The tastiest cabbage or patta gobhi sabzi recipe

This is the tastiest Indian cabbage (patta gobhi) sabzi, to be enjoyed with roti or dal rice. I've made it many times in the past but it never turned out this well. The key is to increase the ratio of capsicum (bell peppers or shimla mirch), peas and potatoes. Also, ginger garlic and chillies add much needed spice and flavour.

Cabbage Sabzi Recipe
Serves: 4-6
Preparation time: 20 minutes
Cooking time: 20 minutes

Ingredients:
1 small or 1/2 big cabbage
1 tomato
1 plate of peas
1 big capsicum
2 small potatoes
2 green chillies
Ginger garlic paste
Turmeric powder
Red chilli powder
Dhania powder
Pinch of asafoetida
Masala of choice
Salt to taste
3 tablespoons oil/ghee
Cumin seeds
Mustard seeds
Handful of coriander leaves
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Method:
1. Heat oil or ghee in a pan. Add mustard seeds. When they stop crackling, add cumin seeds.
2. Add chopped cabbage, capsicum, potatoes and chillies.
3. Season with salt, asafoetida and turmeric. Mix well and cook under closed lid for a few minutes.
4. When half done, add chopped tomatoes, peas, red chilli and dhania powder and masala of choice (I used chole masala). Mix well and cook under closed lid and slow flame for 10min.
5. Garnish with chopped coriander and lemon juice. Serve hot with roti or rice.

Notes: Decrease oil at the start and add some water when the veggies are half done for a healthier version. If using fresh ginger garlic, saute them at the start until the raw smell goes away. Add aamchur powder with the masala in step 4 if you don't have lemons.

Paneer Bhurji Recipe

I love paneer bhurji because there's paneer in every spoonful, unlike a paneer makhani or palak paneer, where chunks of paneer are used. It's semi-dry and thus, lighter, but goes very well with plain pav. I prepared it the other day for dinner and my husband loved it. I used a dash of ghee in the end to give it a buttery flavour and add moistness. I also like adding hing or asafoetida in all my dishes as it adds flavour, aids digestion and curbs flatulence. Right from the chopping to the garnishing, this recipe took me only 30 minutes.

Paneer Bhurji Recipe
Serves: 2
Preparation time: 15 minutes
Cooking time: 15 minutes

Ingredients:
150gm paneer
1 onion, chopped
1 tomato, chopped
1/2 bell pepper, chopped
1 green chilli, chopped
4 garlic cloves, chopped
Handful of green peas
Handful of coriander leaves or cilantro, chopped
A dash of lemon (optional)
Salt to taste
Two tablespoons oil/ghee
Mustard and cumin seeds
Red chilli powder
Dhania powder
Turmeric powder
Garam masala 
Pinch of asafoetida (optional)

Method:
1. Pour two tablespoons oil or ghee in a pan. When it gets hot, add mustard seeds. When they stop bursting, add cumin seeds.
2. Saute the garlic, followed by onions.
3. Add the tomatoes, peas, capsicum and chillies. Add salt, turmeric powder, red chilli powder, dhania powder and garam masala. Cook for a minute.
4. Crumble the paneer into the pan and stir well. Cook for a few minutes.
5. Garnish with chopped coriander and a dash of lemon (if required).
Serve hot with pao or bread.

Loneliness, a constant companion

I surrounded myself with strangers so I wouldn't be lonely
I bound myself with marital ties so I'd never be alone
But loneliness I've found -
Is a constant companion.
And I always feel like
There's no one quite like me
No one except the ones
Waiting between the ruled lines of a blank page.
And when people talk
It sounds like an alien language
Their laughter like a Morse code
I was never taught.

Dusk till dawn

 I listen to Zayn and Sia's "Dusk till dawn" over and over and keep hoping that the next replay will tell me how I'm going to get through this period in my life. I think I've been this miserable before too, but this time, it feels like things may never change. I live my life from dusk till dawn, waiting for the love of my life to come home and help me stop acting. For that's what I do in my current role as daughter in law. I act. I act like I'm a happy cook, housekeeper and companion for my mother in law when I'd rather be watching the trees, walking among busy streets, sitting at a wayside cafe or penning a monumental poem or two. Come Monday, I'll be taking a chance and finally introducing some colour into the drab canvas that my life has become. But what I really want is a gargantuan rainbow to overtake all the shadows in my past, present and future.

No two days are exactly the same.

No two days are exactly the same. Sometimes, there’s a difference in the way the sunshine scatters the dust on the window ledge. And sometimes, it’s the stare of a passer-by on the street that hadn’t pierced my home yesterday. Today, I spotted a beautiful coppersmith barbet in the overgrowth surrounding the ruins of a building that never saw the light of day. The one other time I saw this little green bird with black markings and a bright red forehead was outside the bedroom window of my mother’s home. Back then, tall trees had their own wild way with our courtyard. Today, they’ve all been hewn and the rare birds have become rarer still, rather like the moments of euphoria in my home-bound life.

