Mutton Stew

Mutton stew is one dish that feels light yet filling and delicious. All the spices and mutton simmer away, bringing out the juices, blending the flavours to give a one wlolesome meal in itself. It goes well with rice or roti, idli, dosa, idiyappam. Why even bread and pav, noodles or fried rice. Here I have matched it up with potato and corn paratha and served with onion raitha. Trust me, you'll be left finger licking! 

Review of the Novella

Book: A SKYFULL OF BALLOONS
Author:  Dr. Santosh Bakaya,
Publisher: Authorspress
2018
pp:  147
ISBN: 978-93-87651-49-4


(Educationist, Writer, Poet, Author of Ballads of Bapu, The Apple Bough, Where are the Lilacs, Flight from my Terrace)

When prose is painted on a canvas by dipping the brush in a pot full of lyrical poesy- A Skyfull of Balloons is born.

The symbolic title and the book cover capture the effervescent spirit of this bubbling novella. Buoyant, characters take us aloft to float in the sky and hover for a while, frolicking in romance before touching down. It has many a twist and a turn but only after cruising the reader safely on a saga of romance, joyful moments, pranks and banter, not necessarily between the young protagonists but also between the father and daughter duo who share an envious rapport.

Scenic with Kashmir's paradise as the backdrop, this A Skyfull of Balloons opens with a grim suspense and then pirouettes  and glissades holding the attention, not letting one put it down till the last line.

The Dhars and the Rainas come along as wonderful parents  indulging their offsprings from the sidelines, providing all the support to their children's joyful celebration of life,  two young souls so much in love with Literature, with shikara ride, with theatrics, with painting, with people, with blue eyes, with birds and geese, with nature in abundance around, with Pahalgam, with Lake Nageen, with Lidder river and with dimples and above all, so much in love with each other!

The intricately etched characters come out refreshing, brushing us with their exhuberance for life and the world around. Minute  observations woven meticulously make the scenes flit in front of the eyes as one reads page after page, the emotions pulling one right into its vortex. Newer elements get introduced foiling the intrigue,  thwarting any chance for ennui to creep in.


Painting of the storm-tossed shikara makes one desperate to take a sneek peak at the masterpiece, if only for the eloquently scripted scene where one gets tossed and turned, drenched by the squall.

This beautiful novella celebrates romance, nature, literature, family ties, parental love, art, music and the list goes on.  All that encompasses in comfortable, healthy, educated family households especially when they reside in Kashmir.

For the gourmets, delectable spread with Kashmiri cuisine is a definite tickle on the taste buds of readers. Telvours with kehwa is on the list.

Gifted with resplendent vocabulary (nimiety was a revelation! ) author just glides along making us waltz to Frank  Sinatra, listen star struck to John Lennon, ponder at the all time favourite scene of Dead Poet's Society, an inspiring Robin Williams standing on the classroom table..   Why even nursery rhymes to Shakespeare's theatre to Kashmiri songs to Hindi melodies. "Dil dhoondtha hai.." sounds more haunting here than in Mausam.
The book is full of  marvellously penned lines that makes one re read for their sheer ingenuity. Quoting a few here.. (for more, read the book!)
"Pahalgam was a piece of paradise.. the red and yellow of the wonderful flowers, what else could the trees do, but turn green with envy?"

" The Lidder roared in approval, the wind whistled lustily. Soon night fell and there was brightness all around..."

" The Pine tree nearest to the cottage, unable to restraint its curiosity, leaned closer to the cottage.. tried to evesdrop, but probably ashamed of its leanings, straightened up. "

Motifs of rich literary references woven tight into the narrative, celebrating all that we grew up reading, add up to the rich literary quotient and am sure will resonate with lovers of English language for a long time.

This novella is as beautiful as the book cover it is draped in. Authorspress does it all the time, offering many a good book to hold on to , both to the writer and the reader. One memorable read at a go. making it a compulsive buy. Maybe a sequel will satiate the die hard reader in us!

Renowned author, potess Santosh Bakaya's review of When The Soul Sings

Launch of When The Soul Sings at Asian Literary Confluence, New Delhi

What other writers, poets have to say on When the Soul Sings: 

WHEN THE SOUL SINGS 

Now available at Authorspress and at Amazon. Links below:

http://authorspressbooks.com/book_detail.php?preference=1563

http://www.amazon.in/dp/B07J64JNTK

Promo of my debut book

SEE RED

This poem was awarded with Outstanding Performance by Asian Literary Society in their Spirit of Asia Contest recently

               Hot & Spicy

THE LAST LAUGH

With exemplary humour, he keeps our risorious muscle on the move,

Unwittingly, with our sides splitting, we fall into his zany groove.

