A breezy night it was
our meeting came to a close
and then you hummed a tune
and sang that song,
looked straight into my eyes,
you never meant a word,
neither did i care.
That song plays tonight,
And I play it again and again,
searching for meanings hidden,
still I can find none.

If you have touched my life

The positive way

Chances are bright

You are in for a surprise any day.

For you would have blessed my being,

So I would pray.

All your happiness

Is here to stay.

Merry Christmas!!

I rummage through pages of past memories of Christmas and I stumble only on three years that have marked my Christmas distinctly so far. I plan to celebrate it this year with the thing I associate it primarily with.

While as a kid all my festivals were linked with the image of sweets I would have. So at Diwali, I would eat laddus and at Holi, I would think of having Gujiyas and Malpuas. We never celebrated Christmas but I would imagine cakes whenever it would approach. I cannot recall any instance of craving for secret gifts by Santa. (I would however like to receive a surprise gift from him now) As far as I can see, I would only be consumed by the thought of cakes at Christmas.

Going back to my childhood, I also remember a distinct trait that I had and that I was popular for in the family. I could remember the taste of the food I would eat but only if it tasted heavenly. I would point that out for days to come. As I grew up, this trait faded somewhere. But why am I talking about my long forgotten trait ?

We had shifted to Renukoot that year. I was only six years old then. The school was closed due to winter vacation. Every one of us had all the time to ourselves. That day was Christmas. I do not really remember all the details very specifically of the day but it was around 9 in the morning. The doorbell rang. I do not even recall who had answered it. Was it my mom or my sister? All I can remember is when I got to the dining room, a box had been kept on the table. Someone had brought a Christmas cake for us. My eyes were glued to the box. As my mom would have opened it, I saw the most beautiful cake ever. It looked so delicious. I had cakes before but they were home made and without the striking icing that made it look all the more attractive. It had a pink coloured rose on it. The whole cake had a pink icing. Oh, how irresistible it appeared!

After all those years today I suddenly ran into the image of the first Christmas cake that I had. And yes, I can remember its taste. At that time, I was consumed by greed. I am sure I would have had the largest portion. This is one of the advantages of being the youngest in the family. I am sure I would have been showered with my siblings’ love and would have been given an extra piece of cake. I know at that moment I would have only been interested in the cake. Gratitude would have been far from distant to be felt. The moment only called for devouring the delectable cake.

Now as I am writing about my first Christmas experience, I feel like thanking the one who not only brought that beautiful cake but also help me create a fond memory.

The second Christmas experience happened in France. My friend and I had a two weeks break. Since it was our first major vacation, we wanted to use it pretty effectively to explore French cities. I had planned our two weeks trip. We started with Paris. We stayed there for about three days. Only two days later when we left Paris was Christmas. Somebody had asked us too about not spending Christmas in Paris. Well, I hadn’t given it a thought while I had charted out our trip. So we spent our Christmas in Tours with a French family. Had we not been at this stranger who later became a friend during Christmas, we could not have been able to see Christmas celebrations. As Christmas is meant to be celebrated with friends and family, he took us to his mom’s place. A Christmas lunch goes on the whole day I would say. The funniest thing in all the celebration was me being vegetarian. When we had just entered the lady’s house, my friend had overheard some conversation between the mom and the son. The lady might have been telling him about what all she had made. My friend came to me assuring that I will have at least something vegetarian as the lady had mentioned la soupe somewhere in her conversation. The table was laid. We were earnestly looking for some kind of a soup. Then we were finally offered la soupe which was not a soup but a cocktail that the lady had made with some fruit juices and champagne. I did not have much to eat, but still I wasn’t complaining. Even my friend who is a non vegetarian was finding it difficult to eat. But we enjoyed the conversations, the warmth with which they welcomed two strangers at their place and la soupe.

The last Christmas experience was at my sister’s place some two years ago when she and her husband had shifted to Delhi. They organized a Christmas party. That was one of the parties that I guess anyone who attended it will not forget. At least I will never forget. We had so much fun that night. It will need a whole new entry for itself.

All these memories are coming back to me as Christmas is approaching. I wish a Merry Christmas to all. May all our dreams come true. May I get my surprise gifts from Santa. May every year I keep on adding valuable memories to Christmas.  

The traveller

From the West,
he treads ahead
passing by the rivers,
mountains and deserts,

Meeting people,
with new languages
and culture,
message of love he spreads.

Borrowing a guitar,
he plays a tune,
sings to them and
captures their hearts.

They welcome him
with open arms,
so much he learns,
so much they share.

This world is his home,
these people his family,
He lives his dream,
A thing so rare!

I had wanted to write this on Sunday evening which I realized was the last day of November. I was motivated enough. But somehow, I could not manage to. Then, yesterday too, as a welcome note to the last month of the year, I decided to take it up. Again, something came up. So here I am finally to reveal the secret of my Sunday’s attempt of baking a Pineapple upside down cake.

Long ago, when there were few cookery shows and when there wasn’t any internet here, my sister used to write down recipes (from wherever she could gather) she thought she would get interested in cooking. Lots of recipes were tried and my sister, I must say, was successful in all her attempt. At that time, my attention would only be on one thing and that was eating. I would flip through the pages of that diary so that I could ask her to make something for me. She had written a few recipes of cakes. And it was there that for the first time I had ever come across a Pineapple upside down cake. Somehow the name was too attractive and fascinating for me.

So when I decided I would make a Pineapple upside down cake, I went back to the diary. When I woke up on Sunday morning, my mind had been bubbling with the idea of baking this cake. I had been almost fixated on this cake. I don’t know how I did not dream of a pineapple cake on Saturday night. Such was the extent to which my mind had been occupied so that it would not wander anywhere else.

Well, the morning passed by. It was after lunch that I decided I would start my preparation. As I started referring to the diary, I felt a little nervousness creeping in. It appeared to me as if I had some kind of an examination. So I started with caramelizing sugar which is important for the cake. I had never done it before. So I had no idea how much sugar should I be using. As I started the process, I saw sugar turning brown and it was so beautiful. I put this caramel on the pineapple slices that I put in the baking dish.

Next was the cake’s batter which by now I think I am quite comfortable with. So I put the batter on the caramelized pineapple slices, put it inside the oven. After some twenty-five minutes, the cake’s aroma came wafting through the air. I knew my cake was done. I asked my mom to check whether it was cooked completely. And yes, it was!!

We left it for a while and then turned it on a plate where we saw the very beautiful and our first pineapple upside down cake. I was elated. I had done it all on my own. But I still had some nervousness left as I didn’t know how it would taste. I cut three pieces; for my parents and myself. My mom tasted it first and I was excited too see that she liked it. I tasted it too. The image was perfectly in sync with the taste. All in all, I am encouraged again by this successful attempt of mine. Let’s see when I bake next.