sarees, the word conjures an image of colours, bold and bright, swathes of rich fabric, motifs and intricate weave... but not all sarees are like that.…
the tiny dark man in spotless white dhoti and panjabi – in bengal the kurta has been called that for a very long time – had just reached the palm tree at the end of the unpaved gravel strewn path leading up to the house. rimi peered out of the window, her eyes getting brighter with each step the man took, as she unconsciously closed the book lying on the desk. she’d study later. now, it was time for bismil…
it was my maternal uncle’s wedding. may 1966. i was six, my cousins between four and ten. we were five of us girls i think. we were all going to attend the wedding in calcutta and then go to delhi for the reception. my grandmother, always generous, fun, a bit over the top as grandmothers really ought to be, decided to get nearly identical lehengas and sarees made for us. the lehengas were in red silk with green cholis and…
he loved vintage cars. every morning, practically, he’d come to look at his collection, which used to be kept in a garage built on land rented from my family. he always wore pristine, brilliant white pajamas and a flowing crisp kurta, his hair would be neatly brushed and the most pleasant smile would appear on his face if he happened to spot you or any of your elders. “namashkar!” he’d greet in a low amicable tone, as he raised his…
there was no facebook in my grandmother’s time. when she made batches of a hundred pantuas, no one quickly went and took pictures on their iphone and posted it on fb. there was no iphone too then. pantua, in case you’ve never had of it, is this delightful bengali mishti or sweet. it’s a lot like gulab jamun, but it isn’t that ubiquitous dessert. pantua is made mainly of chhana or cottage cheese, i.e. paneer… with a bit of khoya…