Single Serve

Single Serve would be something or anything that can be used only once - for a specific need or purpose. For example tooth picks or tea bags or the single serve butter stick they serve on a plane or a bus ticket you buy when traveling from point A to point B are all single serves. Did you know we also have "Single Serve Friends"?

Classmates, team mates, batch mates, room mates, they serve a purpose in time. There are hundreds we grow up with in the same school, hostel or college but only a rare handful remain in touch through the years. Others - though we have had good times with them - have disappeared.

This prompts me to recall my single serve friends. I was in 8th grade when Papa took us on a family vacation to Delhi. In the same guest house where we stayed was another family who also had a 8th grader. We became quick friends in a day or two, but alas no contact after that. I am sorry to say that I can't even recall her name now.

There was Jeeva who was my junior from college who looked up to me a lot. She took me home for a weekend where her mom made fresh plantain chips for us. I do think of them often but where to track her down I don't have a clue.

Revathy was my room mate - a blind girl - a music teacher - who once suspected me of stealing her Rs. 80; all I could tell her was, "I will pray that you find it before I come back in the evening so that you will know I didn't take it". In the evening when I returned she told me she had found the money and just when I was happy for her, she added, "How is it that I found it just like you told me? May be you put it back..." I was speechless. She definitely was a single serve - I knew that!

But all of those fun loving friends in college hostels Divya Rodriguez from Darjeeling & Sister Rose - both  went on to become doctors, Rachna Mishra from Patna, Sheeja Thomas from Calicut, Nisha Anumol from wherever and the three sisters Jessica, Thanuja and Janet, and of course my favorite Honey Ann Joseph from Ernakulam - it is hard to believe they too were single serve...

Neither prose nor poetry

Neither prose nor poetry it is just
The way my Grandma made puttu...

Childhood mornings at Grandma's home

Puttu always came from rice

Soak the rice for hours before,

Tiny hands powder the rice

Roast the flour, sprinkle water

Set aside, then scrape coconut
Add some sugar for taste
Off goes Grandma to collect some twigs
And dried coconut leaves
To lit her mud stove from the scratch

Brings a pot of water to boil
Layers flour and coconut in a tube
That fits perfectly on the pot
Quickly Grandma visits her store room
To fetch some ripe plantains and bananas
Before the tube on the pot starts to steam

Now, it is time to remove the tube
Grandma picks up her ladle turns it around
And sticks the stick end into the tube
That gently pushes the puttu out
Steaming hot with great aroma

With watering mouths we kids watch her do
Fill another puttu in the tube
Nicely set on the boiling pot
Off to fetch some plates for us
While we sit in the short kitchen walls & steps
She gives us puttu and some fruits

Yum so yum the puttu tastes
We finish it quickly and wait around
For the next puttu that cooks along
Even after the second round
We still wait around with hopes for more

Neither prose nor poetry it is just
The way my Grandma made puttu...

What has happened since?

Just a quick glance at earlier posts and updates on what has happend since:

* Remember  my plight looking for the moon in "Honey, where is the moon" ? -  Well, the moon has returned safe and sound and it has been honey moon ever since...

* Also, my Shocking Surprise is now over as the mustache has grown back

* No, couldn't show the butterflies to the star that landed in my Conversation with the Stars, as when I woke up I realized it was all just dream...

* The invitation is still open, you are Welcome to our Kitchen !

* Haven't got another chance to sit down with the Girl in the Mirror

* Some snacks did return to work, but I ended up sharing with the team, everyone said, "Mmm Mmm good! "

* That is right, I still don't LOL

* My Cuckoo clock is doing well.

So, what has happened since at your end?

To Bikramjit

From Bikramjit

From My Grandma

Since we are in the middle of Handwritten series I thought it would be a good idea to share a letter from my Grandma from the year 1994. I was doing my MCA staying on campus. Though my Grandma is no longer with us, I can see her love remains; I am so blessed to share in her love and blessings. 

She is the best Grandma ever made! Okay, now that may be a rude statement; how about I say, all Grandmas are made equal?! Please click on the image once to view in full. Translation follows below the image for those who can't read Tamil...

