Revise your portion

 The best example of a perfect, well-balanced meal is the Indian thali

The thought struck me first a couple of weeks ago as I sat down for lunch at a traditional thali restaurant. This, I said to my fellow diners, is the best way to practice portion control. 

You get a thali with small katoris containing tiny quantities of every dish you are going to sample with a small portion of rice or roti in the middle. If you don’t want to eat something you just ask for that katori to be removed. And then after you have had a taste of all, you decide which dish you want seconds of and it is served to you. So, you eat a variety of dishes in small portions choosing which one to have more of and ask for an extra roti or rice as required. Zero wastage. No overeating. What better example of portion control could there be?

But as I got thinking, I realised that many modern dietary practices and principles have their roots in traditional ways of eating in India. Let me count the ways. 

• Combining proteins and carbs: In a traditional Indian meal, we always include a protein like fish or meat in small quantities (paneer and dal if you are vegetarian), a subzi of some kind, all to be eaten with a roti or rice. But on the whole the roti is made of whole wheat which makes it a much healthier option. And the entire meal itself is an exercise in balance. 

• Using a healthy fat like ghee: The ancients knew a thing or two when it came to using gut-healthy fats. And ghee is right up there with them. So whether you use it for cooking, tempering, or just slathering on your chapati your digestive system will thank you for it. 

• Including a probiotic in the meal: They are all the rage now but Indians have been including natural probiotics in their meals for centuries in the form of a bowl of dahi (or its fancier variant, raita) or even a glass of buttermilk. This doesn’t just act as a cooling counterpart to all the spices in the food it is actually beneficial to your gut health. 

• Raw food: We are told by nutritionists that we should begin our meal with raw vegetables in the form of salads to aid digestion and ensure that the release of blood sugar is regulated when we eat. But we have been doing this intuitively all this time, adding a bowl of sprouts, slices of onions, cucumber, carrots and the like to our table every time we sit down to eat. 

• Fermentation and pickling: Yes, that’s the latest dietary fad that we are all supposed to follow. But we are way ahead on this with the array of achars that live on our dining tables, waiting patiently for meal times. And a good mango, chilli or garlic pickle beats kimchi every time. 

So I guess if you want to follow modern dietary advice you really can’t go wrong by adhering to ancient Indian rules of eating. You will eat well; you’ll eat the right stuff; and you won’t eat too much. And you really can’t ask for much more than that. 

Mend and make do

That's a good guiding principle to live life by

 

Last week, for the first time, I tried my hand at the Japanese art of Kintsugi. To save you the trouble of Googling, this is the process by which the Japanese join together things that have been broken with a lacquer dusted with gold or silver. The joints are covered with this veneer so that the repaired object looks even more beautiful than it did in its original state (it’s all part of a Japanese concept called Wabi Sabi – you can look that one up yourself!).

 

It so happened that one of the saucers of my favourite tea set was broken into three while washing up. But the breaks were clean and the edges such that they could be glued together. So, once I had got over my disappointment at ruining a perfect set, I decided that Kintsugi was the answer. So, I used some glue to stick the pieces together and then using a golden metallic paint that I bought online, I painted over the cracks in as delicate a line as I could manage. And even though I am no expert, I have to say the end result looked splendid. In fact, the saucer looked even more amazing than it had before. 

 

I guess you could draw the usual lessons from this episode: that we should not become a disposable culture; that we need to learn to mend and make do; and that sometimes repairing something can provide an added patina of beauty. But the lesson that I took from it was this: that truly luxurious objects are the ones that you don’t throw away when they get damaged, but fix lovingly so that they live to give you joy for many more years to come. In my case, it was a part of a tea set that I am particularly attached to, but it could be anything from clothes to shoes to bags, or even objects that we use for home decor.

 

It is a lesson that the English aristocracy have learnt well over the many centuries they have been around. They revel in a look dubbed shabby-chic in their country homes, with curtains and carpets that are well-worn but carry the weight of decades very well. They take pride in using the furniture they inherited; in fact, buying your own furniture marks you out as nouveau riche. They never throw out their suits or shoes when they get a tear; instead they send it off to be repaired by experts and get a few more years out of them. 

 

Prince Philip, famously, never bought any new clothes for the last few decades of his life, just fixing the suits he had bought in younger days. His son, King Charles, has often been seen in public wearing suits with a darning patch over his pocket or lapel. And his shoes often sport patches where some discreet repair work has been done.