Takes a genius acuity to play the part of joker,

As many grey cells juggled, as in a game of poker.

Clairvoyant, a step ahead, chooses jolly mode to be displayed,

Unveiling wisest things by miming, to avoid getting flayed.

Joker comes to rescue when Kings and Queens are done,

Don't discard, he shows ways of world with glasses tinted in fun.

Jostling our mind and funny bone for many to survive,

Always willing to lend a hand for our spirits to revive.

Never underestimate his prowess as- a mere topsy turvy clown,

Doctors say, "laugh with him", to avoid wearing a johnny gown!

Prances, skips, tumbles,  somersaults only to land with a fall,

Springs up within blink of an eye, standing upright tall.

From behind that colourful mask comes wisdom of the age,

Most respected, honoured by kings next to perhaps a sage.

Charlie Chaplin's slapstick, laced with pathos and subtlety ran deeper, 

A joker who gamboled with quick  wit, society's conscience keeper!

Walks away with the last laugh as curtain comes down,

Having fooled those in hubris, the invincible fools in town.

© Gomathi Mohan

Sunday luncheon.. Being Daughter's Day, all dishes were her favourite ones. Father fetched, Mom cooked, She clicked! 

Kerala style roasted chicken in coconut oil and lots of cashew. 

Mutton Biryani

Her drink, Tomato Rasam

Liver fry too! 

BULBULS HIDE & SEEK

GOLDEN FRIED ARBI (TARO)

Monsoon in the Mountains

So RAIN was the prompt in the Asian Literary Society's Poetry Contest. Tried depicting the scenes unravelling and was lucky to win a prize. Hope you all give it a read too☺

Monsoon Morning and a Mynah

CHASING RAINBOWS

A MIDNIGHT SPRINT

Deep into the night, ran at break neck speed,
Chasing me furiously, were a dozen men in greed. 

Beating Bolt's record effortlessly,
Managed to free from their hold,  relentlessly.

Sprinted ahead, paying no heed,  
In hot pursuit, they were unwilling to cede. 

Darted on like wind, went up  bucking,
They fell far behind huffing and puffing.

Around the corner behind the alley,
Jumped across railtracks edging the valley. 

Gushed through meadows under the moonbeams,
Crossing puddles, coalesced into shallow streams.

Shaking them off I entered a thick jungle,
Laden with thorns, covered by bramble.  

Tearing through bushes, brushing away thistle,      
That's when I heard a very faint whistle.

Turning around, saw in dull moonlight cast, 
They were by now catching up fast. 

Closing in on me, driving in a jeep,
I bounded and took one giant leap.

Across a moss ridden marsh,
With my breathing getting harsh. 

Panting and rushing, 
Slipping and sliding.

As a sprinter in his last lap,
Broke into a fierce gallop. 

Deep into the woods, spotted a clearing,
Raced towards an old dilapidated dwelling.

Inside were found a dozen odd brute,
No sooner did the jeep follow suit. 

Shocked by law-keepers inside their domain,
Falcons fully tattooed, were packing cocaine. 

Men at work for the drug cartel,
Police fired shots in the air to quell.  

With my lead, they rounded up the guilty,
Another routine night of myself  being snooty.

Aiding in detecting their contraband booty,
A Malinois K9, that was me, on duty. 

© Gomathi Mohan

PEPPER JEERA RICE

PEPPER JEERA RICE

BHINDI's METAMORPHOSIS

BHINDI'S METAMORPHOSIS

SUN & SHADE

Amidst grey and cloudy surroundings, sunlight filtering in on this patch  made it so scenic and sublime! It called for a click..

METVERSE MUSE

METVERSE MUSE

TIFFIN by ROLI BOOKS

TIFFIN by Roli Books.. Mother of all Indian cookbooks💕 
(500 tastes of 29 states)

Available now on Amazon http://amzn.in/bKZZCr2

Happy to be a tiny part of this huge project. One of my traditional recipe is humbly queued up with the rest🌼 Awaiting for my complimentary copy☺

GANESH CHATURTHI

Hope Ganesha removes all obstacles and blesses us with good times ahead🙏 A Very Happy Ganesh Chaturthi to all🌼

Ganpathi brings much fun and food fare.  Prasad in odd numbers are offered to him as Naivedyam. Mom and Grandma had either 9 or 11 on offer, including a variety of rice items, starting with Sakkara Pongal, sweet pongal, Tamarind rice, coconut rice, lemon rice, sambar rice, Garelu- urad dal vada, etc. I made a minimum of seven items very "priya" to him, as in the Southern parts.