If there’s one thing I always look forward to, it’s making tea. The way the froth bubbles over the rim of the saucepan, emanating an intoxicating aroma of cardamom and masala infused in tea – it never fails to press a refresh button on my senses. I like the taste of tea too, but it doesn’t come close to the magic of experiencing its preparation. The process of tea being prepared is like the unfurling of a new day – I know the day will never live up to the promise of its glorious morning and yet, that doesn’t stop me from revelling in the promise itself. Seated on the very same window ledge we discussed earlier, I romance the cool morning air and imbibe the sight of fluttering leaves and the sound of twittering birds into my thirsty soul. My spirit doesn’t seem to thrive on things that enliven many of my peers – events, chatter and religion. Rather, it seeks the peace of unfettered nature, the freedom of religion-free godliness and the perfection of silence and solitude. These aspirations don’t exactly endear me to other people but what can I do – I shrivel when placed in the glare of social and cultural demands.

Sometimes I think that all of my soul resides in a mug of coffee had on a quiet, solitary evening enhanced by golden sunshine and pre-dusk birdsong. And at other trying times, my spirit hides inside me, in a phantom mug of coffee on an evening I cannot reach. I love art and good music and to dance but I love stillness most of all. The raucousness of parties and celebration, the strange and inescapable requirements of being an Indian, a woman and a daughter-in-law – they feel like echoes of a world that doesn’t really exist. All I know, is that I’m alive in a moment that is perfect, if only it was untainted by the illusory trappings of an unfair and rigid society.

Time up

I try out lives the way I try out clothes
Not this
No, not this either
Not exactly
And then it’s time up –
And I’m leaving the store
The way I came
With only the clothes on my back
And a question in my heart
That remains unanswered.

The world is a reflecting mirror. Those who find poetry are aware of it in their own souls. And those who find faults are only wallowing in their own inadequacies. But when you're surrounded by the latter, the poetry fades, lost beyond a veil of harsh words and stifling expectations.

I don't know how long I can pull along and if I shall survive. My spirit that once dwelt among songbirds, dreams and misty droplets of rain now struggles amidst patriarchy, poisoned tongues and crazed minds.

70 years of Independence but no freedom for women

India completed 70 years of independence on 15th August, 2017. But so many of her women are still confined to home and hearth - rarely given a choice or opportunity to grow any wings beyond being 24/7 housekeepers, cooks and cleaners. And yet, so few raise a voice. So few protest. Most are content to let the status quo continue, under the garb of 'tradition' and 'culture'. Let me say it out aloud - Indian culture, you've had your time in the sun. Now, please make way for the egalitarian and free society that women here truly deserve.

I used to think that the country has changed; that my life would be no different from a man's. After all, our ancestors sacrificed their sweat and blood to wrest control from the English. And the best freedom fighters weren't just men - women, children and the elderly; everyone joined the fray. Everyone believed it was a cause worth dying for. And look where we are today. Many women in smaller towns and villages still don't study beyond school and even if they do, their degrees collect dust on ornate shelves while they don saris, jewellery and sindoor, sacrificing their lives to nurturing their husbands, children and in-laws. Maybe that aunt who makes perfect rotis could also draw up fool-proof building plans. Who knows if that sweet sister-in-law has skills beyond laundering and pressing her family's clothes? Developed countries have compromised with ready-to-cook meals, modern gadgets and the aide of other agencies wherever required. It's not like women there don't care for their families or have children. It's just that they do a lot more than that - they do what makes them happy and brings them professional satisfaction too. But we Indians remain loyal to our home-cooked food and maa ka pyaar. And guess whose dreams, abilities and potential remain crushed under mortar and pestle? All the women in our families - able, sensitive human beings who have committed no crime other than to be born with a different set of reproductive organs.

To men, please stop expecting perfect, elaborate and lavish meals thrice a day. It's all right to take shortcuts as long as you're eating healthy in the long run. Please recognise that you are no better or worse than the women in your life and you both deserve to be equally happy, whatever the route to that may be.

To women, please stop pulling each other down. Be nice to your daughters-in-law and don't groom your daughters to be perfect wives. Groom them to be great human beings and to contribute to their families and society at large in whatever way they deem best.

To everyone, freedom means little if we don't have it in our own homes. All change is not bad. And we don't have to adhere to traditional gender roles. Women can lift heavy bags too. And men can also learn to cook. Exchanging skills and sharing in responsibilities will NOT lead to the breakdown of households. And happiness means more than order or perfection. In fact, it means everything.

Here's hoping that the current generation fosters a fairer India.

