Coming home

When do you feel truly at home when you arrive back from vacation

Most of us can identify the exact time when we feel that we are on vacation. For some, it is the moment they put their seat belt on, waiting for the plane to take off for the next destination. For others, the holiday only truly begins when they have settled down in a taxi for the ride to their hotel, taking in the sights of a new city through a miasma of tiredness. And then, there are those who only feel that they are on vacation once they have unpacked their bags and had their first meal in their holiday spot of choice.

But my question today is a different one. Once your vacation is over and you are back in your own house, when do you feel that you have truly arrived home? 

Is it the moment you walk into the main door, set your bags down, and settle down with a sigh on that comfortable sofa that has taken on the shape of your derriere? Is it when you have unpacked all your clothes, set aside those that need to be laundered, taken out your toiletries and stored your luggage away? Is it when you eat your first home-cooked meal after days of eating out at restaurants and hotels? Is it when you take your first hot shower in your own bathroom, washing away the dust and grime of the homeward journey? Or is it when you finally change into a pair of freshly-washed and ironed pajamas and slip into your own bed, resting your head on a pillow that feels just right after all the too-soft or too-hard monstrosities you have been subjected to on your travels?

I know some people who are loath to even unpack their bags for days after a vacation, because they feel that the moment they do, the feeling that there are on holiday from real life will be over. But, speaking for myself, the sight of unpacked luggage always makes me feel slightly disorientated, as if I am suspended between two worlds – the real one in which I live and the vacation one where I go to get away from reality. So, as far as I am concerned, I only truly feel at home once the luggage has been unpacked and the bags hidden away where I can’t see them.

But it takes more than a home-cooked meal or a hot shower to make me truly feel at home. Even a good night’s sleep in my own bed doesn’t quite do the trick. In fact, I often find myself waking up in the early hours, slightly bewildered, thinking I am still in some hotel room – so much so, that it takes me a couple of moments to orient myself so that I can find the way to my own bathroom.

It is only the next morning, when I wake up to the weak rays of sunshine that come through my bedroom window, and gradually familiarize myself with my surroundings, that I feel truly at home. I linger beneath the bedsheets for a few precious moments longer so that I can savor the luxurious feeling of waking up in my own bed. And then, it’s on to the first cup of steaming hot coffee, the aroma that always spells home to me.

Train of thought

Planes may get the job done; but there is no denying the romance of train travel

I never realized how much I missed the charm of train travel until – after years of flying around the globe – I decided to experience the delights of the Italian rail system. Dragging our strollers behind us, my husband and I plunged into the chaotic depths of the railway station at Rome, looking for signage that would direct us to our platform. We settled down in our very comfortable seats, but as the train pulled into the countryside, I found myself overwhelmed by a strong sense of nostalgia.

Suddenly, the memories of train journeys past came strong and fast, even as the landscape turned more picturesque. I remembered the excitement I had felt as a child when we embarked on our annual trip to Assam to visit my aunt at her tea garden. There was a whole ritual attached to our departure from Howrah train station. I was allowed to buy four comic books from the stall at the station, my mother would stock up on magazines, my brother and sister would choose some thrillers or romances to keep them occupied. My father would pay for all of this, settle us down in our seats, and then stand outside the window chatting, until the train left the station. The sight of him growing smaller and smaller as the train pulled away is one of the core memories of my childhood. 

The train journey itself was magical to a child of six (or maybe seven) as I was then. A city girl, the sight of green countryside held me mesmerized. And I remember calling out excitedly to my mother, “Oh look, there’s a real-life farmer!” because I thought until then that farmers only existed in the storybooks that I read. It was only a few hours into the journey, that my mom and sister would crack open the enormous tiffin carrier we had packed to sustain us on the way. The enticing smell of puris and aloo subzi would fill the air, with the subtle aroma of mango pickle providing an added piquancy. And then, when it was time to sleep, the bedrolls (remember those?) would be unfurled with great flourish, and we would settle down on our allotted berths to read ourselves to sleep.

Those train journeys, however, soon became a thing of the past as air travel became more accessible and cheaper. And once I started life as a working professional, train travel fell completely out of favour, as planes got the job done so much quicker. Over time, I got so used to the convenience of air travel, that trains simply didn’t figure in my plans anymore. And even if someone did suggest taking a train somewhere nearby – like Jaipur or Chandigarh – it was simply more convenient to take a car (after all, you could then use it for intra-city travel as well).

But as I sat back in the train that was taking us from Rome to the Amalfi coast, feasting my eyes on the scenery unfolding before me, I realized what I had lost by giving up on train travel. Planes may get you from point A to point B quicker, but while you save time, you lose on the magic of the journey itself, the sense of wonder watching a country unfurl before you. You should try it.

A friend indeed?

 How to tell a toxic friend apart from the real thing

At a time when extended family ties appear to be fraying – if not disappearing altogether – nearly all of us have begun to rely on a network of friends to get through life. The young mom who is struggling with the school run leans on other mom friends. Older men and women bond with other retired folk who they meet on their morning walks in the park. Professionals who spend most of their time in office depend on work friendships, and so on.

It all works rather well – until it doesn’t. And just when you think that you have your support system all worked out, you end up being horribly let down by someone you considered a close friend. Almost all of us never see this coming, being blindsided by a sudden betrayal. But truth be told, the signs that you were nurturing a toxic relationship were always there – you just chose to ignore them.

So, here’s a handy primer as to how to tell your toxic friend apart from the real thing:

• A real friend is there for you at all times no matter what is going on in her life. But if she (or he) disappears on you the moment they enter a new relationship, make new friends, or even take up a new job, then the writing on the wall is crystal clear. You were only a convenience, a place-holder if you will, until she moved into a different orbit. Now you are in her rear-view mirror, moving further away all the time – and the sooner you move on the better.

