The Aladdin's Cave

Hi, thanks for stopping by! The dictionary defines the idiom “The Aladdin’s Cave” as “a collection of interesting and beautiful objects”. Likewise, my website is a potpourri where you can browse and read from a variegated collection of articles on sundry subjects. Be prepared to stumble upon pieces ranging from noodles to analytics and from novels to friendships. Like what you read? Thanks a ton for being such a sweetheart. Don’t find it up to the mark? Well, blame it on back-breaking expectations ;) Jolly Reading!

I try.

Recently having renewed my annual subscription to host this website, I was determined to post something this month. Still am, I guess – hence, this post. But I had a very different idea for what this post could be. It could have gone in many different directions, but I can tell you that this rant wasn’t originally in the cards. Anyway,  dear reader, just know that I try.

The work week having come to a satisfactory end, I was taking stock of all my writing stuff on this happy Friday evening. The usual paraphernalia, you know:

  • See what drafts I have in progress 
  • Check if I scribbled something remotely inspiring on a virtual or physical sticky note
  • Rummage through my handbag in case there’s anything intelligible / legible on a tissue paper tucked away in a little pocket (okay, I admit I am a little desperate)
  • Go through all list apps and writing apps and messaging apps on my phone (I have sent some okay-ish texts to myself in the past, and I firmly believe that there’s absolutely nothing that lists cannot help us with)
  • …………..

Scavenging for writing prompts, I was in my happy place. (It might interest you to know that the mood of this place is quite whimsical. Sometimes, this very place is the sole cause of my despondency. But today, things seemed to be looking up).

So I come across a notepad in my writing folder on my laptop. Last modified on May 23 of this year. At 9:29 pm. I start to feel a little excitement building inside of me. My heart brimmed with gratefulness to my past self (precisely, to the Meenakshi of May 23, 2018) for being of such a huge help). For having jotted down some beautiful musings that had been patiently waiting for me to rediscover them. (You see, I am usually quite happy with my memory but writing is one area where it seems to have deserted me. I constantly stumble across leads of all sorts that I barely remember jotting down).

Oh, almost forgot to tell you the name of this file – it’s important, folks. It says “Let’s See”.

Wow, what an interesting name. C’mon, it’s not because I am biased toward my file or my past self (who, for all we know, could have been a literary genius that particular day). Wouldn’t you think that it has so much to offer – the possibilities? Must have been thinking some pretty deep thoughts on that summery night of May 23. I am reasonable. I knew it couldn’t be Marcus Aurelius’s “Meditations” level thoughts but still – it had to be something. After all, I titled it “Let’s See”!

So I open it. And? Well, zilch. Not even a single sentence. Forget sentence. Not even a single word or a letter. I mean, what is there to see here? I wasn’t expecting too much. Would have been delighted with a couple of cringeworthy rhyming lines or just potential character names or a half-baked book review that nobody even cares about. No judgement whatsoever. But a misleadingly titled file with absolutely nothing to offer? Not done. 

See What, Exactly?

I don’t get it. I really don’t get my past self’s or current self’s writing game. Gotta do better.

But I tell you, I try.

(Note to future self: Consider file size before you get too excited. 0 KB files won’t take you very far).

Snooze Over Sleep

The time spent sleeping is unbeknownst to us,
We just remember going to bed when we are slumberous.

And then we wake up hours later – with a few fragmented dreams,
All that we are sure of – is of having applied night creams.

There is no proof of the promised rest,
I am not really overly suspicious, but who is to say if we even slept?

We pay for the sleep with our time, but get no receipt,
So, to really savor the ROI, I offer a tried and tested trick.

Of all the sleep phases, snoozing is the best,
Because while snoozing, I am fairly aware that I am at rest.

We really count the minutes when we pause the alarm,
We can truly measure the duration, while staying drowsy and warm.

Ideally, I’d want a trusted one,
To sit by me and time my sleep, until I’m done.

But that’s a little creepy and demanding, not to mention the challenges with its implementation every day,
Maybe I could ask for that gift on my next birthday?

