Home.

Image Source: https://quotesgram.com/importance-of-family-quotes/

Home? Can four walls encompassing few people be called a home? Is it important in defining us? How important is it in shaping us, making us who we are today?

I have been plagued by these questions for some time now.

My story started in Kolkata, capital of  West Bengal, a state in the north east part of India. West Bengal is not that hard to find. It has a rich history which is easily available on Google. I was born and brought up here. All my firsts, starting from learning to talk, learning to stand, learning to write, learning to understand the world and its people, every first started from here. This place, out of thousand other places became the reason for my existence.

How can a place, a place so small compared to the rest of the world, the rest of the universe become so important? The point of this post is to find an answer to that.

When I started thinking about this question, one recurring answer came to mind, my family. This place does have something that no other places in this world has, my family. It is the family that roots me to this place. My brother says "You never give up on your family." Indeed! What I have learnt is that when everything else ends, it is the family that stays. Family never leaves, never judges, never hate. It became the only static in my life.

I believe everything is built on a foundation. A tree will not survive the storm if it did not have strong, firm roots to hold it still. A building will not survive gravity unless it has those iron rods to give it foundation. A relationship will not mature if it did not have the foundation of love, mutual respect and trust. An artist can never dream and create if he does not have the foundation of his imagination. Foundation.

Family gives foundation. The courage to fight the world, to stand up for yourself, to chase your dreams, to learn to feel, to learn to love, to learn to trust, to learn to laugh, to learn to share pain. The basis for your existence becomes the family, the air to give flight to the wild creature buried deep inside your heart. It becomes the roots for one's tree of life to expand and branch out.

It is the family that makes a building made of bricks, a Home.

In the end, it's me and me alone that matters!

Photo Credit: http://imgur.com/u37f4pC

I am not proud of some of the things I have done in my life. I am a selfish person. I only do what I want to do, I only believe what I want to believe, irrespective of it being wrong or right. I have lost people throughout. Sometimes I have cared, sometimes I did not give a fuck. Why I am writing this post?

Because in spite of being a horrible friend, a horrible sister, a horrible person, I have two people, my brother and my best friend, standing beside me always, through everything good or bad. And that is enough!

It bothered me before, when I thought about how many friends I had in school, how many times a week I used to go out clubbing, shopping or to the malls. It bothered me how from being with so many people I ended up being with just one friend from school, how I ended up being, spending all my time alone, inside the four walls of my room. This room, where I am sitting and writing this post, just a month back made me claustrophobic, suffocated me. Not anymore!

Somewhere between then and now, I realised something. I realised how important it is to take out time for me, to be with just me, to read my favourite book, to watch my favourite movie, to spend an hour working out in the gym in spite of being a lazy ass, to take a stroll on my terrace under a blanket full of stars with the night surrounding me, to spend time sitting on my window sill, smoking a cigarette and talking to me. It's amazing. It's the most beautiful feeling I have felt in a long time. Just me and the world. How this happened? How I felt the extraordinary out of the ordinary?

Well! It happened when I opened myself to the world. It happened when I severed ties with everything that I did not need, the people who does not matter, the world that judges, the ego that grows, the self pity that feeds.

We, humans have this tendency to cover our emptiness with people, we tend to cling to companionships, intimacies, thinking that the key to our happiness lies with the people we are with. It's true to some extent. It's okay to be with people and feel happy, and complete. But that happiness, that sense of completeness does not last forever. That happiness never grows. As there is no growth in emptiness. It's hollow. The state of feeling whole and complete comes from within. Peace is an inner journey, a mission to discover one as an individual in this vast universe.

In the end, it's me and me alone that matters!

"Cafe Mocha"

I was in the auto with my best friend! I was like "PD bari cho taratari; Cafe mocha khawabo!" meaning "PD lets get back home quickly; I am gonna make Cafe Mocha!" He was like "Seriously! What is it with you and cafe mocha?" I did not know, so I kept quiet!
For the past two days, I am not doing well! My laptop broke down; I know to others it's just a laptop and you can easily replace it with another one! But that lappy is my life! My everything! It hurts like a bitch to see it broken! But after self pitying over my bad luck for two days, you reach the limit of boredom. So, in order to cheer me up, I made myself a cup of cafe mocha (coffee with two spoons of cocoa powder). While making it, I thought about what my best friend asked me the other day! Why...!? Why am I obssessed with this drink!? Then I realized that this baby is my comfort drink which I make every time I am down! A drink just for me! And I have made this drink for the two people I love the most in this world, my brother and my best friend!

When all else fails, there's still family......