 

Well, if something is good enough for the King of England, then surely it should be good enough for the rest of us as well. So, even if you draw the line at doing a spot of Kintsugi on a humble saucer, perhaps you would consider mending and making do when it comes to home décor or your wardrobe? Believe me, it sparks a joy entirely unlike any other.

 

Lose that weight!

Here's how you can do it the old-fashioned way

 

Weight-loss drugs are all the rage these days and over the past few months they have arrived in India as well. It seems to matter little that these medicines are targeted at those who either have diabetes 2 or are clinically obese, as everyone who can afford the (humungous) costs is lining up to take them. Some people are doing so to lose weight for aesthetic purposes while others have been attracted by the plethora of beneficial side-effects these drugs – Ozempic and Mounjaro, for the most part – are reported to have.

 

But what if you are one of those old-fashioned people who wants to lose weight the natural way; i.e. without the benefit of weekly injections? Well, if you are one of those, then this column is for you. Here, based on my life-long experience of struggling with my weight, are just some tips for keeping the kilos off.

 

·       I know that it is fashionable to sneer at portion control as a weight-loss method (though appetite suppressing drugs work on the same principle, more or less) but in my experience, it works a treat. So, if you are embarking on a diet journey, start by simply eating less of the bad stuff (fried food, white bread and rice, etc.) and more of the good stuff (raw vegetables, leafy vegetables, beans and legumes, white meat, fish). Your transformation will be slow but it will also be steady and that’s the kind of weight loss you want.

·       Learn to eat slowly, chewing each mouthful mindfully, instead of scoffing your meals down without a thought (and ideally, don’t eat while in front of a screen, whether it is your TV, Ipad or phone). This gives time for your satiety centres to get a message from your stomach that you are full. 

·       But don’t keep eating until you are too full to manage even one more mouthful. The sensible thing is to leave the table when you are just 80 per cent full – as the Japanese of Okinawa do; and who can deny that they are among the healthiest beings on the planet – so that you retain just a smidgen of hunger rather than feeling overfull. Follow this 80 per cent rule, known as Hara Hachi Bu, and see your health improve.

·       Sometimes it is as important to fool your eyes as well as your mind. So, start using smaller plates and bowls to serve yourself. That way, your meals will look larger than they really are, and if you are eating mindfully and allowing those satiety signals to go through, then it is extremely unlikely that you will go back for seconds.

·       Food pyramids make sense. So, do apportion the best part of your meal to good proteins and flavorful salads and vegetables (the base of your pyramid) and keep the unhealthy elements (the tip of the pyramid) to the minimum. But the order in which you eat what’s on your plate is equally important. So, eat your salads and raw vegetables at the beginning of the meal. Not only will this make you feel full quicker, it will also regulate the release of sugar in your blood. And you know, when it comes to eating, it makes sense to save the best for the last!

 

The face in the mirror

 When I look in the mirror, I find my mother staring back at me

Increasingly over the past few years I find that when I look into the mirror, I find my mother staring back at me. This is disconcerting because as I have been told all my life, I look nothing like my mother, who was a certified beauty in her youth. And rationally speaking, other than her eyes and her forehead I have not inherited any of her features. 

 

And yet, there she is in the mirror, looking back at me. I don’t know quite what it is. The best explanation I can offer is that there is an ineffable expression in my eyes, a specific turn to my mouth, or just the slant of my eyebrows. But there is no denying that as I turn older, I find myself morphing more and more into my mother. 

 

It’s not just about looks, though. There is more to it than that. Just like mom, I find that food has turned into my love language. I take intense pleasure in feeding those I love, thinking of new recipes to tempt their appetites every day. My idea of hospitality revolves around food rather than flowers and free-flowing drinks. In fact, the first thing I ask people who drop by is, “Have you eaten?”

 

There are other habits of my mother – that used to drive me crazy when she was alive – which seem to have seeped into my behaviour without my even noticing. The most annoying of these is “buyer’s remorse” that my mom suffered from all her life. She could never buy anything without agonizing over it afterwards, and in two cases out of three, returning it to the shop the next day. On the contrary, I took great pride in being a decisive shopper, who knew what she wanted, bought it and then thought no more about it. Well, guess what? These days, more often than not, every purchase I make is followed by “buyer’s remorse”. It’s really as if my mom’s spirit has taken mine over.