Until then, I’ll just set an early alarm,
And snooze through the hours, weaving dreams with my unicorn-ish yarn!

Doc for Writer’s Block

Hey – do you know if there is a doc,
who can cure writer’s block?
I have been having no luck,
I’m stuck, really am stuck.

I have tried writing prompts,
And employed any number of tactics to get in the (writing) mood.
Because I really wanna write,
And would write if I could.

Also tried changing my writing spots,
And got through countless coffee pots,
Have stumbled upon some encouraging topics (feeling hopeful as I noodle),
But almost always end up with nothing but uninspiring doodles.

I implore you – don’t judge these dreadful, rhyming lines,
This urgent plea was drafted in a very short time.
So point me, please – to a doc of writer’s block or even to a questionable, might-just-work writing pill,
Folks, I’m serious, this call for help is not a drill!

Making Friends With Salads

Salad, Salad,
Fresh and green
Free of sneaky sugar,
Free of whipped cream

I will munch on you
Day and night
When I am out on a date,
Or when I binge post a fight

Salad, Salad,
My colorful “silver bullet”
Together we can tame,
My unruly palate

You could be simple,
You could be elaborate
Anyhoo, I am gonna pile you up
On my green, portion-control plate

Salad, Salad,
Please join my team
I am gonna depend on you
To make me lean

You will keep me healthy,
You will keep me young,
But can’t you taste as good in my head,
As you do when you are on my tongue?

Salad, Salad,
Veggies and fruits
All sorts of leaves,
And all kinds of roots

Be my coach,
Keep me in line
To burn those pesky calories,
Can you, please, work overtime?

Almost A Grown-Up

A stray gray hair, a trip alone, tax forms, paychecks and bills with my name printed on them – all of these combined could not have succeeded in making me feel all grown-up as this singular culinary act involving a particular vegetable did.

Here’s what happened. Today, I did the unthinkable. Today, I willingly (yes, under no particular pressure whatsoever – except for the occasional health advice from mum which I am totally used to) bought bitter gourd (karela in Hindi). And no, instead of letting it rot in the refrigerator so that I could throw it out, I, voluntarily prepared them as a side dish for lunch. Yes, that’s the unimaginable thing that I did. And this maiden experience was no short of a jolt. As I watched the chopped pieces of bitter melon taking on a dirty brown tinge from their original dirty green color, scores of childhood memories ran through my (now possibly grown-up) mind.

Since childhood, we kids were coaxed and cajoled into eating a few, if not more, pieces of this extremely bitter vegetable. The adults would tout it as a panacea for all health problems and my cousins, Di (my elder sister) and I would employ a variety of tantrums and protests to squirm out of this most unwelcome situation. And no, we weren’t being over dramatic – this thing really has the ability to ruin the taste of your mouth for a good few hours. Trust me – its horrible juice and texture work in unison to do extremely unpleasant things to your tongue and food pipe and stomach and makes you feel as if they had all been burnt and scoured and poisoned. Yeah, this vegetable single-handedly annihilates every single aspect of gastronomy.

This was a recurring reason for standoffs in my home – with my dear mum on one side and my Di and I on the other side. To get past this impasse, some heavy duty negotiations would ensue and both the parties would engage in extended discussions to try and gauge the other party’s BATNA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement). All this conflict and drama usually ended with Di and me hastily swallowing 1/2/3/4 (depending on our combined negotiation skill of the day) pieces of this alligator-looking, toxic-tasting vegetable and then stuffing our mouths with chocolates to soothe our pained palates. On days when my mum did not have the time to counter our sophisticated logic on this topic, she would sneak a few littles pieces in the lentil bowl or under the little pile of rice. Later, she would simply dismiss it as a mistake on her part and would offer us chocolates and kisses to make up for it. Of course, we couldn’t say no to either of those. But we would be sure to be on the lookout for stray pieces of karela in our food for the next few days.

