Ketchup Story

‘How come you don’t like tomato sauce’, many have asked me on various occasions. Very few know the story behind me not liking the packaged kinds of ketchup. Would you like to know?
    It was long-long back when I used to LOVE eating my chapatis dipped in the red-hot tomato ketchup that was served at one corner of the plate as a special side dish while hating every bit of eating the vegetables that my mother served with them. My eating habits were poor from the very beginning anyways. My mom still says that I never ate a bite of cooked rice meal until the age of seven. She always had to prepare some interesting snack for me. Luckily we had Idli, Dosas and Appams in our daily diet, substituting my rice intake. Ketchup had made me turn towards Chapatis at least and my mom made it a point to stock it to just keep me fed.
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Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.
    Although the worst of my nightmares was yet to unveil. One fine morning when I was hogging over my tomato sauce with whatever main dish it was my father brought up this topic out of nowhere in particular. He told in a very serious tone, ‘Aruna mole, you should stop eating this Ketchup. It’s not good.’ I gave him a look like he is taking out the very life out of me. ‘No seriously mole’, he continued, ‘I’ ll tell you why’, he paused and begun.
    ‘It was when I used to work at Ghatkopar, there was a ketchup factory just next to my office. I don’t remember which one but how does that even matter. It was a ketchup factory after all. One day while I was returning quite late after office I saw the local vegetable-walla with a huge sack on his head. I had to go back to get the lunch box that I had forgotten and when I came back, I was caught by anxiety that he had emptied the sack at the factory door. Tomatoes of all kinds piled up at the dirty entrance. Ripened, smashed, cracked, even rotten ones fell on the bear floor. Some rodents were by now having their feast for the night. Cockroaches were no bargain either. Flying across, sitting on the tomatoes, crawling above them while eating tits and bits in between.
    Suddenly the factory doors opened and a man in khaki emerged from within with a big rubber sheet. With a shovel, he pushed all the tomatoes onto the sheet. His companion soon came out and helped him take the tomatoes into the factory. Now u can guess where these tomatoes will end up. Not it the garbage after all. After this day, it was a routine to me, staying late and witnessing the rotten tomatoes being taken into the factory. Even if you argue that they might wash the tomatoes inside or separate out the good ones from the bad, are you sure? You may also argue that the product you buy is the best of its kind, hygienic and all that, can you ever guarantee what kind of tomatoes they might have used? Have they chosen only the best ones for you? Did they make the effort to throw away the rotten ones or just let it go to the mixture? Who will know, after all, ripen or rotten the final product is going to be a paste.’
    By the time he was talking of all the rats dancing on the tomatoes, my appetite had died. I had already pushed my plate aside. I don’t remember of having I drop of ketchup from the stores after that. I am sure to the core that my dad will never tell me a story just to stop my addiction. I heard him repeating the story to my little one recently when she was pulling on the ketchup packet that she got along with her french fries from McD, again in a serious tone.
    Now now, my intentions are not to deprive you of the juicy, tangy, red-hot friend of your meals but its good to be aware of what we are eating. Why don’t we switch to the homemade versions of the sweet saviour, just in case? I know in today’s age its difficult for moms who are juggling between work and home to do the extra bits but healthy food habits will only come in as a boon than a curse in the long run. So, eat healthy, be healthy 🙂

