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indi

talking about the good old days

oh no, do i have the word “old” in the title? that’s it. no one is going to read this. anyway, let me carry on. no idea how the years passed by, i noticed though, they have a way of doing so without any effort whatsoever (something to learn in that, i’m sure, especially for my knees), and suddenly i was on the other side of the story. i was no longer the one rolling my eyes and throwing fits…

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indi Poetry

when i see flowers i think of you

when i see flowers i think of you purse your lips and perhaps you smile there is no distance beyond the hour the hour that comes unmindful of season and time   this flower whose name i do not know yet it sits right by my sitting room’s window and amid its cloak of silken unbending leaves bursts forth in colour of hue intense and pure there is no uncertainty in its lines no murmur of may i or if…

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Festive Specials food indi

fish kochuri… a halloween recipe

i was sitting in front of my computer, working and completely absorbed, when it came out of nowhere and spooked me. i suddenly had to make fish kochuri. i don’t know how to make these delicious pastries with fish stuffed in it. this was a fiend though that was hellbent on scaring me into submission. think the only time i’ve had fish kochuri or maachher kochuri, as we call it in bengali, was almost ten years ago. maybe more. it…

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indi

what have they done to my iphone

my heart broke today when i opened world clock on my iphone after the latest 10 point whatever ios update. i was staring at a black panel instead of the lovely soft white one with clock faces on it, which i could change to numbers at a touch, if i so desired. now a grim black with reverse type and though the font is the same, uff the aggression of it in reverse. like an idiot, i pressed all sorts…

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indi

on the road with a memory

that year my father was the happiest man in all of assam, i’m quite sure. he had bought himself an ambassador mark II, a black one, and had driven it all the way from calcutta to duliajan in upper assam. somewhere near guwahati, the gear had seemed a bit unreasonable, but that hadn’t bothered him. a brand new black ambassador with upholstery in grey and red and that feeling of latest technology releases a sort of joy that a little…

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indi Poetry

promises that won’t be kept

some promises will not be kept some truths so easily swept under carpets thickly plush and warm there will be harm smiting would some days come permanent the damage done promises blithely broken gaping wounds turned away from the ache would be the real deal no balm will dare its edge steal perhaps that is one promise that will be kept i will not lie and tell you that you’ll be fine no matter what you will be torn there…

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indi

how perfect are some things

i was looking at this shot above when i suddenly thought of perfection. it’s a simple iphone shot, a top angle view of some flowers floating in an urli. i was enjoying the play of colours, shapes, freshness… the word beauty was bound to drift into mind. my eyes strayed over the tiny red flowers, i don’t know their name, to the playful red powderpuffs, to the pink frangipanis, and as i reached and stared at the white jasmines, this…

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food indi

“as wrinkled as my face…” a recipe for tomato mahasha

there are several tomato mahasha recipes on the net. they all sound pretty good. one of them particularly, since you stuff the tomatoes with raw rice and chicken and it just feels so complex and authentic. my mother in law would say once in a way as she went about getting the stuffing ready that the really good baghdadi jewish cooks never cooked what went into the mahasha beforehand. then she’d forget about all that and make it her way.…

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food indi

turmeric can make you ramble

that there could be a word for holud or haldi in english had never occurred to me. i was fourteen, not interested in cooking, and besides, why would people who didn’t use it in any of their cooking bother to find a word for the yellow powder or paste present in practically everything we make? we don’t have a word for parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. we don’t use those pretty sounding song-worthy herbs in our curries or ghontos or…

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indi Poetry

scrolling down twitter one morning

twitter is a funny place i see girls dying over tv drama lovers, sighing about their favourite heroes i see a women died on a bus and her husband and kid were thrown out of it i see pictures of madhubani paintings and talk of art i see a journalist’s taunt at a shot that paints a picture too good not to make likes and rts out of i see images of children mangled by syria i see cute messages…

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