While watching a Tropicana Juice Ad, I noticed the song that plays in the background..for the first time.
Its the Dean Martin (with Helen O'Conolle) track and its soooooooo cute!
Here is how it goes..
(H) How do you like your eggs in the morning
(D) I like mine with a kiss
(H) Boiled or fried
(D) I'm satisfied as long as I get my kiss
(H) How do you like your toast in the morning
(D) I like mine with a hug
(H) Dark or light
(D) the world's all right as long as I get my hug
(D) I've got to have my love in the morning
(H) Or the rest of my day is positively mayhem
(D) I'm a regular monster
(H) How do you like your eggs in the morning
(D) I like mine with a kiss
(H) Up or down
(D) I'll never frown eggs can be almost bliss
(D) Just as long as I get my kiss
A lovely way to start the day.. ain't it?
Have a gr8 day ahead! :-)
PS: I've just made another discovery ..Dean Martin rocks! The lyrics to most of his songs is very simple and very very sweet! Wish I had bothered to notice earlier.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
Sant Kabeer
I picked a few of these on the net: (courtesy Shayri.com)
I love the pieces which are uncomplicated to read but have a profund meaning..
Rather than those which have profound (almost 10 pound heavy) words AND profund meanings! :-)
Sant Kabeer ke dohe ..these are eternal masterpieces epitomising the humble yet unmatchable genius of this earthy saint!
The wisdom in these words says everything.
I have tried to translate the dohas ( verses) in english.
Dukh mein simran sab karen, sukh mein karay na koye
Jo sukh mein simran karay, to dukh kahay hoye
( Every one remembers Him at the time of grief, but not in happiness.
If one remembers Him through happiness, grief will never be! )
Jaise til mein tail hai, jyon chakmak mein aag,
Tera saayin tujh mein hai, tu jaag sake to jaag.
( The way sesame seeds have oil in them, and stones can spark fire,
Your God (strength?) lies withing you, awaken it if you can! )
Dheere dheere ray mana dheeray sub kuch hoye,
Maali sainche sau ghada, ritu aaye phal hoye.
(Keep patience oh mind, and every thing will happen,
The Gardener waters with 100 pitchers, but fruits bear only when the season comes!)
Kabira Khada bazaar mein maange sub ki khair
Na kahu se dosti na kahu se bair.
(Kabeer stands (at the market) and prays for everyone's well being.
No one is a friend neither is anyone an enemy)
Bura jo dekhan mein chala, bura na milya koi,
Jo maan khoja aapna to mujh say bura na koi
(When I started to seek evil outside, I didn't find any,
But when I looked within, there was no greater evil than myself! )
Aisee vani boliye, man ka aapa khoye,
Apna taan sheetal kare, auran ko sukh hoye.
(Speak a tongue which loses one's self,
The speaker is at peace and also pleases others.)
Jaati na poocho saadhu ki, pooch lijiye gyaan
Mol karo talwar ki padi rehen jo mayaan.
(Don't seek a wise man's caste, seek his wisdom,
Value a sword and not its sheath.)
PS: Pls don't mind my lousy translations, no other language can match the exact meaning.
I love the pieces which are uncomplicated to read but have a profund meaning..
Rather than those which have profound (almost 10 pound heavy) words AND profund meanings! :-)
Sant Kabeer ke dohe ..these are eternal masterpieces epitomising the humble yet unmatchable genius of this earthy saint!
The wisdom in these words says everything.
I have tried to translate the dohas ( verses) in english.
Dukh mein simran sab karen, sukh mein karay na koye
Jo sukh mein simran karay, to dukh kahay hoye
( Every one remembers Him at the time of grief, but not in happiness.
If one remembers Him through happiness, grief will never be! )
Jaise til mein tail hai, jyon chakmak mein aag,
Tera saayin tujh mein hai, tu jaag sake to jaag.
( The way sesame seeds have oil in them, and stones can spark fire,
Your God (strength?) lies withing you, awaken it if you can! )
Dheere dheere ray mana dheeray sub kuch hoye,
Maali sainche sau ghada, ritu aaye phal hoye.
(Keep patience oh mind, and every thing will happen,
The Gardener waters with 100 pitchers, but fruits bear only when the season comes!)
