Goosebumps and Shivers

Yes yes. I'm back to complaining about the cold. What else can i do while in Shimla you tell me? Ok, so i might be able to talk about the gorgeous sunsets and hot momos on Mall road, but where's the fun in that huh?

So, since the last time i wrote about the cold, it's gotten colder. Even the locals agree. Of course, they might not bundle up as i do. Or complain. But they all agree that the cold has arrived.Never has the sun felt as good as it does these days. While in the sun, a feeling of well being and contentment envelopes you, dousing you in it's warmth. Step out of it into the shade, and the goosebumps come forth. For me, i could be in 4 layers of clothes, including a sweater and a fleece jacket, and the goosebumpiness still remains. Evil i say. 

Such is the power of the cold that even a non-tea drinker like me looks forward to tea time - just so that i can grip that piping hot mug of chai with both my freezing hands like it was a lifesaving device. And even then the warmth refuses to remain. It's fleeting. Lasts as long as tea does.

And so, the heaters emerge. Those wonderful contraptions that make the cold bearable and the shivers go away. Even now, as i type this, i have this lovely heat being radiated at me, allowing the blood to flow through my extremities once more. Yes, it makes me the sissy daughterinlaw and no, i don't care. 

All i know is that when i get up from my place next to the heater, there will be an electric blanket waiting, all warm and welcoming, in bed for me.   

An Uphill Task

I love Shimla. It's where the Fellow grew up and I can't help love a place that has so many awesome memories, even if they don't belong to me. It's as different as could be from where i grew up, in Bombay. And so while i walked to school through the gallis in Juhu scheme, the Fellow ran through a forest. My after school activity mainly involved walking back through the same lanes and standing in front of my building gate, gossiping with friends. The fellow would go berry picking, coming back home with a full stomach and a happily juice-stained uniform. I grew up on vada pav, he did on momos (and rajma). My vacations were spent in the land of camels and sand while he went into the snow clad mountains and in the midst of apple orchards. 

But most importantly, he spent his formative years walking. Apparently in the Shimla of 20 yrs back, cars were primarily used by government officials to and from work. Other than that, everyone walked everywhere - to school, to the market, or even across town to meet a relative. Now, of course, cars have caught up with this mountain town. And instead of walking, you simply hop into your car and drive places. Which is a very good thing for me. No, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against fresh mountain air. I even enjoy it once in a while. It's just that i prefer my walking to happen as a dash across churchgate station when there is a minute for the Borivali fast to go. Or as a whole day spent walking around Colaba. What i can't do, is walk around Shimla. No wait. Correction. What i can't do, is walk uphill in Shimla.

Please note that i can walk uphill on a treadmill without too much of a problem (at least it wasn't too much trouble the one time i tried it) It's when the upward slope is combined with a rarity of oxygen my lungs are not used to that i'm in trouble. I mean, i grew up at sea level and here i was, panting my way up a mountain at 8000 ft above that. Obviously i was going to start drawing up my will. Of course, there is that little factor called weight that i carry around, which can only make the uphill walk worse. How? Well, let's just say that  i fear the burn in my lungs will result in internal combustion. That, or i'll just faint where i stand because there is no way i could draw another breath. What? I'm being honest here.

And no. Even if i was 10 kgs lighter (sigh, what dreams are made of), the oxygen would still be super rare and i would still be clutching my chest in pain and agony as i walked up to reach the in-laws waiting patiently on top of the hill for me. 

Of Diwali and Deja vu.

I started typing out what i was feeling earlier today. And then i realised i've already written exactly what i wanted to. 2 years back. Here. 

Enjoy the festivities and the food ya'll. 

Of Sweaters and Scarves

I'm a Bombay girl. Winters for us mean a much awaited reprise from the stiffling heat and humidity, without it being cold in the true sense. So convinced we are that it doesn't get cold cold in Bombay,  that even when it did go sub 15 deg Celsius one year, no one really understood how to dress warm, wearing more fashion appropriate winter wear as opposed to functional ones. What? You know it's true. Those flimsy things arent really jackets you know. 

