Ramadan, Paryushana, Mahalaya and a Giveaway

No, this post has nothing to do with any religion. I am not the right person for that kind of thing. I have little knowledge about the tenets and rituals of the various religion including mine. All I want myself to have is faith, a belief to guide me through life.

This B&W photo of Narkel Naru from a previous Durga Pujo goes to Susan's B&W Wednesday

Why I mention Ramadan or is it Ramzan, is because I have been always very impressed with the fasting, the rigors of sacrifice and self-control involved in that month of intense heat and scorch. When we were little and barely knew to spell "religion" our parents uttered the word "Ramzan" with hushed reverence. Reverence for Maulbi Saab who shut the green doors of his store the entire afternoon for he fasted and went without water in the searing heat and needed rest. For my classmate's parents who worked through the day and dealt with three kids without a morsel of food to sustain them until sunset. The whole idea of abstinence from food and water seemed huge, looming large above anything they might have done during that period. In those times, Iftar or the fast-breaking meal was less glorified and it was the fasting during Ramadan that held all the attention.

Paryushana is a word I heard only recently from here. And this after we spent years being neighbor to a Jain Aunty who made the best stuffed red chili pickles in the Universe.If you are ignorant like me, it is a Jain festival when the laity take on vows of study and fasting with a spiritual intensity similar to temporary monasticism.This is the time when the wandering monks take up residence for the monsoons and so the householders immerse themselves in an annual renewal of faith by meditation and self-control.The last day of the festival you ask for forgiveness from all living beings as I understand.

Very apt and fulfilling it seems, to come together for a purpose, to live a few days trying the body and mind to strict submissiveness, channeling thoughts for a greater purpose maybe.On the aside, two of my fellow bloggers a hiker and a yoga-er have already tried their body and mind in greater ways, and so it does not necessarily have to do anything with religion or festivals.

When I mulled over these two festivals from two very different religions it is the self-control that they profess to practice for a few days every year fascinated me. I do not come from a fasting household. My Mother does have her quota of vratas and fasts but none of them ask to go without food for the entire day or for a consecutive period of days.If I try to go 12 hours without food, my Mother thinks I have become weak.Mr.Hazare is clearly not her type.

As an adult on my own I have never practiced total abstinence from food or anything else willingly. Here we will ignore severe bouts of stomach flu when one eats Phuchka and egg roll on their Calcutta jaunt. This year I wanted to spend a few days practicing to eat one meal a day, to spend my day not thinking of food(my usual hobby) and cooking but something beyond myself.Sure sign that I am fast approaching the age for Vanaprastha.

DebiPoksho begun yesterday on Mahalaya. The Goddess is packing her last sari in the suitcase and checking to see if the door locks are working properly, after all she will be away for all five days and that husband, Shiva of hers is hardly trustworthy with such things. The countdown to her arrival has begun. It is a moment of anticipation and joy in the heart of the many Bengalis around the globe.On my part I will try to eat only one meal a day for these four days till Panchami. No one has asked me to do this, there is no set rule and I don't know why I am doing this at all. Heck, I might not be even able to do it and succumb to that bar of chocolate mid morning.

I have no intention to achieve anything but I hope this period will make me appreciate food and everything else that is easily available to me more.

Since it is that time of the year when the heart sings a tune even though there is no swaying kashful in sight or damp sheuli their face upturned waiting for me on the wet morning grass, I want to share the song with you. For you alone my Blog Readers who have always been with me all these years, I have a humble gift.

For the simple reason that I do not have enough riches (ha, ha), there can be only one winner and the winner of this Giveaway gets a choice to pick a

CorningWare SimplyLite 1-1/2-Quart Casserole with Glass and Plastic Lids (this I have and love) from here

OR a Le Creuset Stoneware 16-Ounce French Onion Soup Bowl, Kiwi (This I would love to have) from here
** This is if Amazon ships to where you live
If you do not want the above gifts and you are a winner, you will get the equivalent amount in Amazon Gift Card.

For those in India, I have a gift of a much loved book. I will send it from Flipkart so you have to be where they can ship.

Garlic And Sapphires: The Secret Life Of A Critic In Disguise(Paperback) by Ruth Reichl
If you do not want this book you will get a Flipkart e-voucher for the equivalent amount.

The winner of the giveaway also has a responsibility. He/She gets to pick a charity they support and I will contribute $50 towards that charity (given that it is valid and all). It is okay if you at least like the work of a certain charity and would like me to contribute towards it.

So to be part of this giveaway you need to do the following

1.Leave a comment on this post along with your e-mail id

2.Tell me since when  you read this blog and a charity you think does good work

Go ahead now and do your part. If you follow me on OR , you have to leave a comment right here to be considered for the Giveaway

And as they say over the Loudspeaker दुर्गा पूजा की हार्दिक शुभ कामना or দূর্গা পুজোর অনেক শুভেচ্ছা or tepid as it sounds in English Happy Durga Pujo

*** And oh yeah, No one has sponsored these gifts and all of them are paid by me because I love you so***

Toddler Menu -- a la Frittata

My Dad who is really bad at story telling is coerced into telling LittleSis a story.

He goes, " There was a cow who gave us milk...".

Okay I really don't know how this exciting story would have turned out but LS intervened " Cow gives you milk ? Naaaah. We get Milk from the fridge and Baba puts it there. He gets it from the grocery stores".

