In my initial days of blogging, I have seen her name on one of the blogs I read.  I wanted to check her blog. But every time, I ended up on her Gravatar profile. After much digging on FB and elsewhere, I landed upon her blog. I read all her poems at one go. And...we connected. Sridevi is one of those writers who write only when her heart tells her to and not because she has to. She describes life's simple experiences and emotions, pleasures and pains in the most subtle manner. If there is one blogger who I want to express my feelings like her, that would be her. She does a lot of book reviews too. If I am not exaggerating, you won't find a person as sweet as her to not say no to anything or hurt anyone knowingly or unknowingly. For once, I didn't have to request her for a guest post. I had to demand and grab it. Here it is for you all:

‘Ho mere husn de kone... kone kone di

Ho kone kone di..

Ho Baby doll main sone di

Ho Baby doll main sone di

Ho Baby doll main sone di

Ho Baby doll main sone di’

The raunchy number from “Ragini MMS” reached my ears from across the Ganesha Pandal . Since the last few days, the song had been playing nonstop so much so that now it had become an integral part of the air I breathed and the blood that ran in my veins.  I quickened my step. I wanted to complete at least twenty rounds of the terrace before the song ended. But by the time I completed my tenth round, devotion changed tracks. Baby Doll stopped and the priest began his incantations. My doubts resurfaced. Was it the same pandal? As I completed my twelfth round the answer came to me loud and clear.

No they were from two different pandals- from two different directions. But the chaos and cacophony co-existed happily- like two noisy classrooms with no signs of dissonance. As I walked, I pictured the two Ganeshas inside their respective pandals- their benevolence spilling, their ears ringing with notes of prayer and baby doll, their gaze unwavering on the devotees in front of them- some joining their palms together, yet others gyrating wildly to Bollywood numbers.

I resumed my thirteenth round. The devotion came un-filtered now from two different directions though

‘Yeh Duniya..yeh Duniya pittal Di’

‘Shuklam Bharadaram’

‘Yeh Duniya Pittal Di’

‘Amma take some sacred water into your hands’

Ho Baby doll main sone di

Amma will you offer the flowers to the God

‘Ho Baby doll main sone di’

After my twentieth round, I was tired. The prayers and Baby doll were drowned by the loud bursting of crackers which came from some third pandal. J in a small voice complained that he was unable to concentrate on his homework.

Bolting the doors and windows from inside, I remembered the Ganesha Pujas of my childhood. How the compulsive fasting from morning made us go all hungry and weak. The hot steaming modaks and the whole house wafting with the aroma of ghee and jaggery did nothing to help.

We did not want to worship.

We just wanted to gorge- on the pile of tamrind rice sprinkled liberally with fried peanuts and the halwa shaped into perfect little spheres. And we wanted to do it before Ganesha. But we couldn’t- not before the Puja was over and not before we listened entirely to the tale which my father would tell us. The tale had another backstory! The tale guaranteed good luck to both the listener and teller. Had it been told to us at some other time, probably we would have enjoyed it; probably asked questions too. But you don’t tell stories to a child with hunger pangs. Not even if there was a ton of good luck attached to it! So we just nodded, salivating one eye on the Prasadams and the other on the idol.

I came back to the present. Opening the doors and windows, I realized it was nearing midnight. The songs and crackers had stopped, but one of the organizers was giving a speech. I bolted back the doors and windows. Baby Doll was better.
Once more, I thought back of all the Ganesha tales my father used to tell us; How the kings regained their kingdoms after worshiping this rolly polly God, how communication gaps were bridged and friendships were re-kindled. Yes! Ganesha - the remover of obstacles and the bringer of good fortunes symbolized successful life and living.

Outside, the organizer had finally concluded his speech and as I threw open the doors and windows, I realized  the biggest obstacles did not always come in the form of scheming, plotting relatives. More often they came from deep within. Like an auditorium in an eternal state of noise; the discordant notes of anger, jealousy, lassitude and vindictiveness hitting against each other to form a fractured, incomplete song.

I went to the balcony. The moonlight shone upon the withered petals and the burnt away crackers. The streets were empty. The music also stopped.  I looked at the now empty pandal.

