English and me!

I had never read an English story book other than my school books, till I reached 7^th std. I still remember a day when I was in 5^th std , and got almost zero in an English grammar test. Being in an English medium school, where students were punished for speaking Malayalam,(!) I was expected to read/write and speak fluent English. But to my parents and teachers’ utter horror I didn’t do either. I didn’t understand what English grammar was! We had 2 library periods each week but I don’t have even a vague memory of reading any kind of English books on those periods. But contrarily I was more than good in Malayalam(my mother-tongue). I was thorough with all those scholarly(!) and equally tough Malayalam grammar which didn’t make any sense to common people(and to me!). And even before I was 8, I had read “Oru Desathinte Katha” 10 times. I had read almost all books of S.K. Pottekkadu, Thakazhi, M.T Vasudevan Nair, M.Mukundan, C.Radhakrishnan, U.A Khader, Uroob, Punathil Kunjabdullah, Madhavikkutty, Lalithambika Antharjanam, and Vaikkom Mohammed Basheer. (These are all the best and famous authors in Malayalam!) I even used to read “Sahithyavaarabhalam”, a weekly literary critic column(in Kalakaumudi) by Prof.M.Krishnan Nair while I was in 6^th std. But I haven’t even had a glimpse of either Archies or Tintin or Asterix then! I remember seeing a thin book of Noddy for the first time, while I was 11, and got utterly confused about the meaning of Noddy.

This was mainly because my dad used to take me to all “pusthakamela” (book festivals) that came to our city. He bought me huge collections of Malayalam books as pre-paid publications. He even bought me “sabtha thaaravali”- the ultimate malayalam dictionary with grammar. He combed thru all streets and got me used books in bulk. I remember one day when he bought me almost 10 kilos of Malayalam children’s books from a street vendor.

My achachan (mom’s dad) on the other hand, used to urge me to read spiritual books like “Thathvamasi” (by Sukumar Azhikkode) and books of NithyachaithanyaYati along with Gita Vyaghyanam.

Though I was bombarded with Malayalam literature in all forms, from all sides, they never thought about English. Did they think that being in English medium school automatically makes me proficient in English? Or were they not familiar with those, themselves? Any way, when I reached 6^th and 7^th std, I was among the poorest in English, in my class. I tried to mug-up grammar, but it didn’t work. I didn’t know anything..anything at all in English grammar.

The person who showed me the wonderful world of English books was my friend Veena. M. I don’t remember how we became friends, in my 7^th std. But she was crazy about English books and used to read “Hardy Boys” even inside class. And I admired her so much that I wanted to copy her. It took me almost 1 month to complete my first “Hardy Boys“. But I was happy. Veena, was an all-rounder. She was brilliant, participated in all kinds of quiz and competitions and won everything. She gave me books of Nancy Drew, Agatha Christie, Archies & all Enid Blyton books. Once I fell into the groove, the transition was fast. I reached a stage, where I could finish a Nancy Drew within a day, and that too inside class!.I was 13,then!

But my struggle with English grammar continued. Though there was some progress, it didn’t help me close those big voids. It was finally solved by a notorious tuition master of mine. For one complete year he did home-tuition for me and insulted me very badly , every single day , for my poor grammar. I cried and cursed him to the extent. It ended when he made me score 93% in English on my 10^th std .

Now a days its been almost 10 years since I read a proper Malayalam book. Its limited to just magazines now and that too, when I am in India. But, I think in Malayalam and write in English. May be that’s why, my blogs are too simple. I wish I could write like Brenny, who plays with words and sentences and their meanings!

I am always in so much awe at his style!

Bad Habits !

Now a days I am under a very bad addiction. You can say it as a very bad influence Or a very nasty habit to keep my mind off! And I blame Ireland for thrusting me with this bad habit (along with wine , red bull and KFC!). I never used to read any kind of glossy film magazines, while I was in India. No ‘Stardust‘, no ‘Filmfare’, nothing. According to me, those were all for those rich women who didn’t have anything better to do. I strongly believed that.

But to my utter disbelief, I am hooked onto British tabloids now. I started it as fun by reading Sun and Daily Mirror newspapers on weekends. They were cheap with almost 30 pages, had free glossy magazine inside and even a free DVD. Those were my reasons. It had everything to read about… all those gossips about celebs… about who dumped who, who is seeing who, who is in rehab now, who gave birth on her honeymoon, who got divorced and who is cheating on whom. It was harmless fun, it served the basic human inquisitiveness of peeking into others lives. To get relieved at the thought that they too have miseries like us. Yes I was just being human!