 

It's not just my mother, though. My father too comes alive in my everyday behaviour. When I was young, I used to giggle endlessly at how my father took the news so personally, talking back to the TV as if the people inside it could hear him. But now, when I am watching my streaming shows, I find myself shouting at the TV too – much to the amusement of my husband – when the plot points get particularly absurd.

 

But I guess that I am not alone in this. All of us, in varying degrees, are destined to end up as versions of our parents as we get older. All the stuff that we complained about as children – unreasonable curfews; the insistence on good grades; early bedtimes – and swore that we wouldn’t subject our kids to? Well, that’s exactly the kind of stuff we do as parents. 

 

That’s the least of it, however. It’s in our own interior lives that our parents live on – long after they have departed from the material world. It’s almost as if we become a version of our parents because we can’t bear to accept the fact that they are gone. And telling ourselves that they live on in us at least makes the loss a little more bearable.

 

Get out of that rut

Sometimes it makes sense to mix things up a little 

When you travel as much as I have been doing of late, then it is almost inevitable that you will lose a few things along the way. Even though I know (and accept) that at some rational level, I was still devastated when I couldn’t find my favourite eyeliner in my make-up pouch when I arrived back in Delhi. But even that devastation paled into inconsequence compared to my crushing disappointment when the brand in question did not have the Noir Intense shade I have been using for years. Worse, they did not have any black eyeliner at all; but I could choose between several shades of brown, they offered helpfully.

 

Once I had recovered my equilibrium, I chose two shades of brown, hoping that they would tide me over until my usual shade was back in stock. The next day, with great trepidation, I tried the darker shade on my upper lid and the lighter one on my lower lid and stood back to see the effect. And much to my surprise, the shades looked amazing – even better, dare I say it, than the black that I had been relying on for years. There was a certain soft smokiness to the look that the black had never been able to achieve, no matter how hard I blended it. So, as it turned out, it had been a stroke of luck to lose my eye pencil – because its loss had led to the gain of an entire new look.

 

I guess that’s the problem with growing older and set in your ways. You decide at some point that this is what you like and you stick to that without experimenting with new things. And, as I had discovered, when you get into a rut like this, you lose out on novelty of new things. 

 

But when I sat back and thought about it, I realized that when it comes to getting into a rut, make-up was the least of my problems. My penchant for familiarity was leading me to stay safe with choices I was comfortable with rather than venturing out to make new discoveries. When it comes to restaurants, for instance, I have my perennial favourites in every city which I head back to like a devoted pilgrim. What’s worse is that in each of these restaurants I have my favourite dishes which I order every single time. 

 

The same thing goes for travel. I head back to London in the summer and Bangkok in the winter like the proverbial homing pigeon. When I am planning a European holiday, I can’t seem to think beyond Italy. When choosing hotels, I always plumb for the safe option of a chain that I am familiar with rather than a standalone boutique property, which might conceivably be more fun.

When it comes to clothes, I am in a bit of a rut there as well. I spend my summers in Anokhi kurtas or Marks and Spencer linen dresses. I have been wearing the same brand of pajamas to bed for over a decade now. And my brand of shoes hasn’t changed either.

 

But if the eyeliner revelation has taught me anything it is that it is time to go forth and explore new options – for a newer and better me.

 

Holiday home?

Or travelling the world exploring new destinations? Which one would you choose?  

I have never understood the proclivity of some people to buy second homes – either in the mountains or by the beach – to holiday in every year. I can understand the appeal of familiarity to some extent but the idea of spending every summer/winter in just one place seems a bit limiting to me. When the world is full of so many exciting destinations just waiting to be enjoyed, why would you return to the same place again and again (even if you did have a house in that location)?

 

For me, the idea of a holiday equals adventure, exploration and new experiences. And while I am happy to revisit some cities (London and Bangkok remain perennial favourites) and countries (Italy is one place I could visit three times a year) I am always looking for new horizons to feast my eyes upon. There is a special thrill about landing in an entirely new place where everything seems unfamiliar – sometimes even daunting – and slowly finding your place in that new landscape.

 

When it comes to choosing a holiday destination, everyone has their own special criteria. There are some who love the idea of a beach vacation, where they can loll by the seaside all day, sipping cocktails and occasionally dipping into the water. There are others who love the pristine coolness of the mountains, where the air is crisp and bracing, and there is a special pleasure to be had basking by the fireside at the end of a long day of trekking. Some people like the hustle and bustle of a city, with all the cultural delights – museums, monuments, etc. – it has to offer while others love the idea of checking into a resort in the middle of nowhere and just chilling all day long.