‘So how does your obstacle look to you?’, whispered a voice to me, ‘ The size of a mountain, hill or hillock..’

‘Nah...’, I replied, ‘It is like a smooth round pebble…with the colors of the sea.’

The voice laughed and disappeared into the clouds above and all that remained was the distant hurtling of a train along the tracks. I inhaled deeply and returned to my world of sleep and dreams; seas and colorful pebbles.

© :Sridevi Datta

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My blogger friend Rahul Bhatia blogs at Rahul's Blogs and Collections. He served the Indian Navy and traveled all around the world. Anything he writes from mouth watering Samosas to South America, is an interesting read. Rahul is one blogger friend who never fails to read a post and comment and his support is unstinting to the fellow bloggers. Many times, he has taken me around world tours with his travelogues. When I asked him for a guest post, he didn't think twice and send me the post even before I realized that he accepted to send me one. :-) Now over to Rahul...

                                                                       

Many years ago, Agastya Muni was once traversing from North to South India and encountered Vindhya Mountains. As he was unable to pass, he requested the mountains to provide passage to his family. The mountain bent in reverence so that the family could pass. After that the sage decided to stay back and settle down in South India. Anyone living south of Vindhyas was called a Madrasi in times when I was born. It is a race of people usually referred to as Dravidians who were original inhabitants of India prior to invasion of Aryans from Mongolia/Central Europe. Most of them are distinct from their physical features, short built, slightly dark complexioned, barring a few exceptions like Hema Malini and Aishwarya Rai.  However, this post is more about my affinity for these people and their food than tracing their history.

As far as my memory goes as a child, my best friends in school were South Indians! They were less egoistic and also less crass. Besides, their food is something that could never wean me away from them. My mother packed paratha (a kind of bread) and beans which I detested as a kid! So I would play the Tom Sawyer’s trick with my gullible friend Ashok who carried tender fluffy Idlis (steamed rice pan cakes) in his lunch box! I would lie to him that though I love French beans I am willing to exchange my lunch box for those Idlis! He apparently was tired of eating them at home and handed over his lunch box which was polished even before the recess bell rang! This was oft repeated and the time just moved on. I would wait for Idlis to arrive from Mrs Subramanium , my mother’s  co-worker in school, with equal gusto.

One day a massive stone arrived with a Shiv Linga at home! I realized that my mother too fell for this insatiable love for South Indian food that she got a grinding stone! Mixer, grinders and food processors were still a few lightning years away. Enthusiastic, I too practiced and learnt the fine art to grind the rice and dal for batter of making dosas( rice pancakes)!! It was a good exercise for the tummy too, as long as the gorging of dosas the following day could be curbed.

While leaving school I got a call to attend the Services Selection Board interview at Bangalore for entry to the National Defense Academy! My first trip down south alone!  It was a three night’s journey from Delhi to Bangalore via Madras.  The train halted at Kazipet junction and I was stomped with the variety of food ranging from tamarind rice, curd rice, medu vada, upma and the works! The tingling flavor of the food still resides somewhere deep in the taste buds! The best was yet to come, when the train arrived at Madras junction and I was hungry even before sunset. The train to Bangalore was to leave around 10 PM at night, so I headed for the cafeteria! I asked the vendor for plain dosa and he told me that three of them would cost 60 p(less than one Rupee!) My eyes opened wide in wonder and disbelief as I feasted on five dosas in one go!!

In the years that followed in the college the South Indian fare would rule the roost, in company of Vijayshankar  and Madhavan( both  South Indian friends )! I tried Kerala Cafes of the neighborhood till one fine day I landed in Kerala itself in the Naval Academy, at Cochin. Hotel Maharaja used to churn out the best dosas which we got by dispatching our civilian bearers if we were unable to visit Woodlands in town on Sundays! In the intervening years of bachelorhood I explored every possible vista like various Udipi hotels and Kamat chain in Mumbai , Bangalore and many other cities. My best friends were Ravi and Ramesh (South Indians) now in the Navy!