Does this prove "Baba is cow" ? Kind of.

The BigSis enters the picture and is apalled at her sister's lack of knowledge.

She goes, "No LS listen. The cow who lives far off gives milk. Then they put that milk in big trucks. The truck transports milk to the grocery store, blah, blah...."

LS gives her older sis an incredulous look and walks off saying "Naaaah".

LS's Dad is telling her a bedtime story. He starts off with Ramayana. The poor guy has been trying to tell the same story for years and has never gone far. It truly is an epic when told in our house.

This time however amidst all interruptions and questions he proceeded to the part where Bharat returns to Ayodhya with Rama's sandals on his head.

LS goes "He carried sandals on his head.Ewwww, that is disgusting"

LS went to school for all of 4 days, 3 of which she cried buckets. All 4 days we got her back in 2 hours. And then she proceeds to tell everyone who cares to listen "I went to school. I did not cry even a little bit"

Beginning of this month we went to visit the D's sister. LS ganged up with her same age cousin and they both played together very well. They would set up their play things in corners or in closets and shoo away the older sis. It was a huge change from last year when they met for the first time in India and fought like cats & dogs.This time it was the BigSis who would come and tell us, " They are not letting me play, what do I do ?"

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Tomorrow is Mahalaya and the count down to Durga Pujo begins. We will be celebrating it far from Bong land like Sudeshna says. Also there is something coming up for you all also in a couple of days, so stay tuned and be back.

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Now to the Frittata, which is an easy breakfast for weekend or even weekday Mornings. It is both easy to make and to shove down a reluctant child's throat, upto a point that is. I do it totally on the stove top, no oven is involved. You may say that makes it an omlette, but I will stick to Frittata because that makes it a la-di-da dish to gobble up quick. And that is how the girls like it.

Cook few pieces of Broccoli florets(cut small) in the microwave.

Heat 1 tsp of Olive Oil or Butter in a small fry pan. Saute some chopped onion, cooked broccoli or what-have-you vegetables. I usually add some chopped spinach and tomatoes. Thinly chopped Bell peppers are another attractive option.

Once the vegetables are cooked I also add some pieces of bread, hand torn. Note:Bread is optional.

Meanwhile beat 2 eggs + 1/4 cup of milk in a bowl. Spike it with a salt, little Garam Masala powder and what-have-you herbs.

Once you are done sauteing the veggies and the bread pieces are just browned, spread them out and pour the beaten eggs uniformly covering the veggies. Tilt the pan around to ensure that the liquid has reached all edges. If necessary , add about 1/2 tsp of Olive Oil around the edges.
Cover the fry pan, reduce heat to low medium and let it cook. Check in between to see if the top has set, lifting the edges a little with your spatula. Sprinkle some grated cheese on top and let it melt. Serve warm.

Note: Ideally after the bottom is cooked you are supposed to transfer the pan to the oven and broil for couple of minutes. I don't do that, because  the Frittata I make for the kids is not very thick and it gets cooked pretty well on the stove top without firing up the oven. The only thing you need to be careful is not to burn the bottom of the frittata and you are all set to serving up a happy meal to the kids.

Coffee House er sei adda ta...

This post should have been written last year, but I sat on it for the longest time ever because I did not know how to write what I felt. I still don't. But what the heck I thought. It is Black & White Wednesday. And anyway what can you write about something that is as mythical as Coffee House,tucked between old bookshops, above betel-juice stained stairs on a by-lane just east off College Street.

It is not that I had my first love there, beneath those high ceilings and dusty twirling fans.Nor did I bunk classes to discuss fall of the Soviet empire over wispy smokes of Charminar and tall, grimy glasses of cold coffee. Sitting besides those mildewed walls, I did not pen my my first poem for a Little Magazine.

All that I really did was drop in whenever I was in the area, to eat and soak up the atmosphere. The food wasn't even good and the service austere. Yet, I would step in, fanning myself with a dupatta, my sling back loaded with books;to order a plate of chicken pakoda or a kobiraji cutlet and a cup of really bad coffee. The hum of the rich sounds around me, the smell that reverberated through the walls trapped since the 70's, the imperceptible presence of Calcutta's literati in the same uncomfortable wooden chairs as mine, fascinated me. I wanted to belong to the Coffee House crowd but never did.

Last year after I had spent hours browsing through the book stalls spilling with books on the narrow pavements on a particularly humid day in October, I stepped into Coffee House again. The place seemed stuck in time, relying heavily on its past glory. The walls seemed to have taken a careless brush of paint and some of the wooden chairs had given way to plastic. The sign stuck on its walls was another new addition but I doubt if anyone so much as took a glance.

Everything else including the servers with their elaborate head gears and their strict demeanor remained same. I ordered a Chicken Kobiraji for myself, D got an omlette. We sipped our cold coffee, limp and uninspiring.

I took out my DSLR but was too shy to break the rich monotonous hum with a high pitched click and so kept it away. After a few pics with my smaller camera, we stepped out in the sun into the cool interiors of the Indica, leaving the musty yet energetic 70's in our wake.

Calcutta Coffee House -- circa 2010

I don't know if the above picture qualifies, if it does off it goes to Susan's Black & White Wednesday.