Wait

 

 

“No more coffee,”  I tell myself. I put down the plastic cup of watery airline coffee and look around. The elderly man next to me snores softly with a newspaper in his hands. I want to sleep as well but my nausea is keeping me awake. I try not to think about the journey ahead of me. Twenty-four more long hours of flying, waiting and riding. Hopefully, I’ll be able to catch a few winks on the longer flight to Heathrow.

I am also looking forward to going to Wales. Let’s leave alone the fact that I’m going to be putting up at one of my grandmothers’ homes, while I look for a new apartment in London. In retrospect, it was utterly foolish of me to give up my old apartment. Also, I have a lesson for you: Do not trust 22 year old students who promise to let out their apartments to you as a transition space. Apparently, the above-mentioned women can be fickle-minded and might just prefer their best-friends over you, leaving you momentarily homeless.

If I survive the next 24 hours I will write to you again.

Hopefully, with a recipe.

Love,

Amman

A lifetime of wedded bliss

You know how I’ve been waiting for a dear friend’s wedding? Well, it happened!!

An Indian wedding, most of you will know, lasts for at least three days and is stuffed to the bursting point with colour, food and traditions. Arundhati’s wedding was a pure to the core Bengali wedding, complete with a traditional Benarasi bridal trousseau, Bengali traditions and of course…food!

But hold your thought right there. I’m not going to rave about the tenderest and smokiest grilled tiger prawns we had as appetizers, or the buttery-lemony fish entree, and I’m not even going to mention the ingenious dessert of frozen whole mangoes stuffed with kulfi. Because this about the wedding, the gorgeous bride and her happy-go-lucky groom. A whirlwind of a wedding that left a dreamy haze behind.

The last weekend was spent running and fussing around the bride, packing her belongings in suitcases, making sure she’s eating well, smiling at the guests, sorting out the gifts – the keepers and give-aways, keeping the groom entertained and well-fed. And its cumbersome to do it with a camera hanging round your neck. I was actually quite happy to give up the camera for a change and dive into all the daily rituals of a wedding. So I leave you with a shot of all the magnificence that surrounds a Bengali bride on her wedding day.

To Arundhati and her Anando, I wish you a lifetime of wedded bliss!

Hazy

I had a sleepy-roll-around-on-the-bed evening yesterday. Read Mark Kurlansky’s Choice Cuts and went shopping for a pair of stone-studded ear-rings. And watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. Somehow, felt happy and depressed at the same time in the end, while coming out of the theater. That was it. The end of a whole era of patronuses, parseltongue, polyjuice potions and expelliarmuses.

Moments gone by

Its all silent in here. I just recently got all my Holga rolls developed and I must admit I was overcome with excitement when the shopkeeper handed the developed prints to me in an envelope. Excitement was very quickly replaced with a twang of disappointment when i realized most of the shots were blurry or grossly under-exposed.

But, I haven’t come empty-handed. The shots above were the best ones taken in and around London. Enjoy!

My weekend

 

My semi-weekend was spent well, loitering about London visiting a few old favourites and a few new ones. On the upside, I loaded up on macarons and strawberry tarts from Laduree and Patisserie Valerie and on the downside, Harrods is still heaving with an unbelievably insane crowd due to the “Sale”.

I like to think that it was this crowd that pushed me brutally towards the Food Hall. And I blame them for forcing me to buy a couple of darling little poussins.

And of course you cannot really go about town in London without spending a few quids on clothes, shoes and accessories. And so I did. A gorgeous Jane Norman number in black and purple, a pair of leather wedges from Aldo and a yellow carry-all from River Island. Bounty? Oh yes.

The whole experience was obviously a break from my daily routine of curling up under the duvet and type away at the laptop and cooking poached egg curries (that invariably get slightly burnt on the underside). Three days, no worries. Ashwin and I lunched at China Town where he tried chicken’s feet for the first time and then keeled over when he realised there were more bones than flesh. But at least he spent two hours learning to use chopsticks at Busaba Eathai over a bowl of pad-thai and a crab soup. We spent Friday evening (after drenching ourselves to the bone in rain) sipping hot chocolates at Freggo, a teeny-weeny little cafe right behind Nat Geo at Piccadilly Circus, the almost dark alley gleaming in front of us. Another lunch included monstrous burgers at Byron, after dragging heavy shopping bags around Shepherd’s Bush. A stroll through the Tate and Burlington Arcade added the finishing touches to the weekend. And that was just what I needed to clear my head and refresh myself.

And now, the pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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