ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN

This one's by Robert Fulghum, from his book "All I really need to know  I learned in kindergarten." I personal favourite.


All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at school.

These are the things I learned:

• Share everything.
• Play fair.
• Don't hit people.
• Put things back where you found them.
• Clean up your own mess.
• Don't take things that aren't yours.
• Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
• Wash your hands before you eat.
• Flush.
• Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
• Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
• Take a nap every afternoon.
• When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
• Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
• Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.
• And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.

Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.

Take any one of those items and extrapolate it into sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your family life or your work or government or your world and it holds true and clear and firm. Think what a better world it would be if we all - the whole world - had cookies and milk at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap. Or if all governments had as a basic policy to always put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess.

And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out in the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.

[Source: "ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN" by Robert Fulghum.  See his web site at http://www.robertfulghum.com/  ]

Calcutta Foodie - I

Yes, I'm a Bong. Yes, I'm a foodie. Yes, I'm a Calcuttan. And yes, I don't stay in the city any more.

I come back, sometimes. As I was stepping out of the aero-bridge, I noticed one of the officials speaking urgently into his walkie-talkie, with a few others huddled around him. The question being asked with so much intent? "Score koto holo?" (What's the score?) I grinned. I was back in Cal.

A friend suggested I do a few posts on my favourite Bong food. Since the blog is a medley of so much, I thought, why not, maybe I can go beyond the typical phuchhka-rasgulla-illish line.

I propose to start with one of the humblest : the churmur. It's a byproduct of its more illustrious cousin, the phuchhka. You get it at any phuchhka-walas any where in the city. In fact, the previous statement was such a gospel truth for a thorough-bred Calcutta girl like me, that I made the mistake of asking for churmur from a panipuri seller even when I moved 3000kms away. He had never heard of it. D-oh! But then, there was also the moment of glory when I did find someone who not only knew what it was, but even proceeded to make it for me, the same 3000kms away. There is a God.

The name “churmur” is probably derived from the crunching sound made while eating it. Simply put, it's a generous helping of boiled potatoes (generous being defined by the generosity of your phuchhka-wala), some dry gol-gappas, chopped chillies, onions, boiled white peas all mashed together with chaat masala and the strongest tamarind juice you can find. 
So, the ingredients, listed out, would be :

• 2 medium size potatoes, boiled 
• Quarter cup white peas, soaked overnight and boiled 
• 1 small red onion, finely chopped 
• Handful of coriander, finely chopped 
• 4-5 green chilies, finely chopped 
• 1 tablespoon tamarind pulp 
• 2 teaspoons dry roasted cumin and coriander seeds, roughly crushed
• 1 teaspoon red chili powder 
• 1 teaspoon Chaat masala 
• Half teaspoon black salt 
• 8-10 readymade gol gappas 

There's a recipe coming up, but later.


I think, and my friends would agree, that this churmur probably made for at least half of our nutrition throughout our school days. It had definitely more matter in it , compared to the teeny amount of potato stuffing one could get for the same money's worth of anything else, including our beloved phuchhkas. Fancy stuff, which we gorge upon now, was way beyond the budget, with 20 rupees amounting to a veritable feast.  I remember we had Maths classes after school, 5-7pm again 7:30-9:30pm. It was an ordeal for the most dedicated. But we survived on that measly half an hour break, when we used to run two blocks away for a helping of churmur, laughing over our mad dash, eyes and ears streaming from the heat of the chillies, getting lock-jawed from the unbearably sour tamarind. 


There isn't really a very complex way of preparing the thing, anyway. Put all the dry things together, including the potatoes, but not the gol gappa-s, and mash it up. Squeeze out the juice from the tamarind pulp, adding water if you need to dilute it. Add to the mix, just so the whole thing keeps together, but is not runny. Crush the dry gol gappas, and toss the whole thing together. Top off with the coriander, and have before it gets soggy (remember the origins of the name!).