After quitting the Navy, I got an opportunity to travel around and I managed to discover places which offered the best South Indian fare. The love for this wholesome snack and meal became a family addiction post marriage. I remember that after finishing a hearty breakfast at Ranjit  Sinhji Institute in Hyderabad, we went to explore the town. The feet were jammed outside Swathi Tiffins where the intense aroma of gunpowder chutney and filter coffee was so overpowering that we halted for another round of Idli ,Sambhar and coffee.

The lovely food has gone places as one can eat fluffy Idlis and crisp Dosas at Murugan Idli Shop in Singapore or Saravana Bhavan in NewYork with as much ease as at MTR in Bangalore or Chutneys in Hyderabad.

My entry in the blog world is more a happy coincidence as I was keen to pen my thoughts that often drifted like clouds in my head. Even here, I have been fortunate to make friends from all over the world. Some of them once again happen to hail from South with whom I get easily attracted as a North pole of a magnet!  

PS: Image Kind courtesy Google

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Look who's here!!! Today, I have the pleasure of hosting Rachna Parmar who needs no introduction. I was skeptical on asking her for a Guest Post as this is the first time someone is writing a guest post for this One Year old baby of mine. I wasn't even sure how to approach her. However I did, she did accept my request without a question and has given it to me way before the Ddate. I just couldn't wait for the blogaversary.  Many thanks to you, Rachna for accepting my request. Now, let me tell a couple of words about her. 

Rachna is a content-writer by profession and an avid blogger with passion. She is the super mom of two super-duper kids, a doting wife and a person with fire in the belly!! Whatever she does, she makes sure to leave her stamp. Let's see what she says at Rachna Says..

That New Year!

The year was 2000. After my wedding and a few days spent at my in-laws place in Hyderabad, my husband and I flew off to the USA. He had been recently employed there. We were going to stay in a motel for a few days till we got our apartment in Fremont in about 10 days’ time. Our flight took off from Ahmedabad, India, on 31st Dec. I cried bucket loads. The tears would just not stop. I don’t remember crying like that in public ever. It had finally hit me that I was leaving my precious family and country, all my loved ones and going away with a man still strange to me. My poor hubby did not know how to console me, so he kept quiet. Something that he has now mastered over the years :-). He knows I will get a hold on myself if left alone for some time.

We had a stopover at Hong Kong. For the first time, I saw real Chinese food. It deflated me. It was so bland! I could barely gulp down that tasteless noodle soup. To add to the misery, I was vegetarian.When we took off from Hong Kong, it turned New Year as per local time. There was loads of joy and wishing Happy New Year in the flight. Many hours later at San Francisco International Airport in the biting cold, it was evening on 31st night. It was already dark, as sun sets early in these parts. We waited to take a shuttle to our motel. Shuttle is a shared transport with many others and hence cheaper on folks like us with lighter pockets.

I was peeling my eyes and staring at everything --The huge airport, weird signs, and no noise. We had to wait for a long time till we got a shuttle going to our area. Finally, we managed to reach our motel quite some time later very close to midnight. It was almost deserted. A sleepy man checked us in and gave us our keys. We had to lug our luggage everywhere – load them and take them out. Our first experience in learning how to carry our own weight. Much later, while shifting houses, Gurdev even drove a U-Haul Truck himself! Anyhow, we got some coffee from a machine. It was the yuckiest, most bitter coffee I had ever had. I put in as much creamer as I could find but the taste did not get any better. I gulped it down to warm myself.

Hubby went to find a calling card to call back home. We were wide awake. We came back to our room, crawled in the huge covers and then ate some khakhra with pickle that my mom had lovingly packed along with so much other food. That is the best khakhra we've eaten. We still recall it fondly. We even had it for breakfast the next morning :-). After calling both our families back home, we spent our first New Year’s Eve in a motel sitting up and chatting excitedly like two little kids. This was our third New Year on the same day – Indian, Chinese and US :-). This was among the best New Year’s Eve I have spent in my life – filled with excitement, no frills, in an alien land that became very dear later and with a man who is now my best buddy and lover :-).

  Pics courtesy: Freedigitalphotos.net

P.S from Latha: I want to thank all my readers/friends who have been with me from the inception of this blog and have given your encouragement, support and honest criticism through this past one year. I hope and wish that you continue to do the same in the years to come. 

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