When things go wrong...

 Try these trusted remedies to get you through

It happens to all of us at one time or another. Everything around us seems to be going wrong. The weather is terrible; the water supply is erratic; your child has a toothache that is keeping him up all night; your demanding boss insists that you come in to work even when the city roads are flooded after a thunderstorm. 

In addition to all these domestic travails, the world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket. There is no sign that the war in Ukraine will end anytime soon; the Israel-Gaza conflict goes from bad to worse; the next President of the United States — and leader of the free world — will be a doddering old man not in complete charge of his faculties no matter which of the two candidates is elected. 

Who would not feel depressed and despondent at a moment in time like this? Well, I certainly do. And my only recourse in this situation is to try and take solace in small pleasures, looking for teeny-tiny things that will bring me cheer - no matter how momentary. Here is just a small sample of things that help me get through the day.

• A comfort read: This is not the time to start a complicated or demanding book that requires all my powers of concentration. So I fall back on the books that have brought me joy over the years. Jane Austen always does the trick as does Georgette Heyer. And Agatha Christie is another trusty standby that I take recourse to on days that leave me drained. 
• Pottering around in the kitchen: I find that after a long day there is nothing quite as de-stressing as putting a simple meal together. Just cutting the vegetables for a stir fry or stirring the rice for a risotto can be a meditative exercise that exerts a calming influence on my mind. (Word of caution: don’t mess around with too ambitious a recipe; it will leave you more stressed than ever!)
• Spending time with toddlers: I am fortunate enough to have a couple in my immediate family and there is nothing more relaxing that watching them laugh, play and interact with one another, forging bonds that will hopefully last them a lifetime. 
• The weather is Delhi is so vicious these days that there is no question of spending time in parks (which is one of my favourite things to do). So I do the next best thing. Instead of watching such series as Bridgerton and Heeramandi, I spend my evening watching travel shows. I have traipsed across the Mediterranean with Jamie Oliver; wandered down the Silk Route with Joanna Lumley; and marvelled at the beauty of south India with Rick Stein. There is nothing quite like losing yourself in another world when your own seems to be in a state of collapse. 
• And finally, the biggest stress-buster of all before I end my day is the 10 minutes or so I spent on doing my nightly Wordle. The rush I get when I can guess the word in three tries or less is enough to get me in the right mood for a good night’s sleep. And tomorrow, as they say, is another day! 

To cook or not to cook

Cooking may not be 'women's work' but it certainly is a life skill

 

I have lost count of the number of mothers of young women who have told me, with varying degrees of satisfaction, that their daughters do not cook. Their girls have never as much as stepped into the kitchen, they say with pride. Why, they wouldn’t even know how to boil an egg! And why should they toil in the kitchen, they add with barely-suppressed indignation, when there are worlds outside to conquer?

 

Yes, I get that: the feminist argument for not getting bogged down with getting breakfast, lunch and dinner ready. And when I was in my teens, wild horses couldn’t have dragged me into the kitchen either, though my mother, God bless her, tried her best to teach me some basic techniques. But no, I thought I was too good to learn how to make perfectly-puffed puris, thank you very much.

 

I often look back to that younger version of myself and wonder what I was thinking. What was so emasculating about rolling out a roti or making a tarka for a dal? And why was I so threatened by it? It’s not as if cooking a meal meant that my college privileges would be taken away or that I would have to give up on my dream of a career.

 

The kitchen may have been the preserve of women in that era (maybe it is even now) but that was no reason to banish myself from it. Learning how to cook is a life skill that everyone should possess. Feminism should not translate into an inability to feed yourself – or your family, if it came to that. 

 

My relationship with cooking changed once I moved away from my mother’s place and set up home for myself in Delhi. Now that there was no mum to churn out meals I had to learn to feed myself. I began with baby steps, trying my hand at fried eggs and then an omelet. Then, I moved on to easy recipes like pasta with pesto into which I could bung in a few vegetables, or Thai curries made with sauces that came out of a packet. Only after that did I trust myself to recreate some of my mom’s Indian recipes.

