The new harry potter movie is out. And I have been avoiding it like crazy. I saw a trailer of the new movie and ever since then I wished I hadn't seen it. For years now I have been battling the disappointment that comes over me whenever I see a Potter movie. The movies do no justice to the books. Infact I almost never see movie adaptations of books. I have never liked any movie based on a book I have read. And Harry potter tops the list.
The latest nail on the coffin is in the latest movie Voldemort has a face and screen space! His face is all over the trailers! Just as I was getting tired of Daniel Radcliff's face on cups, plates, pens, caps etc, now it will be Voldemort's turn I suppose for all halloween's to come until eternity. And sadly he who must not be named looks neither sinister or menacing but only horribly malnourished.
The bright lining on the cloud of that, like how I forget the Mahabharatha and every other book I have read every couple of years and have to refresh my memory again I am waiting for his face to fade away from my memory so that I can start reading the series again. But what of those children ,those unbearably unlucky children who saw the movies before reading the books? They will never be able to imagine on a grander scale than the movie.
I hope and pray that children are given the Harry Potter books as gifts and not the Harry Potter DVD collection. The only argument for the dvd collection is that no child would ever be able to hold the entire bulky hardback potter series in his/her hand. (The final volume alone is likely to tip them over.) However the counter arguments are endless.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Food woes
We are a family of foodies. We live to eat and not merely eat to survive. But all my culinary heavenly dreams came crashing down on me the moment I landed on US shores. This is a country for meat lovers and shuts the door, bolts it and throws away the key on vegetarians like me.
The only solution left for us is home cooking. But therein lies another problem. I am just a budding cook. No cookbooks to my name, no claims to fame just the average adjustment expert. You know, adjust the salt, adjust the heat, adjust the water till basically the dish has deviated immeasurably from the original intention. Everyday is a battle with the salt and the chilli powder. The salt never drizzles down in the infinitesimally small proportion that I desire while the chilli powder always seems to waft up into my nose everytime I use it and I end up sneezing over a very salty preparation.
Daily over breakfast and dinner my eyes follow the first morsel of food my husband tastes. I scan his face hoping to detect that smile of ecstacy or the mmmmmm of delight. But till date my eyebrow - springing moment has not come. So I decided early on that once a week we will eat out to give ourselves a much needed respite. But little did I realise when we started that it was all rotten tomatoes out there.
My earliest memory of eating out was when we had gone to a McDonalds in Seattle. After staring at the menu on the wall for a long while and not finding anything that I could eat, I approached the sales boy. And I asked him "Do you have anything veg?" Veg evidently was an alien word to him, because he was dumbstruck. He couldnt understand it even after we repeated it twice. Not even when we expanded veg to vegetarian and pronounced it in the slowest possible way so that even a two year old would repeat it. Before we scared him further I understood that McD had closed it doors on me.
We walked out and Reni said "There is this great shop nearby. Its good. Chinese". Like a lamb being lead to slaughter I was lead to a Chinese restaurant. My husband becomes like a small kid everytime he sees this place. If you have ever seen kids with their noses and hands stuck to the glass walls peering inside their favourite place you know what I mean. Ok, so maybe not so much drooling goes on. I exaggerated on the nose bit. But he does love Chinese. On the other hand, whenever I hear chinese I cringe inside. The foodie inside me jumps off the top floor of a 100 storey building to an instant death. I have only one complaint against chinese food. They believe that vegetables be retained in colour, shape and form as mother nature intended to be. So consequently I have brocollis bushes, carrot boulders and highways of peas on my plate. I have to open my mouth really wide, and I mean stretching my jaws to the limit to stuff the vegetables inside. And in public its not really nice to reveal the internal logistics of your mouth and shock the people on the next table. (However the chinese treat their chicken and beef well I ve noticed.)
Right about when I have stuffed my mouth with one giant broccoli or carrot, a waiter will appear from no where and ask if we are doing fine. Cheeks stuffed, eyes watering from the huge, hot vegetable my teeth are trying to grind and my tongue trying to escape, I would somehow manage a smile and all the time Reni would be happily nodding "everything is perfect".
So between Chinese, the bland Indian food which evokes some long forgotten hotel memories my weekly eating out has become a nightmare. We eat at American joints where I order the garden omelette. It is as promised, a garden minus the bees and the birds. Pancakes and omelette's and plain old toast bring back the twinkle in my eye while opposite side of the table the beef or the chicken dances gaily in a multitude of flavors.
The only place I truly like is this Italian restaurant where we go to occasional. But all the times we go there either we fight before, or en route or at the place itself. I remember this one time where I blinked back so many tears that threatened to fall that the folks around us were looking me curiously. And all this sadly spoils the appetite. Plus the world truth that all good things are generally expensive holds true for this place and therefore for every five times I say Italian I get heard only once. ( Ofcourse for all the times that he says chinese I stay poker faced. Touche!)