I got the singular soul who is enlightened in the way of churmur-making  in my university-town, to prepare it for one of my friends. My friend isn't one the most lily-livered ones when it comes to food, but the face he made on putting the first spoonful into his mouth, had me laughing at the fact that the heady mixture of tangy-and-spicy was probably a bit too much on the first go. Maybe it's an acquired taste. Oh well, maybe I can convert them all. After all, I am a Bong, a Calcuttan and a Foodie. And that is one heady mixture, I've been told!




photos : https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2GsGlqXcgR6jVxM3DRVZzfUqK2EbK2tvYzBYqeZvbwFGOQA_HoNn_Ti8JJOkIcrMelw4BOeFaVQ6YyZDyDe4iax8NhsWDvw7Vb_HLQqcbGzyfnCbWBM60qA0wLZp0QMXp_ysa5ZmViQ/s1600/churmur7.jpg
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckvABqIPy48VrOGwN2CDGePXvuvr_WGkmbpqW4N5ChyphenhyphendarCE6eWhSEKtaOYQ1hjU6HOYAGInd2uQjRHN4_pcVQYrc2s9svUp95DGjCxOKFOA22xKHpZjNHLJtmC0hxkA-45akiTzGqkzo/s1600/DSC07639.JPG

Get Out of Bed - by Diane Shore

A spot of humour for today. Everything around was turning too ominous, thought I should lighten the mood. This has been one of my favourite poems ever to giggle on. The first time I read it, the ending really had me rolling on the floor. And it still elicits laughter, after all these years. I won't give away a spoiler, if you haven't read it yet! And even if you have, go ahead and read it once more. Have a laugh, it doesn't hurt.

Get Out of Bed!

                                      ~ Diane Z. Shore

"Get out of bed, you silly fool!

Get up right now, it's time for school.

If you don't dress without a fuss,

I'll throw you naked on the bus!"

"Oh, Mom, don't make me go today.

I'm feeling worse than yesterday.

You don't know what I'm going through.

I've got a strange, rare case of flu.

"My body aches, my throat is sore. 

I'm sure I'm knocking on death's door.

You can't send me to school-achoo!-

'Cause everyone could get it, too.

"Besides, the kids despise me there.

They always tease and always stare.

And all the teachers know my name.

When something's wrong, it's me they blame."

"You faked a headache yesterday.

Don't pull that stuff on me today.

Stop acting like a silly fool-

The principal cannot skip school!"

Told you, it was a good one! Hope that brought a smile, and I'll see you around folks.

Text © Diane Z. Shore, reprinted from If Kids Ruled the School published by Meadowbrook Press.

Need to be Purred

At least once a day our old black cat comes to one us in a way that we've all come to see as a special request. It does not mean he wants to be fed or to be let out or anything of that sort. His need is for something very different. If you have a lap handy, he'll jump into it; if you don't, he's likely to stand there looking wistful until you make him one. Once in it, he begins to vibrate almost before you stroke his back, scratch his chin and tell him over and over what a good kitty he is. Then his motor really revs up; he squirms to get comfortable; he "makes big hands." Every once in a while one of his purrs gets out of control and turns into a snort. He looks at you with wide open eyes of adoration, and he gives you the cat's long slow blink of ultimate trust. After a while, little by little, he quiets down. If he senses that it's all right, he may stay in your lap for a cozy nap. But he is just as likely to hop down and stroll away about his business. Either way, he's all right. Our daughter puts it simply: "Blackie needs to be purred."


(from The Gentlest Need by Fred T. Wilhelms from Chicken Soup for the Soul, Copyright 1993 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen.)


And so do we all. Purred, petted, loved. Sometimes to put chaotic minds to order. Sometimes to heal. And sometimes just to remind ourselves that everything is all right. 


A friend reminded me of a classic saying, "Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." I happen to agree. But magic such as that is hard to come by in yours truly's ordinary life. Oh well, I'll settle for warmth and happiness instead of fireworks and ecstasy. Not really such a bad deal. And if I may use our Harry Potter lingo, it "Exceeds Expectations". 


Don't get me wrong, its just baby steps, long way to go as yet. I am not even half-way close to what I really want, that is to be perfectly comfortable with myself. And maybe, eventually, with other people too. One does dream, you know. But I believe they are steps in the right direction. Let's wait and watch, shall we?






 Photo courtesy: http://www.visualphotos.com/photo/1x5067785/Woman_petting_black_cat_6N6555.jpg, Copyright VisualPhotos.com

Nothing Here

You think the stories are true,

The gospels are right?

Open thy eyes, there is nothing here,

Not a god in sight.

You think all men are good,

There’s beauty all around?

See the world, there is nothing here,

Jackals and jackasses abound.

You think love is the answer,

We only need to have more faith?

Look around, there is nothing here,

Only decay and death.

