SHALL WEAR THE BOTTOMS
OF MY TROUSERS ROLLED

Picture this.One has had a HOT,HOT,SWEATY day at school,dealing with hormonal, sweaty teenagers.
Then after being sneered at by atleast 4 cabbies who will not go into congested pydhonie,one does get a cab.It rattles ,it smells,but what-the-hell, we are going home.
Then we get jammed on the way, thanks to the ramazan crowd. I stop glowing pink,I have sweat running down my face and into my ears.
Sweat runs in little streams into the various ups ,more downs of my anatomy.
I am feeling pissed off, peevish. I know I am growing old but patience is not one of my virtues at this time.
All along my daughter, Shibumi has been chattering about this and that and I have been sort of listening.
Now stuck in that traffic, questioning one's karma, TRYING very hard to be calm,one cannot answer child's questions.especially when they come fast, one after another like this.......
SHIBU...why are they hanging that man ?
me......what man ?
SHIBU...that terrorist.......
me......aaaaaah,he planned an attack on the parliament house
SHIBU..what is parliament ?
me.....where all our ministers meet together
SHIBU..why ?
me.....to discuss our country's problems
SHIBU..what do you mean,HE planned it?
me......please, i''ll tell you later
SHIBU...okay, whats his name ?
me......afzal
SHIBU..ohhh, mamma, you know my friend's father's name is also afzal
me.....PLEASE SHIBU,WE CAN TALK LATER ABOUT ALL THIS. I WANT TO BE QUIET.
SHIBU......MAMMA, you are always erupting like a volcano, ONLY god knows how i've managed to stay fire-proof

I SMILE INWARDLY.The journey becomes bearable.

But I re-affirm that one must have babies when one is 14 and one's energies are at top level.
I always thought I was one fat gujju-fied mummy, but now I have been called an erupting volcano.
That makes me one hot babe !!
Atleast I'd like to believe that.

of mice and men
one lives with vermin. two-legged and four-legged.our ancient house in the ancient quarter of mumbai has been host to all creatures great and small.many of these creatures i had only 'seen' in books or on tv. i had never seen a rat or a mouse up close till i turned 33 and got married and moved to the ancient house of the desais.all are welcome here.rats, mice, roaches,flies.even cats come here to deliver kittens.we had a cat without a tail for many years.she adopted us.her name was BILOO.she had many litters and our children played with many kittens, which we would eventually put into a cloth bag , and get the cook to abandon on his way to the market.biloo miscarried one day and we took her to hospital and had her have a a hysterectomy.after she got back home,she decided that i was her mother.every rat she caught, she offered to me first. many a siesta was ended by biloo's insistent mee-owing outside my room,so that i could thank her for the bloodied rat she had brought me.then dear biloo died. i miss her.i miss her because after her ,no cats have come to the house.we had one tom-cat who sat on the water tank and mewed.but he was a weirdo.he was vegetarian and he used to calmly watch huge rats walk past him.perhaps he was a vipassana meditator and observer.then he too vanished one day.so now the rats rule.we have families of them.there are some grand parents,solid specimens with long scaly tails,and many little ones.the little rats are amazing acrobats.they can do flying leaps.they are no bigger than a large cockroach and have very bright, shiny eyes.rats sing.oh ,yes they do.i have heard them sing away in the store-room.rats also LOVE to eat plastic bags.rats are great thieves.they love to steal coins and spoons.one often comes upon a cache in some hidden corner.thanks to rats, our resident kleptomaniac has a great time.she kleptos away and the poor rats take the blame.once the rats stole four muffin tins ! they opened the kitchen drawer and stole them.....sometimes, they even open the fridge and eat up all the nice things.soon, i shall enter our household in the guiness book of records for having such clever rats.
posted by rashrocks at 6:27 AM 6 comments

the need to rant
and so today ,inspired by dear madame rao, i begin to blog.ofcourse, nimmi had told me to do so too.we live in trying/tiring times and i hope to rave and rant and get it all off my chest.
posted by rashrocks at 6:19 AM 0 comments
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AMAZING GRACE

Part 1

Ramazan in Pydhonie and its neighbourhood

I am not a great one for religion.Rather , i am very interested on a theoretical or informational basis in religion.But i observe how deeply entwined it is with our lives and how religion can truly be the making or the breaking of all of us.
The month of Ramadan or Ramazan is going on.Where i live, in an ancient part of Mumbai,most famous for communal riots from the times of my grand-father,i get a dose of THREE religions up close.
One lives in the heart of mosques, jain temples and hindu temples.
Before i got married and moved here, i had no concept that there were so many muslims in this city ! From our 5th floor window, i have seen ,during Moharram or during Ramazan and often on certain fridays, the faithful gather at the green mosque opposite our bldg.The no. multiplies by 100 after they have broken their fast. What truly amazes me is how all these men come to pray,never mind the heat and never mind the rain.
I think Kalbadevi road is probably the WORST, MOST CONGESTED ,CHAOTIC road in the world. Add to that our sense of tolerance. So imagine what happens at peak traffic hour when the faithful take up the entire road,not just foot-path to pray,and the traffic piles up.Once i counted 7 BEST buses awaiting along with endless cars, scooters , bikes, hand carts and people.
If anyone wants to understand what 'secular' means, come visit us post sun-set.
If anyone had any doubts about us being tolerant,come visit us post sun-set.
Come see how the night is transformed.