The Bowl of Contention

The Bowl of Contention

This being one of the major and recurring struggles of my happy childhood, I found it mind-boggling that the adults would treat this crocodile-skinned, inedible thing as just another vegetable, and looked forward to consuming it (convinced beyond any doubt that it was the best detoxifier in the history of detoxifiers). The only explanation I could come up with was that the taste buds of grown-ups behaved and reacted to tastes very, very differently than those of the little people.

Whoa, that was one strong bout of nostalgia, isn’t it?

Okay, back to the present now. So while I was thinking about all this, the bitter melons got cooked and were ready to be consumed. I admit being generous with the oil, spices and onions to make it swallowable because I still think that this vegetable was labelled as edible through some unfortunate accident. But the fact that I conceded to voluntarily pay for this stuff and to bring it in my happy little kitchen and to clean, chop and cook it made me feel all matured and sensible and ready to make big decisions and to take on the challenges of life!

What? Did I hear you ask how it tasted? Well, how am I supposed to know that? If you think I would put a single piece of this rugged, rubbery thing in my mouth without being pressurized or fooled into doing so, you certainly have another think coming. But Gunjan did say he enjoyed it very much and would love it if I were to prepare it again 🙂 That’s what he said! I can certainly tell you that I will deign to indulge his request once in a while – because who knows, maybe it really is the best detoxifier in the history of detoxifiers. But I can’t tell you if the taste buds of grown-ups react differently to this bitter melon than those of the little ones; having not tasted it at all, I wouldn’t know!

Washed Your Credit Card?

You know how they say you never know what life’s going to teach you next? Please don’t ask me who says that; I just know that many people do. Yeah, and they are quite right about it too. Here’s what life chose to teach me this past weekend – you can put your credit card (CC) through a wash cycle, and it will (probably) live to continue paying your bills. If you have read my blog before, I know exactly why your super-critical mind is telling me off at this very moment – ‘Huh, first she drowns her Nexus phone, and now she bathes her credit card’. Well, let me tell you that I took a good two-years-eight-months break between these two unlucky washouts. Now allow me to get back to my informative story because I think this one is going to take a while.

Like all of you, I have my usual pick of alibis (been traveling/busy/sick/lazy) for ‘not been able’ to have done my laundry when I should have. And then, ‘really not been able to have done it’ much later after this ‘should have’ date. As a result, there had been bucket-loads and bagsful of clothes demanding immediate attention for a while.

And then it happened this Saturday night: Gunjan officially ran out of clothes (another good reason to not be allergic to shopping). It was one of those ‘laundry today or naked tomorrow’ kind of situations, you know. It was then that we finally decided to wash anything that says machine washable, and then some others too. Armed with a generously loaded laundry card, detergents and fabric softeners, we hauled bags full of rags (and some fineries too – because we are too lazy to wash them by hands) to the laundry room. Gunjan and I started dumping the clothes in the machines (er, took three of them), and by the end of this activity, we realized that the last machine was quite unsatisfactorily filled. You know, it was one of those annoying situations when you just hate the asymmetry caused by this one under-loaded machine. Not getting a wash worth a dollar and seventy-five suddenly seemed to be a really big deal, and we simply could not ignore the pesky imbalance. To remedy this situation, I rushed back to our apartment upstairs to see if there was any washable linen lying around that had slyly escaped us earlier. Even after putting together a little pile of semi-dirty stuff, it seemed that my imaginary scale (mentally weighing the three washing machines now) would still be a little off and I was having this compulsive need to correct this misalignment. I reckoned that the trousers that I was wearing wouldn’t mind an early wash, so I changed in a flash and threw my trousers in the pile too. With this newly acquired somewhat-filthy plunder, I reached the laundry room again, and we hugged and celebrated the much-awaited gurgling and rumbling of the (perfectly-loaded) machines in action. (Judge me all you want until I find out your crazy idiosyncrasy and judge you back!)

