Chicken Fried Rice

As a child, even though I have been a foodie, my exposure to various cuisines were limited. We ate mostly home-cooked meals and my father would buy food from restaurants once in a while, and that would either be Biriyani or Porotta chicken. Nothing else. We also ate out very rarely, not because my parents couldn't afford it, but, my father didn't encourage eating out. 

Things are different now, we have plenty of restaurants and cafes around, and could order in, thanks to online delivery apps. Anyway, that's not what this blog is about. 

I was thinking of the time when I first had fried rice in my life - ofcourse, the Indo-Chinese one and it was indeed a funny story. 

I think I would have been in 7th grade and my classmates and I were discussing what we did during that vacation. For me, it would have been, as always, a 2-3 days stay at my maternal Grandma's place and nothing else, so had little to share, but other girls (it was a convent school) had too many stories to share. And one girl mentioned about going for a movie or something and her father buying her "Chicken Fried Rice" after. I was intrigued. 

What's chicken fried rice, I ask. Something very tasty, she responds. 

Do you fry your rice, like chicken fry? I ask again. 

No, it's not fried in that sense, she answers. 

So, wouldn't it be dry? What would you have it with? I ask again.

You pair it with chilly chicken, she responds. 

What if I want a veg fried rice? I am still intrigued.

Never tried, but may be, you serve it with Sambar, she ponders. 

So that day, upon reaching home, I ask my father to buy me chicken fried rice. My father, oblivious of what that thing is, rejects the idea...

I throw tantrums. And my father finally gave in. Since it was a bit of a task to convince, I never mention the chilly chicken. 

Next day for lunch, he buys fried rice for all of us. 

You can imagine a 12 yo's excitement right? 

I put one whole fried rice onto my plate and take a bite. I spit it out. It certainly was the worst thing I had put into my mouth until that day. And I didn't touch it again. My father was furious. I blamed him for buying something that's not fried rice. 

To be honest, until, probably last year, I wouldn't dare buy chicken or mixed fried rice even when I could buy it myself. I would always buy veg fried rice along with some meat side dish, that's how I enjoyed a fried rice. 

Now, I am finally accustomed to that taste, but I still remember the disappointment my entire family had when we are fried rice for the first time. 

Same story goes with Maggi. My cousins and I fought our parents to get us maggi and when they did, we hated it. All of us. :)

So yeah, that's that. 

A Thousand Splendid Suns - My Thoughts

 I just finished reading Khaled Hosseini's 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' and wanted to jot down something that I felt.

I had loved his 'Kite Runner' even though it broke my heart. So, I picked this one excepting nothing another heart break. And I was write. Since the protagonists are women, there is more to feel for, more to get disappointed, more to well up. In fact, every time I feel it would get better, it gets worse instead! 

However, the novel ends with a lighter note, it made me ponder about the lives of people in Afghanistan. I mean, have they really experienced peace and security in their lives? Especially women! When this novel was written, Afghan was getting restored to some extent and people expected peace to prevail but years later, Taliban took over all over again, leading to another disastrous outcome. Especially for women. My heart bleeds for them. 

I also think about the world in general, if not my own country. No matter how much we consider ourselves and a safe, democratic, anything can happen anyday. 

I don't want to really put down those thoughts out here, so yeah. That's that. 

I am also thinking of Palestine at this moment. 🍉

Is Blood Really Thicker than Water?

 I grew up hearing this proverb very frequently "Blood is thicker than water" and I ended up believing it too. I thought family (extended) was very important, and even though I was considered a black sheep in the family, I enjoyed and looked forward to family gatherings. But eventually, I learned the hardest lesson - blood isn't thicker than water after all!

As I grew up, I realized that some people that I loved and adored weren't what they portrayed themselves to be. People were around only for the sake of it. And the worst of it all, if you have money, you have more closer relatives. Sad, but true! 

Which made me ponder, why are our parents' generation so obsessed with family and being 'grateful'? I understand, we all need to have gratitude, but should we not call out toxic behaviour too? Just because someone has been kind to us, or have done things for us, are we obligated to keep them close, even though, we are aware that, they are gonna do more harm than good?

I just don't understand this logic. I mean, you can always be grateful, but if someone is wrong, you don't have to be their ally all the time! And that makes me proud of our generation. No shit given or taken! We, well, at least a lot of us, know where to draw that line and also not to let anyone cross their boundaries. And that's how it should be!

I really wish and hope our parents understood this too, and helped us live a less traumatic life.

Old Spice Aftershave

 The other day I saw somewhere on the Internet that Old Spice Aftershave is probably one of the very few brands that hasn't changed its branding in ages. Which took me back to the time when it was the default smell in my house.