Then i got married to a Shimla boy. And learnt, for the first time, how to dress warm. I also finally figured out how women wear sweaters over kurtas and sarees  - when it's really cold, you stop caring about how you look and just want to stay warm. And then, as if the universe was making up for the all the time i spent in Bombay with fake winters, i got to experience two winters in Rajasthan - the cold making up for the terrible summers there. And suddenly, a whole new section in apparel was open to me now - winter wear. Heavy coats, jackets, sweaters, mufflers, wraps. I could buy them without any guilt and questions of where would i get to wear them (an important consideration, the guilt). I even (finally) bought a pair of boots that i could wear without worrying about the heat rotting my feet (as is very likely to happen in the mugginess of Bombay). 

Anyway. We're in Pune now, where the winters are moderate. Definitely no need for heavy winter coats and brightly coloured mufflers knotted in place. But does that stop the winter shopping? For anyone else, maybe. Not for me. I can still go into a shop and browse through silk scarves and brightly coloured sweaters, knowing that, wherever the fauj might send us, we'll always have Shimla. 

I've been here a day, and even with my extremities already cold (its a condition i shall discuss soon), i'm smug. 

So Much To Say

You know how too many cooks spoil the broth? Yeah. Too many things to talk about ruin your blog.  I have so much to say and so many things to vent/opine about that i can't decide what to write about and then end up just cussing under my breath and glaring at everyone, whilst playing Bejewelled on my phone. What? It's addictive. And really brainless. 

So let's get chronological. 

Holiday

Week-long holiday happened in Singapore with the Fellow. Stayed with the sister and brotherinlaw and fed them aloo parathas. Yes, i did the whole big sister thing. I'm nice like that. Also, brought in the 28th birthday there, spending the entire day at Universal Studios, screaming my way through roller-coasters (which i was dragged onto by the unfeeling husband and unconcerned sister). But i got some brilliant strawberry pannacotta for lunch, so yay! Apart from that, lots of walking around Singapore happened - allowing me guilt-free hogging at every meal (a good thing considering how awesome the food was). Shopping happened too - bulk of it at Ikea (duh) and we were probably the only people to enter Mustafa and not walk out with a TV. No really. 2 golf sets, yes. But no TV. 

All in all, a good vacation. I would put up photos, but those have been jinxed. Ever since we've come back, the computer has been giving up on me, resulting in a motherboard and a harddisk replacement. Thankfully, in an act of supreme inefficiency, i didn't delete the photos from the camera after transfer and so i'm not too worried about losing them. 

Good News (the really good types)

So, the last few months of my life had been totally preoccupied with the one question that plagues a fauji wife - Where are we moving to next. Yes. Even though we'd been in Pune only a few months, another move was on the horizon. Unfair? Tell me about it. Anyhoo. To cut a long story short, after months of stress, uncertainty and new ulcers, just as we returned home from Singapore, we were informed that we get to stay in Pune. Yipeeeee! The perfect ending to a fantastic holiday the Fellow says. 

Caterpillar 

The Fellow found a fat caterpillar on the ground and i brought it home. Why? Because it was the kind that would become a butterfly some day. I put it in a jar and made holes for air. I also put leaves in it and checked up on it every 15 mins to check whether it was alive. It was. And totally hyperactive. Or it was just looking for an escape route. Why do i say that? Because 2 days later, the Fellow found it in the computer room, a whole house away from where i'd left the jar in the kitchen. Here's what i think happened - the jar was on the window sill and the lid (kept loosely on) blew off in the strong winds that were happening. And the wiley caterpillar ran for it. Sadly, his sad story touched something in the Fellow's heart and he decided to let it go in the wilderness that is our neighbour's garden. Sigh. The End.

Bombay

Since i'm trying to become a *young entrepreneur*, trips to Bombay have to be oft made. Not that i'm complaining. But what was to be a couple of days has become a week and a half. Thankfully, this time round, i got work done. Also suleimani chai happened at Prithvi with two boys and a girl (and a really photogenic old man with a flute). Movie also happened with a friend i've known since we were 12 and i think he called me stubborn and impossible more than once during the evening. We also got wet in the unannounced and torrential rain that happened in Bombay on Wednesday evening. Haan, and the sister arrived on her way to Jaipur for her first karva chauth, but that's another story all together. 