Two episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. later, we rushed down to transfer the freshly clean clothes to the dryers. Now, imagine my shock when I saw my American Express Credit Card and my Discover Card sitting helplessly amongst the wet clothes. Oh, how I rued hastily stuffing these two cards in my pocket two hours ago when we had stepped out for a bite. I really don’t know why I can’t simply carry my wallet for these quick things (or at the very least, carry just one of these cards). And Gunjan – oh, he who is such a devotee to all things bearing magnetic disks and magnetic strips – oh, poor thing – I really must stop doing this to him. I don’t have the heart to describe his horror on witnessing this sight. Let me just say that at this point, I would have gladly accepted the vexation caused by a trio of unevenly-loaded machines than that caused by a pair of freshly-washed CCs.

Washed Your Credit Card?

Accidentally in Machine

It’s not like procuring a new copy of a CC is particularly challenging. But this blatant display of such shockingly irresponsible behavior did cast a pall over the joyful laundry session. Gunjan was too disturbed by the treatment meted out to the cards to say much – more so, after I pulled out a $20 bill from the pocket of the trouser that I had hastily added to the load. Even though I should kick myself for this third unintentionally-washed item, I will admit that it contributed in making his consternation complete and rendering him totally speechless. Hence, I had mixed feelings about this uber-hygienic albeit heedlessly-laundered bill. With dented spirits, we completed the drying part of the laundry session and ended the day with clean clothes but no hopes (for our cards).

Then, instead of resting on the seventh day (Sunday), I stepped out with two spotless but potentially dysfunctional cards (to test them out) and one not-so-spotless but functional card (as a backup). I picked a few random stuff (say ‘n’ of them) in Jewel-Osco, pretended to forget one of these n items in the cart and proceeded to pay for the (n-1) goods with one of the speckless CCs. As the sales assistant requested me to swipe my card, I was already fingering the backup CC in my other hand. The ‘payment approved’ message alleviated most of the nervousness that I was feeling, and gave me high hopes for the other unlucky CC. Not choosing to celebrate too soon, I duly acted out my part of forgetting the nth item in the cart, and now presented the second CC to make this payment. It suffices to say that this transaction elicited distinctly different reactions from the payer (who switched from a gloomy to a remarkably celebratory mode) and the sales assistant (who could hardly comprehend the reason for the payer’s joyfulness, relief and sense of achievement over this most mundane chore).

Thanks a lot, if you have stuck with me and my CCs through this rather long post and I sincerely hope that you never have the misfortune of laundering your bill-paying instruments. But in case you do, remember my story and stay hopeful. Even though I do not have the evidence to make a blanket statement like ‘Voila! Credit cards are waterproof’, I can say from experience that all may not be lost, and visiting a store to use a squeaky clean CC is definitely worth a shot!

Oh, in case you are wondering, the $20 bill managed to survive the wash too! 🙂

Take care!

Writing With Pencils

It’s still the first half of the first month, which means it isn’t too late to wish all my readers a very happy new year! I wish you all loads of joy and peace and happiness, and sincerely hope that you will stick to your new resolutions for a little while longer. I also hope the same for myself, though it is becoming increasingly difficult not to find excuses to dismiss each and every old and new resolution. Nevertheless, one of my many 2016 vows is to write more frequently, and I invite you all to be the judge for this one 🙂

Now let me get back to writing something that justifies the title of this post. Gunjan has a growing concern with me using pencils for the draft posts that I write – he worries that when I author a book of my own, I will have to do a hell lot of typing to digitize all the words that would have got transferred from my heart (or muddled brain?) to paper. Notice that he says “when I author a book” instead of saying “if I EVER author a book”. But let us forgive him for this astoundingly ambitious belief. Both his confidence and concern stem from a very strong and genuine affection, and we can’t charge a fellow for a crime of the heart, can we? 😉

But even though I find his concern extremely endearing, I know for a fact that this Herculean digitization task is not gonna bother me in the near future or in the distant one for that matter. How I wish it would – but where are the words and the plot and the characters? Oh, just where? 🙁 Anyway, grieving and ranting about my cluelessness is for another post. This one is for discussing a few of the many merits of using a pencil for putting one’s thoughts on paper.