The items in clockwise are: 

1) KUDUMULU/ modak steamed.. with rice flour, jaggery, cardamom &  coconut. Usually they are handpressed in one's palm and fingers shape them. I sought easy way out and made roundels!

2) POORNA KUDUMULU, ie stuffed and steamed modak. Filling of gur, til, coconut & elaichi

3) SUI UNDALU:  Filling of boiled and mashed bengal gram, gur, coconut & elaichi dipped in Urad dal and rice flour batter, deep fried.

4) PAYASAM :  Vermicelli Kheer

5) SUNDAL :  Seasoned Kabuli channa, garnished with coconut grating and curry leaves.

6) DHADHIYANNAM:  Curd rice  seasoned with nuts, dry fruits, lentils, mustard and curry leaves) his "anna prasanna" soulful  happiness!

7) POORAN POLI: Made wheat polis, taste better than maida ones. Stuffed with the same as in SUI UNDALU!

We all pitch in from early dawn. Hubby is the in-house priest. We both mon & daughter make prasad. The whole experience is a bliss followed by goodies after the puja☺💗 For our neighbours it was a novel experience. Their Janmashtami celebrations had mesmerised us likewise💕

A tiny part of our world.. live, throbbing, filling, celebrating☺💗

TRIBUTE TO MY TEACHERS

Wish A Very Happy Teachers Day to all my beloved Teachers🙏🌼Blessed to have been in your care in my growing years. You all brought a personal touch to teaching which greatly inspired and benefited us. Whatever little I am today is all your significant  contribution and a mark left behind that helped shape me, my self and my life.

You were there from nursery to mid-school. My schooling ended with it. Rest all was self-learning and when I began to walk the corridors of learning again, it was only for my M.Phil. in Madras University. The strong foundation you laid for me in St. Mary's has seen me through, helped me climb the ladder, overcoming all struggles. Not once did I feel dejected or given up. It was a tortoise journey and I know where all that reserved strength came from. I take this opportunity to thank all Dear Teachers from the bottom of my heart for all that you did for me and for all of us!

Mrs. CHRISTOBEL J DAVID ~ You are a gem of a human, standing tall and giving warmth and a secure feeling. As children looked forward to singing classes, if only to have a nice relaxing time. You made us breathe, the first best thing of all and then sing, play, act and be ourselves! Your fingers just flirted with the piano keys seamlessly, leaving us mesmerised. Till today I nurse a secret dream.. Having my own piano and learn to play.  If I was in Chennai, I would surely learn from you! You made our childhood happy with Christmas Plays, rehearsals at your home where you involved all your children to help us out and not to forget the lovely cakes!  When you celebrated your 87th B'day the other day, you looked so good and happy with that never missing twinkling smile! Pray for your good health and long life. We all need you now more than ever! 🎹🎼🎄🍰🎅

Sr. JANET KURU ~ Your smiling face is always there before me right from fourth std. Your letter to me when you left, a year later, advising me to eat well, concerned about my skinny self, I followed it both in letter and spirit ever since, perhaps too sincerely! Your blessings, prayers and support throughout the past two years, a trying time for me, has seen me back in spirits and health. Am back to my old self.. All thanks to you Sister! Cherish your long and loving calls, after decades, and each time I miss you more and more! 📝📨🍒🍏

Mrs. RADHA GOPINATH        ~ Your enthusiasm in all that you do, a zest and energy unsurpassed, your childhood anecdotes..  days in RDSO love for tennis, Africa safari and other interesting shares, endeared you to us more and more. So much in In awe of your genius in Math. You know very well how miserable I was in it. But armed with basic concepts and methods explained in detail and the numerous problens you made us solve on a daily basis.. slowly I picked up and today, I take this opportunity to say with a great sense of humility that  have had a successful career, surviving purely on Math for 22 odd years in GOI Accounts Dept. All credit goes to you! 📐📒📑📏

Mrs. PREM KHERA ~ One loving, caring, motherly Hindi Teacher. Alongwith teaching you made sure we had good relations with our classmates and would step in to do justice and make things right, better between us. Your dedication to teaching, making sure we understood the basics went far in establishing a love for the language. You made sure we were thorough with the basics and we looked forward to revising with regular dictations, grammar, essays etc. Weekly tests. Never were we apprehensive in your class.  Those elaborate sessions on Kabir and Premchand, made Hindi so endearing. You will be happy to know, passed out with a distinction in Hindi, at Graduate level. Used to win in Hindi Week celebrations annually in office. Recently was awarded with a 3rd Prize in Hindi poetry Contest of Asian Literary Society..thanks to you and your efforts to make us fall in love with the language ! 📋📓👫💗