You think miracles happen,

The good you do comes back?

Welcome to reality, there is nothing here,

Either you conform or you crack.

You think people care,

You can walk the path you choose?

See the truth, there is nothing here,

You never win, you only lose.

You think I am a lost soul,

This is another crazed banter,

I can’t be talking of you,

Maybe I’m just off the rocker?

One day you will be alone,

Amidst hidden wounds and empty hearts

One day you will break,

Amidst grey skies and crushed butterflies

One day you will give up trying,

Amidst stale hours and putrid words

One day you will know,

This is life, there is nothing here.

Can you Forgive

This is perhaps one of the few posts I will make, in which I myself do not have complete faith. Everyone tells me I get hurt very easily. Guess I do. And the worst part is, sometimes I'm not really good at hiding it, either. We hurt people, people hurt us. Who is right? Is there a right? Who decides? I don't have answers. Maybe I don't need those answers either. But one question which I do need an answer to, is "Can I forgive?" Or rather, "Do I forgive?" Again, I don't know. I try. But do I really truly do it? If I do, why does it still hurt, every single time?

I had lost this poem in the passage of the years, it came back at a moment when I was really feeling antsy. The last line goes "We’ll all find peace if we forgive." But then, peace has never been one of my strong points. And "I forgive you" sounds so condescending. I wonder if it so, in reality. I'll try anyway. Forgive me too?

Forgive 

                                     -Danielle Rosenblatt

Forgive the sun who did not shine

The sky had asked her in to dine

Forgive the stars that heard your wish

The moon prepared their favourite dish

Forgive the rain for its attack

The clouds have tears they could not hold back

Don’t hate the birds because they are free

Don’t envy all the things they see

Don’t block the wind, but hear its cry

Or else that wind may pass you by

Forgive the storm it means no harm

Could not resist to, show its charm

Forgive the earth that never turns

Don’t hate the sun, because too much burns

Life intends to cause no pain

The flowers bloom from all the rain

The storm will come and it will pass

The sun that shines, it grows the grass

The wind it cannot help but cry

The stars at night light up the sky

Forgive the world in which we live

We’ll all find peace if we forgive.

Life,Blues, and Some Answers

I had been struggling since a few days to make sense of it all. People killing themselves, choices and consequences, acceptance (or rather the lack of it), and of course, human folly. In short, the usual drivel. I got caught in a Mobius loop of it all. I talked it over with a friend, and a few home truths came out.

Truth one. I am scared. I am scared every day of my life. If it goes bad, I’m scared it will go worse. If it goes good, I’m scared it will go bad. I’m scared I will not be able to cope. That I’m not good enough. That one of these days, I’ll snap.  

Truth two. I am confused. I revel in grey. I don’t put things in black and white. I wrote before of hating “straightlines and twisted logic”. I probably wear glasses to see things blurred, not to see them clear (this is metaphorically speaking, not literally!).

Truth three. I am never going to be ‘normal’, in the most ‘normal’ use of the world. I am always going to be a bit of a loner. I will always have trouble finding people who are like me (and consequently, like me. As in, ‘like’ the verb.). I may never get what I want of life.

All of which leads to Truth four. Ta-da! (Well, ok.).
When I say I am scared of snapping, I know that I will definitely snap. One day, but it’s not today. It’s never today.

When I say I am not good enough, I know it’s true. It also could have been worse. I am lucky to not be homophobic, or xenophobic, or bacillophobic. Or even a sociopath, for that matter.(Oh wait. I am probably that partially. Just kidding.).

When I say I revel in grey, I know it’s something I will struggle with for years to come. It also means I have a sharper perception of all other colours too. Specially those in people.

When I say I am not normal, I know it makes it tougher for me to survive. That doesn’t stop me from  knowing that I can. Not matter what, no matter how, I will see it through.

When I say I may not get what I want, I know that it is pretty much true, too (never mind what the birthday and new year wishes say). But I will always have what I need. Always.

I mentioned once before that I feel like a fraud with my words. Because they are just words, nothing more. But I still cling on to them, because, perhaps, they let me be who I am. And in my own poor, stupid way, I am an all right person (at least kinda).

And if the whole thing read too oxymoronic, it is probably because that’s exactly what it is. That’s why they call it life. Otherwise they would have called it three-cheese-and-pepperoni pizza. (I know you grinned at that.)