Mera Chicken khurana

The last domain of the Punjabis has been invaded. Slowly and slowly my state is losing all its medals and all that its been known for, in the glorious history of India. We were known as the forerunner in agricultural productivity in wheat and rice. That has also been stripped away from the state known for its progressive hardy farmers. Then, came the question about milk and suddenly all that came forward was that Gujarat had revolutionized the ladies (behind the ghungats they wore) and overnight the worlds largest cooperative society was making waves and we all fell

Utterly butterly deliciously in love’ with cute dimpled Amul girl who became the guardian of the aam aadmi before Kejriwal.

And then, my erstwhile deputy Cm went hunting for investment for the state to rescue it from the perceived financial doldrums we are in. Apparently, we have a debt of Rs xyz breaking our backs, and we have sunk in drug stupor and the funniest medal bestowed on us is that we might assassinate our leaders.

And then, the last but not the least the last bastion of my state, my character, my genetic structure got invaded, chicken, you know apna kukkad. The Gujjus are going to source it for us.

Yaar what is this? My chicken khurrana is becoming chicken Ambani. Just imagine, the recipes. Does everything have to be business? You know, every aunty south of Amritsar and even the Khala ji and Appa ji across the border have their secret recipe that adds the extra zing to the butter chicken recipe. Every Punjabi worth his Punjabi genes and his love for murga swears by the cream, and the makhan. As an NRI, sent me this comment from KFC land saying uff not possible to eat mitha chicken.

Yaaron, apni izzat da swaal hain , imagine chawla chicken replaced by khaitan ! In this let the taste buds rule rather than commerce and let the Punjabi chicken remain true to us.

Ps last heard the Pakistani Punjabi called it truce with India over this, and Sukhbir Badal ji was hailed as the new peacemaker. He succeeded where all failed to stop the shelling at the border. As, they say the buds (taste) do make us one.

Mera Piya- pyaaz and doodh

Mera Piya – Pyaaz and Doodh

It is a night, where I wait for the moon to come out patiently, eagerly, with reverence so that my husband has a long life. I wish and pray for his life, a healthy wealthy one. As always, the moon plays hide and seek and doesn’t even confirm to the times so declared. I stand on the rooftop, clad in a Kareena Kapoor Khan sari with a channani ‘ to look at my piya! I am dressed to kill, with make up, hair rebounded, nails painted, mehendi applied, faint with hunger thinking about the lavish meal prepared by Basanti. I also did my prayers with the rest of the women on Whatsapp ‘ in tandem with women all over the friend.

Maybe, with this fast I might have lost weight and I have certainly learnt loads of patience. What, happened though is the unique bond and camaderie that has sprung up between all of us. In fact, what surprised me more was the gift I received, it transported me to the Asterix and Obelix comics I read as a little young girl smiling away to eternity and to my own special world. Imagine my surprise, I get the most precious gift which every housewife in India dreams of onions and mother dairy milk. India, as Arnab Goswami says is facing a doodh crisis; so my pati parmeshwar gave me a sack full of onions that are worth its weight not in gold but petrol. Imagine something so basic is being equated with petrol! And milk, how am I going to survive without my umpteen cups of chai and coffee..

Just imagine, drinking tea and coffee with a drop of milk just like the Britishers! Ah, the joys of milky tea and coffee, so in my Punjabi genes.

This karva chauth has been extraordinary for me, a wonderful group I belong to, and exchanging sorrows, happiness and the assured unlimited supply of onions and my ration of milk. Other women , boast of smart phones, and diamonds, designer clothes and bags well I am in culinary heaven.

Can’t eat the diamonds, can I?

Dear God

Dear God,

 To keep it simple, I’m referring him as God, forget about how he is addressed by the rest of the 7.2 billion people that live on the planet with me. Also, to keep it really short, I am referring to Him as Him, we can discuss the feminist, the dual identity or the higher force later on. Till, then May the force be with you. In India, we all leave everything to Bhagwan.

It is his marzi if we survive, its his marzi if the nukkad wala uncle is beating his wife, its his marzi if the water is not coming in the pipes, its even his marzi if the young girl dies in her prime due to cancer; its even his greater marzi that Odhisa gets struck with a typhoon and the state escapes with minimal deaths. It’s not thanks to disaster management, but it’s his marzi that the stampede occurs in MP and 113 people lose their lives.