Help from the Heavens

It was almost a decade and a half back. My Papa and I used to travel daily every fortnightly from Gateway Of India to Airoli, Navi Mumbai where we used to stay back then after my Bharatanatyam performance at The Taj Tanjore. It used to be midnight by the time we reached Thane and took a bus back. There was no train service from Thane to the Vashi/Panvel then.
Today, as usual, we were on the train when we heard whispers of a band in Thane, Mulund area. Followed by the death of a politician, his followers had got on the roads, smashing buses and other vehicles creating a curfew-like situation in Thane. It was a quick decision that Papa took to get down at Mulund instead of Thane. If there were no buses running then it would be better to walk down the Airoli-Mulund link road which was a quick walk from Mulund station than being stranded in Thane.
It was late at night but as you know Mumbai hardly sleeps, but today the situation was different. There was only a countable number on the roads. We saw some men sitting under a banyan tree almost half an hour away from the station where we had disembarked. My heartbeat increased as we approached the men sitting aimlessly looking into the dark. My dad inquired if we could find any auto rickshaws towards Airoli. It was quite a disappointment that even Rickshaws were not plying that day (or rather night).
Just beyond the banyan tree, was a small Sai Baba temple which I am pretty sure the rickshaw-wallas had raised. We find such small temples all across the rickshaw stands in Navi Mumbai. Sometimes these temples grow into bigger temples and then one fine day they are crushed to ashes by some new Municipal officer who takes charge. No questions asked!!
My dad stood by the temple for a quick prayer and then we walked again, only not to be alone now. Someone was following us; when we waited he would wait too, and when we walked he walked with us or in front of us and looked back every now and then, waiting for us to take the pace. Initially, we were fearful (at least I was) but then his gesture seemed to soothe us more than scare us. He was trying to accompany us in the lonely night.
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Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.
By now we had reached the Airoli bridge. Suddenly a lone biker rode past us and stopped a few steps ahead. He turned back and spoke to Papa, “Uncle, aa jao bike pe. Aapko koi Gadi nahi milega abhi” (Please get on the bike, you’ll not find any vehicle at this time).I don’t know how but my father did not doubt him for a bit and asked me to follow tour as he embarked the so-called stranger’s bike.
But our companion till now did not like this much. He scrutinized the biker with his canine eyes, circled the bike thrice and went back on the way we came, seemingly satisfied. The biker had started the bike now. As the wind took my dupatta along I turned behind to see that the guide of ours waited at a distance and vanished into the dark as we drove away.
Our new companion cum guide was no evil either. He took us almost near our destination and bid adieu. We couldn’t thank him enough for his kindness. As we walked back home, I couldn’t help but think of the two new companions who came from nowhere and went away somewhere as in a fairy tale, the fairy Godmother helping Cinderella. In reality, though there was no magic, no carriage, no midnight strikes at 12:00. Just a dog and a man with identical intentions to solely help.
Who might have sent these two beings to us tonight, I keep thinking. Some questions are unanswered. The gratitude, the love for fellow beings, the helping attitude though still remains in our hearts.

