D is for dosa

One of the ways in which I try to emulate my mom is to make sure that I make something different for breakfast each day. She had a plethora of breakfast items up her sleeve, picked up along the way of dad's transfers to different places. But of all the things she used to make, dosas were my favourite. I used to love dosas so much, my mom would make the following joke all the time.

"Going by your love for dosas, you're gonna get married into a South Indian family. Mark my words! Hahaha!"

(If only she knew that it was not a joke she had made, but an accurate prediction...)

"Going by that logic, I think she should get married to the pani puri wala downstairs." My cousin remarked.

I wanted to fling the dosa on my plate at him, but it was nice and crispy and I wanted to eat it.

I still love dosas, the ones at MTR being my favourite. Yumzadooza!

Anyway, fast-forward many many years... Of all my failed attempts to make stuff for Xena to eat, I can say that dosas have been the least of a failure. I started off my making tiny heart-shaped dosas and sending them off in her school snackbox. They looked very cute and seeing her classmates' interest in them, she started nibbling on them too, and soon realised that they weren't too bad.

Take a teaspoon of batter, flick left, flick right on the pan, and you have a heart!

They were quite crunchy and yum, and always a hit at play dates.

Motivated by this, I made all sorts of shapes with dosa batter, and she took quite well to them. Here are some of my 'artisanal' dosas, made by putting some batter into a ketchup dispensing bottle and squeezing away.

Lollipop

Plant with a flower

Fruits and Christmas tree

Flowers

This, on hindsight, was not a great idea. It looked cool on the pan, but I realised that I had not thought it through. The eyes and mouth were independent of the face, and had to be flipped separately. Yikes. Disturbing. 

Soon, in spite of the tiny quantities she ate, dosa became her favourite food. You could ask her any day of the week what she wanted for dinner, and her instant reply would be 'dosa'. The big problem I have is that she eats her dosa without any filling, sambar or chutney whatsoever. I've tried real hard, but she absolutely refuses to eat anything at all with the dosa. And I'm not comfortable with the idea of a small plain dosa as a complete meal. Especially if said meal occurs on a regular basis.

So I decided to go all out to fortify the dosas I made for her, just to increase their nutrition value by a bit. One day, I had made some spinach puree to make soup for Viv and me, and I mixed some of the puree with batter to make green batter. I made green heart dosas, and she bought them!

Then, one day, she made a strange request. "Mama, can you make a pink gingerbread man dosa for me?"

Hmmm. 

Pink.

Gingerbread man.

Dosa.

I thought for a while about how to bring these three unrelated elements together. And then inspiration hit me. I didn't want to use artificial pink food colouring so I used some beetroot instead. I made two batches of batter -- one was white and the other was pink, dyed with beetroot. 

It ended up looking more Halloween-y than gingerbread-man-y, but she ate it happily. 

I also tried to make a whale. Please note how the water spout from the blowhole ended up looking like a duck. Sheesh. But she didn't complain. I guess that was because she can't draw whales either. 

I have now taken my dosa ventures to new levels by buying a grinder (I was not entirely happy with using a blender to make batter). I didn't even know there was such a thing as a grinder, until I saw one at Viv's aunt's place in Bangalore when we were there last year. "What on earth is that giant contraption and why don't I have one?" I asked myself the moment I tasted the idlis she had made. I'm not a fan of idlis, but that seriously was the most divine idli ever. My dad-in-law, who wastes no time when it comes to anything, promptly took me to a store and I got myself a grinder. It was almost 10 kg in weight, but luckily, we had enough baggage allowance to bring it here. Now I make industrial quantities of really amazing, fluffy batter, enough for the family, friends and the 'hood. 

Now that she's a little older, I have graduated to making regular dosa-shaped dosas for her, but I still add all sorts of things to the batter - grated carrots, grated beetroots, vegetable puree, etc. I continue to serve it with some kind of a protein, such as sambar, but she rejects it without fail. Every single time. 

Well, at least the dosa is willingly going into that unwilling tummy and I'm really thankful for that. 

C is for captured

"Mama, when will my baby teeth start falling out?" Xena asked me some time last year.

"When you are six or seven..."

"Yayyyyy! My teeth will fall out! I'm gonna get new teeth!"

