Sunday, December 20, 2015

When Dinner Turns to Be a Disaster!

Last sem of our college, we had a disaster management class wherein we were warned against a dozen of disasters and were taught all the precautionary measures and in the worst cases how to deal with the trauma post-disaster.

But college just missed out teaching us what to do in circumstances when the stomach has to sleep with no input to it.Well,we are three girls sharing a flat, all brought up in Gujarat but hailing from different places. And luckily enough, all three of us are pretty good at cooking.

The usual dinner consists of Roti and Sabzi or some kind of rice(I,being a south Indian can prepare a few varieties).And a confession, after we come back from office and notice that we’ve got no vegetables at home, we don’t climb down and walk half a kilometer to buy some. Dinner has to be from whatever we’ll have at home at that time.

A few days back,a situation similar to the above occurred.No vegetables to prepare the curry. And rice wasn’t an option good enough as we had it a day before.But we had besan(gram flour) at home.One of the girls recalled how her mother used to prepare something delicious of that and suggested us the same. And we agreed.

All very excited,we started.


Mixed water,besan,all masalas.Whipped it. Sautéed the onions and then poured that mixture into it.All seemed to be going fine until the water from it almost evaporated and further addition did not seem to be making any difference.And we’re all too hungry to have not lost our patience.
We took the vessel form the induction, made some rotis and got to the regular business of eating.

The first bite.It was less than semi-cooked. As if you’re eating plain besan with water added.But nobody said a word.Internally we all could feel what was going on in each one’s mind..

One of us got up and brought the pickle.I got up to get another variety of it.The third one took both into her plate. We somehow ate, however much we could and got up hiding the remaining part of the curry from each other and put the left over in the leftover-bag.

That day all of us went to bed,not uttering a word.Late night,one of the girls knocked each of our doors and asked us to drink more water saying,
'Who thoda besan kacchha reh gaya than a apan se..toh paani zyada pi lena.Pet dukhega warna’. :D

Just yesterday, that topic emerged out of nowhere (First time after that day) and we had a good share of laughter concluding that ,that was the worst dish we could have ever prepared! :D
Living alone and cooking ourselves sure give many memories!


Thursday, December 17, 2015

FS Tales #7 : Conquering my Fear

Have you ever grabbed an opportunity wherein you’re into a new place with nobody knowing you and were asked to do something which was out of your comfort zone?Yes,yes,I’m talking of the same feeling you might get after a rebirth.

A kid, for instance. Like a free floating body. Bothers about none. No criticisms and no failures. If you laugh at its absurdity, it’ll laugh twice as harder, making you doubt your own sanity.

You rarely get an opportunity to be in that kid’s place I just talked about. Not literally of course, but if for some reasons, you’ve moved to say, a new neighborhood devoid of any aunties from the previous one or a new job place where nobody yet knows you, that’s a chance you get to create your first impression on this new bunch of people. And creating an impression doesn’t necessarily mean recreating the one you had at the former place. You now have this splendid chance of altering that impression.

 What after all life is all about? Jumping from one rail track to another, just being more cautious each time and pocketing the lessons learnt from the last hop, all while quaffing the thrill and excitement.

So, when you change your rail track, make sure you alter that impression and you, yourself-with all enhancements and fixations. All that you wished you were on the previous trail.

I just had this chance. The people who know me personally, know that I’m quite a shy kind of person when it comes to dancing. It’s not about the stage fear,for I love addressing the mass.It had something to do with some portion of my brain resisting my body to even give it a try.I remember,the last time I had danced on a stage was when I was in the fifth grade.That’s almost twelve years ago!And I confess,I never actually gave it a serious try.As I mentioned,some evil chunk of my brain had succeeded in convincing me that my body won’t ever obey the choreographer’s instructions. And maybe,at that age,we are at a stage when we begin getting conscious about our own self. When people laughing at us suddenly starts bothering us. When that kid in us has just started becoming asthmatic towards others’ annotations.

So,when I moved to an entirely new city and a new workplace and got to know about a cultural event being held,with all nervous thoughts but a determined soul,I got registered for it.Thanks to one of my colleagues for propelling me to do so.Another confession, I’m scared of choreographers.I mean,literally.Have you ever noticed the anger and irritation on their faces when their students aren’t able to grasp a step in spite of them trying,say,maybe a million times? If you haven’t, I have. And I’ll tell you, it’s the reaction a math teacher might give to a class six student trying hard to solve 3+8*9!

Leaving all the negativity behind, I decided to stop upsetting myself over all the scary thoughts. Before I could convince my heart that I can, my brain had played its part and convinced me otherwise. That night, I pinged about my participation to my friend who motivated me saying if I can dance to the garba(folk dance of Gujarat) tunes with such grace, western won’t be difficult for me. Suppressing those evil feelings that my heart and brain both were pumping in, I anxiously went inside the dancing room the next day.

During all this, thanks to my grit of altering my impression of being a not-so-good-dancer(how optimistic of myself!:P) to a moderate-leveled-dancer(No! No great expectations!),nobody around me even had a hint of how terrible(Facts hit hard) a dancer I might turn out to be!

With the same determination, I went for my first dance practice after a decade. And when I came back, sitting on my office chair, I felt so good! Of course, I required an instruction or two more than the good dancers but nothing was as scary as the overthinking thinker inside me was telling it would be. Then followed a lot many rehearsals and then finally that stage performance! Everything was just amazing! Circumstances deemed me to be the one playing the main role-on the center stage! And it was so gleesome!

Now everybody around me knows me as a girl who can dance. I don’t actually know where I stand on their rating scale, but I’m happy that I at least belong somewhere there. I felt a change. I could alter my impression.
You can try that too.

Growing up makes you a little more conscious about yourself. These are the opportunities when you  get to turn the tables.

Different places, different and better versions of your own self.