Ever since I could remember, my father always used the Old Spice Aftershave. And it became his default smell because he would either shave his stubbles every other day - he prefered a clean-shaven jaw with a thick mustache even today. Or he would apply the lotion on my wounds as an anti-septic. And me, being the naughtiest of them all, always had a cut or bruise every now and then, so yeah, it would be applied generously. 

I can only associate that smell to my father and my childhood and nothing else. I am fortunate to have my father still around, but even when he's gone, I think I will buy a bottle of the aftershave and keep it in my shelf, so that every time I miss him, I will apply it on my palm. The smell would take me back to the time he was near me.

I don't know why I am considering this when he is still alive. May be because I am aware of the inevitable, and he is getting older. 

Today, I will make him apply it on his face, a little bit more and indulge in that aroma and register that memory in my mind... forever. 

Why Do I Write?

 Why do I write?

I always ask myself this and I never had/have a finite answer! 

May be, it helps me lower the burden of emotions a little, and that's all I could think of. 

I am neither a great writer, nor do I have an amazing vocab. Yet, here I am, writing, mostly blabbering. 

I started this blog in 2009 when the world was facing an economic recession. I was just out of college, which means there were no jobs nor did I know what to do with life. 

Then I came across people in my circle writing blogs, so I thought, ok why don't I try too. And that's how this blabbering blog started.

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. I was not doing it for attention or because I thought I had a flair in writing. I just did, and surprisingly a few of my friends started encouraging me. There were ofcourse events when the little confidence I had shattered, due to some very harsh comments, and not going to lie, they still haunt me.

I haven't written in a while, because I thought, its not my cup of tea. 

And may be because, most of my rantings were due to heartbreaks and there aren't any now and I feel empty :D

But I have started doing this again... again, not for attention or validation, but I feel, may be if I write frequently, this whole mindblock would change, and I could also become a decent writer, if not a good one.

So here I am. Blabbering again! :D

Hierarchy or Disrespect?

 Today, randomly, I thought of this small incident that happened more than a decade ago. 

I'd have been 22, when I had a brief stint at an event management company in Kerala. For one of the events, they had to do some purchases, for which the manager took me along with her to Mumbai. While we were at the market, purchasing things for the event, she also stopped by a small clothing store, from where she bought this beautiful, ivory coloured salwar material. I loved it too, so after she made the purchase, I asked the shopkeeper to give me a few meters too. Suddenly, she interrupted and asked me to buy something else, saying something like "I am the manager. I don't want you to wear the same dress as me". I obviously felt bad, but since I was naive and timid, I went ahead and bought something similar.

Today, when I look back, I feel that I should have protested. What's with this hierarchy? 

But,when I think about it deeply, well, I am guilty of it too...

Because, in my career, I have donned many roles, including that of the top-person in the company, which made me feel I was superior and everyone should listen to me. I have had this reservations towards people and got really offended when I felt even the slightest of discomfort, which I considered as disrespect? Well, these were in a non-hierarchial set-up, so I feel I was wrong too!

Even today, in the work-front, I sometimes end up judging people - while I want seniors to treat me like an equal, I expect juniors (be it age or experience) to respect me. The previous incident that I mentioned makes me retrospect the whole thing. If my manager was wrong, I am wrong too!

I think it has got more to do with the conditioning where you feel superior in a certain way. I am going to try get this superiority feeling off my system, that will be my next task.

Ok then, see you around! 

Have you ever experienced solitude?

 "Why are you unmarried?"

I have come across this question often in my life, even though it has reduced a lot, thanks to the 'she is way too old, she is out of market' nuance. Some have been very intrusive like "Don't you have feelings"? "Love failure"? and assuming that I was in love with my dead cousin BROTHER (the weirdest shit I ever heard) so on and so forth. 

Even though one of the main reasons for not getting married is because I never came across anyone worth living with, but there's another strong reason behind it.

Have you ever experienced solitude? Do you know how addictive it is? 

Yes, I have always been a people's person. I mean, not exactly the social butterfly types but I always wanted someone to talk to. But that eventually changed, thanks to some terrible choices of friends and certain unbearable life experiences. Which made me embrace solitude. 

It gives you your space. You can be whoever you are and will never be judged. You can have umpteen thoughts, zone out and do whatever you want, and you will not be disturbed. It's magical, you have to experience it atleast once. 

And honestly, I enjoy this freedom and solitude a lot, a cannot imagine having an intrusion. My parents are cool that way, they are conservative and all that, but they never intrude. And I wish to have that silence forever, is that asking too much?

Yeah, I would love to have a companion and all that, but marriage... no.... I don't think I can handle that.

I love my space and my solitude, I hope someday I come across a man who is in the same realm, we date and we stay in our own spaces, life unaltered :D 

Frangipani Love

 I don't know how and when I started getting attracted to Frangipanis.