Mrs. PRAMILA RAJEEV ~ Your role in my life is hard to sum up in few words. You were there from holding my pencil to giving me lifts to City Montessori on Rajeev Uncle's Lambretta, right from Baby Class. Were fully in charge of my learning, handwriting, writing skills, personality building and whatever little humanitarian qualities I have I owe them to you! Your English expertise and training is the base for my second innings in life of late. Those wintry afternoons, sitting in your balcony, teaching me Shelly and Keats..  As our LTS Guide, you shaped us into a better being, lessons in endurance, patience, meditation, supporting good cause, charity and standing up for the right. You've been a great mother, family friend and best mentor. You are continuing to be so..  for so many of us till today. Silently doing your services without much ado nor expecting anything in return. Just wishing well for all those who come in touch with you. Salute your spirit Ma'am! World needs you more and more 📚👬🎓🔦

Mrs. ANIE THAILA~ A Rockstar is how we remember you. A Chemistry wizard at that! I went incognito in your class behind that thick yellow coloured Chem. Book (ICSE is still an enigma for an average grader like me). But then I got a lot to take home from your aura that left us awestruck. You made it all simple and armed with a great sense of humour, that twinkle in your eye and slight smile said it all amidst a tough lesson. Your strong personality touched us even as you walked smart, tall, head held high! What a lberated soul with a great personality to go by.. Today I see you doing so much of service towards Humanity in another part of the globe. You're truly  inspiring! Not to forget our passion for concocting good food. Hoping our chemistry meets here☺  📕🌎⌛🍹🍝

GOING TO SCHOOL

 Google Images

Schooling Is An Endless Cycle - I Just Need To Make It Through This Week..every week.

" Sonny boy! Get up, it's already six. You' ll be late for school again.'' This had become a daily ritual for the past two weeks. Mrs. Mistry found it odd that her son who loved school,  breathed school and dreamt school all the waking hours,  was putting up tantrums, of late.  Maybe the new city,  new school and a Co-ed at that, needed more time to acclimatize! The previous one in Mumbai, was an All Boys School.
''Shall I skip today.. just one day Maman.. pleeeease!! '' His sleepy voice pleaded as he wrapped his quilt tighter.  ''This Delhi weather is testing me', he thought to himself. Winters are torturous..Who kept school at 7.30 in winters!
It would be so nice and warm,  snuggled up in bed and lazing till 9.
Mumbai was much better.. Warm and salubrious throughout the year.

''Emad..Aaojo!!  No bahaana.. . Heated your bathwater, get up! Coffee is waiting. Making French toast for breakfast." A ruse that always seemed to work.

Coffee was something he could never say no to. Crawling half heartedly out of his warm haven, to face another biting cold day... 'It is still December, two more months to go', he sighed.

A steaming mug of coffee revved him up. In another an half  hour he was ready.  The whiff of caramel, egg, mild cinnamon and pepper wafted in the air, luring him to the table, faster than Maman had expected. The hot fluffy french toasts glistening rich with butter and topped with maple syrup doubled up his appetite. Followed by a glass of fresh vegetable punch, carrot and beets with a dash of mint and lemon..  lifted his spirits. Kept him energetic for the day. 

Wiping his hands on his Maman's apron, he quickly put on his shoes and stood like a meerkat for  her to assist with the necktie. No matter what, Maman made the neatest knot.  ''Hmmm..Grown so big, how much will you make your Maman slog? This one last time!" She had been saying this every day of the week for past many years and it remained the same.

While tying, she noticed a lost worried look in his eyes. It was happening too often, nowadays.  Lovingly she broached ,  ''What's the matter Emad?"
Emad loved his Maman dearly,  his soul friend and sole parent since Baba's demise, some decades back. A retired school teacher, he was all she had and took it upon herself to do everything to see him happy.

Seeing her anxious look he started slowly,  '' It's the girls and boys at school. They are so mean. Make fun of me. Especially the boys! Real bullies and girls are no better. You should see how they giggle as I pass by.''

''Arrey baba..  bas.  Look at you..  talking like this. Come on, you can do this!''

''But Maman, you don't know, what comments they pass on my height and head.  I get to hear them all and imagine the smirk on their faces, behind my back. It makes me so nervous and dreadful."

" Beta, You are a bit challenged vertically. That's all.. and as for your head, I have only seen wise people carrying it." Maman's  comforting words, made him feel better. But he was not done yet. More grievances waited to be redressed.