So given the plethora of options outside for someone who is not restricted by food Amreeca is a foodie heaven. But for those of us who would rather see a chicken (or a cow) cross the street rather than end up on someone's plate, "choru, koottan and upperi" are the only option.
The worst part of all this is, if you have just read this and you meet me on the street my incredible weight gain will leave you convinced that I am a pathological liar.
The only solution left for us is home cooking. But therein lies another problem. I am just a budding cook. No cookbooks to my name, no claims to fame just the average adjustment expert. You know, adjust the salt, adjust the heat, adjust the water till basically the dish has deviated immeasurably from the original intention. Everyday is a battle with the salt and the chilli powder. The salt never drizzles down in the infinitesimally small proportion that I desire while the chilli powder always seems to waft up into my nose everytime I use it and I end up sneezing over a very salty preparation.
Daily over breakfast and dinner my eyes follow the first morsel of food my husband tastes. I scan his face hoping to detect that smile of ecstacy or the mmmmmm of delight. But till date my eyebrow - springing moment has not come. So I decided early on that once a week we will eat out to give ourselves a much needed respite. But little did I realise when we started that it was all rotten tomatoes out there.
My earliest memory of eating out was when we had gone to a McDonalds in Seattle. After staring at the menu on the wall for a long while and not finding anything that I could eat, I approached the sales boy. And I asked him "Do you have anything veg?" Veg evidently was an alien word to him, because he was dumbstruck. He couldnt understand it even after we repeated it twice. Not even when we expanded veg to vegetarian and pronounced it in the slowest possible way so that even a two year old would repeat it. Before we scared him further I understood that McD had closed it doors on me.
We walked out and Reni said "There is this great shop nearby. Its good. Chinese". Like a lamb being lead to slaughter I was lead to a Chinese restaurant. My husband becomes like a small kid everytime he sees this place. If you have ever seen kids with their noses and hands stuck to the glass walls peering inside their favourite place you know what I mean. Ok, so maybe not so much drooling goes on. I exaggerated on the nose bit. But he does love Chinese. On the other hand, whenever I hear chinese I cringe inside. The foodie inside me jumps off the top floor of a 100 storey building to an instant death. I have only one complaint against chinese food. They believe that vegetables be retained in colour, shape and form as mother nature intended to be. So consequently I have brocollis bushes, carrot boulders and highways of peas on my plate. I have to open my mouth really wide, and I mean stretching my jaws to the limit to stuff the vegetables inside. And in public its not really nice to reveal the internal logistics of your mouth and shock the people on the next table. (However the chinese treat their chicken and beef well I ve noticed.)
Right about when I have stuffed my mouth with one giant broccoli or carrot, a waiter will appear from no where and ask if we are doing fine. Cheeks stuffed, eyes watering from the huge, hot vegetable my teeth are trying to grind and my tongue trying to escape, I would somehow manage a smile and all the time Reni would be happily nodding "everything is perfect".
So between Chinese, the bland Indian food which evokes some long forgotten hotel memories my weekly eating out has become a nightmare. We eat at American joints where I order the garden omelette. It is as promised, a garden minus the bees and the birds. Pancakes and omelette's and plain old toast bring back the twinkle in my eye while opposite side of the table the beef or the chicken dances gaily in a multitude of flavors.
The only place I truly like is this Italian restaurant where we go to occasional. But all the times we go there either we fight before, or en route or at the place itself. I remember this one time where I blinked back so many tears that threatened to fall that the folks around us were looking me curiously. And all this sadly spoils the appetite. Plus the world truth that all good things are generally expensive holds true for this place and therefore for every five times I say Italian I get heard only once. ( Ofcourse for all the times that he says chinese I stay poker faced. Touche!)
So given the plethora of options outside for someone who is not restricted by food Amreeca is a foodie heaven. But for those of us who would rather see a chicken (or a cow) cross the street rather than end up on someone's plate, "choru, koottan and upperi" are the only option.
The worst part of all this is, if you have just read this and you meet me on the street my incredible weight gain will leave you convinced that I am a pathological liar.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Dont talk to strangers
She skips gaily, a few steps ahead of her mom humming a nameless tune which keeps rhythm to her dancing feet. At five or six years of age, when its ok to dance and skip in joy she is abound with happiness. All of a sudden her voice dies down and bereft of rhythm her feet stop dancing. She sees a person walking towards her smiling. She recognizes her as one of her father's friends. She turns and checks to see if her mom has noticed. Her mom is smiling at the approaching stranger friend. She goes to her mom and catches hold of her salwar and smiles confusedly at the approaching stranger. Her mom and the stranger friend talk while she never lets the salwar go. The lady asks her a few questions but she is too shy to say anything. All she can do is smile. Not a radiant cheerful smile, but a hesitant, awkward smile. Her mom prods her to answer but when nothing comes out , mom answers them herself. The stranger moves on and she once more starts skipping.