• A real friend will make time for you. But if he (or she) constantly cancels on plans with you, sometimes at the last minute, then it is clear that your friendship is not a priority. If you are the one constantly reaching out, texting and calling, offering dates when you could meet, without any reciprocity, then it’s time to stop. Wait and watch to see if this absentee friend reaches out to you after a period of silence. If he doesn’t, then yes, you guessed it, move on.

• A true friendship involves give and take. You meet up with a friend to discuss work, family, children, and everything that keeps you awake at night. But if she (or he) is only interested in talking about herself and her life events and switches off completely when the conversation turns to your problems and issues, then yes, you are dealing with a toxic friend (though I am not even sure that you could call this person a friend). 

• Meeting a true friend leaves you feeling uplifted and light, as if all were right with the world. But if a friend deals out relentless negativity, if you feel worse about yourself and life in general after meeting him (or her), if you feel drained of energy after spending time together, well then, you have a toxic friend right there. You know what to do, don’t you?

Shhhh...Don't ask...

 Some questions are just too rude to be asked...

It’s been a while since this incident occurred but I still find myself thinking about it many years later. A colleague of mine (on the newspaper I then worked for) hung up on a phone interview with one of his sources, looking completely shell-shocked. On our asking what happened, he reluctantly shared the story. Apparently, once the interview was over and it was time for small talk, the man had asked my colleague, “Any children?” When my colleague responded in the negative, the comeback was swift: “Any problem?”

None of us could believe that anyone could be so crass as to respond to a virtual stranger like that and yet these kinds of intrusive, bordering-on-rude questions are par for the course in India, where nobody seems to recognize personal boundaries of any kind. Most commonly, relatives will ask young women (and men – though it’s mostly women) why they are not married yet – adding that if they leave it too late, they may not get to snag a husband at all. Those who are married will be asked when they mean to start procreating (“Get a move on if you want two kids; you are not getting any younger, you know”). And so on.

The worst part of these encounters is that the people asking these questions don’t think that they are doing anything wrong. In their minds, this is normal social discourse. And, in any case, they are only asking this stuff because they care. 

Well, I am here this week to assure them that they are totally wrong. And that there are some questions that should never be asked in polite company – no matter how close you are to the person you are addressing these queries to. And for the benefit of these Nosey Parkers, here’s a ready reckoner of questions that are best left unasked.

• Fertility issues: I would have thought this was a no-brainer – and I guess it is, in the sense that only people with no brains ask questions like, “When are going to give us some good news?” or “Isn’t it time Junior became a Big Brother?” The truth is that nobody knows what fertility issues a couple may or may not be facing in their marriage. And frankly, it is nobody else’s business, anyway.

• Questions about medical conditions: The same goes for other medical conditions. So, if you find yourself in a doctor’s waiting room, don’t turn to the person on the right to ask what they are in for. It is not your concern. If someone announces that they have been diagnosed with cancer, don’t follow-up with questions about what sort of cancer it is and what the prognosis might be. If they want to share something with you, they will do so of their own volition.

• Financial matters: Money is a sensitive topic for everyone so it is good manners to tip-toe around the issue as much as possible. Don’t ask anyone what they salary is; what they pay for rent; how much their last holiday cost; or how much their new piece of jewelry set them back.

• Personal appearances: And while you are at, please cease and desist with all those personal comments. If you must say something, tell people how great they look – not that they have lost/gained too much weight.

Best buys

Some purchases have the power to change your life

I know that book snobs will excoriate me for this, but I have to admit that investing in a Kindle changed my life. No longer did I have to weigh down my suitcase with heavy books when I travelled. Nor did I have to wait till I went abroad to buy some of my favourite titles. And most important of all, I could read easily no matter how low the light. Since those early days I have moved on from the physical Kindle to the app on my phone and Ipad and it has been a complete game changer as well.

That started me thinking of the purchases that have the ability to completely transform your life, in both big ways and small. And thinking back over the last decade, I realized these are the principal ones that have made a difference in mine.

• The Dyson air wrap: I thought long and hard before making this purchase, being deterred by the high cost. But I finally bit the bullet during the Pandemic when going for a blow-out to the hairdresser was no longer an option. And six years later, that investment has more than paid off. I no longer need the services of a hairstylist no matter where in the world I am (yes, my airwrap has a permanent spot in my suitcase). And, if some of my more critical friends are to be believed, the Dyson does a better job with my curls than any hair salon. (And no, this is not a paid post!)

• The water flosser: I have always been a reluctant flosser. I am happy to brush my teeth multiple times a day but flossing is something I have always seen as something of a palaver. That was, however, before my dentist recommended using a water flosser. I bought one with minimal expectations and had buyer’s regret the first time I used it and the water went everywhere. But after a couple of days practice in the shower (don’t ask!) I finally got the hang of it. And since then, I have never looked back – and my teeth have never looked better.

• Nespresso coffee machine: After decades of buying beans, roasting and grinding them, and using a French press, my life was transformed when a friend gifted me a Nespresso coffee machine, with a sleeve of coffee capsules to start me off. All I needed to do every morning was to fill the machine with water, insert a capsule, and push a button to get the perfect cup of coffee. And yes, the Nespresso capsules were prohibitively expensive but with so many good Indian variations in the market, it was easy to make the switch.

• Mattress topper: With a chronic back problem (after a bad fall down the stairs a few decades ago) I have long struggled to find a mattress that meets my requirements. No matter which one I chose, it was either too hard or too soft, and my back complained incessantly. That was before I stumbled on an advertisement for a mattress topper. I bought it with some skepticism but was an immediate convert, having slept through the night without a single niggling pain. Who knew that a topper was the top tip to get a good night’s sleep?