Her excitement and enthusiasm amused and also disturbed me. I don't remember being that thrilled when my first tooth fell out. I was never a big fan of the whole tooth-shaking-and-falling-out process. I had bawled my eyes out, not when my first tooth fell out, but when I realised that the process would occur nineteen more times!

My dad, on the other hand, thought it was a momentous occasion and had a picture taken of me, displaying a wide grin, but with a front tooth missing. He loved the picture so much, he had it framed and hung on the most prominent wall of the house. I didn't mind it all that much initially. In fact, I was quite proud of the fact that such a giant picture of me was up on the wall. My sister would sometimes play this ridiculous game she'd invented called 'How high can I fling my slipper up?' and one day, she flung it up so high it hit my picture. The picture didn't fall, but I was enraged and cried for a full fifteen minutes. That's how possessive I was about that picture. 

However, as I grew older, I soon realised how hideous I found the picture. I don't know if it was the missing tooth, or the lop-sided fringe (I'm pretty sure it was the handiwork of my sister again!), but I could say with confidence that it was the worst picture of me ever. And I only have like 10 pictures of me as a kid. I hated it. I would ask dad to take it down, especially when we expected guests, and he'd refuse, saying he had captured a special moment of my childhood and the world needed to see it. Sheesh.

Years passed. All my baby teeth had fallen out and new ones had taken their place. The photo and the frame hadn't budged from the wall, even though they were showing rather extreme signs of aging. One fine day, dad realised that it really was quite dilapidated, and it was indeed time to take it down. And he did. I was sure that even if he hadn't, it would have fallen down by itself; its condition was that bad. Anyway, the photo went away and I breathed a sigh of relief. I moved to Singapore and sent him better pictures of me to hang on the wall. He did, but somehow, he never printed any of them that big.

When Xena and I started discussing the fall of her first tooth, the first thought that struck me was that of my photograph. For some strange reason, I longed to see it. Was there a chance that it was somewhere? If not, was there a chance the negative had somehow survived my dad's multiple transfers? Was there a chance I could print it and show it to Xena, and perhaps even do a collage with her photo when her first tooth fell out? 

I didn't dare to ask dad because he'd have said, "Oh, now you like it? Now you want it??" So I casually asked my mom when I was there last year, "So what happened to that photo of me with my first broken tooth?"

"We took it down, remember? You insisted we take it down. I'm not sure where it is anymore."

"Erm, yeah. You wouldn't happen to have the negative, would you?"

"The negative??"

"Yeah... you know, for printing it again..."

"Why? I thought you hated it?"

"Erm, yeah. I'd like to show it to Xena..."

"Hmm... we definitely don't have the negative."

Oh, well.

So I gave up the hunt.

However, I was in for a surprise. Last week, my cousin sent me a message on behalf of my mom. There was no message actually, it was just a photo of a photo.

A photo of the photo.

So there it was, staring at me, that hideous photo of me with one tooth missing. I still hate it, I do. But I also cherish it. Dad had indeed captured a special moment of my childhood.

I had no intention of posting the picture, but I know that if I didn't, some of you would have been after my life, "Photo, or it didn't happen."

So here it is, that hideous photo of me, concealed behind the most extreme filter I could find, which just about gives you an idea of what it is, hopefully without giving you enough material to point and laugh. Hmmmph!

B is for bicycle

About two weeks before turning five, Xena expressed a very strong desire to get rid of the training wheels on her bicycle. So Viv and I said, "Hell, yeah!" and proceeded to carry out her wish. With her off-the-charts body weight and stick-figure legs, riding a bike, even with a parent handle or training wheels had always been a struggle for her. So we were quite thrilled at this progression.

I was amazed at how everything she said to Viv and me when training to ride was a reflection of everything I had said to my dad when I was a kid. "Don't let go! I will fall!" for a few days followed by "Don't hold! I can do it!"

(Of course, I never had a kiddy bike or training wheels. I started off at a relatively older age, straightaway on my red adult-sized Avon bicycle, which I used to take for a spin every weekend, all by myself. In a state like Bihar, where dad was posted at that time. But that's a story for another day.)

So last week, she was able to ride her bike without any sort of assistance for a considerable distance. It was a proud moment for us. And it made me think what a long way our little baby has come. And then a bell went off in my head -- photo post! I thought it might be fun to document in chronological order, Xena's vehicular journey -- from the humble ride-on toys to the tricycle to the scooter to the bike.