 

Speaking for myself, I have to say that I enjoy every kind of holiday, depending on my mood – and the time of the year. When Delhi is sizzling in the summer months, it seems heavenly to escape to the hills to get a respite from the blazing hot heat of the plains. If I have had a couple of stressful months struggling to meet deadlines then there is nothing better than the prospect of checking into a resort where the most strenuous activity on offer is an aromatherapy massage. When I want a fix of culture then a city break in Europe where I spend all my time traipsing through museums seems just the ticket. And when Delhi is freezing around the New Year, a beach break is exactly what the doctor ordered.

 

As I grow older, though, there is another criterion that has become just as – if not most – crucial as any other when I plan a holiday. Given a choice, I would much rather go to a destination that I can reach with a direct flight. I don’t care if the flight itself is two or twelve hours long; as long as I can board a plane and then get off at my final destination, I am good to go. The very thought of negotiating more than one airport to reach my holiday hotspot is enough to bring me out in hives. And that, you will agree, is not the best way to kickstart a vacation.

 

Can't take the heat?

And can't get out of the kitchen? Here's what to do

 

You must have all heard the saying: “If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.” Alas, that’s not an option available to those of us who still have to feed a family three times a day, no matter how unbearable the Indian summer gets. But wait, don’t get all hot under the collar; help is at hand. And that’s because this week I come armed with tips about how to maximize your results in the kitchen while making the most minimal of efforts. (This is where lesser mortals would make some lame joke about sweating your onions rather than yourself; but I am, of course, above that sort of puerile thing!)

 

So, how do we crack the whole cooking-while-its-cooking-outside puzzle? Well, here are some pointers, honed after years of hard-won experience. 

 

·       Minimize the use of your gas range. It’s hot enough outside, so why make things worse by getting three hobs of your cooking range going at once? Instead try and use other methods of cooking that produce less red-hot heat. Cook your rice in a rice-maker instead of boiling it on the stove, for instance. Bung your chicken curry in the Instapot and let it bubble away for hours rather than stirring it for hours on the gas. Make your fried chicken in the air fryer rather than the stove (it’s much healthier that way, too). Use the microwave rather than the range to reheat.

·       Make the oven your best friend. I don’t mean by baking cakes and cookies. No, I mean by doing most of your cooking in the oven. All you need to do for a delicious tray bake, for instance, is to prep your vegetables (which you can do in air-conditioned comfort on the dining table) and meat. Pre-heat the oven while you’re doing that and then just bung your dish inside, set the timer as recommended, and retire to read a book and savour a drink while your oven does all the hard work. An hour later, when the alarm goes, dinner will be ready.

·       Batch cooking can be your saviour. I know, I know, everyone keeps extolling the virtues of fresh food. But there are some dishes that freeze extremely well, and taste as good (if not better) when you defrost them after a week (or more). If you are making the effort to make a black dal or mutton korma, for instance, double, or even triple, the quantity you are cooking. Eat what you can on that day and freeze the rest, breaking them out on a day when you don’t feel like cooking.

·       Increase your repertoire of uncooked or barely-cooked dishes. There is nothing quite as appetizing in the summer heat than a cooling salad of watermelon and feta, burrata or cottage cheese with a nice olive-oil dressing and lashings of tomatoes and olives, or even just day-old cold grilled chicken teamed with an assortment of leaves and a spot of balsamico. Build up a book of recipes just like these for these hot, hot, hot summer days and you will both eat well and stay cool. Well, as cool as it is possible to stay in an Indian summer!

Holiday styles

No matter what kind of holidaymaker you are, the odds are you are married to the opposite kind

There are probably as many kinds of holiday-makers as there are types of holidays. There are those who like to flop down on a beach and never stir until the sun goes down. And then there are those who can’t get enough of water sports, trying everything from jet skiing to snorkeling to deep-sea diving. There are those who get up early to hit the gym and make sure they get in their required cardio even before the day begins. And then there are those who don’t want any more exercise than that required to pick up their cocktail glass from off the poolside bar.

 

And the funny thing is that, all too often, these two types of people are married to one another. As you can imagine, it makes for an interesting holiday dynamic.