Give peace a chance

 That way, you can finally be happy with the world and yourself

They say that true happiness lies within each of us. And it is up to us to access it with our own efforts. So, we shouldn’t depend on other people to make us happy; instead, we should dig deep to access our own happiness. Well, over the years, I have discovered that the same is true of peace. You cannot depend on the people around you to preserve your peace; you have to safeguard it yourself.

And, as I grow older, I find that I treasure peace over happiness. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that peace and happiness have converged into one emotion in my life. I am only truly happy when I am at peace with the world and myself. And I am only truly peaceful when I am happy with the world and myself.

So, my priority these days is to safeguard my peace so that I can be happy (and vice versa). And these are just some of the ways in which I endeavour to do so:

• There is a cartoon I saw a few years ago that left quite an impression on me. A woman wakes up at 3 am to see her husband typing furiously on the computer. What’s wrong, she asks. Nothing’s wrong, he says, it’s just that somebody is being wrong on the Internet…Well, I laughed at that, but it also made me pause and promise myself that I would never be that man ever again. People can be wrong on the Internet for as long as they want. I won’t be logging in to correct them ever. Being peaceful, I have decided, is more important than being correct.

• What’s true of the Internet is true of real life as well. I no longer get into arguments with friends and family about anything from politics to religion to which is the best way to cook a biryani. The way I look at it, anyone else’s opinion on anything is none of my business. They are welcome to look at the world on their own terms; and I will content myself with looking at the world from my own unique perspective. And who is to say that either of us is wrong or right? It's all a matter of perspective, right?

• While conflict avoidance is all well and good, it is also important to excise negative people and negative energies from your life. If you find that a friend is constantly draining your energy with his negativity, then the hard truth is that you would be better off without that person in your life. If a family member is bringing you down with constant criticism and carping, then you would benefit from going no-contact for a while. People pleasing should not come at the cost of your own mental health.

• Last of all, don’t ever forget the power of a simple ‘no’ when it comes to preserving your peace. The day you refuse to let social pressure force you into saying yes when you mean no, is the day that you finally attain peace. And, as I have discovered, with true peace comes true happiness. 

Checking in...

Never mind the chit chat; just let me get to my hotel room quickly

No matter how basic or fancy the hotel you stay at, the odds are that you will interact with the staff the most on two occasions. One, when you check in; and two, when you check out. Other than that, most guests have minimal interaction with hotel staff these days. The key cards are electronic so you don’t need to go to reception to pick up your key. Housekeeping cleans the room when you are out and about. And so on.

Which is why it is imperative that hotels get their check in and check out routines just right. You would think that would be easy. But you would be surprised at how many of them fail the test. Well, in my book, at least. 

Let’s just deal with the check-in experience this week. We will talk about check-out routines another week.

First off, there is the patter. From the time you get out of your car to the time you reach your room, you will be asked the same question by every member of staff you encounter. “How was your journey?” they will trill cheerily. The truth is that none of us want to dwell on our ‘journey’ which probably involved an overnight layover at an airport and then several hours cooped up in a steel tube hurtling through the air. We just want to forget that whole nightmarish experience and get on with our holiday. So, reminding us of our travails serves no purpose.

Instead, hotel staff would do much better if they appreciate that when we enter the hotel we want to look forward not back. So, how about a greeting that says, “Welcome to our city. We are so looking forward to hosting you.” Something along those lines would make us feel welcome and put us in a better frame of mind than being asked incessantly about our flights, trains, road trips, etc.

But even this kind of interrogation is better than being greeted by, “Hello, madam, how are you today? You look very tired!” Really? No kidding. I’ve just spent a sleepless night on an uncomfortable airplane seat, eating execrable re-heated food. So, I guess I do look tired; but thanks very much for pointing that out. I would never have known otherwise.

No matter how tired you look, though, it will not stop hotel staff from offering you a property tour the moment you have checked in. This is the dining room, where we serve breakfast every morning. This is the outdoor pool; and that’s the gym at the end of the corridor (it has a steam and sauna as well). This is our specialty restaurant; can we make a booking for you on any night of your stay? Would you like to check out the bar before you head to your room? They make a mean Negroni.

No, I always want to answer, I want to do none of that. I just want to head to my room, use the loo, brush my teeth, have a hot shower, and slip into my pajamas. Your property tour can wait until I feel human again. 

Of course, I say nothing of the sort. I just nod politely and think longingly of the bed awaiting me upstairs, praying that I will get there sooner rather than later.

Are you on the pen?

Then chances are high that you will be Ozempic shamed soon

It first happened a few months ago, when I was at a party. A group of us were standing around and chatting when a lady of our acquaintance entered the room. Everyone smiled and waved but the moment she moved out of earshot, the whispers began. “She’s lost so much weight; she must be on the jab!” “Have you seen how gaunt she is looking? It’s all those injections!” 

And that’s how I was introduced to this new society phenomenon: Ozempic shaming. This occurs whenever a person who has been a little portly suddenly turns up looking suspiciously slim. They may swear that they’ve just been eating sensibly and working out to knock off the extra pounds. But the society aunties – and uncles, this is a gender-neutral game – will jump straight to Ozempic (or, more recently, Mounjaro) shaming. Oh, they will exclaim airily, there is no way he/she has lost all that way without some help from the pharmaceutical sector. 