A couple of years later.
A young girl of thirteen or fourteen, she is now in half bloom. A lot has changed over the past couple of years and a lot unchanged. She is still painfully shy. But no longer hides behind her mom. She smiles more confidently at strangers, having learned to hide her awkwardness. When questioned she answers now, with just glances at her mom when she is unsure. At parties she is embarrassed to hand over the gift to the person celebrating his/her birthday because she has to stand in the spotlight. She longs to go unnoticed.
Time forges ahead.
A young woman now, she is out in the world. Her confidence has grown and her circle of friends. Among friends she is even noisy. She has learnt the rules of the social jungle and plays the game relatively well. Her moms friends call her polite and well mannered. One more stage of her life begins when she gets married. She settles far away from home building a new life. Minor mishaps occur and she takes it in her stride. She is getting used to this new world when one evening the phone rings. Its a long lost relative. A couple of questions this side and that and the relationship is established and the call ends and she gets invited to their home.
Time stands still.
My heart starts beating a couple of notches higher. There are no more moms to clutch or people to answer for you. I have to now ask the questions and make all the right gestures. No more passing the embarrassing gifts to my sister and ordering her to give it. I have to hand it over and appear charming while I do so. No more going to houses and staring at the bric bacs on the walls while the grown ups converse. There are only pauses now which need to be filled as quickly as possible. I whisper in Reni's ear that I am scared. He looks at me quizzically and retorts in his matter of fact way, we have to do this at some time or the other. He has taken it in his stride that we are going visiting.
Society has cracked her whip. Get in line like the rest of them or else! From now on begins the a new chapter of the social charade.
Looking at his confidence I sense my fears dimming. A random thought sprouts inside me bringing a smile, I married someone talkative:)
A couple of years later.
A young girl of thirteen or fourteen, she is now in half bloom. A lot has changed over the past couple of years and a lot unchanged. She is still painfully shy. But no longer hides behind her mom. She smiles more confidently at strangers, having learned to hide her awkwardness. When questioned she answers now, with just glances at her mom when she is unsure. At parties she is embarrassed to hand over the gift to the person celebrating his/her birthday because she has to stand in the spotlight. She longs to go unnoticed.
Time forges ahead.
A young woman now, she is out in the world. Her confidence has grown and her circle of friends. Among friends she is even noisy. She has learnt the rules of the social jungle and plays the game relatively well. Her moms friends call her polite and well mannered. One more stage of her life begins when she gets married. She settles far away from home building a new life. Minor mishaps occur and she takes it in her stride. She is getting used to this new world when one evening the phone rings. Its a long lost relative. A couple of questions this side and that and the relationship is established and the call ends and she gets invited to their home.
Time stands still.
My heart starts beating a couple of notches higher. There are no more moms to clutch or people to answer for you. I have to now ask the questions and make all the right gestures. No more passing the embarrassing gifts to my sister and ordering her to give it. I have to hand it over and appear charming while I do so. No more going to houses and staring at the bric bacs on the walls while the grown ups converse. There are only pauses now which need to be filled as quickly as possible. I whisper in Reni's ear that I am scared. He looks at me quizzically and retorts in his matter of fact way, we have to do this at some time or the other. He has taken it in his stride that we are going visiting.
Society has cracked her whip. Get in line like the rest of them or else! From now on begins the a new chapter of the social charade.
Looking at his confidence I sense my fears dimming. A random thought sprouts inside me bringing a smile, I married someone talkative:)
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Who goes there?
I wonder who I am writing for.
Is it you, random stranger
Pausing a moment here.
Or is it for you, friend
Someone I hold dear.
Is it for me,perhaps
To confess all that I fear.
When the last breath is drawn
And the final tear shed
A smile no more
Words left unsaid.
The dying fire within kindles
The burning fire outside.
And as the ashes scatter
Turning the earth grey
Then will it matter
The questions that prey.
But still I wonder
Who am I writing for this day.
Is it you, random stranger
Pausing a moment here.
Or is it for you, friend
Someone I hold dear.
Is it for me,perhaps
To confess all that I fear.
When the last breath is drawn
And the final tear shed
A smile no more
Words left unsaid.
The dying fire within kindles
The burning fire outside.
And as the ashes scatter
Turning the earth grey
Then will it matter
The questions that prey.