Moving Houses

I'm writing about this primarily because i'm not doing it. Heeheehee. Yes ladies and gentlemen. The Fellow, in an act worthy of Superman, has shifted houses in 3 hours, trunks and potted plants included. All i have to do now is locate my stuff under all the mess that is bound to be the new place (you think he'll take the hint  and clean up? Or too much to ask?) Anyway. Whatever it might be, i was spared the supreme torture of moving and i'll be eternally (read: a couple of days) grateful to him for that. 

Shimla

Next week we leave for Shimla where home and the inlaws (mine) await us. We haven't been there in the longest time and i'm totally looking forward to piping hot tomato soup and fresh french fries on Mall road. What? So i like food. Not like the Fellow isnt waiting to get his teeth into his favourite momos and chocolate pastries there. So, family time awaits us, and like i promised a pint sized genius yesterday, i'm going to try blog more while there, so maybe some productivity shall happen too. 

Phew. That was a long and totally random post. If you're reading this, remind me to send you a thank you note :) 

About Food

Earlier today, as the Fellow and I dug into some absolutely yummy Chinese soup (his stuffed with chicken), I suddenly realised that our daily trips to the Mall are only about the food. Right from fresh from the oil french fries, piping hot tomato soup by the glass, subs, burgers, chicken/mutton momos, chocolate pastries and some of the best Chinese food I’ve had, it’s all about the food.

Right from the moment we step on to the mall, we start (in our own ways) thinking about what to eat/drink today. For obvious reasons of the shop being the closest on our path, we start with the french fries and tomato soup. Hot soup (with croutons) on a cold day is divine I tell you. And even better are fresh fries. I think the chappie behind the counter now recognises us. Much like the waiter at this small Chinese joint there.

I mean, if we visit a place 3 times in 5 days, eat like we’ve never been fed before, and take home an equal (and usually more) amount of food, the chances that we will be remembered are quite high right? But the food is so good!! Even the Fellow agrees (of course, that’s probably because the chicken portions are super-good and all that).

And so, when we leave Shimla and go back to the land of dal-baati, the one thing we shall miss the most (apart from home and all the pampering) is the food trips we made to the Mall everyday.

Of Tourists and Honeymooning Couples

The in-laws, like all native Shimla-ites, go to the Mall everyday. It doesn’t matter how cold it is or how late, this is one ritual they adhere to without fail. For them, it’s a way of meeting people and finding out what’s new in town. For me, on the other hand, this daily trip to the Mall is an interesting study in people.

Since Shimla is a much visited tourist location, there is never any dearth of ‘study material’. So there is the usual group of tourists (mostly Bengali) looking frozen to death and generally swathed in several layers of hastily bought shawls and caps. Of course, since most of these women are wearing sarees, thus allowing access to the cold air, no amount of shawls and caps is going to help really. This group can usually be found huddled in front of stores, wondering whether a discount is available (the word discount is easily understood amongst a battery of Bangla). They also only move as a group wherever they go.

Then there is family vacation kind of tourists - mummy, papa and 2 children, all in varying degrees of excitement/irritation. The dad is generally loud and leading the way. He can also be seen expressing exasperation as the children insist on buying one of the many colourful and cheap toys on display in the shops. There are also indulgent dads, who smile and allow their progeny to buy whatever their little hearts desire, while the mother tries to keep up with the disciplining (and her shopping). The children, well, do what children do best – run around a lot and generate noise.

Finally, there is the honeymooning couple – a species by itself I assure you. I mean, I know they’re in love (hopefully) and all that. But how does that translate into skimpy and tight clothes – for both, the husband and wife? I could assume they’re trying to show off their cold-bearing prowess to each other…but at what cost? Looking like a complete fool when you walk around in thin tee shirts and capris when everyone else is bundled up to their necks in woollen clothes? Oh and the shoes! You can differentiate a honeymooner from her shoes alone – strappy and/or shiny heels, completely inappropriate for the cold as well as walking! It’s quite a sight, watching these couples cling onto each other as they walk about the Mall. Of course, now I know the clinging is more for warmth and balance than any romantic notion!

And so, while the tourists and honeymooning couples look around them, and take in the sights of Shimla, I look at them. Now if only I could have gotten a picture of the aunty in a saree, monkey cap, 2 shawls and a bright blue pair of rubber chappals, this post would have been complete.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!

Winter is here. And no where is it more obvious than Shimla. Everywhere you go people are bundled up in various layers of clothing (I was in 4 layers today). In fact I haven’t seen as much variety in woollen wear as I have in the last 2 days walking about Mall road. There is everything from monkey caps (mostly Bengali tourists), mufflers and sweaters to cool leather jackets and fancy woollen ponchos.