The judgement, of course, comes with a side order of moral superiority. The Ozempic users, or so the shamers sneer, simply don’t have the will power to lose their weight the old-fashioned way. It is too much trouble to eat less and exercise more; so these lazy lay-abouts just jab themselves in the stomach once a week and let the GLP 1 inhibitors do their work. After all, why bother with endless gym sessions and cabbage soup diets when modern medicine has handed us a short-cut to slimness?

This kind of judgmental snippiness is becoming all too common as the use of GLP 1 drugs increases in India. But what the people who are making all these moral judgements about what is essentially a medical intervention, do not realize is that tackling obesity is not as simple as calculating food deficits and working out in the gym. On the contrary, obesity is a complicated medical issue that only qualified medical professionals can tackle, not jumped up ‘fitness influencers’ and ‘gym bros’. And sometimes to tackle these medical issues, medicines are necessary. Just as those with high blood pressure need medical help so do people with obesity.

Amidst all this sneering, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that these GLP 1 drugs are medicines that have a great effect on your overall health. They control sugar levels in diabetic patients (for whom these drugs were designed in the first place). They improve cardiovascular health in people with heart problems. They help bring down your cholesterol and improve the health of your liver. They reduce the desire to smoke and drink, and help those with drug addictions as well. And now there is some evidence to suggest that may help with inflammatory diseases too. 

Sure, there are some people who are using these drugs to bring about a cosmetic improvement in their appearance. But that fact does not change the essential nature of the drugs in question – or the benefits they bring to those that need them. So, when you Ozempic shame someone who is on them, what you are really indulging in is a bit of old-fashioned fat-shaming. It may be framed differently, but the moral judgement hits just the same. 

And those that delight in shaming other people are pretty shameful themselves.

Native blooms

Yes, tulips are not Indian; but then, nor are marigolds

Every spring, over the last few years, Delhi comes ablaze with tulips of every colour. While these appear in many traffic roundabouts and city parks, the most impressive display is along Shanti Path in Chanakyapuri. Here the long boulevard is lined with tulips that are so stunning that there is always a little crowd gathered around photographing them from every angle. 

I joined this crowd a couple of days ago, and was recounting how amazing the display was to a group of friends, and encouraging them to visit while they lasted (tulips have an amazingly short shelf life). While everyone else was open to the idea, one lady wasn’t at all impressed. “Tulips,” she snorted. “Why tulips? They are a foreign flower. This is not Amsterdam. This is Delhi. And we should be planting local flowers like marigolds!”

Marigolds? Well, okay. But did she know that marigolds were not native to India either? They are originally from Mexico and had been imported to India in the 16th century by Portuguese and Spanish traders. 

Impossible, she said. The marigold was an Indian flower. They were an integral part of Hindu pujas and had been used to decorate temples since time immemorial. Yes, I countered, the marigold had become an integral part of our puja rituals over the years – but only since they were introduced to India in the 16th century. 

It was only when I summoned up Google to substantiate my case, did she concede the point – though with very bad grace. The conversation then moved on to other less contentious topics but it left me wondering about how many things we regard as indigenous when they actually came to India from elsewhere a few centuries ago.

As a Punjabi, I grew up loving my rajma-chawal and makki di roti and sarson da saag combines, and regarded them as dishes of an ancient origin. Imagine my surprise when I grew up to find out that rajma was introduced to India (again from Mexico/Central America) in the 17th century. And that it only became a staple dish in the late 19th or early 20th century. The tomato that is integral to its taste was brought to India only in the 16th century; before that all Indians used things like tamarind and yoghurt as souring agents in dishes. Similarly, there was no makki di roti in ancient times. Corn was brought in from south America in the 16th century but it wasn’t until the 19th century that makki di roti became a staple of Punjabi cooking. 

I am sure if I were to point out these inconvenient facts to proud Punjabis they would be up in arms about my dissing their ancient culinary tradition. But the fact is that even up until the end of the 18th century, rajma and makki di roti did not exist in this country. But that’s not to say that these things are not regarded as quintessentially Punjabi now. 

In fact, that is how the world evolves. Things that came in from abroad are absorbed into the local culture so smoothly and seamlessly over time that they become Indian in due course. So, who knows, maybe 100 years down the line, the tulip will regarded as an Indian flower as well – just as the marigold is today! 

The eight hour rule

Some tricks to make sure you sleep through the night

I have never understood those people who spend their time boasting about how they get by on three or four hours of sleep every night. Oh, they announce airily, we simply can’t stay asleep for longer than that; and frankly, anything more than that seems like a waste of time. They then pause dramatically so that their listeners can coo admiringly at them and exclaim how lucky they are.

Well, I must confess that I always keep schtum in such situations because I simply can’t fathom how anyone can get by without at least seven – if not eight – hours of slumber. And over the years, as insomnia has discovered me, I have perfected the art of getting in the requisite hours of rest every night. These are just some of the tricks I have adopted, if you would like to follow suit.

• No TVs in the bedroom. That is a hard and fast rule that I always abide by. Not just in my own home, but even when I am travelling. If my hotel room has a TV facing the bed, it remains resolutely off. If I am staying with family and the guest room has a TV, I make sure I disconnect it to remove all temptation. That way, there is no chance that I will get absorbed in a series I am watching and stay up till the wee hours of the morning, waking up sleep-deprived and bleary-eyed the next day.

• Beds should be phone-free zones. I haven’t always followed this rule. In fact, for many years, I used my phone as an alarm clock to wake me up every morning. But I knew that had to stop when I found myself reaching out for in the dead of night to scroll through Instagram or read a story on some news site. The truth is that a phone within arm’s reach is always a distraction – and one that actively interferes with sleep. So, you are best advised to leave it in the living room to charge when you retire to bed.