 

In my own case, I am the hyper-organised one, who likes to make lists of everything from what to pack to which monuments to visit. If possible, I like to shortlist a few restaurants in every city. And I read every travel article on my destination so that I know what to expect, look forward to, and yes, avoid. On the contrary, my husband is all for complete spontaneity when we set out on holiday. The only thing he devotes time to is finding a good hotel. But once that’s booked, he would rather leave everything to chance. His idea of a perfect holiday is waking up every morning with no idea of what the day holds, and then deciding what to do depending on our mood. 

 

How, you ask, do we reconcile these two opposing ways to vacation without biting each other’s heads off when we are on holiday. Well, the trick is to meet each other half-way. The way we compromise is that I get to structure one part of the vacation and he gets to do his spontaneous stuff on the other. And that formula seems to have worked so far. 

 

We are lucky in that neither of us likes to shop or even window shop. But I know plenty of couples where one party likes to spend hours browsing the local markets, while the other gets spectacularly bored. And for them, I can only suggest that they take some time off from each other and indulge in their own thing without imposing their choices on their partner. 

 

One of my friends, for instance, is always despairing of the fact that her husband’s idea of a holiday is flopping down on his hotel bed and only leaving the room to go for massages in the spa. After berating and hectoring him for many years, she has finally made the (eminently sensible) decision of going off on her museum visits on her own instead of dragging a recalcitrant spouse along. That way, they can meet for dinner after a day well-spent and enjoy each other’s company. Which wouldn’t have been an option if they had been bickering all day long.

 

So, if you are a dedicated sunbather stuck with a devoted sightseer (or vice versa) you know what to do. Carve out time for each of you to do your own thing. And then, come back together refreshed and ready for a reunion. That way, you will enjoy both the holiday and each other better. 

 

Travelling light

Never mind what to take on holiday; here's what you should leave behind 

Whenever the summer holidays roll along , magazines and newspapers are quick to run the now almost-mandatory pieces about what you should pack when you head out on vacation. 

Well, this week I am taking a very different tack to that. I am going to make a list of all the things you definitely do not need to pack when you are heading out for a summer holiday, based on the many packing mistakes I have made over the years. So here’s a short list of all the stuff you definitely need to leave behind when you head out to have a good time. 

• You absolutely do not need two coats/jackets even if you are heading to a cold climate. Just pick one that can do double duty for both day and night (black, red or any neutral shade will do). And if you can carry it along with you on the plane you can save precious space in your suitcase. 

• I have been guilty of this on many an occasion but believe me you do not need to carry your entire hair paraphernalia with you on vacation. Your hair will benefit from using a different shampoo and conditioner (it prevents build-up of product on your hair) and a good hotel will provide a hairdryer as well. Just carry your mousse/spray and you are all set (see what I did there?).

• Wear your bulkiest pair of shoes/boots while travelling (another great space-saving trick) and pack your evening sandals/heels. But only one pair, mind you. You don’t need anything more than that no matter how many fancy dinners you have booked. 

• You may absolutely love a certain top or pair of trousers but unless you can mix and match them with several other pieces in your packing list then you must harden your heart and leave them behind. Every outfit in your suitcase absolutely has to earn its place. 

• Are you thinking that your vacation would be the perfect time to read that big fat book that has been languishing on your nightstand for months? Maybe it will. But the odds are that you will be having too much fun to even open it. Much better to leave that weighty tome behind and load whatever you want to read on your Kindle instead. 

• Even if you are the most finicky of dressers, you really don’t need to cart a portable iron or steamer along with you. Most hotels have an ironing board and iron in the room — or available on demand; as are steamers. Though in my experience if you unpack as soon you arrive and hang up all your clothes in the wardrobe the creases will have miraculously fallen away by the time you are ready to get dressed the next morning. 

• And ladies, last but not least, it is not necessary to carry your entire make-up kit and face care potions along. Pare it down to one or two lipsticks, one moisturising foundation, one blusher, an eye pencil or eyeliner, mascara and a nourishing night cream. Just add a bottle of SPF 50 sunscreen and you are good to go. Happy holidays everyone!

Summer reading

 Here are just some of my recommendations

It’s that time of year again. The summer holidays are finally upon us. And that means it’s time for my annual ritual of sharing my summer reading list with you. Here, in no particular order, are some books that I have enjoyed over the last few months — and which you might like as well.

Marble Hall Murders by Anthony Horowitz 

I have been a fan of the Atticus Pund novels and Horowitz’s ability to tell a story within a story without confusing the hell out of his readers. This, the latest in the series, is set in London and the South of France, and revolves around the death of a matriarch written by a disturbed writer who may be cannibalising the story of his own famous family for the plot. Horowitz has made the cosy crime genre his own — and this may be his best effort yet. 