And then there is me. My city-grown heart (according to the Fellow), doesn’t know that it has to pump blood to my extremities. Thus my hands and feet (and nose) remain close to freezing all the time. This is not only super-uncomfortable for me, but also for the Fellow. After all it’s him I turn to when I need my hands and feet warmed. In fact, people on the Mall often think we’re a honeymooning couple, seeing as we’re always holding hands. Little do they know that there is absolutely no romance involved in the act – only survival (and a lot of begging. The Fellow refuses to hold my freezing hands. Hmph).

Of course, since I’m not all pessimism, I do have a silver lining here. Winter fashions. I finally get to wear gorgeous coats and pullovers and mufflers and even ear muffs (the practical, non-gorgeous kind). After living in Bombay for ever and only ever knowing Monsoon fashions, it’s a delight (and quite exciting) to buy winter clothing and not feel guilty about it. Makes the girly me quite happy I tell you.

Disgust...

(Day 82 of 112)

…is only one of the many things I’m feeling right now. Other emotions involve irritation, frustration, annoyance, rage, anger and also the random wtf moment. And what make this gamut of emotions more interesting is that they are all directed towards my immune system – or rather the hypersensitivity of it. I’m quite literally the human thermometer, the way my nose starts itching and my eyes start watering at the slightest change in weather conditions. And this before it becomes apparent to everyone else. It wasn’t surprising then, that when the temperature dipped in Shimla, I was the first to know – and suffer.

And suffer I did…am. Since yesterday I’ve been walking around like Rudolph, with a nose that could guide Santa’s sleigh. The FIL is quite alarmed at my sneeze fests and the MIL is concerned about my feet not being warm enough. All I’m bothered about though, is getting the infernal itching in my nose to stop, so much so that squashing it under a heavy book often seems like a good idea. Damn the immune system for being hyper-allergic. Vacuum conditions and bubbles were designed for people like me. Hmph.

Add to this circus a fever and the verdict is out – such a delicate girl, give her vitamin C, take her to the Ayurveda doctor, it’s all in the head beta, do yoga, Bombay people just cant handle the cold, shut the door, wear socks to keep your feet warm, sleep with a hot water bottle, so on and so forth.

Not surprising then, is it, that disgust is only one of the many things I’m feeling right now.

We Are Apple People…

(Day 73 of 112)

…apple broth runs through our veins.

This is what the Fellow says every time he sees this fruit (along with telling me it’s sacrilege for me to be seen buying apples and that I’ll be a joke to be told everywhere if he got the word around). I can’t buy apples without the Fellow breaking into drama and dialogue, and while I simply roll my eyes and continue with my purchase, everyone around us stops to listen and get entertained. And if you thought this nautanki stops with buying apples, think again. I have to listen to this proclamation every time I eat the fruit in question.

However I am now beginning to understand why the Fellow breaks into speech at the mere sight of an apple. You see, the Fellow’s family has apple orchards. This means that the one fruit that you will always find at home is, well, apples. And right now it happens to be harvest time for apples so everywhere there is apple talk. Conversation around me is all about how the harvest is, about picking, sorting, grading, packing, selling etc. And if the talking wasn’t enough, there is also an inflow of apples, fresh from the orchard, which the MIL insists I must eat to feed my deprived city soul.

Now I finally understand why the Fellow can’t stand eating or even buying apples. He quite literally does have apple broth running through his veins.

Of Brown Paper Bags and Kolhapuri Chappals

(Day 71 of 112)

Is there any city in this country that loves brown paper bags as much as this place? While big cities preach themselves silly with the say no to plastic cause, its only after coming here that I saw the actual practice. And so it doesn’t matter if you buy medicines, vegetables, books or even piping hot momos. You come back armed with brown paper bags, the kind that don’t tear and can be reused. So for now, I’m a brown paper bag convert. In your face plastic bags.

Now, though I was busy waxing eloquent about brown paper bags, I had time to learn an important lesson today– kolhapuri chappals are not the best thing to walk uphill (or downhill) in. In fact so unsuitable are they that I was in constant fear of doing a replay of a nursery rhyme and entertaining the countryside with my rolling act. This fear, of course, did nothing to improve the grip of my footwear on those treacherous slopes. And so while the in-laws all but jogged down to the car, I played the clichéd city-bred chica to perfection. Sigh.