• Read yourself to sleep. There is a catch to this. Don’t use a tablet or a Kindle last thing at night, because the screen light can be disruptive to your sleep. Instead, use this time to read a physical book. But not just any book. If you choose a spy thriller or murder mystery there is a good chance that you will stay up till late because you simply must find out what happened next. So, choose a non-fiction book – a history tome, a biography or autobiography – which allows you to disengage in good time.

• Pop a pill. No, I don’t mean a sleeping pill; that is not a long-term solution. Instead, take a supplement that will help you get a good night’s sleep. In my case, what has worked like magic is taking a tablet of magnesium glycinate before I turn the lights out. Not only do I get eight hours of uninterrupted slumber, as a bonus the leg cramps I suffered from every night are gone as well.   

Remains of the day

 My very own anti-Valentine Day's guide

It’s a fortnight to Valentine’s Day as I sit down to write this. And my inbox is already inundated with messages about special V Day dinners, discounts on designer stores, offers to buy overpriced flowers and the like. This happens like clockwork every year; and it drives me mental every time.

So, this time I decided to devise my own anti-Valentine guide for those of us who choose not to celebrate with exorbitant tat and overpriced restaurant meals. Here is what you can do instead, in no particular order of importance.

• Instead of spending an insane amount of money ordering roses for your significant other – prices tend to multiply around this time – on this day, do something far more thoughtful. Spend a little more and put in a standing order of a nice bouquet to be delivered to her/him every week. That way, you can express your love the entire year around; not just on one arbitrary day. And as a bonus, your home with have fresh flowers all year.

• Booking a nice dinner and getting all togged up to go out is all very well. But it doesn’t stand up to the commitment involved in planning a three-course meal at home, featuring all the favourite dishes of your partner. Splash out on an expensive champagne, secure in the knowledge that it will still cost less than that overpriced wine at the restaurant. And the best part of this is that you can simply slope off to bed after – no hanging around waiting for an Uber.

• If you are into buying gifts then don’t restrict yourself to such twee options as chocolates and strawberries. Invest in something more meaningful. Sign up for a cookery or pottery class that the two of you can do together. Gift yourselves a spa day so that you can relax together after a nice couple’s massage. Or plan something completely out of your comfort zone – like a trekking or rock-climbing adventure – to keep things lively.

• Do something that indicates that you have been paying attention to your partner. If they love art, organize a museum tour for them. If they are foodies, then a guided food walk will hit the spot. If they love the outdoors, then take them on a picnic in the most scenic spot you can find. But whatever you do, choose something that makes them feel seen.

• Most importantly, use this occasion to recalibrate your relationship. Make a pact to go out on your own – no kids, no parents, no friends – at least once a week. Have a digital detox for a couple of hours around dinner time at home every day, so that you can completely disconnect and just focus on each other. Take a pledge to do one thoughtful thing for the other person every day. Promise to take mini-breaks with each other to keep the relationship fresh and make new, happy memories. This way, you won’t just celebrating love on one particular day – but all through the year.

End of an era...

When life is no longer a walk in the park

Regular readers of this column will be familiar with my love of Sunder Nursery – given how much I have rhapsodized about it over the years. It was my lifeline during the Covid years, when the open space and verdant green provided a respite to being cooped up at home. It helped that it had yet to be discovered by most Delhi folks, so there was no overcrowding and it was possible to walk for an hour and not be unduly disturbed by other people. 

In the years since then, of course, the nature of Sunder Nursery changed, slowly but surely. Not only did more Delhiites discover its charms, making it picnic central during the winter months, but more and more events began to be organized there, which increased the footfall tremendously. Like all ‘regulars’ at some place which has now become too popular, I was a little sad about having my own little slice of heaven invaded by the marauding hordes visiting exhibitions, attending dance recitals and the like. But I consoled myself with the thought that at least more people were becoming acquainted with the park – and that could only be a good thing.

Well, my experience last week made me change my mind. It was a rare sunny afternoon in Delhi, so my husband and I decided to head out to lunch at Manish Mehrotra’s new restaurant, Nisaba, in the Sunder Nursery complex. The ride from our home to the park usually takes no more than 20 minutes but this time it took more than an hour. Partly it was that Delhi Police, in its wisdom (sarcasm alert) had decided to barricade one of the main roads leading to Sunder Nursery so everyone had to take a long detour to get there. But mostly it was that the footfall was so great – and the number of cars so large – that it was a nightmare even getting to the entrance. In fact, such was the over-crowding that all the parking slots were full, and everyone had to abandon their cars and trudge along to their destination. 

I arrived there to discover that the Sunder Nursery I knew and loved had disappeared; it had been invaded by a heaving mass of humanity who had no inhibitions about shoving and pushing to get ahead of the crowd. Some of these people were there to visit Humayun’s Museum (part of the same complex), others were waiting for tables to open up at the various outlets in the restaurant hub downstairs, and yet others were just struggling to get into the park itself to enjoy a bit of sun.

We finally made it to our table, a good 40 minutes late, and had an excellent meal. But that is probably the last time I will be making that trek. Sadly, I have to admit that the Sunder Nursery I cherished as my personal haven is long gone. In its place, is a vast commercial enterprise, where every square inch of the space has been monetized without much regard to how it will spoil the ambience of the gardens.

So, I guess I have to find another park for my perambulations from now on. But I won’t be writing about my new haunt, having learnt the hard way that it is important to gatekeep some things. Wish me luck!

Diet bores

 There is nothing more tedious than someone banging on and on about their diets

It is a truth universally acknowledged that January is the month when everyone begins to regret their excesses over the Christmas-New Year period. And as surely as night follows day, those periods of extreme feasting are followed by rigorous fasting. Which is just a fancy way of saying that January finds almost everyone following some sort of diet regime to get back into shape (or, at the very least, into the trousers they were happily wearing until November of the previous year!).

