The Peace Amidst Chaos

The Holy Ganges

In my mind, there is always a cobweb of thoughts running in a loop: worries about my parents' health, anxiety over the work deadlines, fear about my future; the thoughts go on and on. So, when I decided to take my parents on a short trip to Banaras, I was anxious over charting out the travel plan and executing it to perfection. My parents, on the other hand, were initially reluctant and later very excited to go to the holy city for the umpteenth time. But the bone of contention between us was the travel plan itself. While I was stressing on early reservation and booking for the trains and hotel, they were thrilled over traveling by a bus overnight and staying at a place with bare minimum facilities. No prizes for guessing that they are more adventurous than me. Needless to say, I could manage to book the train tickets only.

Banaras has a charm that never fades away. Though I have visited the city a couple of times, I still look forward to roam across those narrow by-lanes and revisit some old memories. The crowded railway station, the horrible traffic jams, the mouth watering delicacies, the beautiful Ghats, and the never-ending stream of people everywhere; the chaos and crowd are an integral part of Banaras that makes it beautiful.

To add further chaos to this city, I was accompanying two aging kids- my parents. They happily argued over the things that they generally argue about and I tried to pacify them. I wonder how the roles switched so soon. Once I used to throw tantrums at them and get scolded. Now I am the one who tries to calmly listen to their irrational plans, scold them, and feel sorry about it later. However, that does not deter them from being the stubborn and rebellious sixty year olds. From visiting the Kashi Vishwanath Temple to Sarnath to Ramnagar Fort, eating delicious Rabri and Jalebi for breakfast, shopping in the Vishwanath Gali, enjoying a boat ride on Ganga - we enjoyed and argued over anything and everything during the trip. Sigh!

The week long trip was an eye-opener. There was chaos everywhere. In my mind, in my relationships, and around the city. Yet, an underlying peace prevailed in Banaras; in the prayer chants, in the chiming of the temple bells, and on the banks of the Ganges. Soaking in that eternal peace, I could manage to sit with my parents on the steps of Dashashwamedh Ghat for hours; watching Ganga Aarti, looking at the numerous Diyas floating by, silently appreciating the moments, and counting my blessings. Peace lies within indeed.

P.S. I tried to capture a bit of Banaras on my phone and I'm sharing it with you.

A Beautifully Crafted Door at Ramnagar Fort

The Vibrant Sarnath

Black Robe and White Beard

The Beautiful Goddess Ganga

The Majestic Fort at Ramnagar

My Stubborn Kids!

The Transformation of a Foodie

Being a Bengali, I was taught to appreciate the taste of prawn, crab, Hilsa, Rohu, chicken, and lamb from a very tender age. Though vegetables are termed as "Ghaas Phoos" (that literally means grass) in a typical Bengali household, I was fed with quite a generous amount of spinach, okra, bitter gourd, beetroot, bottle gourd, and eggplant as well. I could not evolve as a fussy eater, thanks to my mother's stern looks at the lunch or dinner table. However, I also could not realize my love for food until I started staying in a hostel. Poha, Upma, Chole Bhature, Daal Baati, Gatte ki Sabzi, Malaiyo, Raw Mango curry, Thalipeeth, Appam, Pooran Poli, Pithala Bhakri- I was introduced to new flavors from various parts of India. At the same time, I started missing "Ghar ka Khana", the much sought-after homemade food.
"Those who love to eat do not necessarily love to cook." -Writer of this blog post

It is said that people who love to eat can also cook good food. …

Books and Coffee

As ridiculous as it might sound, at the end of a long tiring day, a perfect date for me means a large cup of coffee and an interesting novel to read. Yes, you have the liberty to label me as an anti-social and a nerdy introvert! I find it pretty amusing when someone tells me that reading novels is a wastage of time. Or that someone likes to go through work-related books and not elaborate literary pieces.
An introvert raised as a single child, I have always found solace in my books. My love for storybooks started with Snow White, Cinderella, Peter Pan, and Little Mermaid. My father introduced me early to the monthly kids magazines- Tinkle, Champak, Nandan and Chandamama. I do not know if these magazines still exist. Billu, Pinki and Chacha Chowdhary followed soon. The Famous Five and The Little Women too entered into my life. Being a true Bong, Anandamela was an absolute necessity during Durga Pujo. The lazy afternoons of summer vacations were sometimes spent on Tagore and Sarat Chan…

When I Met Harry

Harry came to my life when I was in the eighth standard. A bespectacled young boy with ruffled jet black hair, green eyes, and a scar on his forehead; a boy to fall in love with. Don't blame me as I was a teenager who wanted a spell of magic in her life and to run away to the Hogwarts. I hated being a muggle and aspired to become another Hermione Granger. I imagined myself boarding the Hogwarts Express and reaching Hogsmeade, going to that magical school, and learning to wave my wand. I had once written a secret letter to Harry on Valentine's day and later decided to keep it safe in my diary. When I watched 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' for the first time, I lost my mind (and heart!) over that young and extremely cute Daniel Radcliffe. I remember keeping newspaper cuttings of anything and everything related to him. I still have them, safely secured in my old trunk. Well, that infatuation lasted for a couple of years till I graduated from college. And…

Being a "Housewife" and Baking Shit

Even though my mother and mother-in law are both successful homemakers and I have immense respect for homemakers who are unsung superwomen, I still find the tag of a 'housewife' as my identity pretty insulting. Blame it to the spirit of feminism that arises from time to time to attack my poor husband or the fact that I had worked for five years at a stretch before marriage and had led a very independent life, I never thought that I could be labelled as a housewife. Alas! God had some different plans.
Early this year, moving to the U.S. on a dependent spouse visa made me the quintessential housewife. I bawled, shouted, and argued with my dear husband whom I held responsible for my plight. As if my feminist rants were not enough to torture him, I decided to exhibit my limited culinary skills to feed him, making good use of all the free time I had.
The Birthday Cake
August came and I started planning for my husband's birthday. When we were in a long distance relationship, I…

Finding Happiness

There are a thousand things in my everyday life that I do not like. Peeling garlic, commuting through traffic, folding clothes and cleaning my closet, getting my hairy legs and hands waxed, looking at a pile of utensils in the kitchen sink, indulging in small talks with people or getting dragged into a discussion about makeup products (I know, this one makes me weirder)- the list of my dislikes is pretty long.
Keeping my dislikes aside, I wonder about the little things in my day-to-day life that give me pure joy. Enjoying a big steaming hot cup of tea accompanied with my favorite biscuits is a bliss for me every morning. Feeling the warmth inside while gulping the hot tea makes me happy. Strange enough, I usually fail to appreciate such simple pleasant activities while rushing through my monotonous schedule.

After a bit of introspection, I have listed down a couple of things that take me to the 'happy zone'. Whether it is a long shower after a tiring day, a bowl of hot soup,…

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