I first read Sun, when Saddam Hussein got hanged. It was different because it gave all those bits and pieces that were missing in ordinary ‘respectable’ news papers! Then came the CBB (celebrity big brother) hype. I think it was the golden time for British tabloids with all those controversies hanging around all the time. It was when Shilpa Shetty became the ‘ultimate’ lady and Jade,Jo and Danielle became ‘ultimate’ bullies. Ok, that phase too went. Then they ran a special on Princess Diana, with all those rare photos from her life.

Then came Britney shaving her head off!!! I still remember the day when I stared at ‘Sun’ for more than 5 minutes to make my brain believe what I was seeing. A half-shaved Britney with hair clippers!!! I read Sun‘s editorial, predicting Britney becoming next Anna Nicole, and was shocked at the state of the once squeaky clean celeb, like every other reader.

And now I started buying other celeb magazines too. And that too, 2 each week. I just don’t know what I gain by reading who lost how many pounds and who put a new tattoo, where. I don’t gain anything by reading that Jade and Britney are in rehab, or Danielle has been dumped or Jo tried to kill herself or Shilpa Shetty may become next The Xfactor judge!!! (All CBB participants). I know Victoria Beckham moving to US or Johny Depp moving to UK doesn’t change my life, a bit. I know Liz Hurley’s wedding to Indian business tycoon, Arun Nayar or Hugh Grant’s break-up with Jemima doesn’t makes me feel different.

Yes….I have developed this very bad habit. And honestly what I feel now is that, instead of probing into Hollywood , I should have tried Bollywood first, while in India.

Chicken-Biriyani-Fried-Rice

Getting inspired by Sabs “virgo power”, here goes my recipe for Chicken Fried Rice with Biriyani Masala… yes, you read it right…I use Biriyani Masala for making Fried Rice, which should be actually called ‘Chicken-Biriyani-Fried-Rice’. This is the easiest and only version, as far as I know!

Disclaimer: My husband and I survived doesn’t mean that every human stomach survives!

Chicken – 1 kilo (preferably, cleaned medium chicken-breasts/legs)

Curd/Natural Plain yoghurt – 3-4 tb spoons.

Ginger-Garlic paste—2 tea spoons.

Salt -- to taste

Grandma’s Biriyani Masala – 3 tbsp (don’t use more, it may taste very sour!)

NOTE: There are a lot of taste differences between N.Indian and S.Indian Biriyanis. As I am from South, I prefer Grandmas, which is a S.Indian brand.

Mix all the above together in a bowl and keep aside for 3-4 hrs.

NOTE: Curd tenders meat .

After 3 hrs…

Cook Basmati Rice in a rice-cooker (so that you don’t have to drain water after that) to an extent so that the grains are not broken and don’t stick to each other. I meant don’t over-cook, use less water while cooking.

And while rice is being cooked…

In a non-stick wok (kadai, round-bottomed cooking vessel), heat 2 tbsp of oil. Then put 1 medium size onion finely chopped, 2-3 green chillies finely chopped and stir till they turn light brown.

Add chicken mixed with curd and Biriyani Masala into it and cook with medium water.

NOTE: Curd already has water content in it .

As per your preference you can add sweet corn or/and fresh green peas into the chicken.

Once the gravy dries up to a medium level, take the dish off from hob.

In a big mixing bowl, add rice and chicken with gravy layer by layer, alternately.

You can either mix or serve in layers. I like it mixed.

NOTE: That’s why I said earlier that basmati rice shouldn’t be overcooked, because the grains can break and be sticky and turn this into a mashed-chicken-rice(which is also edible)! while mixing.

Put fried cashew nuts and raisins on top!

NOTE:If you are lucky, it won’t be a disaster! And…don’t sue me!

As, I am writing from office, I dont have a picture!

Ooops..i forgot...
this is my very own entry to Sab's Food Festival!

Recent news:

I tried GMAT's shanghai stir fry yesterday and turned out WONDERFUL!!

thanks Sabiha and GMAT!

this is what i made from her recipe....

I used chicken stock cube, as a modification!

