Story time with Manju

  Madhuri entered the Bapat household as a newly wed bride , with dreams in her eyes coupled with tears shed due     to a mixed emotional turmoil, reflecting her state of mind . Her tears reflected her grief of leaving the comfortable cocoon of her parents home , the apprehension towards the life to be , and of course , the joy of living the rest of her life with the man of her choice , Jaideep . An intelligent, quiet, handsome and loving young man . As she kicked and stepped on the bowl of rice , as was the tradition, she managed a faint smile amidst all her emotional turmoil. Jaideep , on the other hand, held her hand firmly in a show of support. Mrs Bapat , Jaideep’s mother held the Aarti thaali , eyes brimming with tears of joy as his father, Mr Bapat,     looked on , eyes full of love .    The Bapats were well known in the society for their simplicity and humbleness . Theirs was a typical middle class Maharashtrian Koknastha Brahmin household. Gra...

  My mother in law, Ruta Phadke, popularly known as Aaji by everyone in the colony and at home, was a very social and talkative lady. She used to smile and greet everyone, whether she knew the person or not . We used to often tease her saying that “ Aaji can also talk to a tree”. She could strike a conversation with almost anyone, language no bar, she could converse fluently in her broken Hindi and English . A phone call from Aaji meant that you had to keep at least half an hour aside , she used to fill the other person with all the family news, right from giving recipes to teaching music.( She was a Sangeet Visharad)  My father in law took very ill and expired in July 2015. She couldn’t accept his loss and slowly started slipping into depression. My daughters, Manasi , Sayali, my Son in law, Bhushan , my husband Milind and I , made all efforts to help her cope with the loss. Gradually she started becoming her old talkative self again . We heaved a sigh of relief . In June 201...

Romance is a universal emotion, with no exception, beyond any barriers.  My introduction to the word Romance dates back to the late 1960’s, when I was probably just about 5-6 years old.  Delhi zoo has always had a special place in my heart and till date, whenever I visit Delhi, I try my hardest to visit the zoo. I have many pleasant memories of our routine Sunday picnics to the zoo, with my father, mother and sister.  My father was a wild life enthusiast and he would take us every Sunday to the zoo. We would see the Royal Bengal Tiger, the White Tiger, Lion, monkeys , but my most loved spot was where Raja and Rani lived.  Raja and Rani were a pair of chimpanzees and lived in an open cage, surrounded by a water moat. There was a landscaped hillock, some planted trees , an Asoka tree in particular, in whose shade Raja and Rani would play and unabashedly display their love for each other. “ Baba, they are not monkeys, they are just like us humans”, the little me exclaim...

  Mita sighed and put the newspaper away in disdain . “ No point in even    reading this advertisement Aai”, she said sadly. “ What’s the point ? I don’t even get time for my regular practice, how will I even attend this summer school by Guru Shashvati Sen”, she said as she started preparing for her day . Mita was a fierce journalist , excellent at her work . Dancing    was not just a hobby for her; it was her soul’s language, a divine art that brought her immense joy and solace. From her school days, she had dedicated herself to the classical dance form of Kathak, studying with unwavering commitment and earning the coveted title of Kathak Visharad with flying colors. Yet, despite her mastery, her dream of completing the prestigious Nritya Alankar in Kathak remained unfulfilled, lingering quietly in her heart and filling her with sadness each time she thought about it.  As the years went by, life’s responsibilities pulled Mita in different directions. Her d...

  Ira stood on the stage behind the podium addressing the small gathering who had come for the book launch . Ira, a successful designer herself and fond of cooking had painstakingly designed a Recipe journal that contained recipes that her mother used once upon a time .  “ Mumma, please do write down all your recipes in one place , they shouldn’t get lost with time”, she used to tell her mother. Her mother Mira,    was passionate about cooking. She used to find joy and solace in crafting recipes and always claimed that cooking was an art . Mira loved to innovate recipes, make her own starters for Sour dough breads and Kombucha. She used to brew her own wines and soju. Her children would often jokingly tell her to start a microbrewery . She loved experimenting with fermented foods in the kitchen and used to call it her studio . Very often she would make something very tasty and would soon forget what ingredients she had used . “ Mumma, please write down your recipes “...