Kabira Khada bazaar mein maange sub ki khair
Na kahu se dosti na kahu se bair.
(Kabeer stands (at the market) and prays for everyone's well being.
No one is a friend neither is anyone an enemy)
Bura jo dekhan mein chala, bura na milya koi,
Jo maan khoja aapna to mujh say bura na koi
(When I started to seek evil outside, I didn't find any,
But when I looked within, there was no greater evil than myself! )
Aisee vani boliye, man ka aapa khoye,
Apna taan sheetal kare, auran ko sukh hoye.
(Speak a tongue which loses one's self,
The speaker is at peace and also pleases others.)
Jaati na poocho saadhu ki, pooch lijiye gyaan
Mol karo talwar ki padi rehen jo mayaan.
(Don't seek a wise man's caste, seek his wisdom,
Value a sword and not its sheath.)
PS: Pls don't mind my lousy translations, no other language can match the exact meaning.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Des Mere..
As corny as it may sound.. when you are away from India, you don't feel homesick .. you feel homeland-sick!
I see the dull grey rains in London, on streets crowded with people and the way it contrasts a rainy day in India (anywhere in India these days!) hits me hard.
Here it hardly pours when you are out in the open. It pours late night, early morning, may be at an odd hour in the day when you are in office .. but never at the time when you are in the open.
Well.. if you are out on a not-so-sunny-day weekend, then it might rain in all possible ways.. drizzles, downpour, showers etc etc.. but not long enought to leave you like a wet puppy shivering its way to the shelter!
Coming back to the weekedays, in Liverpool Strt atleast..you are hardly in the open. The rail station is as prim as a mall, ( infact .. it IS a mall. 3 storeyed, with range of things from hot pasties to branded vest -n-bow tie suits..you get everything!) and it dosen't leak.
The moment your train enters the station, till you leave the station, you are covered.
You have a walkway which leads you to a road, and it has a metal canopy all the way.. so even if you do leave the station, it takes a couple of mins to get into the open. The moment the canopy ends, well dressed office goers (and thats the mildest version of it.. Londoners dressed for office are a show! Just amazing variety of formal clothes, shoes, bags..even umbrellas! ) open their umbrellas and dash to the nearest building, which mazes through the streets and leads you to your building without getting you drenched!
At the reception, you have carpets almost all over, and "slippery floor" boards propped up. ;-)You have a plastic-cover dispenser for your umbrellas.
There's hardly a soul around who is wet enough to testify the rains outside!
When I finally reach my desk in the office, I think of a(n) (average .. not the hell raising kinda rainy) rainy day in India. You leave with a raincoat / umbrella, which hardly helps. By the time you get into the bus, your feet are wet and pink. The umbrella is dripping with water. You avoid a window seat because water trickles on the seat. People in the bus avoid you because they don't want a wet cat next to them. :-)
You look out on the road, and there are vehicles shining bright with the unpaid-uncalled-for wash they'd just had. They whoosh through puddles of water.
Tiny raincoat clad figures tow with their hurrying parents.
Mummy-types ladies gently lift their sarees a a wee bit to avoid them from sloshing in the puddles, and balance an office bag at the shoulder.
Cycle-wallas with colorful polythene bags covering their heads and tucked behind their ears, appear to be floating on the waters.
Police-mamas with bright yellow raincoats try to make sense out of the mad traffic.
A scooter which refuses to start is cursed and kicked by its owner.
Youngsters don't give a damn to the rains and soak up.
A few shivering souls wait at covered bus stops, under trees, in front of shops.
A few crows shake themselves free of water every few mins on the cables running overhead.
Pavements are shining, trees have a new shade of green...
It seems like there is a different world attached with each of this scene. The city is so alive!
As you shiver with the cool breeze, you look forward to reaching home, to a steaming cup of tea, you look forward to tucking your feet underneath you and curling up in the sofa, discussing mundane stuff with family as everyone arrives home one by one with a different rain that soaked them up! :-)
As the warm picture of a family returning home floats in your mind, there is a lump in your throat and you actually long to get drenched in that rain that falls in India!