My loving child Queenma, from Grandma who loves you a lot. Are you well? Be well. I pray for you to learn your subjects carefully and to get good grades. Pray everyday, read the Bible. Is your scooter a blessing? No running around places. Only use it to go to college.

May God's grace protect you. Let Him be like a mother bird that protects from front and rear. Write to me in your own hand. I need to see that. Write to me about your situation. Because ever since the scooter came there I feel very afraid. May the Lord protect you from all danger. Pray well. Say Thank you.

Pray for Sweetma to do well in her exams and for little brother's studies, and for your beloved Amma and Pappa. May God bless you. I am not able to write well as my hand is shaking.  Let us praise God who thought about us in our lowliness. May the Lord be with you in all your ways. Glory be to Him only.

Reply me, I will be awaiting. My loving child Queenma, many kisses to you. Hallelujah!

To Bhawna

From Bhawna

What's wrong with NRIGirl?

Nothing... really... okay if you insist, it is the hair... Israel's hair. He has been such a well groomed handsome gentleman all along but lately he wants to grow his hair longer. "How long?", when I ask he says "mmm... how about as long as yours?!" Hope he is joking as it gives me jitters already...

When I further insist, he says, "how many hairstyles you have tried over the years, have I said anything? Now I want to give it a try - I always wanted to do it but my Mom never let me, so now I want to just try it once, anyway I have only skipped one cutting, may be will do one or two more, that's it..."

OK his reasoning sounds good, but can't truly understand why he should spoil his looks over a teenage dream? I even showed him Einstein's picture to let him know how his hairstyle looks like now - seriously! He just thought I was joking...

On Sunday as we were pulling in to the Church parking lot, there was another lady with the blinkers on coming from the opposite direction. I had expected Gentleman Israel to give way for her, but he pulled in to the parking lot first. When I commented on that, he said "We had the right of way"

I had to tell him he used to be so nice and gentlemanly as long as his hair was tame, now that it is wild and out of control he is behaving like a ruffian! We had a good laugh. Jokes apart, it really puts me off.

This morning Israel was asking, "There seems to be something bothering you, what is it?" I replied, "Nothing..." He insisted, "Tell me the truth NRIGirl!" and hence this post...

Am I overreacting?

To Mohan

Dear Readers! Kindly excuse the illegible print. For whatever reason, the script does not come through properly in the scanned copy. Since I tried it at least twice without any improvement decided to post the second one as is... Have to find a good pen next time! You can click on the image below to open it in a new browser and then click once more to view the original size...

From Mohan

Pencil memories

Don't know what it is about sharpening the pencils that my kids don't like - they go on and on and on writing with the trace of lead that we can hardly see.

I was way different. I loved to sharpen pencils. I had to have plenty of pencils all sharpened to the finest tip. Even the slightest usage would prompt me to sharpen them again.

Mostly I would do it to make some "food" for my peacock feathers that we "grew" inside our text books. We (kids) had this crazy love for peacock feathers and believed it would grow feeding on pencil shavings... Rarely a feather would split up, taking us to new heights of joy that our treatment worked!

We also believed we can make erasers with pencil shavings - following a certain recipe with tree amber and what not! No, I never got close to collecting the "ingredients" to actually try the recipe.

Oh! I must tell you this, once I poked Papa's leg with a sharp pencil that a drop of blood seeped out. I was horror stricken! Not because Papa was hurt, but because Papa had blood! Till that point in life I was under the assumption men were made of steel and didn't have blood or wouldn't feel the pain...

Now, getting back to sharpening the pencils, I have tried different lures to get a bunch of pencils sharpened by my kids. Nothing has worked so far.

Recently I was in the school for parent teacher meeting and I saw that Joshua's pencils were all blunt. Just to surprise him I sharpened one pencil for him and kept it at his desk with a note, "Mommy loves you!" The next day he was so elated that I had sharpened his pencil and Sharon was upset I didn't do hers.

Sometimes I would gather plenty of pencils around the house and dedicate half an hour or so to sharpen them. Within minutes it will all vanish as children rush to claim them. So it is really not the sharpened pencils they dislike, it is the sharpening they do...

I am thinking of getting some peacock feathers and instilling the idea of feeding them on a regular basis with pencil shavings. May be that will do the trick...