 

And in the process I discovered something about myself: I actually enjoyed cooking. I loved the meditative calm of chopping vegetables and getting my spices and herbs ready. I loved the process of throwing various ingredients into the pan and seeing them come together in a flavourful whole. And I loved feeding the people whom I loved the most in the world. 

 

In time, cooking became an activity that my husband and I enjoyed together. He is the more inventive cook between us while I am a more instinctive one. But when we put our heads and hands together in the kitchen, it can sometimes (though not always) create a bit of magic.

 

Looking back now, I can’t imagine a time when I regarded cooking with disdain. But then, I guess, our attitudes to cooking change with time. We may start off seeing it as anathema, then graduate to regarding it as an essential survival skill. It may morph into an adventure sport or just a way to feed your family. Or it may become the way you relax after a hard day at work or bond with your husband/mother/child.

 

All you have to do is give cooking a chance. It may yet surprise you.

Going stir crazy?

Here’s a taste of some of the things that are getting me through quarantine

As I sit down to write this column, I have spent five weeks in quarantine. The first two were down to being exposed to a person who was later diagnosed with Covid-19. The next three were part of the national lockdown we are all part of. And it now looks as if we will spend the next two weeks (at least) as well cooped up in our homes.

I don’t need to tell you that this is not easy. All of you must be coping with your own unique difficulties. Some may be finding it hard to work out of home, while juggling the kids’ online classes and household chores. Those who live alone will be suffering the ill effects of social isolation. And there will be those who will be struggling to get even essential supplies in.

I have written in earlier columns about how I was coping with quarantine and what I was most looking forward to when it was finally lifted. But I think this is the time to tell you what are the little joys that are actually helping me get through this period. And yes, despite all my anxiety and angst, there are many.

Here is just a random sample:

• Cooking: I have always enjoyed pottering around in the kitchen, playing around with ingredients, and coming up with dishes that owe nothing to recipe books. But that was an occasional pleasure. These days, though, I am cooking both lunch and dinner, and I must admit that this task is keeping me sane. Partly, it is that I am forced to innovate, because so many ingredients are simply not available, so that makes me stay engaged. But mostly, I think it is because the instinct to feed those you love (and that includes your own self) is the one thing that keeps us going in difficult times. So, I spend every afternoon and evening in the kitchen, making no more than one dish per meal-time – this is not the time to show off – trying to vary the cuisines as much as possible, and making just a little bit extra to bung into the freezer in case of emergency. 

• Sitting out in my balcony: This was always the one area of the house I never visited. For one thing, it gets the full force of the sun all day and can get unbearably hot. And for another, it is so narrow that it can just about accommodate one chair, with no scope of placing even a stool in front of it. But now that this is my only source of fresh air, I have discovered the virtues of this tiny space. For starters, it has a massive Alstonia tree (what we call Saptaparni in India) growing by its side, which has become home to all the neighbourhood birds. Then, there is the fact that the curry patta tree that my housekeeper has nourished to an amazing size, is flowering and the air in the entire balcony is scented with its amazing perfume. Also, when the sun finally goes down, there is a nice breeze that sets up, blowing away the cobwebs of mind as I sip my of coffee (okay, who am I kidding? A gin and tonic, more likely!), balancing the glass delicately on the ledge.

• Comfort reading: I started quarantine off with the best of intentions. I was going to read every worthy tome that was lining my bookshelves, restricting myself to serious reads now that I had the space and time to concentrate on them. But that didn’t last long. A fortnight in and I was done with expanding my mind; now all I wanted was to comfort my soul. And there is no better way of doing that than revisiting your favourite authors, who have kept you entertained for years. So I dipped into a bit of Agatha Christie, burrowed into a few titles by P.D. James, and am now planning to re-read the entire oeuvre of Elizabeth George. Given that she has written some twenty books in the Inspector Lynley series, that should see me through quarantine.

• Scent: I was never one for spraying perfume on myself every day, even during those halcyon days when we could step out of the house. But now that I am housebound, I find myself reaching for the perfume bottle the moment I am out of the shower and spritzing myself with the pick of the day – usually a soothing floral scent. Somehow, in a way that is hard to explain, smelling good serves as a pick-me-up and makes me feel more equipped to face the day. Similarly, when I am getting into my nightclothes, I spray some lavender eau de toilette on myself. And so far at least, it’s helping me sleep well.  