Rise above Rupees 10

My friend and well-wisher (I mean I like to hope so 😉 ) gave an honest remark on the only two blogs that I published so far, that he is waiting for a blog that would talk of something beyond 10 rupees 🙂 Its in that very second that this story flashed before me like a flashback moment in films and I promised him that I will rise above 10 rupees in my next write-up. Ironically, if you would have observed I have mentioned 10 rupees for the fourth time already ;).
Through this tale, I am taking you back to the local trains again. My journeys are more of local trains, the lifeline of Mumbai in all sense. With the increasing crowd of IT hubs in Navi Mumbai, people have to travel across the city for work these days. Travelling roadways from the suburbs to Navi Mumbai is almost like a nightmare to many. There are many who travel from as far as Vasai to these IT parks. What would be better than the local train serving as a knight in shining armour?
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Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.
During one of these journeys, I came across another interesting incident that caught my curious eyes. That day, I sat next to the window seat reading a book that I had picked up from the roadside vendor on a walk over the bridge. It was then that I happened to look up for a moment and my gaze went across the lane where she stood, just a step inside the door, her hair entangled in the cool breeze that swept across her face. Her kohl blackened eyes had some sort of magic that would draw anyone to them, yet seemed to be oblivious of the hundred eyes that stared back. She stood there lost in her own thoughts and my eyes were now fixated on her beauty.
It was rather quick that my attention moved from her beautiful face to a sweet little voice calling out ‘ Didi, ek colouring book Lelo, please. Only 20 rupees’. I looked around to find a small girl with a bunch of colouring books in her little hands. She was selling those books. She didn’t have a look of the regular train vendors and anyone would have noticed that the English she used were rather learnt than rehearsed. Few people brought the books from her in the lift of helping her. Her eyes twinkled with joy with every sale she made.
My destination was nearing so I moved to the doors where the beautiful girl (let’s name her ‘Pari’ for namesake) was still standing looking at the little girl while she approached her. She pulled another lot from a bag hanging on her shoulder and raised it to the girl at the door. Pari took the books from the little one and inquired, “Do you sell these books daily?” , on which she responded, “No, I just sell them on Fridays and Saturdays. On the other days, I go to school. Actually, I sell the books to raise fund for my studies”.
Everyone standing at the doors was all ears to learn her story. The girl with kohl eyes smiled and asked again, “What about your parents?”. The little girl looked a bit sad, “My dad is no more. My mother is a Kaamwali. She washes and cleans others vessels and clothes. I want to help her so I am doing this”. I saw Pari take a book out from her bag and start writing while she asked again, “What’s your mom’s name? How much is your fee? What is your address?”, all of which was answered. She took the details and took out her purse digging for a few hundred, “Take this, I just have this much right now. I hope you can pay your fees with this money and this is my number, call me if you need anything. I will come to visit your parent with my friends in the NGO. I am sure things will be alright for you.”
Many in the train might have wild imaginations of the little girl lying, being part of a huge racket of beggars, taking advantage of the situation and the poor Pari making a total fool of herself. Although, for me, this was the greatest act of kindness. Pari might have of course lost a few hundred and possibilities are that all of it will go to some drunkards pocket, but her act had reflected here the truth, her inner beauty. Her beautiful eyes, face dint matter anymore. She was far more beautiful than one could see on the outside. She had come as an Angel in the little bookseller’s life – Pari, no other name could suit her more.
Stay blessed dear girl is all I could pray 🙂
Sometimes its inevitable to rise above 10 rupees and be a little more generous. As the saying in Marathi goes,
“Denaryane detach jave,
ghenaryane ghetach jave,
gheta gheta eka divashi
denaryache hathach ghyave”
which means, The one who gives should keep giving, the one who borrows should keep borrowing until he borrows the very act of giving from one who gives. Let us all learn to give.
Happy “Joy of Giving” week to all the readers 🙂
Keep loving and reading 🙂

Another 10 money tale

It was yet another day of a commute from my office in Mindspace towards home, in the evening. Trains were not as crowded. Every early starter leaves by this time in the evening seemingly. Not many though.
I regularly take the ladies compartment while shuttling to and fro from work. Today I was in a mood to just observe people. I like doing that sometimes, just looking at people on the train; how stressed, how worked, how happy, how pleasant, how low, how cool, how fashionable, how trendy, how verbal, how quiet they look, it’s nice to just look at them and if they look back at the same time simply give a smile and get that smile back (sometimes :)).
People seem to be glued to their phones these days, chatting to their virtual friends or watching movies perhaps, unlike olden days when it was more of chatting with actual people and playing cards(mostly men) or singing songs. I wonder if it so that people find virtual friends more reliable? Or if they are practising the no noise, no-nonsense thing? Or worst considering that movies and TV-serials on phone are trending? The leading network companies with their 4 G’s and LTE’s and free 10GB data plans are doing their bit in the new trends as well I presume.
Unlike General compartments though, ladies compartments are quite happening I would say. Girls, women dressed up in colourful attires. Everyone in a different look, different style, different characteristic. Once in a while a cute looking kid playing, crying on his mother’s lap is quite a view to cherish. Not to miss the train vendors who jump in and out of the train at their desired stations, selling mostly what pleases the woman’s eye – clips and clutches, Bindis and bangles, earrings and necklaces, also sometimes household items like fridge covers and saree covers, occasionally sarees and dresses as well to name a few.
Today though the compartment seemed scarcely occupied. 4 to 5 women who were dressed well, occupied different sections of the seats put across in 4/4 adjacent lanes. Just alongside my seat came in a woman in nylon saree with her huge sac of puffed rice. Also the other accompaniments were finely cut onions, coriander and some sort of masala with some fried lentils which she used to mix and make a paper cone full of ‘Sookha Bhel’ (a roadside chaat or snack that people love to savour just to calm their tummy rumbles while they are yet to reach their homemade food for dinner). She put her sac on the seat adjacent to mine and got busy making a nice cone of Bhel while calling out ‘Bhel Lelo, Sookha Bhel’
 .mumbailocals
Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.
Just then I saw a man coming across from the other coop. He seemed to have no legs or had crippled legs. He was almost dragging himself on the floor while asking for some money from all. I took out some coins that I had in my purse and gave them to him. That’s when I saw her, the ‘HERO’ of this story. She carefully took her purse out and took out a 10 rupee note. I thought, maybe she was planning to have a snack from this Bhel wali lady. Yes, of course, she handed the money to her. But what happened next was beyond my imagination.
She gestured the Bhel wali to make a cone of Bhel for the beggar who had already crossed our lane. Our Bhel wali quickly mixed a generous cone of Bhel and walked across the lane to give it to the Beggar. He took it very calmly and quit begging (for a while), crippled down to the open doors and sat there resting his back on the compartment walls. Looking away from all, towards the running trees and roads he relished the only meal that he was probably having in that day.
What came to my mind instantly was a lot of admiration for our ‘HERO’ and a saying in Hindi ‘Ek teer se do nishaan’ which literally means killing two birds in one go, although in a good way here. Hasn’t she done an amazing thing to have helped both the woman selling Bhel for livelihood and also the man who was begging for food to feed himself? Nothing is more divine than feeding the hungry.
Long live my ‘HERO’!!