As a participant of this crazy human race, I too have certain high dreams and aspirations. I won’t say that in twenty years of grazing through life I have got whatever I wished for. If I sit down to think about the dreams I did not achieve then I will have no other option than breaking down. But when I actually look at the things I have, I feel full. I have a big awesome family, comprising of my total sweet heart father, totally chaotic mother, not too grown up brother, and a bunch of silly, never boring friends.

It’s true when they say, “We come to this world alone, We work alone, We live alone, We depart alone”. But wouldn’t this life be too boring, too colorless without these stupid stupid relationships?

Few days back, I was out of town for about three days. I was on the phone with my father, when he enquired “When are you getting back!? It’s been ages since I last saw you!” Then after returning, when I opened my Facebook wall, I see a post “Heyya sis, Call me” (this one was from my brother after about six hours of leaving home). And then you have your friends! I seriously have no idea what I would have done without them! They are always there. When you don’t want to talk, they have to talk, bug and irritate until you come out clean. When you want to talk, they are too bust with assignments, work to even do so. God! They drive me mad! Their never ending demands, their never ending parenting, the horrible fights, the gossips. God! Is there any moment when you guys are not there?

May be! Life is not about big things but about these small and big, significant and insignificant moments. Later when you sum them up, they grow into something gigantic, something much more precious, something much more powerful, something worth fighting for, they all grow into a one big “family”.

A Letter To My "Cute as Button" Brother......

To the shining light of my life,

I always wanted to write this letter, "our letter", to tell you how beautifully you entered my world and made it bright. You were the light to my darkness, you were the ray of hope at the end of my long dark tunnel.

The first time I saw you, was when father took me to the hospital, one fine day, the day you came into this world. A white cloth was wrapped around your body. You were the tiniest, the cutest thing that I have ever seen and you had just peed on the sheet (don’t kill me for mentioning it). I fell in love, sweety, I was totally lost. That moment will forever be etched in my mind because that day I found the other half of myself, my partner in crime, my life's greatest joy, my brother.

You were the sweetest thing I ever saw. You came to me for almost everything, at times to the point of me going nuts. Once, I remember being so angry at you that I left you behind and brought your friend a toffee. You, like the poor kid, who was left behind, followed me and got hit by a cycle. You broke your collar bone. I was terrified that I did that to you. I was too small to understand that I was selfish, that I should have accompanied you rather than leave you behind. It was not one of my proudest moments. I was too small to understand what you were to me, to understand that I should have taken greater care of you. I was too small.

When the people who loves you, who can do anything for you, who will love you unconditionally not caring the evil that you hoard inside is beside you, you seldom give a shit. You do not understand their importance, you push them away, you play with them, until they are too far away from you to get hold off.

I understand your importance, your absence the most when I found myself in the hospital. That moment I wanted to ensure everything was normal even when my whole world was anything but normal. I was lying there on that lone hospital bed alone, my partner in crime missing. I wanted you beside me, just like I spent 16 years of my life, sleeping beside each other, talking about the most silliest of stuffs, talking about some guy in my life, some girl in your life, talking...speculating about the ending of some book,some movie, some game that intrigued us. That was our life hon. The whole day, spent apart in school, or somewhere but at night together sharing tit-bits of our daily mundane life. That was being normal to me. Not me lying, helplessly on that stupid fucking hospital bed.

I saw you retreat into yourself, you created a world inside yourself, where you stored your each feeling, your each thought, your everything. And for the first time, I was not part of that world. I wanted to reach out so badly, because seeing you like that took the life out of me. I felt desperate hon. I felt wrung out from inside. It felt as if there is a gulf, never ending gulf between us. And I was responsible.

Somehow, we have learned to live, to be a part of each other's life but I still feel that emptiness inside me, the place that was yours, that you left but never reclaimed. I hope hon with all my heart, that one day, you will learn to trust me like you used to, to see me like you used to.

I have seen you grow up from a boy to a young man, a man who is not only beautiful but with a golden heart, a man not only honest but valiant. You are a survivor hon. You have gone through some of life's worst times but still I see you standing straight, trying to be something more. I know someday you will be a leader, a beautiful person doing good to our country and her people. 

I can't wait for that day to come.

Me and My Brother

P.S: I completely adore your blog. It's so full of you, your principles and ideas. You have made me one hell of a proud sister. Keep writing!

Love,
Your Sister

The Moments of Impact...!

I always wanted to hate my mother. She looked after my needs, gave me more than I needed but was not there when I wanted her to understand me, my world. She found fault in everything I did: the long hours spent in the mall, longs hours spent over the phone, the people I hanged out with, the books I loved to read, in short nearly everything. When brother did something really bad, the blame came on to me. When he was not studying, I must have done something to distract him. 