Based on shops' names...

Here the shops are named after people, mostly. Eg: the one in which I spent most of the time in Ireland ..Penny’s.. Or Claire’s or Siobhan’s or Pat O’ Connors’ or Linda’s or even pubs named as Dan’s Tavern or so. But it’s so different from our local shops in India. There we had all the possible names. From the nameless shops in junctions, which are locally known as the ‘shop of ’ to those numerous <ABC> Stores, where ABC can be replaced with virtually anything.

There most local textile shops where ‘Textiles’ and most local hotels will be ‘ Hotel or ‘ Restaurant and most tailoring shops will be ‘ Tailors and every pharmacy will be Medical Stores.

When I was 3 or 4 yrs old, my dad had my clothes done in ‘Happy Tailors’. He cut my hair in ‘New Hair Dressing Saloon’ though it was a very old shop, in which he used to cut his hair when he was a boy! And my mom shopped for my clothes ONLY in

‘Good Morning Stores’. It didn’t get to me how funny the names sounded, till I went to school.

My friends asked: “swathi, from where did you buy this from?”

“Good Morning Stores”

***giggles giggles and more giggles ***

How funny is that?

I was made fun of for virtually every shop I / my parents went. And that too even by my grown-up neighbors. And that was not even for my choice.

Finally, getting desperate, I told mom,

“Could you please take me to a shop with some good name? All my friends are making fun of me, for ‘Happy Tailors’ and ‘Good Morning Stores’ “. I want to tell them that I bought something from a shop with a respectable name.

May be that was when she realized for the first time, the complexity and variety of problems a 6 yr old can face!

But she didn’t take me to any shop with fancy names. Because obviously she was saving money.

Now when I look back, I still don’t understand why they made fun of me (and NOT my parents), for not going to fancy shops. Here I go to “Mary’s Discount Stores”, or “€2 Shop”(where everything is 2 €) to save money. But still, I am not being made fun of. At least openly!

May be my kids will be made fun of for MY 2€ Shop visits?

May be kids are evaluated by the choices their parents make , hmm… even on the basis of the kind of shops they visit?

Itnii Shakti Hamein De Na Daataa

Itnii Shakti Hamein De Na Daataa
Mankaa Vishvaas Kamazor Ho Naa
Ham Chale Nek Raaste Pe Hamse
Bhoolkar Bhii Koi Bhool Ho Naa...

in english (courtesy Chandra)

O lord give me enough strength that

I don't lose self belief

Let me walk thru the right ways

By ignorance also I don't do mistakes.

03_Itni_Shakti_Hum...

or download from here

PS: thanks for Rohit, for letting me know, that this was my 200th blog...
and unknowingly, I posted a 'bhajan' as my 200th, which is so good of me!

Blood Diamond-the review

After my disastrous experience with Hostel, I was literally keeping myself away from seeing films without going thru reviews. I was planning to see The Number 23 which is going to be released on 23, February, because I liked those ‘intriguing’ kind of things. So last Saturday when my husband suggested seeing a film, I was hesitating.

But it was already 8 pm, and there wasn’t any my-type-kiddie films showing, as that time. The nearest schedule was for Blood Diamond, and even its name gave me a kind of eerie feeling. But we didn’t have much choice and just asked the lady in the counter, which one she suggested. She told us, that Blood Diamond is said to be good, though she hasn’t seen it. And I was ready to go out, if this one is going to be gruesome.

The only time I loved Leonardo DiCaprio was in Titanic. I thought he was handsome, that’s all. I never knew he could do such a wonderful job, in acting. This movie touched my mind and soul. It was one of those “true movies” kinds. May be that’s the reason, to think that it wasn’t pure fiction, always give me goose bumps.

Based on the background of Sierra Leone Civil War,(I didn’t even know that there was an African country called Sierra Leone !) and the illegal diamonds mined from there, it was just a realization on how bloody and gruesome, the story behind those glittering diamonds can be. How those rocks from the depth of African mines, reached the ring finger of rich women, especially in US and Europe, where the strength of a relationship is weighed by the carat of engagement or wedding ring. And where a relationship can be simply torn out by throwing the ring out of your finger!

