The lightbox

This is a remarkable post for many reasons, 1 -It's the 400th for MindBlogging (yippeee) and 2- it fulfills a project that S and I embarked upon ages ago after seeing Pattu's this post. Fascinated by the concept and seduced by his results, we set out to build our own little/mid-sized lightbox. We followed pretty much the same procedure. But for the unfamiliar here's a gist .

What you need -

How to go about it -

1. Cut out a rectangle from the top and the 2 sides of the box with the knife so as to be able to tape the trace paper over the holes and allow light into it for a reflection-less even light.

2. Paste the trace paper directly over the holes to cover them up. Tip: Tape from the inside of the box for better results.

3. Paste the chart over the inner back wall and the bottom of the box. The end result should look somewhat like this -

4. Position the lamps with the fluorescent bulbs (we found only a maximum of 40W) directly in front of the box on either side of the opening. We realized that this configuration was best for the low power afforded by our lamps.

Shoot away!

Here are some results -

We could've gotten better results with a more powerful lamp and that'll be part of our Lightbox Ver 2.0. As of now, here's wishing you all a fabulous New Year ahead!

The elusive cup

It's unavailable in most of India it seems (I bet that's what every place that sells it says to justify the pricing). India isn't into shot-glass marketing even for tourism. I got this one in pewter at the airport at a rather steep 1000 bucks. But how could I starve my collection?

Khana Khazana

Ah well... what better phrase to describe the rich variety and taste of the Indian cuisine? Truly a khazana. Here's a jhalak from just 2 instances in Chennai.

Paati's incredible bhara bhaji

The Gujarati thali at Saravana Bhavan's Rangoli.

My BIG fat Big Bazaar experience

Well, apparently Big Bazaar is a "national" chain of stores across India which sells a host of things at prices unmatched anywhere else. Until the last week of my trip in India, I'd never heard of them. And I finally did hear of them because of my unsuccessful khoj (hunt) for a suitcase that was also big as well as inexpensive, as well as "branded" so as to not have it split on me while emerging on the conveyor belt. After unsuccessful Witco ( a large travel chainstore) visits I had almost given up hope when Appa found a full page ad on the paper advertising inexpensive travel cases at this place. Having never seen it before, we thought it would be worth our while to go there once and check it out. And so we did.

The first time - And at first glance it appeared as if we'd hit the jackpot of luggage seekers. A variety of well-acclaimed luggages were on big sales of 20-40% off. We looked at many and narrowed it down to an American Tourister green mid-sized suitcase in conformance with the measly European baggage allowances. All seemed well. They were even giving a coveted flask free with the purchase (which by the way was scored all the brownie points from my Paati when we called her to tell her about it). And so off we went to checkout, paying about 40% less than we'd pay at any other place at the modern day prices. Pleased with ourselves and armed with the bag we went home. And while showing off the purchase at home, I reached in to retrieve the free flask which I had seen the salesman stow in... only to grab thin air inside. Puzzled I opened it wide to reveal the empty depths. Uncharacteristically my dad grabbed the phone and called the store to tell them that they'd not given us what we were entitled to. They told us that we could come in at any time and pick it up.. I didn't see that happening when I was around.

The second time - But my mom said she didn't mind taking a look at the place and so we set off to get the flask. It went smoothly enough and without much ado we got the flask. We also bought some other stuff for the house, door mats and other things... And so we were done, I naively thought.

The third time - And so we went and with 2 days to go, the packing began. We carefully stacked away all the podis and pulikachal and what not amongst clothes and other things. And when we were done, we stood the suitcase on it's wheels... and it keeled over. No, we hadn't stuffed it that much... the stupid wheel broke! I was flabbergasted that something "branded" could give away that easy. We vowed to go back and got it exchanged. The Big Bazaar had cast a curse on us, it appeared. And so we went... With a lot of drama (courtesy me), we got it exchanged with a lot of wariness. And we were sick of going to Arcot Road all the way from Adyar. We sincerely hoped it was the last time. Not to be...

The fourth time - We got the new case home and started delicately filling it with all the samaan that we had offloaded from the other one... when I remembered that I had stashed my old cell phone and charger into one of the flaps on the inside of the previous suitcase. And I had forgotten to remove it. I was devastated. My dad immediately called the store and had them looking for it. They called us back, bless them, saying that they had located it. And that meant we went yet again and got it finally. I was done. It was a big fat curse. And I hoped never to set foot over the premises ever again. And I was careful not to buy anything more.