It all started in March 2012, when she got this ride-on toy for her 1st birthday. 

Of course, her main point of interest in the toy was the nose which made a funny musical sound if you pressed it. In fact, I think that if I close my eyes and concentrate, I can still hear it. 

Soon, she got quite good at riding on it. 

And she could even do the repairs by herself. Daughter of two engineers, after all. 

After six months, she had put together her own helmet, by taking apart a shape-sorter toy. 

Safety is important, you see. She wouldn't take off her helmet even for putting on hairclips.

By the next month, she had gotten herself another helmet. You can never be too safe when it comes to riding. 

By the end of 2012, she was a pro at riding this thing.

She also tried her hand at this tricycle we found abandoned at the playground, that everyone took turns to ride. You can call it the village bicycle. 

Just before she turned two, I got her this lamb with wheels that flipped up, converting it into a rocking toy, She loved it, but as you can see, we still had to pull her along.  

At school, they used these two-seater bikes and of course, it was impossible for her to move the pedals, especially with someone sitting at the back. But her teachers reported that she tried real hard. 

Just after her 2nd birthday, she had a Hello Kitty scooter, complete with a helmet. This scooter never left the house. We simply started referring to it as the 'indoor scooter'. 

Meanwhile, the lion ride was still around and she'd take it for an occasional spin around the house. This was June 2013. 

She also tried at hand at other bicycle-resembling objects, such as my exercise bike. She was 2.5 years old in this picture.

In August of 2013, I bought her a second-hand trike with a parent handle just to see how she handled it. She could pose with it very nicely...

...but when it came to pushing the pedals, her legs didn't have the required strength, so I had to push her using the parent handle at the back. 

Rocking lamb was also still around, but she was approaching 3, and as you can see, she was getting a little big for it. 

Viv and I gifted her a proper 'outdoor' scooter for her 3rd birthday, and soon she got quite good at it. 

She would zoom away and I'd be running after her!

She even did 'stunts' on her scooter. She called this the 'flamingo on a scooter' pose. Sheesh.

By the age of 3.5, she was able to ride the school trikes well. 

In June 2015, right after her fourth birthday, we rented a bike with training wheels at the beach. 

She was comfortable on it, and even showed consideration for other road users by stopping at crossings. And we knew that she was ready to get her own bike. 

We checked out bikes at several shops, and while her criterion was a simple "Daddy, Mama, this bike matches my clothes. Let's buy it!", Viv had some stringent requirments. 

Finally, in August 2015, we found the bike that Viv approved of. The shop had this in 'ghastly pink' and 'ghastly green' and to the shop-owner's surprise, Xena chose 'ghastly green'. I was not a fan of either colour, but the ghastly green would surely make her more visible when biking in the late evenings, so we went with it. I was secretly happy that she had not picked up anything in pink when she declared that the helmet would be pink. Sigh. Fine. 

September 2015 -- Xena at the beach with her bike

We took the bike everywhere we went, but Xena still didn't have enough strength or energy to ride it for more than a few minutes. This is the face she'd make to tell me she couldn't pedal anymore.

Notice the skipping rope in the basket? Yup, that was for me to tie to her handlebar and drag her back home after she got too tired to continue riding. 

And finally, we get to the present day, where she zips about on her bike so fast, Viv dons his marathon T-shirt and runs after her, while I run after both of them with my camera. 

Way to go, baby, way to go!

A is for anniversary

"Today is the day, Xena! Did you wish him?"

"But Mama, why is it his first anniversary and not his first birthday?"

"Hmm... Because we don't know when he was born. But we do know that he came to our home exactly a year ago."

That seemed to satisfy her.

"Happy anniversary, Blue!" She leaned close to his tank, looked up and wished him. Then she trotted off to make a card for him. 

Sometimes I can't believe we have had Blueberry for a year. I remember the frenzy when he made his unexpected entry into our lives, catching us totally offguard. I remember the joy he brought us, once we were past the panic attacks, the confusion, the anxiety and the insane amounts of googling to keep him alive and well. I remember Xena's teacher telling me that every single fish the class had got during that excursion had died within the week, including the two that were at school, and I remember wondering what I'd do when ours did too. 

