The Post Card.

With WhatsApp under pressure because of their recent message about accepting their new terms of privacy, many jokes are doing the rounds, mostly and appropriately perhaps, in WhatsApp and here is one that came my way from three different sources.
My response to one which was copy pasted for the others was “Absolutely. My father from the old school, used to add my degrees after my name: BA MBA. The postman asked my wife once what that surname meant!

My nephew overheard this and started calling me Bamba Mama.”

And that response from me reminded me of another post that I had written in this blog.

So, the postcard makes another appearance in my life. Here is the another one that was preceded by another to which there is a link in the post itself.

Note: In Indian languages relatives have specific names unlike the umbrella uncle and aunt in English.  Mama is specific for the brother of one’s mother.  In this instance, my nephew is my sister’s son.

Cooking Undhiyu The Traditional Way.

Nick had this to say in his comments on my blog post Winter Speciality Food:. “I wonder if other dishes would benefit from being cooked “under a warm winter sun in an open field on a farm”? In fact Wikipedia tells me that “the dish is traditionally cooked upside down underground in earthen pots”. Sounds a bit tricky! But your Undhiyu looks delicious, however it was cooked!”

I thought that the best way to learn the process which I have seen a few times, is to share this video with my readers.

Winter Speciality Food.

Among the various people who have adopted me as their own, a notable pair from Mumbai, is ND and his lovely bride RD. ND without fail will call me every Sunday morning to check if I am still alive and to assure himself that I have not removed his name from my  last will and testament.

Today was no exception but, our conversation took off into a different orbit when he grandly announced, to irritate me, that RD was making Undhiyu for lunch today.

That took me to my younger and more adventurous days when I used to travel extensively and taste local cuisines wherever I happened to be. I have had Undhiyu the way it should be had; under a warm winter sun in an open field in a farm with the dish being cooked in the field. I have also had the dish made the modern way using pressure cookers in a number of places and, one notable occasion was when ND’s sister in love JD,  one day caught an early morning train from Mumbai to come to Pune for a day to cook Undhiyu for us.  She brought all the ingredients from Mumbai as she had doubts that she could get some of them in Pune.  She landed up at 11.15 am, came home, cooked and had lunch with us.  She then caught the 3.30 pm train back to Mumbai.

So many memories of this particular dish today and to rub salt in my wound the rascal ND, decided to send me a photograph in WhatsApp of what RD had made.

Winter Rains.

As usual, I went to sleep for my daily siesta after lunch and woke up to find incessant rain and petrichor.

I remembered an article in our local newspaper about the winter rains and also how my son left his motorcycle in his friend’s place yesterday and took an autorickshaw back home as it was raining heavily.

I caught up with my email and blog comments and finally opened Facebook and came across this image posted by my sister there!

Anything unusual about the weather where you live?

The Charles Schultz Philosophy.

The comic strip ‘Peanuts’ has been a favourite of mine for decades. I can’t remember even one which I did not enjoy reading and savouring.

The latest to come way is a  link to a blog on the philosophy of the late Charles Schultz, the creator of Peanuts, this blog post which I am sharing with my readers with the hope that they will enjoy it as much as I did.

Abandoned Team Mate.

This is a story that I came across which resonates with me and I want to share it with my readers.

“In December 1937, a match between Chelsea and Charlton foot ball clubs at the Stamford Bridge stadium London was stopped in the 60th minute due to heavy fog.

Charlton’s legendary goal keeper Sam Bartram remained unaware and kept on guarding the goal 15 minutes after the game had stopped, as he did not hear the referee’s whistle because of the crowd behind his goal post.

He stood there with his arms out stretched and completely focused, looking forward so as not to be surprised by the opponent’s shots.

Fifteen minutes later, when the stadium police approached him and informed him that the match had been abandoned, Sam Bartram said these famous words with great sorrow,

*”How sad that my friends forgot me when I was guarding their goal post.”*

Bartram thought his team was attacking and not allowing the opposing team to get close to the goal post.

*There are so many players in the field of life whose goal post one defends with enthusiasm and support, but when the situation becomes like a wave of fog, they are promptly forgotten..let us be more considerate.

Courtesy Ratnadeep Saksena”

I thank Neeraj K. Yajnik who shared this story in Facebook.