There’s a lot else, of course. There’s my cross-trainer, which has never got so much attention from me and is not quite sure what to do with it. There are the video calls with my girlfriends as we commiserate with each other on our greying roots and unkempt eyebrows. And then, there’s Insta, where we post our cooking videos so that we can share recipes virtually. 

In fact, a couple of days back I even went ‘live’ on Insta, to give my book recommendations to those who tuned it. And I had so much fun doing it, that it’s going on the list of things that will help me get through this. So, stay tuned. I’m going to pop up on your screens soon, wittering on about something or other. Don’t say you weren’t warned!

Life in the time of Corona

Some handy tips to deal with the virus (but before that, wash your hands!)

As I sit down to write this column, I have a completely empty diary staring at me, with no upcoming trips or events listed. Just a week ago, my schedule looked very different, with both domestic and international travel scheduled through the month. But as the coronavirus scare got scarier by the day, I cancelled two trips to Mumbai as a measure of abundant caution. And today, as the Indian government banned all non-essential travel by Indians abroad (with the very real risk of quarantine when we get back), I cancelled a trip to Singapore scheduled for the end of March.

And even though I show no symptoms of the disease (so far!) I have decided to self-isolate at home as well. And that’s not just because I don’t want to catch an infection as I go about my normal day. It’s also due to the fact that the last flight I took to Mumbai featured an air-hostess who coughed dramatically throughout the two-hour journey even as she did the meal service (yes, I kid you not!). I quickly donned my mask for the duration of the flight – though the passengers around me did not seem unduly concerned – but there is always the chance that the damage may have already been done.

So, for the past week I have been staying in for the most part, declining events and avoiding crowds. And even though I risk coming off as rude, I have been refusing to shake hands with the smattering of people I do meet, offering a Namaste instead (it came as something of a relief when I saw Prince Charles and President Macron of France doing exactly the same thing).

It helps that as far as self-isolation goes, I have some experience in the matter. For the past several years, I have been working out of home, and often go days without seeing anyone other than my husband and the household help. So unlike others who may be freaked out by the prospect of isolation, I have already made my peace with it. And it is on that basis, that I offer the following tips to cope with being home alone.

• First, set up a routine. When you are just schlepping around at home, the temptation to lounge around all day in your pyjamas, without even having a shower or shave, is hard to resist. But resist it you must. It is crucial to keep up appearances, even if there is no one around to watch. So, make sure that you are bathed and dressed (and by that I don’t mean another pair of pyjamas) as you prepare to face the day. Don’t skip lunch and grab a bag of chips instead. Have a proper meal at midday, even if it is just you sitting at the table. Stop working in the evening, to give yourself some proper downtime. And don’t eat dinner slumped in front of the television. Set the table and eat with proper crockery and cutlery laid out. It is these civilizing touches that make your daily routine; and you must stick with them no matter what.

• Yes, this is the best time to binge on those shows that you haven’t had the time to watch given your hectic schedule. But TV shows – especially those that have an addictive element – have the tendency to take over your life to the exclusion of all else. So, it is imperative that you set limits on yourself. Speaking for myself, I have an iron rule in my household. The TV does not come on before 8 pm. That is the only way I can discipline myself to work during the day. Because once you descend into the pit of daytime TV-viewing, there is no coming back.

• A far better use of your time would be to catch up on all the books you’ve been meaning to read (but have been piling on your bedside table because of lack of time). Now that you are at home with time on your hands and minimal distractions, tackle all the books that require your undivided attention. Choose books with important themes if you are a non-fiction fan. Pick sweeping sagas if you prefer fiction. This is the best time to delve into three or four-part series like Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan quartet, for instance (I promise you will love it).

• Just because you are in isolation does not mean that you have to feel isolated. Use social media to stay in touch with the world (though Instagram is a more feel-good place than Twitter; and Pinterest much more fun than Facebook). Facetime or video call your friends and family rather than just phone; seeing their faces will make for a stronger connection than merely hearing their voices.