So, like everyone else on this planet, these days I find myself surrounded by people who are not only on a diet, but are prone to aggressively announcing their new eating plans, with the unspoken assumption that I am the only Greedy Gretel, who is still stuffing her face at the beginning of the New Year. Honestly, there is nothing more annoying than the self-satisfaction of these dieters as they munch on lettuce while looking superior when I order a burger and fries.

Sadly, there are as many types of dieters as there are diets these days; and each one of them is annoying in their own peculiar way. Allow me the luxury of listing just some of them:

• First up is the no-gluten, no-dairy brigade. Members of this group turn up at a restaurant – or, God forbid, your home – with a list of items that they are simply not allowed to eat. Then, follows an entirely joyless meal in which they pick at their food listlessly, while everyone else feels vaguely guilty about enjoying their own deep-fried delights. More often than not, their resolution breaks by the time dessert comes around. Then, having virtuously turned down every fattening offer, they order the most calorific thing on the menu, which has every ingredient they just proudly announced that they have renounced. Er, sorry, what happened to that no-gluten, no-lactose rule? And no, a sheepish look is not a good answer.

• Far worse are those dieters who seem to think that calories don’t count if they eat them off someone else’s plate. These are probably the most irritating people to share a restaurant meal with. They will order salad (dressing on the side, obviously) and then steal the French fries you ordered, while sneaking bits of someone else’s pizza or pakoras for good measure. They will put on a saintly expression as they refuse dessert. And then – yes, you guessed it – it will be open season on everyone else’s pudding. Honestly, darling, who do you think you’re kidding?

• And then, there are the Diet Bores. You know the ones I am talking about. Yes, those people whose only conversation is about the calorific value of every dish, the benefits of every diet they have ever been on – all the way from Atkins to the Zone diet, taking in General Motors along the way – and how much weight they have lost on each of them. Tellingly, they never tell you how much weight they put back on; or they wouldn’t need to be on another diet in the first place, right? And that, quite frankly, tells me all I need to know about diets – and dieters.

A mouthful of nostalgia

Some tastes only exist in our memory

As I have said many times before in this column, the Christmas-New Year period in Calcutta – where I grew up – is truly magical. So, this year, my husband and I decided to bring in the New Year in the city of my birth – and the city in which we first met. The idea was to enjoy the lights of Park Street, make a pilgrimage to Botanical Gardens, and relive memories of our youth.

But it was in pursuit of a childhood memory that I decided to venture out to some nearby mishti dokans to buy the favourite sweet of my growing-up years: the gaja. But no matter where I went, the shop assistants informed me (with a certain grim satisfaction) that they no longer made gaja. Undeterred, I asked some local friends for help and they very graciously tracked down some shops that still made gaja and sent it to me. Sadly, though the sweets were tasty enough, they were nothing like the gaja of my childhood.

I happened to mention this when I visited my childhood friend, Kavita Walia, and she very kindly sent out for the gaja from the same shop that I used to frequent in my early years. Back at my hotel, I very excitedly opened the packet and took a peek inside. Oh yes, this looked exactly like what I had been dreaming of. The dream crumbled, however, when I had my first bite. Don’t get me wrong. It was delicious. But, sadly, it was not the gaja I remembered from my childhood.

This whole experience got me thinking. Could it be that some tastes only exist in our memory? And that no matter how much we try and recreate them later in life, we can never get it quite right? Or is it just nostalgia we are tasting in our minds; and that is impossible to replicate in real life? In other words, was I just imagining that the taste of the gaja was different so many years ago, because my mind had imbued that childhood memory with magical qualities?

Another childhood taste memory that I have tried to recreate – without much success – is the shredded coconut ‘cake’ that my mother used to make to celebrate Lord Krishna’s birthday on Janmashtami. This was truly a labour of love, with the coconut being freshly shredded, then cooked with lashings of sugar syrup, and set to cool in a circular bowl so that it looked like a cake, which would then be ceremonially cut and distributed as prasad at midnight. I can still taste the unctuous sweetness of the sugar, the crunchy chewiness of the coconut, which came together to create a taste bomb that we kids couldn’t get enough of.

A few years ago, on Janmashtami, I decided to pay tribute to my mother’s memory and recreate her special ‘cake’ for Krishnaji. I following her recipe as closely as I could, and sat back impatiently, as the coconut cooled in a round dish. When it had set, I cut out a slice and took my first bite. It tasted great; but it simply wasn’t the cake I remembered from my childhood.

So, I guess some tastes do exist only in our minds; and the only way to enjoy them is to use our own imagination. 

Giving thanks

 The best way to do so is keep a 'gratitude journal'

I have written in earlier columns about the importance of keeping a ‘gratitude journal’, in which you can write down all that you are grateful for at the end of every day. It is, I believe, a good way of keeping a positive perspective on life because no matter how badly things may be going, it is always possible to find glimmers of joy in every single day. It could be in the birdsong that you hear on your daily walk; it could be the dimpled smile of a bouncing baby you encounter in the market; or even a passage from a book that you are reading. But if you are actively seeking out moments of joy in life, moments to be truly grateful for, you will always find them.

It is in that spirit that I have decided to compile my own year-end version of the ‘gratitude list’. So, here, in no particular order of importance, are the things that I have been grateful for this year.