When The Going Was Good by Graydon Carter

I am old enough to remember a time when magazines were where it was at. And at the centre of that world was the foppish figure of Graydon Carter, the now-legendary editor of Vanity Fair. In this memoir, he tells us the stories behind the stories that appeared in VF. And in examining his life, he brings the media world of that period to life as well. 

Karla’s Choice by Nick Harkaway

It’s a brave son who takes on the legacy of a famous father — and manages to do him proud. But that is exactly what John Le Carre’s son, Nick Harkaway, has done in this book that revives the much-loved character of George Smiley. Set in the time period between The Spy Who Came In From The Cold and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, the story revolves around a Soviet spy whose cover is blown after an assassin sent by Moscow tries to kill him. The plotline, the writing, the slow build-up, and of course the comeback of Smiley, all hark back to the glory days of John Le Carre. A true triumph. 

Delizia by John Dickie

Readers of this column will be well aware of my love for all things Italian. But even if you don’t share that love, you will enjoy this book if you are a lover of Italian staples like pasta, pizza and tiramisu. And you will be intrigued to learn that some traditional Italian recipes are not in fact traditional at all, but of relatively recent origin 

Miss Austen by Gill Hornby

I came to this book rather later, and rather shamefully, via a story about the recent dramatisation of the novel on the BBC. Sadly, the TV series has yet to be released in India but until then you can gorge on this gorgeous book. The Miss Austen of the title is not Jane, the novelist, but her elder sister, Cassandra. At the end of her life now, Cassandra is determined to preserve her sister’s legacy by finding all the letters she wrote to a friend and destroying those that portray Jane in a less than flattering flight. The recreation of the Austen universe is a joy to behold and the real-life parallels with Jane’s life are hard to miss. A treat for all Austen fans. 

Who's arguing?

Certainly not the Clooneys; they seem to agree on entirely everything 

In case you missed the happy news, I am delighted to inform you that George Clooney is blessed with such a fine marriage that in more than a decade he has never had an argument with his lovely wife, Amal. Yes, you read that right. In more than ten years of wedded bliss, the Clooneys have never found a single thing that they could argue about. Sounds incredible, doesn’t it? And did you say, also a little enviable?

 

Well, if you ask me, it’s incredible all right – as in hard to believe – but enviable? I think not.

 

There are some unkind souls who have suggested that the reason George has never argued with Amal is because she is a world-renowned human rights lawyer. And he knows he wouldn’t be in with a chance if he matched his wits against a woman who has honed her argumentative skills in law courts across the world. And if that is the case, then I have to doff my cap to him; rare is the man who knows his own limitations and learns to live within them. So full marks to George for this insight into the dynamics of his marriage. 

 

But honestly, I can’t think of a more boring relationship than one in which neither party ever disagrees or argues with one another. Some of my most interesting ideas have been sparked by arguments with my husband and I know that the same is true of him as well. And there is something to be said for the cathartic effect of a proper to-do which can clear the air that is festering with the scent of disagreement and discontent.

 

Ask any psychologist or psychotherapist and they will tell you that the absence of argument doesn’t denote a healthy relationship. On the contrary, it points to a relationship which is problematic on several scores. 

 

First off, the lack of argument may denote an imbalance of power. One partner may have all the power in that equation so much so that the other doesn’t dare express a contrary opinion, let alone fight for it. And any relationship that is based on fear is unhealthy in the extreme. 

 

The absence of argument may also stem from the fact that one or the other partner is scared of conflict. So rather than address an issue that crops up they would rather avoid it altogether in the hope that it goes away. And this festering discontent simmering just under the surface may eventually lead to the relationship blowing up at some point or another.

 

So, what’s the solution? Well, far be it for me to argue (there’s that pesky word again) that you should spend all your time litigating with your spouse. But there is something to be said for having healthy disagreements where you can discuss your differences logically and calmly without fearing that your partner will blow a fuse or walk out or simply sulk for the rest of the week.

 

Given that no two people – even if they are married – can ever see eye to eye on every issue, it’s best to lay down the ground rules for the arguments that will inevitably break out. One: don’t lose your temper. Two: don’t make personal attacks. Three: agree to disagree. Four: don’t keep harking back to the argument once it’s over.

 

And five: don’t envy the Clooneys.