• This is the time to indulge your hobbies, or even develop new ones. Dabble with new recipes in the kitchen. Learn how to knit (it’s supposed to help reduce stress, so that’s a bonus). Or maybe spend time researching the destinations you would like to visit when this nightmare is over. I have already shortlisted two that I have never been to – Greece and Croatia – and I am having a tremendous time planning itineraries in my head, while I wait for the real thing to materialize. Let’s hope real life lives up to my imagination. 

And now, if you will excuse me, I am off to wash my hands – yes, again!

Homing In

It’s a house when you move into it; you have to turn it into home

What makes a house into a home? That is a question I have grappled with over the last couple of decades, ever since I moved to Delhi and began living in an endless succession of teeny-tiny apartments. 

I still retain the fondest of memories of the first house I moved into in the capital, a small barsati in Defence Colony, where the enormous terrace was more than adequate recompense for the cramped rooms. But despite my love for my first Delhi home, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of achievement when I could finally afford a ‘proper’ flat, even if it was rented. And moving into a house of my own came with its own sense of joy – and relief (as anyone who has had to shift homes every two years when the lease is up will understand only too well).

Looking back now, I often wonder what was the moment when these living spaces went from being a ‘house’ to becoming my ‘home’? Was there a magic moment when that transformation occurred? Or was it a slow and steady process that crept up on me while I was busy doing something else? And what were the elements that went into this process?

What, to go back to my original question, makes a ‘house’ a ‘home’? 

In my case, the process begins with paint. Every house I ever moved into had its walls painted that regulation, anodyne off-white. A nothing shade, it depressed me just to look at it. So, the first thing I did was splash some colour on the walls. Dusky rose pink for the drawing room. A bright sunny yellow for the den. A brooding blue for the bar. Soothing tones of grey and lavender for the bedroom. And the odd splash of lime green to add interest to a boring corner. 

Everything looks so much better once the walls come alive with colour. The house is on its way to begin looking like a home – my home.

And then, come the books. Only once I have unpacked the many cartons containing what I rather grandiosely term my ‘library’ and arranged its contents on the shelves according to my preferred scheme (thrillers in one section, biographies in another, food books in a nook near the kitchen, and so on), do I start feeling truly at home. It’s like when you are surrounded by old friends in a new, unfamiliar place; their presence alone is enough to make you feel more at ease. That’s how books make me feel in a new house.

But that is just the starting point. The circle is only complete once I have identified a favourite corner (or a favourite chair or couch) to read in. Once I’ve found that little nook, spent a day (or two) ensconced in it, a steaming cup of coffee at hand, I know that I have found another home for myself.

Next comes the kitchen, which is – when you think about it – the heart of the house. So, the third step in turning a house into a home is to get the kitchen up and running. The spice rack must be stocked with everything from fresh haldi to Herbs de Provence, from Chinese five-spice powder to Mexican seasoning, from powdered lemon grass to sachets of bouquet garni. All my pots and pans – the cast-iron ones for cooking meat, the non-stick ones for healthy sautéing, the large one for making a cassoulet, the small one for the perfect omelet, and so on and on and on – must be within easy reach. The fridge and freezer must be heaving with cold meat, Greek yoghurt, cheese (the smellier the better), and ready-to-cook frozen aloo tikkis (don’t ask!).

Once all of this is in place, and more importantly, I have used all my pots and pans and assorted ingredients to cook a meal in that brand-new kitchen, well that’s when I begin to feel at home.

The last and final step has nothing to with the house, and everything to do with the neighbourhood. Strolling on the streets to get the lay of the land; walking in the local park every evening; buying vegetables from the subziwallah around the corner; getting a takeaway cappuccino from the nearby coffee-shop. A couple of weeks of this and the area – not just the house – begins to feel like home.

Of course, the process is different for everyone. And each one of us has his or her own criterion for deciding on what makes a house a home. A friend of mine insists that it’s only when the newly-painted walls start showing a stain or two, the kids spill some stuff on the sofa and the dog chews up one end of the carpet, does she feel that she’s finally made the home her own. 

For others, making a home means having friends and family over for an evening of food, drinks and laughs. Some feel at home only after they have an elaborate Grihapravesh puja. And then, there are those who need to generate enough clutter before they can call a place ‘home’.