• Early this year, a respiratory tract infection triggered my asthma after many years of it being in remission. I spent weeks struggling to breathe, pumped full of antibiotics and steroids, spending sleepless nights because I couldn’t lay prone without triggering a coughing fit. Ever since, the asthma has never quite gone away, and now, thanks to Delhi pollution, it is worse than ever. So, why is this one my gratitude list, you ask? Well, because if I had been born a couple of centuries ago, without recourse to the wonders of modern medicine, I would probably be dead by now. So, being alive and being able to breathe – albeit with difficulty – is kind of a miracle, and something to be truly grateful for. 

• A few months ago, a college mate of mine set up a Whatsapp group for the English Honours batch we were part of in Loreto College (Calcutta). I duly signed up and so did many others of my batch, from as far afield as America and Canada. I can’t begin to describe the giddy delight we all experienced as after many decades apart, we began posting about our current lives, our memories of college life, our experiences with our professors, and so on. The best part, of course, were those grainy photos that popped up intermittently, as we went through our photo albums from our college days. But while the photos may have been faded, the memories they evoked were as fresh as ever. Reconnection is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

• And last but not the least, this was the year when one of my most cherished dreams came to fruition. Ever since I read Tracy Chevalier’s masterful book, Girl With A Pearl Earring, I have been burning up with a desire to see the Vermeer painting that inspired it. I made many plans over the years but for one reason or another, they fell through. But 2025 proved to be my lucky year, when my husband organized a trip to the Mauritshuis Museum in the Hague to coincide with my birthday. As I stood there mesmerized in front of the canvas, I felt truly grateful – not just for the genius of Vermeer but for my privilege in being able to witness it.

No time like the present...

 To think of the perfect Christmas gift

The older I grow, the more disenchanted I become with possessions. The truth is that like most others of my age, I have accumulated so much stuff over the decades, that I have quite lost the taste for buying anything else. So, when it comes to birthdays and anniversaries my only request to my family and friends is not to buy me any more stuff but to gift me with experiences that they know I would enjoy.

It is in that spirit that I come to you today with advice on what to buy your loved ones for Christmas, which is right around the corner. Steer clear of shiny baubles, bad-taste jumpers, or endless varieties of cakes and pastries. Instead, put your thinking caps on and come up with experiences that you can treat your friends and family to as a Christmas surprise.

To get you going, here are some ideas, off the top of my head:

• Christmas Eve dinner or Christmas Day lunch can sometimes be the most traumatic thing about the festival. Catering to a large number of individuals with varying tastes is not for the faint of heart. So, why not take the sting out of this enterprise for your chosen recipient by booking the services of a young chef (or catering service) who can come and complete this task for them in their own kitchen? This way, the host/hostess can truly enter into the Christmas spirit thanks to your genius gift idea.

• Gifting someone a spa certificate or a gift card to a bookshop is all very well, but why not push the boat out this Christmas? If your cousin is interested in food, gift her a guided food walk through the streets of Old Delhi. If your bestie is into drama or music buy him tickets for a play you think he will enjoy or book him into a musical performance by one of the many wonderful Christmas choirs who perform around this time. If you are willing to break the bank, you may even be able to organize a performance for your musically-inclined friends in the privacy of their homes (while the chef you booked cooks up a delicious meal).

• If you live in Delhi, the odds are that there are innumerable monuments you have never seen in the city because you keep thinking you will get around to visiting them one day. Don’t let your friends or family members procrastinate on this score any longer. Book them guided tours with well-versed guides to the places they have never been. If you are feeling particularly generous pack them an exciting picnic basket to take along. They are guaranteed to have the best time ever.

• The best experience you can offer parents of young children is, of course, the gift of time together. So, offer to take the kids off their hands for an afternoon or an evening so that they can spend some quality time together, while you have a blast with the young ones, secure in the knowledge that at the end of the day, you can hand them right back. 

Take a deep breath...

 And head out for an 'aircation'

This is the time of year when people’s mind veer inexorably towards thoughts of a vacation. Not just because the year-end is around the corner but also because almost every Indian city is surrounded by a miasma of polluted air. And the only way to escape it is to travel to a destination where the AQI is in double figures. If you’re among those looking for not just a vacation but an aircation, then here’s a handy list of places where you can head. 

I know, I know, everyone tends to gravitate towards Goa at this time of year. But frankly, I find it overrated as a holiday spot. The flights are insanely expensive, the hotels are overpriced and don’t even get me started on the taxi mafia which makes life miserable for all visitors. You are much better off heading to Vietnam, where you can enjoy a luxury holiday (and much better food) at a fraction of the price. Both Saigon and Hanoi are great cities to explore, and when you tire of the urban life, you can head for such beach destinations as Phu Quoc and Nha Trang. If you want something further off the beaten track, head for Con Dao Island or Ninh Van Bay.

Thailand is another good option though Bangkok has probably been done and dusted by most people. Instead, take a direct flight to Phuket or Krabi to enjoy a beach holiday. Islands like Koh Samui need a connecting flight but are well worth the effort. And if its mountain air rather than beaches that you are looking for, then you can’t go wrong with Chiang Mai or Chiang Rai. The food is amazing, the hotels are good value, and nobody has even heard of an air purifier.

If you are looking for a country that has a little bit of everything, then you simply can’t go wrong with Sri Lanka. There are seaside destinations with the most pristine of beaches; there are hill resorts that haven’t been overdeveloped to within an inch of their lives; there are rolling tea estates with verdant green as far as the eye can see; and there are temple towns galore. And no matter where you go, there is clean air. 

Bhutan is another option for those looking to take a breather (quite literally). You can explore the capital city of Thimpu; visit Punakha Dzong to visit the Palace of Great Happiness; trek to the Tiger’s Nest monastery or simply drive to the Dochula or Chele La pass to enjoy the breathtaking (there I go again!) scenery.