  • Reminiscent of Childhood – Even though this is not a prioritized list, I will go ahead and admit that for me, just this one certainly trumps them all. It’s one of the things that will always keep you connected to the most carefree time of your life. Plus, there is also the added hope of being able to write freely, just like a child, without  worrying too much about the vocabulary and the grammar and the world – not while drafting, at the very least. You can go nuts and scrawl all that comes to your mind, and save the sophisticated filters for later use.
  • Very forgiving – Ah, a pencil is one of the most non-punitive devices when used in conjunction with the classic ‘undo’ button – the trusted eraser. Right? Unless and until you’ve managed to tear away the paper with some fierce erasing, you can always give it another try. After all, not all of us can get it right the first time.
  • Takes you off the grid – We live in an age where people first spend a hefty sum to buy all the latest and greatest gadgets and then spend some more to attend digital detoxification sessions that aid them in disconnecting with the electronics they bought earlier. In this crazy world of incessant clicking/flicking/gaming/chatting/emailing/reading/watching etcetera, sitting down with a piece of paper and a writing instrument (that doesn’t have any kind of internet connection) is like attending a free digital cleansing session. With no blinking distractions and stubborn notifications vying for your attention, you will be able to focus on your thoughts  and get something worthwhile on that paper.
  • Private notes – It is the perfect gear for penning down awful drafts that only you can decrypt – just write very lightly and nobody will be able to decipher what those curls and swirls mean. For example, if you would have looked at the paper draft for this post, it might have seemed to you that I had indulged in some heavy-duty doodling over a few pages. Yes, it is almost like your chicken scratch is naturally encrypted, and your familiarity with your own scribble is the key to decrypt this code. What a relief it is to know that nobody can judge you for composing scummy drafts!

Even though I just love the wooden pencils jauntily sporting their cute little eraser hats, I try to minimize their use and instead employ the plastic ones for writing. I suppose that sticking to a couple of plastic ones will do the environment less damage than callously sharpening away a forest, one tree at a time.

Hey, I was going to wrap up this post now but reading through the above bullet points again, I feel like taking a philosophical detour for a bit, and see if I can pull it off. So here are a few rhetorical questions for all of us. Is there some merit in taking a leaf out of our trusted pencil’s book? Would it be a happier world if we could be a little less judgmental/punitive with those around us? Is it possible for us to be a tad more rewarding to bring out the best in other people, just like our humble pencil? Well, let’s employ some of these practices in our lives and find out for ourselves!

Happy Scribbling, Friends! 🙂

Winter is Coming!

Hello Friends!

As the second half of the fall semester begins from tomorrow (er, today), this post is an attempt to stretch the so-called extremely-mini break to its maximum possible length. Allow the soon-to-be swamped student to wring an extra hour or two of breathing time before getting lost in the usual graduate-level pandemonium! 🙂

Okay, first of all, I am extremely sorry for tricking you into reading this post by using the tempting quote from Game of Thrones
as its title. As must be clear from the image below, this post has absolutely nothing to do with GOT – apart from the fact that its author is as eagerly awaiting Season 5 as the reader! 🙂 But if the literal meaning of the quote is considered, I can be spared – because in Pittsburgh, winter does seem to be approaching at quite a disturbingly rapid pace.

My tolerance for cold is not something I am proud of – though I manage to survive by burying myself under every imaginable winter wear. To aggravate the impending misery, Pittsburgh (PA) is infamous for its merciless cold, thundering winds and relentless snow. And if the weather of every city could be assigned a gender, Pittsburgh weather, given its whimsical temperament, would definitely be a girl. Yes, the weather forecast applications have a hard time keeping up with the moody climate and the denizens have an even harder time deciding their attire for the day.

And to add to all this, there’s this totally uncooperative equation [C/5 = (F-32)/9] to convert temperatures between degree Celsius and degree Fahrenheit. Before you think that I am blabbering random stuff and cribbing about anything to do with temperatures, allow me to explain myself.