But whatever the process, it invariably involves putting our own special stamp on the space we occupy. At the end of the day, like all animals, we need to mark our territory to truly make it our own.

The Great Escape

When the world gets too much to bear, it’s time to retreat to your ‘happy place’

Yes, I know exactly how you feel. It seems like the world has gone to hell in a handbasket. And you don’t know how you’re going to get through the next month, the next year, let alone the rest of your life.

You’ve spent days trying to live off the loose change you’ve scrounged from around the house. Or you spent endless hours queuing at the bank or at an ATM to get access to your own money. Donald Trump (Donald Trump!) is the new President of the United States. Leonard Cohen died. The list of misfortunes and tragedies seems endless.

So how do we survive in this world, which has begun to seem like such a nasty, brutish place?

Well, I don’t know about you, but I try and do so by going to my ‘happy place’. Which is often not a place at all but a state of mind I achieve by doing what pleases me best.

Here are just some of the things I have been doing over the last week or so to achieve ‘happy place’ status.

·       If you can’t stand the heat, get back in to the kitchen: There is something therapeutic about stirring a pot of rice on the stove to make a comforting risotto for dinner. Or carefully measuring out the ingredients of a gooey chocolate cake and concentrating on getting the mixture just right. Or even using the first meethi of the season to make theplas for breakfast. If all this seems like too much work to you, then crack open a few eggs, add a dash of double cream, salt, pepper, herbs, and stir slowly over very low heat. Pile the mixture on to hot, buttered toast. The world’s troubles will recede with every mouthful.

·       Get lost in the pages of an old book: There is nothing like comfort reading to make you feel better about yourself and the state of the world. And when the horrors of the world threaten to overwhelm, I retreat to the books of my childhood. I just finished re-reading Black Beauty, a birthday present from a young friend who knows me too well. And now I have started on Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers series, in the hope that the adventures of Darrell Rivers and gang will keep me from obsessing over President Trump (yes, yes, I know he’s not my President; but that doesn’t make it any easier). Word of caution: may be a good idea to stay away from the Harry Potter series. All those Voldemort references might come crashing back.

·       Out of the mouths of babes: Spend time with children. Read them stories. Listen to what they got up to in school. Ask them to tell you the latest jokes they heard in class. Get them to share their worries and fears; if nothing else, that will put your worries and fears in perspective. If you don’t have any kids of your own, don’t worry. This is an emergency and you are allowed to borrow them from friends and family. There is nothing like listening to the inconsequential chatter that emerges from children to make you forget the cares of the grown-up universe. (Note: if there are no children handy, just head for the nearest park and watch the kids at play. Their screams and shouts of pleasure will make you feel better about the state of the world.)

·       Schedule a digital detox: If you can’t stay offline during the day because of the nature of your work, that’s fine. But once you get home, put away the smartphone and tune out the constant chatter of the outside world. Don’t peek in to review your friends’ status updates on Facebook. Don’t keep trawling twitter to see (and outrage about) what’s happening in the world. Don’t even check into Instagram to see those carefully-filtered images of perfectly-curated lives. Let the outside world fade away while you listen to music, read a book, or just talk to your loved ones.

·       Watch re-runs of your favourite feel-good TV shows: My own go-to show when depressed is Friends, which I have now seen so many times that I know entire episodes by heart. Modern Family, with its blended families and cute kids, serves as another emotional retreat. And of late, I have taken to binge-watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix as well, while sneaking in a few episodes of Will and Grace. There is certain comfort in retreating to a parallel universe where nothing really bad happens; and there are no nasty surprises because you know exactly what’s coming next.

Well, that’s just a small sample of the many things I did to try and stay sane while the world seemed to run mad. But if none of them work for you, then you could always go to your actual ‘happy place’ and recover your equilibrium. Walk down the flower-edged paths of your favourite park. Take a day trip to the beach with a picnic basket of your favourite treats. Or retreat to the mountains for a weekend of quiet and calm.

And take comfort in the thought that whatever happens, the sun will rise again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. It may seem like the world has ended; but you will soon discover that the reports of its demise were vastly exaggerated.