But then I guess I prefer having a label to having a bruised bottom.

Cold as a Marble Slab in Winter

(Day 69 of 112)

I could really love the cold weather you know. But I don’t. Some of it has to do with the fact that I’m a Bombay girl and we’re trained to deal with incessant rains and floods and rude people (for the most part). We don’t know what winters are except for our text books, and even then the images are of snow and snowmen.

So the fact that the Fellow is from a cold land is something I’ve always considered one of those life paradoxes which cannot be explained (unless you think the universe is trying to teach my rain drenched city soul a cold lesson). Now I’m going to spend at least a couple of months a year in the lap of the Himalayas and I’m guessing it’s going to be something to look forward to in a masochistic sort of way.

Already (and it’s only August) I’m feeling cold here. Everyone around me is celebrating the summer/monsoon and I just recovered from a super-strong, all annihilating cold. All day my father-in-law keeps opening the glass doors to allow for cross ventilation and I keep pulling them shut to avoid the cold breeze. Worse is the fact that while the mother-in-law pants about how hot it is, I’m permanently wearing layers of t-shirts, a fleece and socks, all in an attempt to keep warm.

And don’t even get me started on the condition of my extremities. My hands and feet are freezing. All. The. Time. It’s annoying actually. Even the simple movement of tying my hair is a pain because then my stupid cold fingers touch my warm neck. I mean it’s like I can’t get warm without an external source of heat, and if it wasn’t too weird (even for me) and I was averse to becoming a standing joke, I would have started up the electric heater.

Instead here I am, sitting all bundled up and cosy, with a hot water bottle at my feet, finally warm.

The Fellow would have been so much better I tell you. Sigh.

Click Happy...Oh So Happy

(Day 68 of 112)

Here are some of my favourite pics that i took the day i wrote this. Trees and fog never looked better (to me at least).

[Note: None of the pictures below have been retouched or edited.]

The photographs are all protected under Copyright law.

Amusing the In-Laws

(Day 67 of 112)

Today was a fun day, for both the in-laws and yours truly. My cold had all but gone and I was able to appreciate the cold air and the mountains better. I also realised that my cynical city soul does get excited at the sight of natural gorgeousness (and not simply worried about all the empty space going to waste). This realisation and the resultant excitement had the in-laws thoroughly amused. And I can understand why. I mean I spent a good ten minutes harping on and on about how cool the fog was and how it made me think of ghost stories. And then I spent the next ten minutes trying to get that perfect picture. Interspersed was my totally childish surprise at how green the trees were and how perfect the sunflowers. Add to this me bouncing around and running back and forth, and you can imagine how much amusement I was the source of today!

Anyhoo. Pictures follow soon and my blog will have it’s first all photo post. Yay.

Umbrellas and Shoes

(Day 65 of 112)

I’m a Bombay girl. When it rains, you bring out the floaters and fold up your jeans. Never do you wear bulky shoes that are likely to get totally drenched in your first jaunt out in the rain and then not dry for the whole monsoon season. You also carry compact umbrellas that fit into your purse when closed and when open are not likely to mark a personal space of about 3 feet all around.

But in Shimla when it rains, giant umbrellas emerge. These apparently are multipurpose and people use them as walking sticks. There can be no other reason for making them so large. Unless they’re trying to encourage romance and/or economy by making umbrellas big enough to comfortably accommodate 2 large people or an entire family of tiny people.

Additionally in Shimla when it rains people walk out wearing sport shoes and the like, keeping their feet totally covered. Now since I was wearing floaters, my feet got wet. This, I now understand is the fastest way of falling ill in the cold (like I wasn’t already coughing and rasping like I was dying!).

So what was I to do? Nothing except follow the mother-in-law into a Reebok’s outlet and get fitted for some new shoes, the kind that would not let my feet get wet. That they happen to be super-comfy and very cute is not important here.

And so what with giant multicoloured, pinstriped, frilly umbrellas which could alternatively be used as weapons of self-defence and the very valid excuse to buy new shoes, my trips to the Mall are becoming more and more interesting everyday. It might prove to be just the kind of material I needed for this blog!