And finally we broke the curse, it seemed.

Reflections on 2008

Here at Blogger, I have celebrated the end of 4 years including this one.. And this year has narrowly clocked the maximum posts by me. I am going to keep this short. 2008 was one of the best years so far - I got married and I spent over 3 months in India, even if sporadically. Just those 2 factors make this a glorious year... And to top it all, I live in Paris... ah bliss.. As for 2009, I have very few 'resolutions' and whatever I have are professional.. The PhD has to take shape and a very good one at that.. More publications and conferences make for a very successful year... And of course everyone has their personal aspirations. Mine is to travel wildly... let's wait n watch if I make it happen. :D

Here's wishing you all a fabulous year ahead! And here's welcoming 2009! Happy New Year!

PS:This post isn't necessarily my last one on this side of the year. We'll wait n watch, won't we?

Changing Chennai

It seems that every India trip no matter how closely spaced I am complaining about the changing landscape of India in general and specifically Chennai. Yet again I am out to complain. The pollution is unprecedented and the noise pollution psychopathic, the traffic insane, the crowds always in a hurry, the prices astronomical and did I mention the traffic? Gosh! Appa and I took the MRTS (local train) yesterday and it was the most peace I've experienced in this city that is is undergoing the worst metamorphosis since they last spoke of Kaliyug. I suppose every Indian city is just as bad and virtually all of my friends coming back to various cities have identical complaints. I thought I would be able to witness a change for the better since the days of Chennai Chutzpah... thanks to the global economical recession or whatever... but nothing of that sort has happened. People have instead become brand crazy with the increased purchasing power. No one in an IT job has a "normal" cell phone that was once used to just make/receive calls/SMS. Now it goes way beyond just that. It's become a status symbol of sorts. The one major improvement though has been the Guindy airport flyover. It's a marvel of sorts and has worked wonders to regulating the horrendous traffic that was witnessed while the thing was under construction. That apart Chennai is still filled with 'under-construction' fly-overs which are still debatable as to whether they will improve/worsen the traffic situation (for instance I think the IIT fly-over is a big waste of time/money and what not).

Maybe this is what it takes to make the country a "developed"one... the path isn't easy and while the residents of Chennai have certainly taken it in their stride the changes are shocking for the visitors like us. I suppose that in the grand scheme of things, that hardly matters.

Paati Precious

This post is dedicated to my Paati (grandma)

Ever since we were kids Paati has been a big part of our lives, me and my brother's. More so because Appa was in the Gulf after the Gulf war, and Amma used to spend half the year there, we were left in Paati's and chittipaati's care. And that just got us closer. Indeed I remember the time when Paati had to supervise our 'studying' before the exams. I used to be big on Murugan lending library at that time and had tonnes of books to read even during the exams. I remember crouching in a corner with a storybook folded between the pages of a textbook while pretending to study when checked on by an unsuspecting Paati. And both my brother and I have adopted Paati's unrelenting taste for "bottomless chai", i.e, chai at any time of the day for any reason. She is always the one who makes the chai (Amma also now) on demand and helped us study through the nights those years when we used to pull all-nighters. I got reminded of this last night when I got back from sending off S at the airport. It was 1:30 in the morning and yet at 76, my Paati got up from bed and made us some chai to settle in for the night (unlike others, chai doesn't keep us awake necessarily - it's more like a nice hot drink to end the day). It also reminds me of the countless times that Appa's asked for bhajjis in the middle of the night and she's unflinchingly fulfilled his request based on some thoroughly unfounded funda of "raathri ketta illainu solla koodadhu" (if something's been asked for a night, it shouldn't be refused). Touch wood for her energy! Not just that, my Paati also has surprising knowledge retention. She remembers minute bits of information and through asking and finding out and her own self-cultivated interest in matters, is now a self-proclaimed expert on both French and US visa procedures and GRE and what not! Not to mention Paati's fabulous cooking is one of the main things I miss at any place abroad... Looks like I could go on and on about the many facets. But I guess what I am aiming with this post is to thank her for being her. Of course for those who didn't know, I am named after her. :D