My heart cried her own secret battle for her attention, her understanding. But it never happened. I wanted to shout on top of my voice “Why me?” When it became too much to bear, I shouted, I shouted angry bitter words and my heart cried retribution. Later, I remember being termed as “vehemently rude”.

Life has made me fall a thousand times, sometimes due to my stupidity, at times due to circumstances. It never bothered me. Isn’t life all about falling and getting up? Failures never swayed my unremitting confidence. “If one door closes than in some other place another opens!” My motto is pretty much that. But my mother was my opposite. When I was the optimist, she became my nemesis. She wanted to protect me from failures but can she?....if that’s what life has in store for me. I remember telling her just that more than a million times. Each time, she managed to bypass my words and succinctly put forward her warnings.

The daily tiffs left me utterly disgusted. I wanted a mother not a dictator. After all these years, I can say with conviction that she has not changed a bit. There were moments, strong moments when I wanted to hate her with every fibre of my being. The hell with her domineering attitude!

But I never brought myself to do that. I always found myself transported to one of those times, the moments of impact, when she became the mother I wanted her to be “the soft caring lioness”……..

Long long summers back, on a late afternoon, I was having my light afternoon slumber, when I felt my mother enter my room. She had just returned from office. She slowly came towards me and lightly brushed her hand through my hair. Neither I was awake nor I was sleeping, but like a fossil that moment is forever engraved in my memory. I can’t really explain what I was going through then, but it felt as if slow electricity was passing through my body. In that moment, I knew with clarity what it feels like to be the Kohinoor diamond.

The moments of impact….The moments of impact tells us what we really feel about a person. We can’t change a person but what we can is to accept them as they are. If I sit down to remember my mother’s harsh scathing accusations then it will take me forever to forgive her. Every time the thought of hatred passes through my mind, I remember that moment and everything else becomes blurred. In that one moment, I saw her love for me and nothing else is bigger than that.

Life is not about holding grudges, but it is about forgiving. Just because a person does not do things the way we want them to be, we start hating them. In moments when you start doubting a persons’ devotion or love for you, remember the moments of impact, when that same person treated you as the precious Kohinoor diamond.

Your heart will know the answers!

Give me a break!

There are some serious misconceptions regarding the day, 9^th January, 2011, the day I fell down from my window, on the fourth floor, of my building. 

If you guys are thinking, I tried committed suicide. Well! No! I love my life too much to consider ending it. In fact, I have plans to travel the world, to see the Vatican, the pacific, the African forest. So, I am not dying anytime soon!

But people never stop talking. Even when they have no idea regarding the matter. During my accident, I learnt great many things about people. There are some who really cares. And there are some, not really "some", quite a "handful", who pretend to care only to stab me at the back.

I had my share of experiences with the later. Yesterday afternoon, my grandmother called my brother. I heard her shouting at my brother. So, I silently asked him to put the phone on loudspeaker. It was quite evident, she was angry with my brother. According to her, I am a wrong influence on him. What really broke the straw are her words “Don’t listen to your sister! She is mad! Otherwise, she would not have jumped from the fourth floor!”

After my accident, people have talked bad things about me. They have sometimes termed me as a loser, who tried to end her life. Sometimes they have called me mad! It mattered at first. There harsh cruel words were like thorns against my heart.  After a certain point, it did not matter. But, yesterday, when I heard those words from my grandmother, I was unknowingly hurt. I thought she trusted me enough to believe that I would never do something like that. But my only mistake was I trusted her way too much. At least, I got to know what she really thinks about me.

I could have shouted at her. She would have been startled. But, I remained quiet, knowing that no matter what I do, I can never change people's opinions of me.

Chicken Bharta Recipe

I cook most of the time for my brother. He loves chicken Bharta, which indirectly means that I have to either buy him the dish from a restaurant or cook for him myself.
Chicken Bharta is a Mughal dish where the shredded chicken is cooked in wide range of spice mix. This recipe is perfect for a party and can be best complemented by Biriyani, Laccha Paratha and Jeera Rice.
Due to haste, I have used chicken pieces. But it is preferable to use shredded chicken.

Enjoy the recipe! J

Ingredients:

500 grams chicken

4 cloves

4 black cardamom

2 bay leaves

2 medium sized onions made into paste

1 teaspoon ginger paste

1.5 teaspoon garlic paste

1.5 teaspoon red chilli powder

1.5 teaspoon coriander powder

1 teaspoon All spice mix (Garam Masala Powder)

1 teaspoon Tandoori Masala

4 tablespoon tomato puree

4 teaspoon cashew paste

3 teaspoon curd

1.5 teaspoon butter

3 teaspoon fresh cream

Procedure:

1)      Wash the 500 grams chicken and put it into a pressure cooker. To the chicken, add 4 Cardamoms, 4 Cloves, ½ inch Cinnamon and salt. Cook till three whistles. Take out the chicken from the pressure cooker and preserve the stock for the gravy.