Hand-carts of fruit ,fresh and dried,emerge ,little giant -wheels and ponies land up.
Everyone is rushing to eat. And to shop.

The area sells the best export quality cloth at a song at this time of the year and towards the end of Ramazan, one entire road becomes a shopping mall.

Later in the night, the by-lanes are illuminated and various cricket matches are played along the length of ONE lane.All the little boys and ofcourse some men, stake out a bit of the road and convert it into a cricket pitch.

If you happen to be passing by in a cab ,say at 2 am, you will see these budding cricketeers ,happily move aside,lift the stumps and wait till you have driven on.

If you are brave enough to negotiate seriously hungry crowds, you can see plump chickens and all sorts of organs being roasted on great sigdis.You can see carcasses,big and small, with kidneys ,testicles, lungs, livers hanging on hooks.Pink brains quiver quietly in little dishes. You can see small mountains of sliced onions and lots of breads, round ones, flat ones, crisp ones, soft ones.and ofcourse,along the same roads,
cheek by jowl, you can buy shoes,slippers, bras, panties, kurtas, pajamas,crockery, you-name-it.

It is another world.
Next blog is on them jains and hindoos.And what happens during their holy days.

ON BAKING, BEING A GUJJU WIFE AND GUJJU MUMMY
Being married to a gujju has ofcourse had its effects.For one i have got gujju hips, gujju love -handles,gujju arms, gujju triple chin and ofcourse the great gujju belly.I am ready now to wear a saree around the house, simply because i have the belly to display a bunch of keys.But in this house ,which is not my house,there are no keys.
Second, there are the non-physical effects of being married to a gujju.You discover that FOOD,GLORIOUS FOOD is the way to sensual gratification.You also learn that it is the way to keeping your off-spring on your side.The kitchen is the arena any gladiator would be terrified of entering when a gujju matriarch [or maharaj] is the opponent to be faced !
Also please note that globalization has affected the gujjus the most.They have re-invented gujju-chinese veg, jain-chinese, gujju-morroccan veg, jain-morroccan, gujju-italian [pijja], jain-italian [more pijja]. They even have gujju sushi !Gone are the days of gujju-continental ['beck'-diss], the gujjus want mexican, morroccan, japanese,french, italian,american, even baawa cuisine gujju-fied or [horrors ] jain-ified.
WHY ?
Because variety is the spice of life.Especially when you are struggling day after day with bateta and baingan , and if you are jain,the challenge is himalayan.Imean how creative can you get without onions, garlic, potato,all roots and often most greens ?
Here the great gujju mother steps in and lo and behold, creates [with love in her heart and ghee on her side ] international -gujju cuisine.
And that, my dear friends , is the secret of the great , gujju joint family.The umbilical cord is never cut. It simply morphs into a ladle or spoon and the sons stay with their mammas. And the mammas [the clever ones] go international,sitting in their kitchens and give meaning to the age-old saying,'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach'..
Now, i began writing this on how i have discovered baking,when i realised that the great gujju-globalisation-conspiracy has got me in its clutches.EEEEEEEEKS.
Look, they've changed my looks,
They've changed my name [Rasna ben or Rachna bhabhi],
They've changed my dietary habits, i know when the greens should be avoided and when the roots and seeds must be eaten,
And i HAVE BECOME A GUJJU MUMMY.
Dont get me wrong, i dont want my child to live with me forever, but i do try MOST OF the time to cook things for her.
I think it started as pity [dal-bhat and bateta day in and day out] and somewhere transformed into an obssession.
It started with famous beck-diss,followed by apple-cinammon muffins.And then onto chocolate muffins, followed by cheesy-muffalettas[ gujju-mexican muffins],mawa cakes and almond cakes and now walnut brownies.
The child and the spouse are treating me like cordon-bleu chef. It is good for me.I love being the nurturing mum sometimes.But it also means i am becoming the great gujju-mummy.
Then i realised that i am NOT the perfect gujju mummy.
Why ?
Because i cannot [WILL NOT],make the pefect gujju chappati. And that dear friends, is what spouse gently reminds me, is the mark of a truly great gujju mummy........the one who can at super- speed, roll out perfect round chapatis ,which with a one-and-a-two on the flame swell up into perfect spheres, and reach the beloved's plate /thali with the steam gently wafting into his nose.
And, so i am not completely gujju-fied.
My gujjufication is incomplete.
At my core i am still very baawi.
THANK GOD.
Thank you my dear god of mutton dhansaks and sali-boti, of dhan-dar and tareli macchi and kheema-pav,and patties ,cutlets,kababs.........
And this makes me sharply aware why parents advise against cross-cultural marriages.
But at a certain age,the heart and the hormones never listen, do they ?

this blogging is making me crazy.seems i have TWO blogs.so you can try 'rashnarocks-rashnarocks.blogspot.com' if you cant get 'rashrocks-rashrocks'.
and who is 'reks'?

this blogging is making me crazy.seems i have TWO blogs.so you can try 'rashnarocks-rashnarocks.blogspot.com' if you cant get 'rashrocks-rashrocks'.
and who is 'reks'?