But somehow, he survived. He lasted through our move when our home was getting renovated (though he did get really really sick once and was saved only by the grace of Google devta) and he lasted through our 3-week India trip. We had left him with a friend, who I must say was incredibly courageous to agree to keep someone's fish for 3 weeks, in spite of not being a fish person at all. I had emailed her a loooong list of care instructions, which she sincerely followed. I was too embarrassed to add, "Please talk to him regularly." as it felt rather silly. Now imagine my joy and amusement when I received a message from her saying, "I know this sounds silly, but I talk to him every day." I think when she returned him, she must have felt the same separation pangs I had felt when leaving him with her. She had also been very gracious about the fact that I had dharm-bhrashtofied her Tambrahm household by taking Blueberry's food (he's a strict carnivore) there. 

In the days leading up to his anniversary, I was very very nervous. A friend of mine, who knows a thing or two about fish, had paid a visit, taken a good look at him and remarked that he was in his senior years and that I should be 'prepared'. And for the first time in almost a year, with trembling hands, I had googled "How long do betta fish live?" There were many answers but what I generally got was that these fish live an average of about 2-4 years. And oh, the fish may already be a year old, possibly more, when you get it from the shop because it takes about that long for the fish to mature and its colours to truly bloom and make it attractive enough to be sold.

So Blueberry is most likely at least 2 years old. And since Murphy is everyone's chacha, I worried that Blueberry might be gone before his first anniversary. In fact, sometimes when he sleeps, he really does look quite dead. He'd either go and sink all the way to the bottom or float in a corner at the top, or hide in his grey cave, showing no movement at all. It always makes my heart skip a beat. The thought that he might be really old troubled me so much that I even spoke to Xena to prepare her for the fact that one day he would be gone. After her initial indignation at the thought of her fish dying, she started asking very weird questions. If he dies, will we have to throw him in the dustbin or can we keep him in the storeroom? Oh dear lord. Flashes of Joey's dad's pet mortician girlfriend appeared in my mind. I didn't know how to answer that. I don't know what people do with dead pet fish. I didn't want to think about it. We will get there when we get there. 

For now, I want to celebrate the fact that we have managed to take good care of him and kept him alive for a year. That's a long time. He has been the delight of every young visitor to our house and a great conversation-starter. People are instantly interested when I say, "Our fish is very dhaarmik. He fasts on Saturdays and is a vegetarian on Sundays." It's true. Because betta fish have stomachs the size of their eyeballs, but appetites the size of Kumbhkaran's, it is easy for them to overeat. Actually, the top cause of betta deaths is overeating. So I starve him on Saturdays, and then give him a quarter of a finely chopped, blanched frozen pea on Sundays. Since he's a hardcore carnivore, this high-fibre vegetarian meal does wonders to clear his gut out and keep him healthy. (See how sarvagyaani I am, thanks to Google again.)

Xena made a card for Blueberry's anniversary and even stuck it on his tank with scotch tape. When I pointed out that it was facing outwards so he couldn't see it, she peeled it off and stuck it back such that her drawing faced him now. It really touched my heart. I'm not sure if it freaked him out though. 

Sometimes, I can't believe that such extremely non-pet people like us have had a pet for a year. I do know that we will never get a dog or a cat, and we may never get another fish, but having Blue around sure has made all of us, including Xena, a little more compassionate and caring. 

Happy anniversary, Mr. Blueberry Bubbles! 

April is coming...

The above emoji was my response to Shub's query to Maya and me, "So ladies, April blogging challenge?" 

I love this emoji. It is so versatile. I have used it to represent happiness, sadness, anger, frustration, embarrassment and confusion in my conversations. I truly believe from the bottom of my heart that I overuse it. It was therefore, no wonder at all when (an exasperated, perhaps) Maya asked, "So what does that expression mean, Sayesha?" 

So I clarified. I clarified what it meant in that particular scenario, I mean. 

It meant - "Yikes, you had to bring this up, huh?"

I think that a part of me believed that if we didn't talk about it, it would go away. But another part of me (the more enthu-cutlet one, with all the keedas in her head) was kinda relieved. Why? Because it was out there now. Now we had no choice but to decide. Should we do the April A-Z blogging challenge, or not? A post a day, barring Sundays, for a whole month. That's a lot of pressure. With my new job (it's still mostly from home with a weekly pop into the office, but it involves more responsibilities and longer hours than before), Viv's upcoming annual teerth yatra to Vegas, a TV-free enthu-cutlet kid who only goes to half-day school, and a couple of new hobbies, would it be possible to do it well? Heck, would it be possible to do it at all?