'' Also, I don't have any friend in the school. I eat my lunch alone. Even  teachers are not very helping. They  ignore me; I don't even seem to exist for them. They just go about doing their work . No one cares for me or my feelings. I am left with no spirits whatsoever after joining here."

His Maman's caring askance,  opened his pent up emotions.
Oh, it's the winter blues! Thought Mrs. Mistry.

''But it's no surprise. That's how it is," she opined "New school,  new place, new people. Give It all some time Pesar (Emad got the hint, she used this salutation only when a point had to be made )Things will settle, once they get to know you. Don't be a cry baby. Now take your bag, the driver is waiting. Bell might go anytime. I will not attend to any call from your school. Done with two calls already last week.''

''But Maman, it is so hostile out there." He was trying his best to wriggle out from going that day.

'' Now one last time. Listen to me. Go out there and be your self, make peace. Believe in your self Emad! Trust me."

Both Mrs.Mistry's breath and patience were by now wearing out thin.  But she had to goad him on,  he was her dear            joon  after all.
Sensing his Waterloo, Emad dragged his feet, lugging his bag to the waiting car. The driver hurried upto him,  taking his bag and opening the door, wishing  him                 'Goodmorning Baba'.  Nodding at him, he bade a half-hearted goodbye to his mother. Seeing the large sulk  on his face, the driver thought it discrete to defer any  conversation by a day!  In these two weeks time, he had got to know his 'Little Master' well.

A silent ten minute drive took them through winding roads,  going in circles, through the shady avenue flanked with ashoka trees, cider and bougainvillea.  Emad was lost in thought as the hazy greenery,  flower laden trees and early morning freshness,  crisp with the winter bite flew past. In no time  the huge imposing gates came into view, followed by the  school building, standing tall and majestic.

Emaad's heart sank as the car rolled through the  iron gates. Hmmm..his abode for the next three years. 

He could hear the bell going as he alighted from the car.  Taking his bag he shuffled along the garden path, up the porch and the long never ending corridor that led to the auditorium for the morning assembly.
With the layers of clothes, sweater and a blazer that weighed him down, he trudged the foyer to the entrance door.

The school had assembled and there was pindrop silence. Calming his nerves, he measured his steps heavily up the dias to the podium where the adress system lay.  Taking the mike,  he addressed the school,    'Good Morning children! '
School chorused back in unison to wish Emad Mistry, The Principal of Arav Valley International.

When the sky smiles

Incessant rains for the past two months bring with their vitalizing presence a sweet suprise. 

Connoisseur of Cutlery

CONNOISSEUR OF CUTLERY

Roses ~ Life Chose Us

          Image: Asif Khan



ROSES ~ Life Chose Us

When Chloris decided to blow life into us, little did we percieve,

Symbols of heaven and  harmony, the grace we would receive.

Dreamy eyes brimming with love as we pandiculated,

Bloomed our way out cheerfully,  green buds gently dilated.

In shades of red, white, yellow, pink velvety, glossy petals,

Sat in comfort, ensconsed in the rough lap of sepals.

Aphrodite unveiled our Rosales beauty in the cold clime,

Drank dew drops as Dionysus added nectar for the first time.

Zephyrus blew clouds away, stroking our cheeks to blush,

Bathing us in his aureate rays, Apollo too happened to gush.

Safe amidst fresh green leaves that stood serrated in guard,

Basking in warmth and glory.. fetched in by The  Bard.

But hark! thick, ugly, stunted thorns, us.. do they define,

Given a choice, them would we refine.

Mornings we charm one and all carpetting the lawn,

Frost, wind in cahoots, did it to us at dawn.

Days go merrily in garden alongwith other assortment of flowers,

Pulsating rhapsody ensues as we drench under monsoon showers.

Truth unfolds alongwith our whorls, life has a mission too,

Friendly gardner on his visits,   chooses to pluck some of us few.

Offered in worship, wafting incense blows us into a trance,

Symbolise marriage strung on Jaimala, exchanged with a shy glance.

Once the pride of nation as Nehru held us close to his heart,

Deeply pained when strewn on  path, to let a loved one depart.

Sometimes end up in gulkand only to be rolled into paan,

Other times spas prefer to add us to their snaan.

Single rose or in hundreds, beaus use us to propose,

Accompanying us always are a few lines, poetry or prose.

Tossed into bouquets carrying messages, enjoy playing a peaceful pacifier,

When we fail.. end up on martyr's wreath, lowered alongwith into pyre.

© Gomathi Mohan

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