I see the dull grey rains in London, on streets crowded with people and the way it contrasts a rainy day in India (anywhere in India these days!) hits me hard.
Here it hardly pours when you are out in the open. It pours late night, early morning, may be at an odd hour in the day when you are in office .. but never at the time when you are in the open.
Well.. if you are out on a not-so-sunny-day weekend, then it might rain in all possible ways.. drizzles, downpour, showers etc etc.. but not long enought to leave you like a wet puppy shivering its way to the shelter!
Coming back to the weekedays, in Liverpool Strt atleast..you are hardly in the open. The rail station is as prim as a mall, ( infact .. it IS a mall. 3 storeyed, with range of things from hot pasties to branded vest -n-bow tie suits..you get everything!) and it dosen't leak.
The moment your train enters the station, till you leave the station, you are covered.
You have a walkway which leads you to a road, and it has a metal canopy all the way.. so even if you do leave the station, it takes a couple of mins to get into the open. The moment the canopy ends, well dressed office goers (and thats the mildest version of it.. Londoners dressed for office are a show! Just amazing variety of formal clothes, shoes, bags..even umbrellas! ) open their umbrellas and dash to the nearest building, which mazes through the streets and leads you to your building without getting you drenched!
At the reception, you have carpets almost all over, and "slippery floor" boards propped up. ;-)You have a plastic-cover dispenser for your umbrellas.
There's hardly a soul around who is wet enough to testify the rains outside!
When I finally reach my desk in the office, I think of a(n) (average .. not the hell raising kinda rainy) rainy day in India. You leave with a raincoat / umbrella, which hardly helps. By the time you get into the bus, your feet are wet and pink. The umbrella is dripping with water. You avoid a window seat because water trickles on the seat. People in the bus avoid you because they don't want a wet cat next to them. :-)
You look out on the road, and there are vehicles shining bright with the unpaid-uncalled-for wash they'd just had. They whoosh through puddles of water.
Tiny raincoat clad figures tow with their hurrying parents.
Mummy-types ladies gently lift their sarees a a wee bit to avoid them from sloshing in the puddles, and balance an office bag at the shoulder.
Cycle-wallas with colorful polythene bags covering their heads and tucked behind their ears, appear to be floating on the waters.
Police-mamas with bright yellow raincoats try to make sense out of the mad traffic.
A scooter which refuses to start is cursed and kicked by its owner.
Youngsters don't give a damn to the rains and soak up.
A few shivering souls wait at covered bus stops, under trees, in front of shops.
A few crows shake themselves free of water every few mins on the cables running overhead.
Pavements are shining, trees have a new shade of green...
It seems like there is a different world attached with each of this scene. The city is so alive!
As you shiver with the cool breeze, you look forward to reaching home, to a steaming cup of tea, you look forward to tucking your feet underneath you and curling up in the sofa, discussing mundane stuff with family as everyone arrives home one by one with a different rain that soaked them up! :-)
As the warm picture of a family returning home floats in your mind, there is a lump in your throat and you actually long to get drenched in that rain that falls in India!
Monday, September 04, 2006
New Looks
Well, after a long Hibernate Session (pun intended) am back to blog.
And back to blog about food! :-)
First.. let me pay my respect and awe for Google!
There lies a VAST un-explored treasure of all the information you want about averything!
And I have noticed this so many times..
This time Google bowled me over, when I tried searching for a recipe.. for Ukdiche Modak.
( A very lame english name for this can be sweet stuffed rice dumplings! :-S )
And Bingo!
Google asked Did you mean: ukadiche modak ?
Thats really sweet of Google! ;-) :-D
Ok.. that was all that I wanted to write about food in this blog!:-D
As the title says, I am talking about new looks.
Well, I have managed to get my hair cut here in London ! Ta- Da!
(and also managed not to feel guilty about the price I paid for it!)
After weeks of deliberation, resolve, grit and patience I finally managed to take the decision and stick to it till the weekend.
I took an appointment with a well known unisex salon here .. in the commercial capital of London.
I fumbled and tripped my way to the appointment desk, confirmed the appointment and was at the chair for the next process.
After washing and conditioning my hair, this lady asked me in some german accented english if I was sure I wanted to keep them short!