If you want to stay within the boundaries of India, then your best bet is to travel to the south. Such hill stations as Ooty (Tamil Nadu) and Wayanad (Kerala) have an AQI that doesn’t go above the 20s. The North East is similarly blessed with clean air all across, whether it is Sikkim, Meghalaya or Arunachal Pradesh you visit. You can go hiking, white water rafting, or simply enjoy the sight of stunning blue skies which are such a rarity in north India.

But remember, once you come back, it will be hermetically sealed rooms and air purifiers running all day once again. So, make the most of your aircation – your lungs will thank you for it.

It's all relative

Who do you call aunt and uncle? It all depends where you come from

What do you call the cousin of your father? I only ask because Zohran Mamdani (who will probably be New York mayor by the time you read this) was accused of being a liar when he referred to his father’s cousin as his aunt. According to Mamdani, his Fui (paternal aunt) was so scared of the Islamophobia rampant in NY after 9/11 that she stopped taking the subway for fear of being targeted for her hijab. 

Whatever you may think about Mamdani focusing on his aunt’s transportation woes after one of the most horrific terror attacks on American soil (if you ask me, I think it was a grievous error and minimized the suffering of those who lost their loved ones in the attack), there is no denying that Muslims were targeted by bigots in the aftermath of 9/11. But strangely, it was not the substance of Mamdani’s statement that drew the most flak. Instead, most people focused on the fact that neither of his father’s sisters wore a hijab, or indeed, lived in New York. When Mamdani clarified that he had been referring to his father’s cousin, the criticism grew even louder.

Who calls their father’s cousin their aunt, the chorus of opprobrium went. Well, the answer to that was very simple: every brown person.

Whether you live in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, or indeed, Uganda, if you are of South Asian heritage, then you refer to your father and mother’s cousins as aunts and uncles. Not just that, you have specific names for these aunts and uncles, depending on how you are related to them (Masi/Masad; Fui/Fua; Tai/Taya; Chachi/Chacha; Mami/Mama). It doesn’t really matter how far removed these cousins may be, they are still regarded as aunts and uncles. Nobody would dream of calling them cousins or even Bhaiyya and Didi.

Speaking of cousins, I wonder how the white world will react when they discover the peculiar sub-continental nomenclature of ‘cousin brother’ and ‘cousin sister’, which is how we refer to the children of our aunts and uncles. That’s when we are not simply calling them ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ and using the terms ‘real brother’ and ‘real sister’ to distinguish our siblings from them. 

In my own family, like in millions of others, I am Masi and Bua to the children of both my siblings and my cousins. And now that my nieces and nephews have begun procreating, I am happy to answer to ‘Nani’ even though technically I am a grandaunt rather than a grandmother. That’s the way it’s always been in Indian families, and that’s the way it will remain for generations to come. 

And why should it change? Why should we be expected to follow Western constructs when it comes to our own definition of family? Why should we surrender the concept of the Great Indian Extended Family to some Western concept of degrees of consanguinity? One of the most admirable things about Indian society is the strength of our family bonds – which are not restricted to the nuclear family unit but to a larger family that provides us with a sense of community. 

So, let’s not allow the carping critics from the West tell us how to address our father’s (and mother’s) cousins. Aunts and uncles they are; and aunts and uncles they always will be.

Winter is coming...

And it's time to prepare for industrial levels of pollution

In more innocent times, the arrival of winter – signaled by that early-morning or late-night nip in the air – was something to be celebrated. In my childhood home, it meant that the razais, sweaters, coats, etc. that had been packed away with mothballs, would be disinterred ceremonially and laid out in the afternoon sunshine to get an ‘airing’. My favourite activity as a child used to be to roll around on my mother’s velvet jackets to enjoy the luxurious feel of the fabric.

These days, however, the arrival of winter (especially in Delhi where I now live) has become something to be dreaded rather than celebrated – given that it brings eye-watering (quite literally) levels of pollution with it. So, preparing for the winter has taken on a slightly desperate edge as we deal with apocalyptic levels of bad air. Sure, we still spend time sunning our shawls and overcoats so that they lose that slightly musty odor, but along with that there is a military-style effort to save ourselves from the foul air that we are forced to breathe at this time of year.

There are some lucky people who have the time and resources to plan what I like to call an aircation (i.e. a vacation to a place that has breathable air). And sometimes I am fortunate enough to be of their number, escaping for a week/fortnight to a nice hill station or beach either in India or abroad. But the thing about aircations is that – much like vacations – they come to an end sooner rather than later. And one fine day, you find yourself back at home, breathing in the same noxious air that you had escaped from. 

So, what’s a girl to do. Well, let me count the ways.

First up, invest in good air purifiers. Over the last few years I have built up quite a collection, and I now have them running in every room of the house. But before the air pollution season starts, I make sure to clean the filters thoroughly and replace the ones that have clearly given up the ghost. It is not feasible to stay indoors all the time, but I find that my asthma gets less aggravated the longer I spend huddled next to my air purifiers. So, it makes sense to spend good money on these, rather than endless visits to the doctor.

The other thing that has become an essential in the Delhi winter is the nebulizer. Even if you are a completely healthy adult, you will experience some breathing problems during this season. And the problems will be even worse when it comes to young children and older adults in your household. So, it makes sense to have a nebulizer at home, ready to do service the moment anyone at home begins to find it hard to breathe.

One other way of trying to improve the air in your home is to buy some plants that are most effective at purifying indoor air. Spider plant and snake plant are supposed to be the best at this. Others that can do the same trick are money plant, peace lily, or even the areca palm.

Of course, there is no guarantee that these tips will keep you well all winter. But, at least, it won’t be for lack of trying.

Eom