my blog is now a teenager!

I used to have so much poetry in me those years, 

those years when I wrote compulsively,

those years when I day dreamed, 

when I was not disillusioned, yet.

Then when I was yet to put in all,

yet to be tested.

When others' successes were not so judged by me,

when I didn't yet feel wronged by the world.

Age, wisdom, failures, lost opportunity

and a continuous struggle to stay afloat.

Life. don't know why they consider it a gift.

But without life there'd be no beauty to appreciate,

no poems and words to linger on

no Eureka moments, no serendipity of finding human connections

no fight against the tugs of attraction

no sweet pains, no warm caresses

and no memory

no exhilaration of waiting, even if in vain.

No problems to tackle, awake and in dreams,

no pleasurable pain, no joyful sweat.

no dancing or running or swimming,

no gasping for breath to keep it going.

stew

made some yummy chicken-vegetables stew y'day, inspired by Chef John's (of Food wishes fame) video the night before. He had used sausages and white (forgot name) beans, but in lockdown (actually those are hard to find in India even without lockdown), had to improvise with available ingredients. so in went chicken kebabs from Greenchick, with diced onions, squashed garlic pods, and a bay leaf or two, in olive oil. Followed with cubed beetroots and potatoes (with skin) and tomatoes. Oh yeah a squirting of fish sauce (my secret these days in many things), and an ounce of triple sec (in lieu of wine). Also some coconut milk. Salt pepper of course, and some chili flakes. Let cook, ingredients sharing their sauces and caramelising the bottom of the pot. Scrape every time u stir, esp when u add moisture of any kind. 

After almost everything was partly cooked, more coconut milk (not a lot) and lots of water. Simmer, simmer, simmer. Maybe salt too. 

Eat whenever the beetroot and potatoes are soft. With bread, but better with some crisp malabari parathas, dipped or soaked in it just before plopping in mouth. (We get frozen parathas from Green chick; at the beginning of lockdown were hard to find but now abundantly available). 

I usually don't do recipes, cos I hate being instructed. Actually more like I'm incapable of it. Here too this was more from memory of Chef John's video than from instructions. But whenever something comes out delicious, k asks me to document it's recipe cos I never exactly replicate the same dish (again incapable). Therefore this, as well as I could remember. 

The last time I made stew was when mom dad visited in Texas and k was also visiting. was winter, I made pork stew, with carrots, potatoes (I think) etc. Slow cooked for hours after part frying the pork chunks. Realised sausages or pre-made kebabs (also mince-balls) are much easier, barely any risk of the meat being under or over done. can listen to the heartbeat of the root vegs then and do them better justice. 

Lockdown has now lasted so long, we have forgotten what we are hiding from. Sheltering at home is becoming a habit now, as stepping out is becoming harder work day by day: wear ur mask, resist touching it even if ur nose is itching, walk to the closest store when it's hottest in the day so it's not as crowded; or drive the dirty car that hasn't been cleaned in days just to keep its tires from giving up, use the wipers and that secret stored liquid to barely clean the windshield so you can see and not kill someone, when you step out make sure you sanitize hands after every human touch, and limit that to echanging food/grocery and money, maybe explain to the cop who is stopping you why you are out, through your mask, annoyed at being stopped cos life outdoors is a pain anyway now, and more after a car with masked kids and adults overtakes you and then wants to swerve to cut you; all this when both cars are in the wrong lane anyway cos the right one is barricaded by the same cops. And then come home, wipe wash what you can of the food or grocery, sanitize ur purse, wash ur hands, ask hubby to take the eggs out of their case which you hold (cos it might be infected) while he puts them in the fridge. Wash ur hands again, they are now dehydrated and the skin is peeling off. Moisturise. 

And then maybe later when ur at peace, feel guilty about it cos u've just seen yet another statistic, read another article of the dying people, the sick people, and worse the hungry and the poor who have no jobs and no food and are walking with sacks of PDS ration night and day just to GO HOME, in trying to keep you out of infection's way.

And last night it thundered like it was the end of the world. And you kept sneezing and didn't sleep; and now the wind roars like it wants to destroy all (evil). But it's also gulmohar season, those flames of beauty at every other corner, one in front of ur home and one reflecting in the balcony window behind, bunches of sindoor amidst green, misplaced amongst their washing machine, mop cloths and sticks and myriad buckets and cans of paint (probably empty and recycled). Are you sleeping or awake, are you dead or alive? Will whatever this is, go on, or end?!