'I loooove long hair, and my husband scold me for little hair' she said.
I was sooooo happie to hear bad english from a firang! ;-)
She had an ubiquitous gujju assistant and she convinced my white hair stylist [ white is for the stylist, not for my hair.. ok? x-( ] that I was Ok with it.
'Are you sure?' she asked me again.
I felt a bit bad about the hair I was going to lose, and asked how the cut will finally look.
The Gujju had no idea of what my white lady had in mind, and asked her to explain.
'I cut, keep layers.'
Then she plucked a strand of my hair.
'This much 1 layer. Then 1 more little big. Then big, big, big. And 3 layer.'
And all the while she plucked strands of my wet hair, and held certain lengths between her fingers, and brandished the scissors in the other hand.
I waited with baited breath, praying that the scissors won't actually rush and do the act before she intended to!
'And near face, small, and back Vee'
At this she formed a 'V' with her hands to show what a 'V' is.
(As if I thought that an alphabet that sounds like 'Vee' in fact does look like a 'B' or a 'T')
'See my hair. Layer, Layer but small. Your layer..big'.
I looked at her hair.. or whatever was left of it.
It was streaked red, with a bunch still retaining the blonde color.
The hair near the face were cut to some decent uniformity on both the sides, but the hair at the back looked like whoever was cutting her hair had remembered an important errand, and had hurried through half of it, and left the rest to 'rest in peace' !
I still had some hope left in me, for a decent hair cut.
I tried to discuss with her that though I wanted my hair short, the shortest I was willing to go was this much and longest I would permit to stay was that much and that I should be able to tie them up when I want without random strands escaping the clips etc etc etc..
At the end of this conversation, we both had a pained expression on our faces .. no one in the hair-salon world understood us!
Sigh!
We had reached a point of 'you-return-but-not-me'.
She was sure the cut she had in mind suited me, and I was sure that I wanted my hair cut but not by her!
'Its ok. Tension maat lena Ma'm. Woh theek karegi' - Gujju assistant came on desi track.
I was not willing to go through the entire process of 'make your mind for a hair cut - break it - make it again - discuss with friends and family - get encouraged by them to go ahead - still think twice about the loss of hair - consult colleagues - make up mind yet again - take an appointment - stick to it' again.
So I left the fate of my hair in the dainty hands of the white lady ( there was nothing lady-like about her though.)
I amused myself at the chair by looking at locks of soft, black, straight, shiny, beautiful hair fall at my feet, (wonder how things that we lose suddenly appear very important and beautiful) by hearing to the snipping of the scissors, the whooshing of sprays and occassional tugs and pulls as the lady bent my head up, down, left, right till the water from my wet hair trickled (and tickled) down my ears, and neck and chin.
I never stole a look at the mirrors which appeared to surround me, almost close in upon me,tempting me to take a look at myself.
'There you are'.
'Beauty!'
My white lady said.
With a beating heart I looked into the mirror.
And almost burst into tears .... of great relief.
She had done a fabulous job.
I was seeing what I wanted to see, and the hair was perfectly the way it was supposed to be!
A wave of warmth and gratitude swept over me.
I beamed at my white lady and exclaimed my happiness and thanked her for a splendid job.
She beamed in return, and the gujju assistant smiled on us.
The hair-salon world had suddenly became a world of harmony, peace and mutual understanding!
In a state of relief and bliss, I boarded the train home, and in the same ethreal state reached home.
My husband waited anxiously for me to produce the bill.
The figure was a relief for him too. He was dreading to see the worst!
So this entire hair-cut, new-look business ended into an happy affair with one and all living happily ever after! (except the hair I lost! )
And back to blog about food! :-)
First.. let me pay my respect and awe for Google!
There lies a VAST un-explored treasure of all the information you want about averything!
And I have noticed this so many times..
This time Google bowled me over, when I tried searching for a recipe.. for Ukdiche Modak.
( A very lame english name for this can be sweet stuffed rice dumplings! :-S )
And Bingo!
Google asked Did you mean: ukadiche modak ?
Thats really sweet of Google! ;-) :-D
Ok.. that was all that I wanted to write about food in this blog!:-D
As the title says, I am talking about new looks.