So here’s the thing: In India, we always express and discuss temperatures in degree Celsius. Having grown up using this unit, we Indians have trained ourselves to simultaneously imagine the temperature we are talking about. It’s like, you say 40 degree Celsius and I will raise my hand to wipe my brow. You say 2 degree Celsius and I will pull the sheet a little closer – it is like a reflex action. But here in US, it’s Fahrenheit all the way, which leaves me quite disoriented at times. And the conversion not being a matter of a quick multiplication or division (as is the case with miles and kilometers or pounds and kilograms), it requires a conscious effort to gauge the weather if the temperature is expressed in degree Fahrenheit.

You may think that that is quite a load of rant about a simple thing – but trust me it’s not. You really don’t want to be ill-equipped or freezing or sweating, just because nobody could figure out a better relationship between the two units. So as always, Gunjan (hubby dearest) came to my rescue and created a little something to help me arrive instantly at a ballpark temperature figure before I step out of the house.

Here’s the graph that he has created using Microsoft Excel:

What's It Like Today?

What’s It Like Today?

The intuitively color-coded legend and the easy-to-read plot does a wonderful job of enlightening me everyday. This simple graph has made me “weather-wise” and I feel a lot more confident due to this latest addition to my winter-kit. And yes, it’s not everyday that you receive such a meaningful and personalized gift – so that’s another factor that is gonna add to the warmth this winter! 🙂

Please feel free to download this image and use it for quick reference if your weather-sense is as orthodox and inflexible as mine.Have a beautiful winter! 🙂

P.S.: I do realize that one could easily change the setting in the weather forecast application to set the desired unit. It’s just that something like this comes in very handy when the news channels and the newspapers and everyone around you are all Fahrenheit fans. You definitely do not want to be either clueless or totally out of sync!

 

 

Best Practices in Communicating Complexity

Preface:

Hello Friends!

I beseech you all to give me one more chance to explain my disappearing act. It has been around five months since I joined the 12-month MISM (Master of Information Systems Management) program at CMU (Carnegie Mellon University, Pittsburgh) and believe me, it has really killed me! Yes, it has killed me but I have lived to tell the tale. However, I will tell that tale some other time – the wounds are too fresh to prod. 😀

So even when being smothered with assignments, quizzes and all other components packed in the grad-school parcel, I’ve been battling this guilt of ignoring my dear blog. And then this thought flashed – to share something that I had already penned down but not posted. I wrote this academic article as a part of a coursework here and I hope it will be of some use to some of you.

Here it goes:

Let me begin this post by analyzing the title of this write-up. As soon as we read the topic, the first questions that come to the mind is – “Do I really need to know about these best practices?” or “Can I imagine myself in a situation where I would be required to convey complex and intricate data to an audience?”. The answer to these questions is a firm and truthful “Yes”. In fact, as future managers, we will be required to do this all the more frequently and we could lose out on significant success in our careers if we don’t master this skill.

No matter what professions we are in, a major part of our job responsibilities comprises explaining our work/data/results to an audience who is unfamiliar with our domain. In these situations, we must recognize that it’s not the right place to show off our knowledge and command on the subject by employing the usage of unnecessary jargons and numbers. If we are the presenter, it’s understood that we are experts on the subject. Or else, we would not be relied upon by our company to be the presenter. What the audience trusts and expects us to do is to relate our data-heavy story in a simple manner so that they can really understand the subject.

According to Charles Whaley (1999), the usage of complex phrases only makes the communication less efficient, thus defeating the whole purpose of the exchange of information. In his paper (Charles Whaley, 1999), he cites a simple example of the usage of the word “disintermediation” in place of the phrase “cutting out the middleman”. By using such ‘biz-speak’, we risk losing a major part of our audience to whom the phrase “disintermediation” might be nothing more than gibberish. As a result of such convoluted phrasing, the audience simply loses interest in the subject and stops participating.

