Love Tamasha

I watched Tamasha the other day on television and could finally (and gladly) let go of the regret of not catching its show in a nearby multiplex. I love the way Imtiaz Ali delves into the complexities of human nature and creates imperfect yet perfectly identifiable and lovable characters. Tamasha though, seemed a little far-fetched to me.

Ranbir Kapoor’s Ved had his own demons and challenges to face, but what struck me as odd was Deepika Padukone’s Tara. The Corsica setting, the closeness and the uninhibited candour were indeed the right ingredients for sparks to fly and fill her star-lit eyes with dreams of again accidentally running into the one person she felt deeply connected with.

While Ved reciprocates her feelings, the stark difference between the footloose and supremely confident on-vacation Ved and the almost non-existent sycophant she comes across in real life startles her. Yet, the charmed lady carries on with the relationship until she’s forced to break the this-isn’t-you news to him when he’s about to propose to her.

She’s heartbroken, in a dilemma, but still very much in love with him. When he calls her back after a few days she apologises to him (for telling the truth!) for touching a raw chord somewhere inside him. The insufferable guy however, rebukes her and simply takes off to demonstrate his mental instability in a series of disturbing events later at work and home.

But, like in any love story all’s well in the end since he has his Eureka! moment of illumination, finally realises how right she had been all the way and comes back to her. What does she do? She takes him back, because she loves him and cannot live without him. How simple, sweet and convenient!

What point is there to prove here? Does it mean that being in love silently implies that we’re bound to accept any kind of nonsense that’s thrown at us? Does being madly in love make us lose our self-respect? If this is the victory of love, then I’m obliged to ask if Ved would’ve done the same if Tara had gone nuts for some reason.

The Green Spice Shock

With teary eyes, you battle the smouldering sensation everywhere it has touched you. You guzzle gallons of liquids to curb it but it doesn’t seem to help. You silently wish to skip the rest of the meal and proceed directly to dessert, but something inside you eggs you to bravely go on.

This is the effect this awesome-looking and superb-tasting devil can have on you! Salads, pickles, chutneys, papads etc are the most commonly known accompaniments in the Indian cuisine. Any Maharashtrian though will swear by the staple Thecha which finds a place of honour in every family’s meal.

Spicy green chillies and garlic being the main ingredients, one can imagine just how hot this dish can be! Since both me and A love it and gobble it up without any restraint, instead of following the original method I balance out the spiciness slightly.

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My recipe: Grind green chillies, garlic, coriander leaves, some groundnuts and salt. Heat some oil in a pan and add cumin seeds. After they splutter add the green chillies mixture and sauté for some time. Voila! Your thecha is ready!

An unsuspecting innocent tongue can put you in a state of panic, so better keep loads of candy handy if you are a novice daring to try this out. The ones who’ve had it and like it, come over, I have enough for all of us.

Understanding people

It is difficult to place your finger at the exact point where ‘sharing your concerns’ with someone starts getting perceived as ‘whining’. Sure, all of us crave to have a patient ear to listen to matters that are close to our heart and deeply impact our lives. Does that person really feel, understand or consider them worthy though?

More often than not, although not ill-advised, such bonds generally leave people with a bitter after-taste. How advisable or not is it then to confide in someone seemingly considerate and generous in the initial stages?

The Knowledge Concept

Does being knowledgeable about something make us narcissistic and unmindful of others’ opinions?

Doesn’t not welcoming or accepting someone else’s better judgement make us appear conceited?

Is being well-read and/or well-informed a plausible excuse to thwart peoples’ beliefs?

Everyone’s need and inclination is different. Is imposing our views on anyone correct?

Is theoretical knowledge enough to make anyone worldly-wise?

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Silent Banter

“Open your eyes, I’m here.” It whispered.

“It was a long night. I missed you.” It murmured, still groggy from sleep.

“You know you need the rest, my dear.”

“Yes, but I’m famished without you.”

… and they went on with their everyday banter.

For others, there was serene silence and just another day had begun.

Colour me Red :-)

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It either has dedicated lovers or staunch haters; there’s no in-between. The whole process of transformation from dry light green to wet dark green to dry blackish and then the final lovely crimson is enthralling for few, while others simply equate it with the droppings of milking sacred animals.

Get it yet? What else can it be, other than the humble Mehndi, or Heena as it is more eminently called? For the record, I’m amongst the lovers.😀

I belong to a traditional Marwari family (with almost none of their qualities though) where some or the other big or small ritual is observed almost every other week, especially by the women in the family. Any festival or puja is considered incomplete without the women flaunting beautiful mehndi designs on their palms and sometimes even legs.

Though mainly considered a female thing, at the time of weddings or important occasions even men are made to apply it as a symbol of good luck. My Dad was never averse to it and willingly sat down to get his hands smeared with it. Thankfully, A is the same. My brother, on the other hand, would talk to me only through a handkerchief over his nose for at least two days.😛

When I was younger I studied in a convent which thankfully did not have the ‘no-mehndi’ rule like most convents today. Even when nothing more than a flower could find place on my tiny palm, my Mom would expertly make a rather beautiful one. Her skills might’ve rubbed on me, since I got quite good at it myself when I grew up.

There is something nostalgic about the whole thing. Blackmailing our near and dear ones to feed us when we were drying the mehndi on our hands, fighting with the magically appearing itchy feeling every time until finally requesting someone to do the needful for us, dusting the wayward shards of dry mehndi stuck to our clothes and from our bed the next day, etc. was fun!🙂🙂

Whether it is applied on hand or used for hair-conditioning, I simply love its smell! The way Mom sieved it through a muslin cloth and then soaked it with Nilgiri oil overnight gave it the aroma and shade that the chemically made readymade cones available in the market cannot even come close to.

Which side are you on? Do you have any anecdotes to share?

The Confession

This is my entry for Blogaddas WOW prompt ‘ She opened a blank notebook’

“I’m sorry.” The doctor said.

Sandhya had been expecting this. Her days were numbered now.

She left the hospital, remembering the day she had given them away.

She knew her children hated her, but they had to know her story too.

She opened a blank notebook to jot it down.

“Please forgive me…” she began.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’