Doin-doin

Read as doin-doin like coin-coin. This is to denote the sound made by the console.
That's the name that my household has given the gameboy kind of console that used to be enough entertainment for kids before the age of Segas, PS3s and Wiis. Ahh... whoever has played with it can hardly forget it. Who can forget Super Mario, Tetris, Circus, Ice Climber or Arkanoid once you've played it, especially at a tender age? Indeed I remember the 'Tetris tournaments' that my bro and I used to have with one another (I think I should mention that I was reigning Tetris champion... Oh and while we're at it, I might as well mention that I was also champion of Snake II on the Cell phone... muhahahaha). :D So anyhow, the reason I am writing about it is that I found it lying around a couple of days back. Of course I had to get some action! I sat and plugged the rudimentary system on the TV. Indeed I laughed at the AC adaptor which was a initially a 3-pin Gulf-type plug which had just been wired into an India 2 pin plug and 'protected' by an entire wad of insulation tape. However it had given out this time, after like 15 years. But my dad had a replacement adaptor in which one could set the input/output voltages, power etc. With a glee of delight, I plugged everything back in and expectantly turned it on. Usually because of the frequency mismatch, it required tuning on the TV, but one could hear the sound of the console, the sound which earned it the name of doin-doin. This time I didn't. I was semi-disappointed though I had mentally prepared myself for such an event. I half-heartedly put the TV on Program mode to hunt for the unlikely frequency. Surprisingly the TV stopped at a blank blue screen in a few short seconds. This had to be it. My dad and I toggled the reset button, the adaptor cable and the TV cables in random order when finally the music I yearned for reached my ears and I saw the gaming list on the TV. Magical! I felt like a child all over again as I rushed in to get a pillow, put it on the floor in front of the TV and settled stomach-down for a long-sought game of Tetris.

Fall of J..

For those hoping that something rather dramatic had happened, sorry to disappoint... I mean in this post the literal falls that one encounters when riding bikes in pot-holed rain damaged roads. This time though daddy dearest was responsible. We weren't really hurt and it was rather comical at hindsight... But I have had my share of falls from bikes from the days that my bro used to take me doubles to the time that I tried to take my chittipatti to the post office in the days that I was just shy of 16 and not 'allowed' to ride a 2-wheeler yet. Indeed my most memorable fall was when my brother was taking me doubles on a Kinetic Honda. And not so surprisingly, the falls have taken place only the times I have sat with both legs on one side, i.e, sideways. On this occasion, more than 10 years ago, my brother was trying to navigate a rather sudden and huge pothole, more like a ditch on the road en route Kotturpuram. And he would've rather avoided the ditch than keep me on the bike apparently, for I slipped right out and landed in the middle of the road, my clothes ruined. It's one of those situations that's sad and funny at the same time especially when your brother takes a few seconds to realize that you're not on the pillion but on the road and keeps driving away. I remember wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. The other occasion when I dropped my chittipatti on the middle of the road on the way to the post office when I was about 16 truly scared the daylights out of me. It was my first time on the bike by myself on a decent distance. Not to mention the first time I was taking someone with me. With the turn of the road, the skid and my inexperience I deposited my chittipatti square in the middle of the road. Those days the roads weren't as crowded as they are today, thankfully. So someone behind us got off to help us up and thankfully we weren't really injured. But more recently in this trip I experienced one more fall. The fall sounds more serious than it really is and in fact my dad was taking the bike at a speed that was slower than if you were jogging along. Hence at the turn with the rain-ridden roads and the skid, we both found ourselves slowly and steadily losing balance and I remember every second of that fall. You know how when you sometimes fall all you can remember is that one instant you are on the floor? This wasn't one of those times. I remember the angle, the way we fell and every second of this one. It was funny for me.. but Appa hurt his ankle a bit in trying to balance the bike in the last second. Once more the good Samaritan prevailed and a couple of priests on a motorbike behind us stopped to help us a bit. Ask my parents and they'll tell you it's the dhrishti. Lol.