2)     In the meantime, boil eggs, remove the yolk and roughly chop the egg whites. In a separate bowl, mix the yolk with some water. Keep it aside for the gravy.

3)     Take a non-stick pan. Heat 3 tablespoon of oil. Add to the hot oil, onion paste, garlic paste, ginger paste, Cook until they are lightly brown in colour. Now add to it, coriander powder, Chilli powder, Garam masala, Tandoori masala, Turmeric powder. Fry the spices until you get a pleasant aroma.

4)     To the onion-spice mix, add tomato puree, Curd, chicken pieces and left over chicken stock. Put salt and sugar to taste. Adjust the thickness of the gravy.

5)     Lastly, add 1.5 teaspoon butter, 3 teaspoon fresh cream, the smashed egg yolk. Mix thoroughly.

Garnish with egg whites, coriander leaves and chopped cashew nuts.

Note: 

1) Before making a paste, soak the Cashew in water for 15 minutes.

On Taking the First Step....1...2...3

“No change will come! There is too much of disparity! One person can’t make a difference!”

I have often heard these pessimistic statements. When I first decided to join social services, people thought that I have gone mad. My parents went forward and said “Pagli” which means “Mad Girl”. They could not believe that their day dreaming daughter finally wanted to do something good and thought that this was another of my whims.

Though I was self conscious at first, I slowly indulged myself into activities. My brother, Hirak, was my pillar of strength. Hirak is three years younger to me but we are friends.

One week prior to joining the NGO, My brother and I were deeply engrossed in an argument, where I was the pessimist and he was the optimist.

He told me “Didi (elder sister), You can make a difference!”

I pessimistically told him “One person cannot make a difference”.

He was hurt by my hopeless words as I am his source of inspiration and guidance. My words crushed his spirits and made me look small in front of him.

He told me wearily “Didi, a house starts with a brick. Imagine that the first brick is not there. Then....Can you build the house?”

I was shocked when I processed what he wanted me to say. He wanted me to understand that I am the first brick; he wanted me to take the first step towards doing something for my Country. His thoughtful words resuscitated my broken spirit and gave me the direction to a good cause.

I realised my mistake. I quit thinking what other will think about me. I just followed my heart. I joined a NGO that deals with the upliftment of the under- priviledged children. This whole new feeling of experimenting with my life makes me dizzy with joy. It has made my life adventurous and worthwhile.

These days, when people tell me those gloomy words; I laugh and tell them “Anyone can Make a Difference. It’s all about taking the first step. The rest will follow.”

The "Chicken Bharta" Incident

I have faced some real challenges while cooking Chicken Bharta.

I live in a complex. We occasionally have Addas (small Get Togethers) in our Para which are often accompanied by Jal Khabar (Feast). In one such occasion, the members in our committee decided to put together a menu of Laccha Paratha, Chicken Bharta, Dal Makhani and Rasogolla. My brother is a fan of Chicken Bharta. Therefore, when I was having my food along with him; he mockingly challenged me to cook Chicken Bharta for him. Not any Chicken Bharta but the best Chicken Bharta made by Alibaba, a restaurant in our locality which specializes in Mughlai recipes. Since I am an egoist, I accepted my brother’s challenge and promised myself that I will be successful in removing that smirk from my brother’s face.

I cook occasionally but before that day I have never cooked chicken Bharta. I collect my recipes from the net and then experiment with them. Therefore, the very next day I started my research. I surf the net and collected quite a number of recipes.

Chicken Bharta is a Mughal dish; it is very flavour full and rich if cooked properly. The chicken should be minced and the blend of spices should be perfect or else the recipe will be a total waste. In short, it required a lot of work. But I was not the one to give up. Therefore, I cooked all the recipes that I have collected. But none of them were that good. Something was missing from all of them; moreover my brother ridiculed them. My brother has a special type of disgusting expression that he gives when my recipes are horrible or moderate. For those recipes, the horrifying, disgusting expression was more frequent than a positive review.

I was on the verge of giving up, until I found a cooking blog which has an awesome picture of a dish containing Chicken Bharta. The picture was quite similar to the Chicken Bharta which I had in Alibaba. I quickly jotted down the recipe in my cooking diary and went on to cooking it the very next day. I complemented the recipe with a dish of Jeera Rice which I got from one of my friend’s mother, Archana aunty. The recipe was fantabulous and I was ecstatic as my brother liked it and he gave a nod of approval. The gravy was of right consistent; the spices were of right proportion. I loved it.

P.S- for everyone else, the best Chicken Bharta recipe is available in the given link-

Chicken Bharta Recipe