Well, I have managed to get my hair cut here in London ! Ta- Da!
(and also managed not to feel guilty about the price I paid for it!)
After weeks of deliberation, resolve, grit and patience I finally managed to take the decision and stick to it till the weekend.
I took an appointment with a well known unisex salon here .. in the commercial capital of London.
I fumbled and tripped my way to the appointment desk, confirmed the appointment and was at the chair for the next process.
After washing and conditioning my hair, this lady asked me in some german accented english if I was sure I wanted to keep them short!
'I loooove long hair, and my husband scold me for little hair' she said.
I was sooooo happie to hear bad english from a firang! ;-)
She had an ubiquitous gujju assistant and she convinced my white hair stylist [ white is for the stylist, not for my hair.. ok? x-( ] that I was Ok with it.
'Are you sure?' she asked me again.
I felt a bit bad about the hair I was going to lose, and asked how the cut will finally look.
The Gujju had no idea of what my white lady had in mind, and asked her to explain.
'I cut, keep layers.'
Then she plucked a strand of my hair.
'This much 1 layer. Then 1 more little big. Then big, big, big. And 3 layer.'
And all the while she plucked strands of my wet hair, and held certain lengths between her fingers, and brandished the scissors in the other hand.
I waited with baited breath, praying that the scissors won't actually rush and do the act before she intended to!
'And near face, small, and back Vee'
At this she formed a 'V' with her hands to show what a 'V' is.
(As if I thought that an alphabet that sounds like 'Vee' in fact does look like a 'B' or a 'T')
'See my hair. Layer, Layer but small. Your layer..big'.
I looked at her hair.. or whatever was left of it.
It was streaked red, with a bunch still retaining the blonde color.
The hair near the face were cut to some decent uniformity on both the sides, but the hair at the back looked like whoever was cutting her hair had remembered an important errand, and had hurried through half of it, and left the rest to 'rest in peace' !
I still had some hope left in me, for a decent hair cut.
I tried to discuss with her that though I wanted my hair short, the shortest I was willing to go was this much and longest I would permit to stay was that much and that I should be able to tie them up when I want without random strands escaping the clips etc etc etc..
At the end of this conversation, we both had a pained expression on our faces .. no one in the hair-salon world understood us!
Sigh!
We had reached a point of 'you-return-but-not-me'.
She was sure the cut she had in mind suited me, and I was sure that I wanted my hair cut but not by her!
'Its ok. Tension maat lena Ma'm. Woh theek karegi' - Gujju assistant came on desi track.
I was not willing to go through the entire process of 'make your mind for a hair cut - break it - make it again - discuss with friends and family - get encouraged by them to go ahead - still think twice about the loss of hair - consult colleagues - make up mind yet again - take an appointment - stick to it' again.
So I left the fate of my hair in the dainty hands of the white lady ( there was nothing lady-like about her though.)
I amused myself at the chair by looking at locks of soft, black, straight, shiny, beautiful hair fall at my feet, (wonder how things that we lose suddenly appear very important and beautiful) by hearing to the snipping of the scissors, the whooshing of sprays and occassional tugs and pulls as the lady bent my head up, down, left, right till the water from my wet hair trickled (and tickled) down my ears, and neck and chin.
I never stole a look at the mirrors which appeared to surround me, almost close in upon me,tempting me to take a look at myself.
'There you are'.
'Beauty!'
My white lady said.
With a beating heart I looked into the mirror.
And almost burst into tears .... of great relief.
She had done a fabulous job.
I was seeing what I wanted to see, and the hair was perfectly the way it was supposed to be!
A wave of warmth and gratitude swept over me.
I beamed at my white lady and exclaimed my happiness and thanked her for a splendid job.
She beamed in return, and the gujju assistant smiled on us.
The hair-salon world had suddenly became a world of harmony, peace and mutual understanding!
In a state of relief and bliss, I boarded the train home, and in the same ethreal state reached home.
My husband waited anxiously for me to produce the bill.
The figure was a relief for him too. He was dreading to see the worst!
So this entire hair-cut, new-look business ended into an happy affair with one and all living happily ever after! (except the hair I lost! )
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