Mini's Scripts

As the doorbell rang yesterday, my little boy ran to open the door, shouting - "Coming! Wait!". He has hardly been saying much except gibberish in his two's. This incident is now one of the most memorable moments given by our two year old, who has as of today said his first three word - "big red bus", which a few days ago was limited to being a pair - "red bus". Such a bus-fan! He is an excellent babbler. All I can now hope is for Mr.Speech to settle on his wonky palette in another few months.  Anyways, coming to the door bell. I have a habit of running towards the door wherever I am on the first floor or even the ground floor of the house by shouting the exact words told by the little man, and today it was very sweet yet hilarious to see the same action repeat. Time to refine the language. Lot of tongue cleaning to do. 

My write up for Valentine's Day circa 2016, that was featured on my lovely friends very interesting blog . …I told him, “ I love you “. He was too busy checking out the new wheels and didn’t answer. I was dumbfounded! I waited for a few more seconds and then I said with little more emphasis on those three simple yet most important words, “I LOVE YOU”. He gave me one long look, which went right into my soul. I noticed him taking in my chunky nerdy glasses, dishevelled hair and a tired looking face. But he finally lisped the sweetest words, “I ove you”. I couldn’t be more happier hearing these words. My little boy has turned two this week. He can’t yet pronounce words with letter ‘L’ in them and tends to say lollipop as ‘wayapop’ and love as ‘ove’. The only L-word he has mastered is ‘Let's go’, perfect to remind us that it’s time to go out for a walk. He likes spinning things, pretty much every thing that he lays his eyes upon and is always on the move. He can be especi...

Courtesy : http://atastychallenge.blogspot.co.uk/2011/03/pacha-pattani-dried-green-peas-curry.html Ingredients                                          Serves 3 Dried Green Peas………………3/4 cup (wash and soak in Water for 4 hours) Oil…………………………………..1 Tablespoon Mustard Seeds…………………1/2 Teaspoon Onion thinly sliced…………...1/2 cup Split Indian Green Chilly…..4 Ginger Garlic Paste…………..3/4 Teaspoon Curry Leaves…………………..1 Sprig Red Chilly Powder………......1/4 Teaspoon Coriander Powder…………....3/4 Teaspoon Turmeric Powder…………..…1/4 Teaspoon Garam Masala Powder ……..1/2 Teaspoon Tomato………………………..….1/2 big sliced Thin Coconut milk………..….1 Cup Thick Coconut Milk……….....1/2 Cup Vinegar…………………………...1/2 Teaspoon Salt as needed Method of Preparation...

The typical question that comes across every human being during their life time is – Who am I? It also does sound more like the dreadful question as always asked to start a conversation – tell me something about you? Coming to I – Even before I could understand that – God first, World next and I last – I had glued this into my neurons - I first, World next, God last. My identity as gratefully handed over by this social world is firstborn of my wonderful parents, eldest of siblings, related to many a relatives, student, best friend of a few, friends of some, acquaintances, employee, national, transferred national – Errrrrrrrrr! Wait! I am an Indian! I can’t be a British yet in my mannerisms, although by now I have blended into the non-fashionable, nearly obese, always working, Sunday grocery shopping, and weather conversing general populace. As an Indian to the core – I am more of a foreign calling/skyping weekender, pound – rupee-rate-converting deal hunter. Just today as I was havi...

Feeble attempt to yet write another MINI-PIECE - I have to remind myself that my type of writers usually have all the time, but nothing on mind worth scribbling down to long sentences. Not wanting to write long sentences reminds me that I used to have a Twitter account, but could not keep up with those tiny one-liners as I preferred back then and continue to, use full words in my written conversations; unlike these - u, der, dnt, ystrdy ...etc. You know what I mean! Talking about mean, I am in a constant state of wonder whether is it me or everyone else finding the job adverts, applying, getting called for the interview, and then coming full-circle with the mother of all interviews. Happening right where it is supposed to be your next office, interviewer who is going to be your next colleague, discussing your next seating arrangement and things etc. in such a warm manner that you bask in the glory and sweetness of that formal discussion until you don't hear a word and then ...

not to mention the residual odour! Even after a biriyani or any spicy curry has been prepared, relished and expelled from the body, the smell remains. It’s to an extent that I have now started distancing away from the Indian dishes. Anyways, my well of cooking talent, dries often!   I don’t mind eating a well cooked dish, but then being a non-fussy eater, my platter was always based on quantity and not quality. Life in boarding school teaches you this lesson at a very primary stage of childhood. These and many such situations have led me to treat myself to a happy meal if available and not to bother, if there is no food around. I have always been inclined to stay hungry as much as I can and then finally cook something that stops the growling stomach. Coming back to the smelly part, we Indians are so fond of eating, that no matter what happens to the tolerance of the liver and the entire digestive system, until the butter is absent from the chicken curry, and until the ...

This was the first "Valentine Day" after marriage and my then boyfriend and now husband had been sweet but clueless as to what to do this time! He simply continued playing another of his mundanely virtual shooting, killing, jumping thing on that PS3. That little **** box of plastic and metal has ruined my life. Even Facebook has become boring now. So, coming back to the few details of my personal life, the Husband knows my taste and preference so well that during the weekend-(window)-shopping that he said ‘yes’ to every watch, pizza, dress, shoes, flowers and paintings, mobile phones that I was pointing to and I had to say ‘No’ in the end. How I wish, I should have not said that in the end, but just taken it gracefully. Like a greedy child, my ‘I want that ____’ rant still continues on although it’s a rare thing of past now. While he bought a game for himself, I received a beautiful ring, which is my wedding/engagement ring, till the next purchase. The husband’s gift is sti...

Seeing friends/colleagues reach new highlights in their career always made me feel proud that I had once been in close proximity to these “stars”. In fact, It has always been a subject of discussion within (un)common circle of friends and incessant torture within the mind. Knowing that they were successful and you were hardly able to crack and interview, leave alone landing a role! This cruel irony of pride and jealousy was shown in 3 idiots, but I had experienced it much before the movie was even released. It was during once such appraisal, where my friends were promoted to senior roles owing to their previous experiences in the industry, I, however, consoled my bruised egoistic-self with the highest pay rise among the team, being a fresher. My boss did believe in me, as a useful resource. May be! Anyways, cutting to the ‘present continuous’, this is my fourth day as a contractor for one of biggest companies in the United Kingdom. And till today, I’ve time to write my daily itiner...

No header for this one... Lets just assume that silence speaks for itself. As a married and happy woman, which I am now, I continue surprising myself on a daily basis. Just as a dear friend had remarked - improving my learning curve. Have been multi-tasking since December last year, from cooking-to-cleaning-to-laundry-to-housekeeping etc etc and also hunting for a job. With the approval of Mr. Husband, I am now an accomplished housewife. Alas, I should have done a course in hotel management, had I known that I would be coming to the UK, and not some half-fed journalism degree from some reputed college of Indian capital. Even as I write this, the husband is busy with his PS3... of which I have never been an admirer. Those killing games, dead/to be dead soldiers and their harmonious noises; why Sony why!