Though they say “diamonds are girls’ best friends”, I have never worn a diamond in my life and was never fascinated by them. But this movie, actually made me think. It’s not about just diamonds. It’s about the values, different human beings possess, at different points of their lives. How a single thing can induce different values in different people’s lives for Caprio (money), for Djimon Hounsou (family) and for Jennifer Connelly (sensational news). And once they get together, how their values are changed!

I was touched by the film. There’s a dialogue in which it’s said that the African soil is red because of the blood from the natives who fought against each other for different reasons, including diamonds. It’s just not any usual movie that seems to commercialize African poverty. It just says how the natural resources from a country are being exploited by other nations, while the natives are made to fight with each other for nothing.

Though it ended with the death of Caprio (yea in Titanic, too), this movie was there in my mind, even after the 1.5 hrs inside the theatre.

One movie in which I didn’t close my eyes out of fear and my husband didn’t close his eyes out of boredom. And that itself makes this one, different.

Blood Diamond

The beginning of Nyctophobia

Some habits of us last for a life time, while some change drastically or even turn into extreme opposite, after some incidents.

Till I was 23, I was never ever afraid of darkness. I mean I didn’t have any problem roaming in terrace alone, even at 2am midnight, in a new moon day. It started when I was in 10^th and had to study late night. I used to sleep at 7pm and then get up at 12 and then study. Sometimes I went to terrace to study. I didn’t know what fear was…. Till….

*************************************************************************

I used to be in this hostel, which was attached to a convent. It had acres of land around it and there were missing compound walls too. We also didn’t have a security guard. Our room was very small and congested and stuffy with almost zero air-flow. It was a single room, turned into double, by pushing two cots into the place of one, naturally for more profit. As me and my roomie were thin, we could move around with less banging into each other. But whenever a third person came into the room, it was trouble. One of us had to “fly over the beds” which meant, to walk over the cots to reach outside. I am not exaggerating, the room was that small.

As it was Onam holidays, most of the girls had gone home, including my roomie. I was working and didn’t have holidays. I was alone and was enjoying that tiny room to all by myself. I usually sleep with my head near the window, but that night somehow I slept the opposite way. My feet were near the window. And above all, I forgot to latch the window, I had just closed it.

At 4am (later I checked the clock), I felt uncomfortable in sleep and opened my eyes, to find a man towering over me, looking me with intent eyes. He was silently staring at me. My brain went numb.

Where am I?

How came a man, in my room?

What was he doing?

What did he do, to me?

Didn’t I put the latch? …..

A thousand questions popped inside my head. I was literally frozen. As the room was tiny, the man seemed to be inside my room, but in fact he was outside my room, standing up on my window, which made him tower over me. So in my dazed feeling, I didn’t see the window bars that separated us. For me, it was just like he inside my room. A scream was caught inside my throat and I couldn’t move my body. Seconds passed by. And then he made a move. That movement of him shook me out of my numbness. In a fraction of a second, I just sprang from bed, went near the man (yes, I went near the man!!), banged the windows close, and ran away from my room, all the time screaming at the top of my voice. Actually the sound of my scream made me realize that I was still alive!

I couldn’t stop myself from screaming for the next 10 minutes. My scream echoed all thru the convent and sisters came running to hostel (in their nightclothes without veil!). I couldn’t talk. My throat was sore, cos my scream was so much high pitched! After half an hr, and after 3 glasses of water, finally I could speak. Of course, sisters didn’t care. They told that it was common that men/thieves came to girls’ hostel (!). They scolded me for not putting the window latch.

That morning, I went home and told dad my experience and he wanted me to move into another secure hostel.

But things didn’t end there.

I became paranoid of windows. Once I had gone to bed, I started checking closed (and latched) windows every 5 minutes, even at home. I would imagine latch coming lose from windows and go again to check it. I started screaming saying that I saw shadows moving thru windows. Amma lost sleep cos of my daily screaming. So she asked me not to close my room, so that she can check on me. That caused more trouble, cos I started screaming when she came to my room, to check, even in my sleep. I could sense her “footsteps”. This phenomenon lasted for over a year, and later lost its intensity. But never could I go to terrace alone after 7pm, again. I was always thinking of someone lurking behind my shadows.

Later I heard that my experience became a story in hostel, to be told when girls didn’t put latch on their windows!!!

Even now, I am scared of darkness. And I know my fear-less days of solitude in terrace are gone forever now. Thanks to that strange psycho!

And to think that I am even writing a blog on him!!