My first memory of seeing, and smelling a frangipani was when I was 6 or 7. Our newly-built home, which was away from everything I had loved and experienced until then, had a spacious garden. My parents were never plant people, but they wanted the surroundings to look aesthetically pleasing, they planted a lot of flowering shrubs and trees around the house. One of them was this magenta frangipani. I loved the pleasant smell of it, I would pick one from the floor or pluck something that's reachable and play with it. It was my favorite plant in that entire garden. 

Years went by, and new construction happened in the building, and to accomodate a new flight of steps outside the building, my father got the frangipani tree cut down. I was deeply hurt. I had this close connection with this tree, and I felt like I lost a part of me. I used to talk to this tree every now and then, as if its a friend, and that's what I lost - a friend, from an otherwise lonely, terrible life.

From then, every time I come across a frangipani tree, I would pause and enjoy its beauty. I have moved on from the magenta one, the ivory frangipani version is my current favorite. 

I love flowers of all kinds, but frangipani would definitely remain on top of that list. I once had this idea of starting a clothing brand, and while my friends and I were trying to find a name for it, my first choice was 'Frangipani'. Unfortunately, I got to know that there's already a brand by that name and I let that feeling sink in. 

Someday, if I ever get married, even though that day would never come, I would want a very intimate wedding. And I know which garland the bride and groom would be wearing - the one made with lovely frangipanis. That's certain. 

Love - A Second Time (Part 2)

 Falling in love with you wasn't a choice. 

When I first met you, you were probably the first person of the opposite gender with whom I could associate, on a deeper level. Years went by, and I met so many men - relationships, dates, friends... Yet I couldn't find another man who is as pure as you. 

You often tell me that you are an ordinary man, with ordinary life and dreams. May be you are, but I have never come across a human being who is so exceptional, kind, genuine, loving and loveable. 

I fell for you, but life had other plans. You chose someone else, and my heart broke into a million pieces. But, it helped me move on, (or so I thought) than clinging on to something that was never mine. 

And then men hopping happened, from one to another, but the worst part of it all is, I was looking for you, in all those men.... the benchmark is so high... no one could really be you. It never occurred to me that you are and will always be my only choice. Until this night happened. 

The moment your lips touched mine... Your body intertwined with mine... That moment... was surreal. 

It reminded me of "Love in the Time of Cholera". I am Florentino Ariza, who waited over 50 years to embrace the love of his life, Fermina. Maybe, we will have such a beautiful ending, maybe not... either way, I am happy to experience this moment, lying in your arms, listening to your heartbeat... making me feel ecstatic. 

This moment wasn't a choice either, but it occurred, to heal my mind and body. 

Yes, I am healed, I can now finally move on, realising that I will never love another man as much as I loved you. And also that, I will love you, till death and beyond. 

This realisation took years, but I think that's my closure. I will finally stop looking for you in other men because now I know no one can be you...

I will move on, cherishing the moments we shared, knowing that this isn't love a second time, but the love that I always chose to ignore. 

Yes, I will finally move on, always remembering that no one can replace you in my life. 

Love - A Second Time (Part 1)

 Dear D,

I love you. 

Of course, you know. You have always known that I could never get over you. 

A love that lasted over 15 years, even after knowing that the love is never reciprocated. 

But love is love. It has no beginning or end. It happens organically; before we know it, we are in love.

I vividly remember the day we first met. A conversation that went for how many hours, I can't recollect. An instant connection that I thought would probably last for a lifetime. It did, I won't deny, but maybe not the way I always wanted it to be. 

Your gorgeously luminous smile stole my heart the moment it flashed across my face. That was it. That smile was what I wanted to wake up to, every damn day. Charm oozed out of your personality that I couldn't resist it coming over to me. I wonder why I didn't lean toward you to kiss you softly, gently and passionately. Maybe because I was too afraid that you wouldn't reciprocate, breaking my heart into a million shards. 

And I was right. You never reciprocated. You called it friendship when I tried labelling it love. You never pushed me away, and that was more painful than the other way around.

I am a seeker, I seek love from every nook and corner. You were the nook I landed upon and never wanted to leave. 

But you chose someone else. I was happy for you, and a tad bit jealous of your partner. They got everything I wanted - your love, care, affection, intimacy and more. 

And then I thought I have moved on. Many faces, many kinds of love came my way. I took it all, enjoyed them all, and left them behind because no love was as precious as my love for you. 

But, I honestly thought I am over you. Until you flashed that goddamn smile of yours, all over again, at me, 15 years later, sweeping me off the floor, a second time. 

Love is unkind, mischievous and truly hurtful. Otherwise, why would I have fallen for someone who's unattainable? 

Unrequited love is the worst. It sweeps you over, only to break you into pieces that can never be fixed. And I became a victim of that unforbidden love. 

(to be continued)