And then I asked myself -- just whom are you kidding, woman? Every year, you ask yourself the same things and every year, you do it. And every year, it makes you so happy. Just. Do. It.

And so I will. 

Joker in the pack

So we were at a birthday party last night.

There was a huge poster at the party with many characters on it.

"Oh look, Peppa Pig!" I said. It was the only character I recognised. I don't even know how. Actually, I know nothing about Peppa Pig, and neither does Xena. (I actually take pride in that.)

"Oh yeah, Peppa Pig..." She said vaguely.

"You know Peppa Pig?" I challenged.

"Yeah..."

"Oh yeah? And who is that?" I pointed to the character next to it.

"That is..." She took a moment to think. "Salt pig! Hahahahahaha!"

Took me a moment to get that.

:|

PS: Viv, bow out, my friend. You've got some real competition here.

Trailerblazer

Ok, I'm going to sound really old, but back in "my days", you had the trailer and then you had the movie and then you had the movie reviews. Finito. However, these days they have a lot more. Too much, in fact. The first poster, the first motion poster (what the...), first teaser, dialogue promos, song videos, affair/break-up/divorce rumours, the trailer, the uncut trailer, and then fiiiiiiinallly, when you have lost all interest, comes the movie. And all of these things have their own reviews.

It was, therefore, with a lot of reservations, that I watched a video of this American guy called Jaby Koay who does a lot of stuff, but notably, reviews Hindi movie trailers. He doesn't know a word of Hindi, of course, and yet, courageously watches them first without subtitles and then with (if he can find them). Along with a guest, he then proceeds to talk about what his understanding of the movie is and also gives his opinion on everything in the trailer. It is funny, endearing and eye-opening, all at the same time.

It was very very interesting to see an open-minded outsider's perspective on Indian movies. He really makes an effort to understand Indian sensibilities and why some things in Hindi movies are that way. One simply does not question such things. Because... We are like that wonly, no?

Since good things are meant to be shared, I'm posting the two videos I liked the most -- 'Zindagi na milegi dobara' and 'Bajrangi Bhaijaan'. Watch the first video to find out why he said for Hrithik, "That guy should not exist." (If I didn't hate the phrase so much, I'd really say "LOL to the max" here.)

And... he said something very unexpected about Salman Khan which touched a chord in the heart of this ex-Salman-Khan-fan.

Enjoy! :)

Music to my ears

Hello bewdas,

In case you were wondering about my disappearance, I was trying to keep up with my travel blog, as it is one of my new year resolutions. I just finished the post on our big fat family trip to Yercaud, or what I like to call 'a family wedding, but without the wedding itself'. You can read all about it here.

So Xena first heard the song 'Tere bina zindagi se' from the 1975 movie Aandhi during the Yercaud trip. My sister-in-law and I sang it to entertain the family and we chose the song as a tribute to the very cool and funny uncle C, who for some reason had chosen Sanjeev Kumar as inspiration for his dress code during the trip.

A month and a half later, yesterday to be precise, I heard Xena hum what sounded suspiciously like 'Shikwa nahin...'. I asked her what she was singing and sure enough, she said it was the 'Shikwa song'. So I played it 3-4 times on Saavn and then we sang it together a couple of times.

Today, I heard her sing the first stanza all by herself and was fortunate enough to catch it on camera.

My bandmate from my university days saw the video and sent me a message that went something like  this: "Not yet 5 and sings from Aandhi. There is yet hope."

Amen to that!

First things first

"When was the last time you did something for the first time?"

Every now and then, I ask myself this question. I can't remember where I first read it, but it serves as a good reminder for me to live life to the fullest.

So last week, I found myself answering this question multiple times.

We had gone to Telunas island in Indonesia for our 9th wedding anniversary, and it was a trip of many firsts. First time travelling by boat for two and a half hours to get anywhere, first time staying in a villa built over the sea, first time kayaking on a black river lined by mangrove forests, first time chasing squirmy mudskippers and crabs along the beach, first time toasting marshmallows on a bonfire, and thanks to Viv, first time having a surprise candle-light dinner on a jetty!

No wonder I have been raving about Telunas to anyone and everyone who cares to listen (or doesn't!).

Hop on to my travel blog Hopscotch for more details and pictures about this piece of paradise.