To be an effective communicator, there are some key factors that we must keep in mind. First, we must always target the audience we are presenting to and should only present relevant information. Also, the information must be communicated in a different manner while presenting to audiences belonging to different age groups or categories so that they can relate to it. The second thing to remember is that pictorial representations always win over textual representations. The chances of us remembering or understanding a pie chart or a histogram are much higher compared to that of retaining figures and numbers. Use of multimedia is very helpful in detangling intricate information and in keeping the audience interested. The third important principle is to sequence the flow of the information. This technique ensures that we adopt a step-by-step approach and not bombard the audience with an overwhelming amount of information. The last point is that we must never undermine the importance of feedback from the audience. This can be done by simply asking questions to the audience to ensure that they are with us in the communication process. Receiving responses from the audience keeps a check on our tendency to ramble through the presentation by just dumping all the data without providing the interpretation.

In the end, we must remember that it really is a challenge to adhere to the best practices in communicating complexity and it does not come naturally to everyone. This thought has been beautifully summed up by E. F. Schumacher in his quote – “Any intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex. It takes a touch of genius – and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction.” Hence, we all must put in a conscious effort and discipline ourselves to follow these practices and become a better communicator of ideas, data and stories.

References

Charles Whaley. (1999). Avoid Excessive Complexity In Communicating At Work. Retrieved on August 9, 2014 from

http://search.proquest.com.proxy.library.cmu.edu/docview/225027308?pq-origsite=summon

The Exotic Tadka!

Hello People!

Two to three months back, I started to draft this article dealing with the topical subject of the monotonically increasing prices of tomatoes. Totally flabbergasted by the high headedness of tomatoes, I had titled the article ‘The Tomato Exoticism’. Since it lay in my draft folder for quite some time, I had feared that this one too would lose relevance and share its fate with the other members of the sad group of expired articles. But thanks to our very dependable government and the inexplicable mayhem of inflation and wroth economics, this article still stands relevant! And at the risk of sounding cruel, one could almost say that the article even got a shot in the arm because the onions joined the tomatoes in an expensive game of one-upmanship. Yes, and that’s how the humble, commonplace, unsung ‘Tadka‘ acquired its nouveau exoticism!  (For the uninitiated, a ‘tadka’ is an amalgam of tomatoes, onions and a few spices added in oil and is imperative to a plethora of Indian/Indianized dishes.)

Since childhood, we have heard and read about weird things breaking long standing curses (e.g. a kiss from a princess has been known to turn a frog into a prince!!). Hence, I’m doing my bit here. Since the government seems to be in no hurry to rein in the runaway prices of the tomatoes and the onions, I think it’s only fair that I should take a chance and and see if this post can break the curse.

My dadi (paternal grandmom) was a beautiful, rosy, chirpy woman who doted on the whole family, more so on her grandchildren. She loved nibbling on sugar-sprinkled tomatoes or on tomatoes roasted over charcoals and would invite us all to share. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about it then but in retrospect, I realize how stupid I was! Yes, I should have had my fill of tomatoes and onions while I still had the chance!

Given the current state of things, you stand the danger of being labelled a snob if you discuss more than three tadka-based recipes at a go. Yes, I even heard about the addition of a new filter (viz. ‘Sans Tadka’) to some recipe-sharing blogs and websites. The ‘haut monde’ has deigned to include this topic in their chit-chat and the freeloaders have found a new zeal to look for their next free meal. Visiting the vegetable market no more remains a quotidian activity. You don’t just stroll in with a friend and pick this and that, not caring twopence about the pennies and dimes jingling in your pockets. No, Sir! This undistinguished chore has lately been exalted and now demands respect, inspires anxiety and even extorts a prayer or two!

With these staple items acquiring the status of edible gems, we have taken another giant leap towards anarchy. And I hope I have not disappointed you by not providing a solution to this problem because no, this one does not have a happy ending. Let’s just pull off what we’re best at – making peace with things.

So what is it gonna be this time? This time, it’s gonna be unsavory Arrabbiattas and insipid Rajmas!

Hang in there and take care!

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