Journey of the junk

We've all heard about the "Survival of the fittest" theory by Charles Darwin. I've personally witnessed the exact opposite... how things we discard find their way around... back. My house is a stack of sorts... What goes in seldom comes out as far as things are concerned. And my chittipatti is yet to discard anything that has the least residual value. Indeed it is a running joke in the family that if she throws something away, it sure as hell has nothing remaining to offer. Seeing that as it is and the fact that she is the reigning supervisor for most of the major clean-up operations at home, nothing ever leaves the house unless it is in complete shambles and simply cannot be fixed. While this has worked to my advantage a few times in the past, more often than not I can marvel at what all I am likely to find when I come back home and dig through my stuff and try to discard the things I haven't used in ages in an attempt to put m two pence in for the household cleanup. This time I found a tonne of my Nalangu samaan that my sister-in-law had lovingly purchased for our wedding. I sorted through all the dolls (the guddas n guddis), the bangles, and what not, reliving the beautiful wedding memories when a plastic bag at the far corner caught my eye. I pulled it out. It was some of the gifts that I had received for my birthdays over the past few years before I left the country. Including the birthday cards. A treasure trove. I took out some dear to heart stuff and then pulled out what was evidently the remains of some gift. It was a holder of sorts on which sat an empty test tube. I vaguely remembered seeing stuff like this at Archies Gallery. But I couldn't recall what exactly it was or who had given it or what to do with it anymore. I moved it to the discard pile... not too quickly for it had caught the eye of my chittipatti. She snatched it out of the pile and turned it over and over in her hands no doubt looking for something creative to do with it, maybe as part of her traditional yearly Navrathri decorations. But she couldn't find anything to do with it right away. Seizing the opportunity and citing the example, I gleefully put it in the trash bag. This happened over a week ago and obviously it had slipped my mind. Imagine my shock then, when today I found it sitting on the watchman's room. I had to find out what it was doing there. Mild interrogation led me to find that my chittipatti had bestowed the thing on my housemaid, who in turn had tried to fit it in with her own household or to see if it matched the fancy of her grown children. Meeting failure on both counts, she took it upon herself to give it away to the watchman who has small children, more likely to be amused with a useless toy than her own grown kids. And hence, it wound up on my very own doorstep once more. Junk circulates. And trying to obliterate it has thus far proved unsuccessful. Evidently, it either requires cooperation on many levels or personal attention to see it through to the main trash without an in-between man/woman. Gosh.

Banking burdens

Well, the idea of banks initially used to be to reduce one's economical stresses about keeping money safe. But I am not sure how the work these days. Yup, for most part I am sure they do what they promise. However, there are hidden clauses, unheard-of rules and unstated assumptions. Both my brother and I had an account in a certain bank here in Adyar, Chennai. And we've both been away from the country for a reasonable amount of time. That meant that the accounts lay low with minimal activity and I could understand it when they told me when I went there this time that my account was regarded "dormant" and I would have to ask for reactivation. Ok... then, they asked me for a proof of identity, not one, but three. Oh and the passport wasn't enough. And where they's promised me a zero-balance account, they now required 25k. Forget all that.. my brother's account was now regarded "unclaimed". And that meant, the ate 10% of the original account balance as a "fee" for "maintaining" the unclaimed account ever year. And they sent us a letter by regular mail to inform us about the same. With the amount of junk that each bank sends us regarding new "zero balance accounts" and credit card offers, we were expected to sift through all of that and actually find the clause in a pile of gibberish, assuming they really did send us the letter. And we, the innocent unsuspecting account holders had no idea of all of this till one fine day, the secondar account holder my mom decided to shut the account down and get all the money in it. She was pretty shocked and upset to learn that 40% of the initial amount had consistently vanished over the past 4 years that the account lay "unclaimed". Off went my dad all upset and indigninant at being unaware of such a ridiculous clause, being a banker himself. Then they demanded proofs of identities of my brother's and mother's, both to be self-attested, which wasn't initially mentioned. Once the letter went in, the demand for attestation came through about a month later...and once the attestation also went in, we were informed that we would receive the remaining balance but not the amount that was gobbled over the years. Banking made simple? Surely not. The solution? Don't trust the foreign banks masquerading themselves with advanced systems... trust the Indian brand names. Go India!

Ready? Jet... Go!

