Clouds in the valley...

  Our biggest miss in Europe was Scandinavia. Perhaps each of the countries deserves a month by itself, but we were happy to cover whatever we could over a weekend. Denmark and Sweden were top on this list, Norway was farther away requiring more time, while we didn’t care much of Finland’s happiness given our euphoria was already ensconced in our little hostel rooms in Cite Universitaire, wrapped in an unlimited Eurail Pass, humble dinners of dal and rice, and late-night bickerings that only strengthened our friendship. I have always wanted to pay my literary homage to Hans Anderson by making the pilgrimage to the Mermaid statue in Copenhagen, while there is something in the name Stockholm that has attracted me since childhood. Alas, these boxes remained un-ticked. Our plan to conquer Scandinavia evolved towards the latter stage of our stay, by which time Monsieur Boku was already travel-fatigued, and Daddu was afflicted with the Mahajan syndrome (he had to study for some exam ce...

  My Korean friend here loves eating fried food. Anything crispy, deep-fried, scrumptious. When he turns up without notice one evening, I decide to address his hunger pangs by making pakodas, quick, easy, and amazingly tasty. He is mesmerised by the first sample, and very soon, I have made two full batches of the delicacy. Over the lip-smacking linner, he has multiple questions - Was it a Mother’s recipe? Was it an eclectic dish in India? Where had I learnt the culinary art of frying pakodas? I patiently answer all his questions over the fritters and a cup of ambrosial tea. No, it was not a mother’s recipe (maybe the tiny bits of ginger with the pinch of asafoetida was); it was a very common snack, rather street food, to be found in the lanes and by-lanes of India; as for where had I learnt the art of frying pakodas – that was a slightly longer story, perfect for the cool autumn evening laden with coke, tea and bhaji. And the story took us years back halfway round the globe –...

  It is peak winter here – 5 degrees on average at nights, 10 -15 in the daytime. The pale sunlight takes hours to trickle and accumulate warmth on your bare skin while cold drafts of polar winds blow in steadily from the Antarctic lands. I take comfort indoors wrapped from head to toe, but when I look outside, I feel a pang of guilt – my tulsi plants seem to fight the winter winds alone.   While I am a utilitarian gardener, ensuring all growth can yield something edible, the tulsi is an exception – not that I don’t often chew on its leaves (Thank you, ayurveda), but I have grown the little shrub because primarily, it reminds of home. Mind you, Tulsi has many species, some of which grows expansively even in northern tropical Australia, but essentially, it is a plant of the tropics that love sun and moisture. These temperate lands blasted by polar vortices is no land to grow the tulsi. Yet, in my own footsteps, I have brought them here, exiling them in these far-off lands, wh...