And the lovely gardens of Princess Street are filled with Daffodils :)
Belated Happy Holi everyone! From the photos around the blogosphere and on FB and whatsapp, it seems almost everyone I know had a colourful time this year. Not for us. A sunny weekend for us should usually suffice!
On Saturday I was busy slogging in the kitchen preparing this
It’s a fairly simple recipe and gets cooked in less than 2 hours!
But that’s not what I was really slogging at. It was this
My first attempt at Puranpoli! It’s a classical Maharashtrian dish prepared on the auspicious occasion of Holi and Padwa. It may appear to look like a roti but it’s very sweet and very different from a normal roti or chapati. To describe it to a firang here, I would rather call it sweet tortilla! :)
It’s made from split yellow gram, jaggery and rava. Only 3 ingredients… sounds simple but the procedure is lengthy and hard.
In short, cook the yellow gram and drain out all the water, add jaggery to it and cook on low flame till it’s soft and dry.
Make a soft dough of rava by mixing water and oil in it and soak it in oil till it becomes soft and stretchy.
When the stuffing has cooled down, the poli is ready to be rolled out.
Grease a butter paper with enough oil so that the dough doesn’t stick to it. Take a small ball of dough and flatten it out into a small circle, place a small ball of stuffing at the centre and wrap the dough around the stuffing to make it into a ball.
Roll out the puran poli taking care that the stuffing doesn’t come out of the dough while rolling it.
Heat a non stick pan and grease it with oil.
Hold the butter paper upside down and hold the edge of the poli on the pan and peal away the butter paper. (!)
Cook it over low to medium heat and flip it once.
Phew…..do all these things just right and you might get a full whole unbroken puranpoli!
Chicken biryani and Puranpoli done on Saturday! Time to rest for the next month or so.
No, on Sunday Hubby and I went to dance! Yeah you read it right.
Scotland’s national centre for dance – Dance Base – had an Open Day on Sunday to encourage new dancers to join the thrill. Bone tired we dragged ourselves to the Grass market where the centre is located and danced our feet out for a one whole hour to Elvis Presley’s c’mon everybody! After the one hour, we were drenched in sweat for the first time in Edinburgh. I experienced my heavy lethargic leaden legs turn light, supple and brisk. I had a spring in my step. Thanks to hubby dearest for pushing me off my ass and getting me on my feet quite literally. (On a negative note, don’t you just hate it when husbands come up with the most rational and practical answers/solutions to some of the most persistent long time problems you have had? Once you listen to their talk, you hit yourself mentally and wonder why you didn’t think of it!)
So after grudgingly admitting to having a great time dancing, we lingered on walking down the pubs at Grass market and that’s when we came across the armchair book shop – a quaint, cosy little place. Anyway, am not committing myself to a weekly dance class yet but yes, in an ideal world I would do it just to get my agility back. When you can’t do a 2 minute simple dance sequence you realise how dull and heavy your body is. And to think there was a time (another world, another lifetime) when over the weekend I used to dance for 3 hours and then swim for an hour!
About swimming, I can’t swim even a lap now. So much for the bragging. Anyway the brat is all nervous and turns into a cry baby when it comes to his swimming lessons. (yeah, we decided to start him early, though we think it’s late – but that’s the normal parenting anxiety). All was well for the first couple of weeks but then he suddenly developed this anxiety about swimming. Now every time we reach the centre I can the tension building on his face, the anxiety making its way up from his stomach to his face. Love, anger, threats, treats – nothing works. But I appreciate his guts to enter the pool even when he has cried copious amounts. Last week he just held the bar for the entire class duration. Today, he cried and cried and then cried some more. It started when we entered the changing rooms. His coach has been very patient with him so far, giving him time and not forcing him to do anything against his wish. But today she nudged him and pushed him and enticed him with sharks, ducks and fish toys and made him swim! (thank you God) He seemed to be okay with it. Keeping fingers crossed for the next week.
Embarrassing your kids is a totally different high! I have only just experienced it. My dad still does it and I still get upset and embarrassed. I take kiddo to a music class every Monday where they are taught instruments, notes and rhythm. At the start of the session, we all stand in a circle and dance to the routine intro song. Most of the times the steps are the same but sometimes the instructor switches them (patting your head instead of your knees etc). So this Monday, we all were standing in a nice big circle and at a point, she changed the steps. I had tuned out and kept doing the wrong step. The brat noticed this and kept nudging me. When I realised what I was doing, I kept doing it and went a step further and did a funny little step complete with facial expressions and hand movements (think Joey’s dance in Friends). The horrified expression on the brat’s face was priceless. There was disbelief and then anger. For me though it was hilarious. Nothing more pleasing than making your kid uncomfortable with a little funny stuff. :) Now I know how my dad feels.
Look what I got…
After four years, am only just exploring charity shops and second-hand book shops in Edinburgh. It’s such a shame I didn’t do it earlier. There are some fantastic book-stores near Grass-market (with the majestic Castle in the backdrop). The shop I visited was just overflowing with old and new, classic, vintage and antiquity books. Very similar to the Shakespeare and Co. in Paris. I could spend hours in there just browsing through the books. It’s very aptly named – armchair books.
I googled some more after visiting this store and realised there are more of them around this area. So a new goal for this year… visit more second-hand book-stores.
And I’m back after a long hiatus, a bit ashamed to have miserably failed at the January Blogathon. Yeah, that was a long time back!
So how have you been?
I missed a day. It wasn’t that I had nothing to write, I have so many thoughts going on in my head that I find it hard to pick one and make a coherent post out of it.