I flew Jet Airways to India when I came here this time. Of course that meant I was prepared for the sheer volume of our junta in the plane, outnumbering any other nationality by many-many to one. And it was a pleasant change to note that they carried more vegetarian meals than any other. Having flown other intercontinental flights in the past, I was used to being served the meal ahead of anyone else as it was earmarkedly special for me, being vegetarian. I noted in amused delight that on Jet, the 'non-vegetarian-non-Indian' meals were served first up while the vegetarians were the bulk of those being served. And since the flight was headed to Chennai, there was instant recognition in the Tamil chatter in the flight as soon as I entered panting and puffing from running at least 2km, I am sure from the previously delayed connecting flight (this warrants a post by itself). After making sure that my unceremoniously small carry-on (because of French regulations) wouldn't fit anywhere in the cabin space near my seat (big fat surprise considering a zillion Indians were travelling, more than half from the US with kids meaning they each had overstuffed bags splitting on the sides all dumped into the cabin without an inch space to spare), I went on to put it in the first class cabin someplace and settled into my economy class seat next to an Indian lady with 2 small children. While we started gabbing away in Tamil as to our whereabouts and origins in rapid Tamil, I heard the shrill cry of an attention-demanding toddler. It wasn't till then that I looked around. I visibly counted 12 kutti children in the seats around me, many of them probably born abroad and going to visit thatha-pattis (grandparents) in India for the first time. What a sight! As much as I like children, I did dread the prospect of incessant crying from one baby or the other, one of the common pet peeves among travellers till they have children of their own, I suppose. I wasn't wrong. For the 9 hours that the flight travelled from Brussels to Chennai there was one unhappy child after another, wailing about something or the other. The parents tried in vain to get their over-enthusiastic kids to sleep... some tried getting the older ones glued to a cartoon or two on the excellent in-flight personal entertainment system, some tried walking the bored toddlers up and down the narrow aisles, often running into the air hostesses who kept coming with one service or the other. Some others tried cooing softly, singing, yelling, threatening and what not. There was this little boy in the seat in front of me. He must've been a little less than 2 and I don't know his name, but he looked like a Rishi. He spoke in this delightful baby Tamil with broken sentences in a Junoon-like fashion (those who've seen Junoon in Tamil for sure understand what I mean). It was very cute.... but halfway I think he got pissed with being strapped to a single place and became highly cranky. But he would angle across his seat and sometimes catch my eye. For that one instant, through his tear-filled eyes, his crying would stop for half a second and a reluctant smile would spread across his tiny face. I guess it was the fact that someone was watching him that made him self-conscious at such a small age and briefly his babyness vanished. Kids!!

That apart, of course as soon as the flight landed practically everyone rose to grab their bags and rush out the exit... sure, we could all fly more than 9 hours but these last 9 minutes is where we 'gain' time. I've never understood people in this aspect. I had to wait till the flight had all but emptied to retrieve my bag from the first-class cabin.. And last out, I was the last on the bus that awaited to take us to the terminal and consequently first out of the bus and first on the immigration queue. :D. Simple LIFO (Last-In-First-Out). Not just that, considering that my bag had possibly just made it because of the excessively delayed Paris-Brussels leg, my checked-in bag was among the first out too.

Well, that proves it... where there's Murphy lurking, there's also Lady Luck around to show her pretty face. Go Jet!

Happy Karthikai

Karthikai is a second festival of lights type thing celebrated in South India. Without going into too much detail, I can just say that is is common to light lamps through the entire month of Karthikai (in Tamil) which is usually from mid-Nov to mid-Dec of the English calendar, culminating on the full-moon day of the month. And then as with all festivals, there's a whole lot of goodies and decorations, prayers and even crackers left-over from Diwali usually. You can read all about it here - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karthikai_Deepam. This was my thalai-Karthikai and hence a bigger deal than usual. As the new daughter-in-law, I had to bring in the light into the home by lighting many a lamp and praying for the health and happiness of all. I donned a sari and all and lit all sorts of lamps and burst a cracker or two. Here's one of our clicks from many showing the lamps all set to be set down to light various places around the house in tasteful decoration. Happy Karthikai!

The NRI syndrome

I have always thought of people who complained of India's waters/climate or anything else in comparison to their long-term stay outside the country as spoilt. And sure enough, here I am, doing much the same, complaining of changing waters (drinking and otherwise) and pollution for the scratchiness in my throat and overall the changed environment as a cause for the flu-ish symptoms that I am carrying right now. Most specifically, I think the throat-ache/stuck voice and body pain are pretty common across many people who suddenly transcend into the country and have a quick first few days before the body can gradually adjust to the changed surroundings (or overcome the 'jet-lag'). I had a tumultous first week here, what with my SIL's wedding, we had changing venues every night of our sleep for the first 5 (of which I barely managed to steal a few winks on the first 3 nights). Add to that the overexcitement of the wedding preparations and the early mornings and the million rituals, it was cacophony at best and protest after protest, my throat gave out as did my body and since, I have been recuperating in pristine Kanchipuram at my husband's house. The body gets what it wants and mine has gotten it's share of rest.