God, On behalf of us lesser mortals, I apologize to you. I am so sorry we have stopped taking onus for our faults, our own shortcomings but have started laying the blame on your doorstep. I know it’s a haloed one, and you just smile and take on everything but we need to sit up and take action. And not be complacent and smug and say its bhagwan Ki marzi. People dying, accidents happening, girls being born, all are our doing. We need to stop, giving you the blame.

Indians at a large have become lazy, ignorant to their advantage and also morally corrupt. The defense given here by us is that it has been carrying on for so long and due to media intervention it is being highlighted and sensationalized to achieve the target of maximum TRP’s. Life in short is a media circus along with projections.

I meet old, young , ordinary people of India of rural Punjab who all are smug and take what is happening to them as Bhagwan/ Rabb ki marzi. Punjab , right now faces an epidemic of substance and drug abuse but all we do say is its everywhere , and rabb di marzi that the youth got caught in it !

When are we going  to stop laying all the troubles on God’s door? And pick up our own backside and do something. God ji , I apologize and hope the next generation that believes in You as a face book page works and solves the mess we are in .

Yours truly,

A believer and who swears by Bhagwan Ki Marzi 

Dear God

Dear God,

 To keep it simple, I’m referring him as God, forget about how he is addressed by the rest of the 7.2 billion people that live on the planet with me. Also, to keep it really short, I am referring to Him as Him, we can discuss the feminist, the dual identity or the higher force later on. Till, then May the force be with you. In India, we all leave everything to Bhagwan.

It is his marzi if we survive, its his marzi if the nukkad wala uncle is beating his wife, its his marzi if the water is not coming in the pipes, its even his marzi if the young girl dies in her prime due to cancer; its even his greater marzi that Odhisa gets struck with a typhoon and the state escapes with minimal deaths. It’s not thanks to disaster management, but it’s his marzi that the stampede occurs in MP and 113 people lose their lives.

God, On behalf of us lesser mortals, I apologize to you. I am so sorry we have stopped taking onus for our faults, our own shortcomings but have started laying the blame on your doorstep. I know it’s a haloed one, and you just smile and take on everything but we need to sit up and take action. And not be complacent and smug and say its bhagwan Ki marzi. People dying, accidents happening, girls being born, all are our doing. We need to stop, giving you the blame.

Indians at a large have become lazy, ignorant to their advantage and also morally corrupt. The defense given here by us is that it has been carrying on for so long and due to media intervention it is being highlighted and sensationalized to achieve the target of maximum TRP’s. Life in short is a media circus along with projections.

I meet old, young , ordinary people of India of rural Punjab who all are smug and take what is happening to them as Bhagwan/ Rabb ki marzi. Punjab , right now faces an epidemic of substance and drug abuse but all we do say is its everywhere , and rabb di marzi that the youth got caught in it !

When are we going  to stop laying all the troubles on God’s door? And pick up our own backside and do something. God ji , I apologize and hope the next generation that believes in You as a face book page works and solves the mess we are in .

Yours truly,

A believer and who swears by Bhagwan Ki Marzi 

India and her tradtions

India, its traditions. Every girl is fed on a dream; they are fed on a dream of happily ever after. If they dream of love, there is an ever present threat of disdain, khap panchayat, frowned over by the society so a lot of them are fed with the dream of getting married to a tall fair handsome guy who is the answer to her romance and love.

My own village is a microcosm of the villages, which dot India. One such girl, Beero got married to a respectable guy in the neighboring city. The wedding was done with complete pomp and show, a palace, non-veg food, appropriate dowry and even furniture were given! Everything was happily ever after, till the girl was diagnosed with cancer. Also, like it happens in our country, every girl is meant to be fertile like a Goddess and her identity is stamped only and only if she bears a child and if that too a male child, well the doors of heaven open for her.

Beero, did everything right, she brought the dowry, got pregnant, bore a male child but she was diagnosed with cancer. What is her fault?

Beero got admitted to the local authorized cancer certified hospital that gets compensation from the chief minister’s relief fund and the drama unfolded.

What happens is worse than a horror story .. she is used ruthlessly to get the money that is compensated but is left on crossroads to die .Her in –laws have forsaken her because the breath she breathes will transmit cancer to them and to her own son. Her husband has got the money , and is looking for another wife to replenish the coffers once again. She , herself has been told that she will not live past this week.

Her mortal age right now, 26 years. What is justice? The average delay in cases is roughly 18 years. Why is that woman have to bear the traditions, the morality and the burden of the unwritten code of Manu?

I think , maybe we should not dream at all .