And I have been losing sleep for the past couple of days. The big happening thing right now is that kiddo has started sleeping in a separate room all on his own…. hai my bachcha is growing up and I am having a hard time adjusting to it. Hubby spent a sleepless first night and kept checking on him every few hours. The second night it was my turn – woke up a few times to check up on him. Though he was deep in slumber land, I worried myself thinking he might fall down or choke or whatever!
Kiddo is very happy though. We have put up Christmas lights in his room instead of a small night lamp and there’s a rack there decked up with his toys and cars. It’s all very cozy and festive in there and the lightening Mcqueen duvet cover helps in tucking him in.
This is the third night now…hope I get some sleep!
I was going through my old posts and found this story so reposting it :)
The day I had a heart attack
I obviously survived it since am here to tell the tale.
You somehow know it when the time comes. It happened yesterday afternoon. After two weeks of having “me time” while kiddo slept, yesterday I finally gave in to the temptation and decided to nap with my son. Loaded with an entire week’s tiredness, I fell into deep slumber the moment my head hit the bedpost pillow.
It must be after about an hour’s sleep that I felt heaviness in my chest. I dismissed it from my mind and went on dreaming about paani puris and vada paavs that I am missing here. But the pressure only kept increasing.
Suddenly I found it hard to breathe. I started sweating in my sleep. I found it hard to wake upmaybe due to excessive hogging. Alarm bells sounded in my head and I wondered how would I contact my husband and who would take care of the kiddo till that time.
I had also become immobile. I was not able to shift to my side, nor raise my hands. Was it a paralysis attack? I shuddered in my sleep.
When I got a tight slap across my right cheek I let out a contended sigh imagining it must be the emergency medical team who had come to my rescue miraculously. Afterall it’s UK, must take much less time to travel than in Mumbai. Someone from the team must have slapped me wake me up. They must be using some emergency medical procedures on me to restore circulation of oxygen and blood to my system.
I would be alright again in some time. I sent up a silent prayer. Somehow I couldn’t hear any commotion. Isn’t there like a whole big team coming across in such situations?
Only after the second resounding slap across my right cheek again, did I open my eyes to see Shantanu sitting on my chest with his hand raised to slap me again.
Cheat Post for Day 16, from my other blog :)
Originally posted on My MOOC experiences:
Just started Dave Cormier’s Rhizomataic Learning: The Content is the Community on the P2PU platform.
Week 1 Challenge – Use cheating as a weapon. How can you use the idea of cheating as a tool to take apart the structures that you work in? What does it say about learning? About power? About how you see teaching? Bonus – Do lots of rhizomatic teaching? Tell us about it.
My rhizomes were all connected in my head and then with this cheating – I felt a push that made them all spill over the floor like noodles all over crawling in different directions.
I am still uncomfortable with the word “cheating” in the context of learning. Who exactly are we trying to cheat – the educational institutions, their laws and structures, hierarchies or just ourselves? After listening to Dave’s explanation, I do get it but I don’t like…
View original 370 more words
I am determined to continue blogging everyday and not break this marathon posting this month. There’s something in me that just hates to break a commitment or a routine; which can turn me into a monster almost everyday with me shouting at the brat to get into bed at time. If it’s even 10 minutes past his bed time, alarm bells start ringing in my head and the lava just boils on and then both hubby and kiddo know for sure that there’s going to be a volcano.
You would think that this nightly volcanic eruptions might lead to cold controlled mornings but you couldn’t be more wrong. I hate to be late. Even if it’s to meet a friend, I have to be there on time, even before time. I fret and curse when we reach the nursery late by few minutes. It’s not really strict to maintain the time yet and I see many parents frolicking in when am on my way home.
So I hate it when am late and see other people being late. Something just goes off in my mind and there is a need to right every wrong in me. Impossible but that’s how I am.
Title: The Never List
Author: Koethi Zan
Publisher: Pamela Dorman Books PENGUIN GROUP Viking
Source: Advance copy via NetGalley
Release Date: July 16th 2013
Rating: 2 out of 5
For years, best friends Sarah and Jennifer kept what they called the “Never List”: a list of actions to be avoided, for safety’s sake, at all costs. But one night, against their best instincts, they accept a cab ride with grave, everlasting consequences. For the next three years, they are held captive with two other girls in a dungeon-like cellar by a connoisseur of sadism.
Ten years later, at thirty-one, Sarah is still struggling to resume a normal life, living as a virtual recluse under a new name, unable to come to grips with the fact that Jennifer didn’t make it out of that cellar. Now, her abductor is up for parole and Sarah can no longer ignore the twisted letters he sends from jail.
Finally, Sarah decides to confront her phobias and the other survivors—who hold their own deep grudges against her. When she goes on a cross-country chase that takes her into the perverse world of BDSM, secret cults, and the arcane study of torture, she begins unravelling a mystery more horrifying than even she could have imagined.
I was mildly curious when I read the reviews for this book. It’s supposed to be dark and disturbing. It starts with Sarah, the main character, detailing how she and her best friend–due to trauma–became obsessed with statistics and safety. Yet, one day in college, they go against their safety rules, their titular ‘Never List’ and go to a party. Against their own rules and stupidity, they get in a car that apparently has no cab markings whatsoever and end up in a basement and tortured for three years. I sympathise about most of the victims in books but many of the characters just act so stupid in this one.
The characters are bland, non engaging. The twists and turns are silly and incomprehensible. The ending is very stupid too. No other word really. It isn’t a bad book or a throwaway just that I wasn’t entertained or engaged. It was a quick read and unrealistic on many levels.