PS: Amidst everything, I still managed to grab a few bites of chaat (bhel/pani puri) and gobi manchurian. So what if the body gets what it wants, so does the mind. ;)

The one week hiatus

Well, I've been in India for like 4 days now and this is amongst the first couple of times that I've zoned in on the computer... feels like reconnecting with a lost arm.. Anyhoo, with the number of social commitments that have been planned for me, it doesn't look like I'll be blogging much over the next few days as well! So here I am just to tell my loyal readers and new ones that I will have plenty of India stories planned for y'all pretty soo. In fact off the top of my head I already have a bunch of things that are waiting to be told. So please gimme some time. For the newer folks here, there's plenty to read... Choose from the overflowing entries on the right-side bar. And do keep checking for updates... Cheers!

Copiously corrupt

I was following the Mumbai attacks along with the rest of the world of course. And one of the matters that would've struck anyone as bizarre was how the police officers died in spite of wearing bullet proof vests. This is why - the vests were defective. They had failed when clad on dummies and shot as with mere pistols. Not rifles. Not men. Dummies! And yet, instead of being recalled and ensuring that the police force had the best that there was to offer, they were distributed to everyone including the highest ranking officers. Thanks to which 14 policemen/NSG personnel lost their lives, including ATS chief, Hemant Karkare. NDTV is carrying the news -

http://www.ndtv.com/convergence/ndtv/mumbaiterrorstrike/Story.aspx?ID=NEWEN20080075019&type=News

Someone somewhere screwed us over. And it's still happening, in every facet in everything in the country. We need change. And fast.

Oh yeah, did you know India made No. 17 on the most dangerous countries to visit. :X - http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/3534072/In-pictures-worlds-most-dangerous-places.html

Harry Potter again..

Well, it looks like I can be 72 and still be mesmerized by the series. I had seen the teaser trailer for the Half-Blood-Prince eons ago and had completely forgotten about it. Having had a lull at work, I was randomly surfing, when I found the full-length trailer. And as always, straight from the trailer I can tell that they have mixed up the facts to make the tapestry of the movie flow easy. But also, I was hooked and am eager to watch it. But then I got all bugged that the movie was supposed to release in November but thanks to wanting more money to be churned, they pushed it to a mid-summer July 17 release. I tell you, by the time the 2 parts of the last book are made into movies (which they are being filmed currently, I believe), those kids are not going to look 18 at all... and I will probably have kids to whom I read Harry Potter to. Anyhow, here's the trailer of the movie releasing in July -

http://www.apple.com/trailers/wb/harrypotterandthehalfbloodprince/

Enjoy!

The greener side of the grass

Remember how we always tend to complain about something or the other? I have too... and this post is a good example in the recent past. Today I was on the other side, the greener side. Where the trains were more frequent than the other side, in this context. As I walked down to my side of the platform, I saw thronging crowds on the other side presumably waiting for an accident/incident-delayed train. And before I could register the sheer volume of the people there and the fact that we must've appeared much the same to them a few days ago, I heard the arrival of my train. And no, it didn't feel great to be standing on this side. Well, yes of course it didn't feel as frustrating as it were if you were the one waiting for the trains to arrive. But there was of course no jubilation or anything of that sort. On the other hand, I felt bad for those people who had an uncomfortable ride to endure. Taking the concept out a bit further from this literal 'train of thought' makes me wonder if that's how it feels if one were in the 'greener' side of things in other contexts. Unless we personally contributed to the side being the 'green' one, I don't think one feels the satisfaction or the pride in the 'accomplishment'. This theory of course doesn't extend to national/country issues but just to everyday life. Finally it's a matter of perception, which is why the phrase 'the grass is greener on the other side' was coined in the first place, to fit with everyone's different perspective of things. To me though, it just reminded me of the saying 'what goes around, comes around' and extending that further would bring in karma and other such things which would make this an unnecessarily long post. But I think the important thing is to recognize that you had your share on the greener side of things. That's what makes it possible to be able to deal with it later when life shelves you back to the not-so-green parts.

Xmas Paruppu Usili

Well I made another of my favorite dishes today, the paruppu usili. But this time I had two red capsicum sitting beside one green one and so they all went into making the dish. And ofcourse, red n green is sort of the Christmas theme and hence the name. Of course, thanks to the lighting (yellow) and the paruppu (again yellow), the dish looks nothing as colorful as it does in front of my eyes. But here, take a look -


Well, the recipe is in the comments section of this post in case you are interested. And I am having it with my trademark dhideer rasam. Here's another mouth-watering shot of today's attempt. Enjoy!