But still I wonder
Who am I writing for this day.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
A new twist to the old - Cat got your tongue
Something weird seems to happening to me. But first let me set the stage.
Day before yesterday it rained. No, not here in Seattle where it rains frequently, but way across in Miami where we had gone to escape the rains. The rain clouds chased us as we ran from tree to tree trying not to get wet. But the trees in Miami are unforgiving to strangers and we were soaking wet pretty soon.
We took shelter as soon as we found it and waited till the rain stopped. Pretty soon the sun was out and we were walking again. Fast forward one hour and we were semi dry and moving towards our car. Reni as usual lost in his world strode across rapidly with only the destination in mind. While he saw only the car I saw only puddles of water on the road. So he went straight as an arrow while I went polygonal avoiding the puddles.
Pretty soon, needless to say Reni had reached the car while I was still debating whether to jump left or right.
Right looked better and therefore I jumped. I look around and I see that now there is water all around me. There is no other option but to step into the puddle. I look forlornly towards my husband who is reaching for the car door and go "Meeeaaaaoww". And then put my new golden hawai slipper laden foot forward.
Meaow? I understand three to four languages, can make myself be understood in any one of those and yet for the stuck-in-the -middle-of-water-and-I-dont-want-to-get-wet situation out of the million zillion words there are in the world, I come up with "meeaaow" . If I were a cat I would be justified. In fact I might even get top marks in finishing school for cats for the right expression and feeling. But I am not a four legged feline and I am slightly cross with myself however right that word sounded. The average human in this situation would have generously borrowed from the ever expanding free library of bad words like BEEP and BEEP. But I never renewed my subscription to that library.
Some one needs to figure out a less primitive word to describe this situation or do I have to brush up on my language? This is just one instance of the several where I have not used any of the recognized languages to express myself. I find random noises fit better at times than the most eloquent words. Baby lingo is certainly under rated. The ooh's, aaah's and yaaay's definitely pack a powerful punch. Maybe "meaow" should be added to this list too.
Am I the only one who feels this way? The next time you become insanely happy and cant contain it, try saying "Ga Gaa Goo" instead of ecstatic. Let me know if it hit the right chords.
Laks
Lessons learned today -
1. Every moment of your life can be potentially tweaked and exaggerated into a story.
2. A "Meaow" is better than a <BEEP> anyday.
3. Gaaa gaaa goooo ikuukuuu. :)
PS :- My toes did get wet in the puddle.
Day before yesterday it rained. No, not here in Seattle where it rains frequently, but way across in Miami where we had gone to escape the rains. The rain clouds chased us as we ran from tree to tree trying not to get wet. But the trees in Miami are unforgiving to strangers and we were soaking wet pretty soon.
We took shelter as soon as we found it and waited till the rain stopped. Pretty soon the sun was out and we were walking again. Fast forward one hour and we were semi dry and moving towards our car. Reni as usual lost in his world strode across rapidly with only the destination in mind. While he saw only the car I saw only puddles of water on the road. So he went straight as an arrow while I went polygonal avoiding the puddles.
Pretty soon, needless to say Reni had reached the car while I was still debating whether to jump left or right.
Right looked better and therefore I jumped. I look around and I see that now there is water all around me. There is no other option but to step into the puddle. I look forlornly towards my husband who is reaching for the car door and go "Meeeaaaaoww". And then put my new golden hawai slipper laden foot forward.
Meaow? I understand three to four languages, can make myself be understood in any one of those and yet for the stuck-in-the -middle-of-water-and-I-dont-want-to-get-wet situation out of the million zillion words there are in the world, I come up with "meeaaow" . If I were a cat I would be justified. In fact I might even get top marks in finishing school for cats for the right expression and feeling. But I am not a four legged feline and I am slightly cross with myself however right that word sounded. The average human in this situation would have generously borrowed from the ever expanding free library of bad words like BEEP and BEEP. But I never renewed my subscription to that library.
Some one needs to figure out a less primitive word to describe this situation or do I have to brush up on my language? This is just one instance of the several where I have not used any of the recognized languages to express myself. I find random noises fit better at times than the most eloquent words. Baby lingo is certainly under rated. The ooh's, aaah's and yaaay's definitely pack a powerful punch. Maybe "meaow" should be added to this list too.
Am I the only one who feels this way? The next time you become insanely happy and cant contain it, try saying "Ga Gaa Goo" instead of ecstatic. Let me know if it hit the right chords.
Laks
Lessons learned today -
1. Every moment of your life can be potentially tweaked and exaggerated into a story.
2. A "Meaow" is better than a <BEEP> anyday.
3. Gaaa gaaa goooo ikuukuuu. :)
PS :- My toes did get wet in the puddle.
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