People in Mumbai

So long I have been sticking to my own diary to pen down my thoughts. Writing a blog is something that I tried and failed miserably years back. I never knew, still, do not, how to convey my feeling in words that people can interpret the way I want them to. Then I figured out why should they ever try to interpret anything as I want them to. Let them have their own interpretations, their own emotions, their own feelings of what I tell them. So, here I am, giving it a try again.

Thanks for joining me!

‘Mumbai Meri Jaan’, as many would like to address her, has stood untiringly through all that she could see and experience. I have lived through her, with her and have witnessed her beauty, the beauty that is way beyond face value, her beauty to accommodate and above all, accept. What makes her what she is, after all, is the people that she has embraced over the years. Ones who are natives, ones who have just migrated, ones who are now part of her in many many ways.
So I thought, let me take you through a journey of knowing them, the people in Mumbai, who look and you would agree are very fast, very busy, very superficial, very selfish and above all very business minded.
Are you really all this, Mumbai?
Today, I took a rickshaw after dropping my daughter at schools. To save some bucks and of course being a bit environment-friendly by sharing while caring, I have started taking the share-auto (meaning sharing an auto with others, they charge you way lesser than taking an auto for yourself). So here I am already in the rickshaw, checking my wallet for the 10 rupees that I had to share for the ride. And for my absolute disappointment, I had no change at all, let alone 10 rupees. I very fishily ask the auto-driver if he had a change for the only 500 rupees note that I could offer on which he very politely denied unlike my previous experience in this case.
I had expected the worst, to be thrown out of the rickshaw for instance but he was kind enough to take me to the destination with the others in the rickshaw.
Now that I had arrived at my destination, I gave it another try waving the 500 rupees note. On this, he just had to say “Kya kare madam, aap jao”. I was surprised and devastated at the same time that I was taking away someone’s bread and butter for my utter ignorance.
And there, she stepped in, with a kind smile, “How much do you need?”. I jumped on my feet, “I need a change for Rs.500”. She peeped into her wallet and pulled a 10 rupees note. I was taken aback by mere confusion, Why would someone just give away that money for someone who is literally a no-one to them.
Before I could gather myself from the embarrassment and thank her for her kindness, she just strolled away. Not even giving me the opportunity to take her number or name to return her favour.
Before this incidence, I would have given people examples of how helpful Japanese are, for my experience I had in Japan. But now on I can proudly say Mumbai wale are equally ‘Dildaar’ 🙂
Two people on the same day changed my perception of Mumbaikars. Mumbaikars are selfish but selfless too. Mumbaikars are running on the tick of the clock but they are there when people need them. Mumbaikars are the ones who make Mumbai – Mumbai.
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Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the Internet. Will be replaced soon with original pics from the author.