A taste of Thai at Sofitel Mumbai BKC

The chef in conversation with the staff

Thai food is my favourite among international cuisines (though I do love the Japanese sushi, Cantonese and Mediterranean dishes as well). Coconut-based gravies, a tendency to steam rather than fry (except when it comes to snacks) and the wonderful flavours of lemongrass and galangal have always endeared Thai dishes to my hungry soul. Last month, I was lucky enough to sample some great vegetarian Thai at 'Taste of Thailand', a food festival at Pondichery Cafe, Sofitel Mumbai BKC. Pondichery Cafe routinely hosts thematic culinary events that allow diners to experience the best of regional and international cuisine. So be sure to inquire whenever you have a free Friday evening!

Sweet and sour papaya salad

The menu featuring delicacies like Larb Chicken, Lamb Shank Massaamun, Panang Salmon with Red Curry and Vegetarian Pad Thai had been curated by Chefs  Sorataj and Teepanon, flown down for the purpose of the festival from So Bangkok - Sofitel. Chef Teepanon was manning the papaya salad counter and at my behest, he agreed to tone down the traditionally spicy version and prepare a sweet and sour salad instead. It was one of the best papaya salads I've ever had and the peanuts added just the right amount of crunchiness.

Bubble iced tea

I feasted primarily on the Thai green curry and steamed rice - a meal that for me, is as soothing and satisfying as dal chawal (actually maybe more). The kind of vegetables used in green curry, such as baby corn, zucchini and bamboo shoots, have always appealed to my taste buds. But I made room for a bowl of coconut soup, the salad and sticky rice with milk as well. My husband, who loves his staple Indian food, tried the Indian dishes and they did not disappoint. The buffet spread at Pondichery Cafe always features an Indian counter, salad bar and desserts counter irrespective of the on-going festival. However, when there are festivals, there is always an interesting live counter. And for the Thai food festival, we were able to taste bubble tea prepared from condensed milk. It was supremely delicious and we went back for seconds.

Chocolate fudge cake

Lastly, the desserts at Pondichery Cafe are exceptional. So there was no way I wasn't going to make a beeline for the chocolate fudge cake and other heavenly delights even though I was stuffed with my hearty meal. However, I saw something healthier - fresh fruit juices in cute, small portions sitting pretty inside a refrigerator on the way. Well of course, then I had to have both. I've written so much about Sofitel and Pondichery Cafe in the past but for those not in the know, Sofitel is a luxurious five-star hotel in the heart of BKC with a variety of fine dining options. Click here for more.

Growing up is too hard

If all you had to do was cook and clean and wash and dust
Then why were you born?
Why did the Rain Gods whisper in your seven-year old ears
Of great times to come?
Why those goosebumps at mountain tops and that feeling
Breathless -
Of one day being drenched in the light of the Universe?
Why did the books and novels let you dream
Why did they let you hope
That your life would mean something?
All those hours spent soul-searching
And admiring the colouring of little barbets
They hang framed, in the hallowed halls of your memory
Sweeter times of the past
For now you must work.

You must work.
There's always more work.

You were so sure, that you'd amount to something
But growing up has been much too hard
And much too hollow.

Indian culture, you've had your time in the sun.

You ask why we youngsters have little regard for "Indian culture".

I'll tell you. This culture tells me that I, a woman, must always eat last. I must sacrifice my needs for those of others. Even if I may be well-educated and gainfully employed, my views will always carry less weight than those of a man's.

My parents shielded me from the archaic dust of "Indian culture" all these years. But now after marriage, Pandora's box has been opened and it's all I can to not let its contents suffocate me.

Maybe in another life

I remember your face
As freshly as if
I outlined it just yesterday.

We missed the bus each time
Sometimes it was you
And sometimes it was my own folly
And yet, for no reason or rhyme
I still hope
We might be the only ones
Under a starry sky
On a moonlit night
And I'd know again
What your presence felt like.

I need to hold on to the poetry.

Cole Thomas, Home in the Woods, 1847

What happened to that house in the woods? The one forever fragrant with a forest breeze and cakes in the oven? The one where I'd write endlessly and watch the sun go down in your luminescent eyes?

Nothing has changed, really.

The trees are where they always stood (but for the ones cruelly hewn)

The clouds drift much like they did before, carelessly strewn

Across a patchwork sky.

The songs you sang

Remain wrapped even now, around the cockles of my heart

Nothing has changed even if this does seem, like an unbidden new start. 

I arise, I breathe, I dream

Just like yesterday and the day before that, it would seem

Then why is it I feel - the scent of my favourite books have faded?

Young I may be (relatively) but this old soul of mine feels jaded.

The monsoon wind rages beyond my shuttered window

But I want to open all the windows in the world - that's all I know

And let in every single drop of rain.

 

From the fifth floor.

A healthy breeze
And a lofty view
Of the young city
And the older hills
Of vehicles zooming by
And a sun-sparkly sky.
A dwindling green
And clouds that seem
Touched by a golden brilliance.
Of far-off people
And far-fetched dreams
Fluttering above the streets
Like birds yet to be identified.