 

Time hurries on...

Here are just some ways to tell that you are getting old

 

It was while lunching with my closest girlfriends last week that the epiphany first struck me: it’s a sure sign that you are growing old when half your stories begin with the phrase, “Remember when…” Well, at least, that’s the way the conversation tends to go when I sit down for a catch-up with my girl gang. We have been close for more than two decades now and our memories are inextricably wound up in each other just as our lives are closely intertwined. So, yes, meeting up now means reminiscing about our past adventures as much as it does about discussing what the future holds. 

 

I guess that’s what happens when you reach a stage in your life when you have more yesterdays than tomorrows. But thinking about it, I realized that this is not the only sign that age is fast catching up with me. Quite apart from my creaking knees and dodgy back, there are many indications that I am rapidly approaching my dotage. Or should I call that my anecdotage, given the propensity of people of my vintage to repeat stories that others have heard a thousand times before – all because they have forgotten that they ever related them in the first place.

 

For me, one of the first signs of ageing came when FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) was replaced by JOMO (Joy Of Missing Out). There was a time in my youth when I would have been bitterly disappointed not to be invited to some glittering reception, a glitzy fashion show, or even a fancy brunch that all my other friends were attending. Now, I actively look for excuses not to attend even those events that I am invited for. Honestly, it seems such a palaver to get dressed in the evening and put a full face of make-up on when I could be chilling on my sofa, cooking a meal, reading a book, or just hanging out with my husband.

 

Along with JOMO, I am also experiencing what I like to call my DGAD (as in Don’t Give A Damn) years. After spending my childhood and youth being an inveterate people pleaser, I now find myself completely indifferent to what people may think, feel, or say about me. And that applies equally to real life as it does to social media. So, no more trying to explain my point of view to friends, to defend myself against gossip and innuendo and certainly, no arguing with strangers on the Internet. What others think about me (or the state of the world) is entirely their business, not mine.

 

One sure sign that you are growing old – or even just older – is the thinning of the ranks around you. It’s not just that parents and aunts and uncles pass away, leaving you in the awkward position of being among the family elders. You also end up losing friends – some to disease and death; others to misunderstandings and quarrels; and some others to geographical (and then emotional) distance. But while some attrition is inevitable as the years go by, the flip side is that every surviving relationship gets even stronger as a consequence.

 

They say growing old is not for the faint of heart; it involves guts and gore. But, honestly, it’s not so bad when you consider the alternative.

 

The tastes of childhood

They persist even when you are all grown up...

They say that your tastebuds are formed in childhood. That it is the tastes you were weaned on that are the ones that remain your favourites no matter how old you get. 

That is certainly true in my case. I only started eating meat in my mid-twenties when I met my now-husband. And while I enjoy a kakori kebab and a mutton biryani as much as the next person, given a choice I will still choose a vegetarian dish when I eat out. That’s the taste I grew up with; and that’s the taste I go back to every time, despite the occasional experiment with a prawn balchao or a pork sausage. 

More specifically my taste buds were formed in Calcutta (as it was called then) and those are the tastes I still hanker for. Give me a bag of jhaal muri or a helping of puchchkas and I get absolutely delirious with joy. I love a ghee-soaked khichdi along with some aloo posto. And whenever I am craving comfort those are the dishes I fall back on. (The choco-bars of my early years have now become Magnum classics — but they remain the taste of childhood to me.)

But thinking about it the other day, I realised that it’s not just your taste buds that are formed in your childhood. Some habits are also hard wired into you from the time when you were growing up. And these formative experiences form the basis of your adult life, even though you might be unaware of it on a conscious level. 

Take my love of gardens and parks, which I have written about often in this column. It can’t be a coincidence that I spent my childhood making regular visits to the Botanical Gardens in Calcutta. Almost every other weekend would be spent picnicking on the grounds in the shade of the giant banyan tree with family and friends. I am pretty sure it is those childhood memories that are imprinted on my mind which make me such a regular at Sunder Nursery or Lodi Garden or — for that matter — in any park in a city I happen to visit. There is nothing I love more than losing myself amidst the foliage, marvelling at the trees and revelling in bird song. 

My reading tastes are also a holdover from my growing years. Whenever I am looking for a comfort read I head straight for my childhood favourites like Agatha Christie, Georgette Heyer or Jane Austen. Murder mysteries — and by extension, spy thrillers — are my go-to reads even now. And I love period dramas set in the English countryside, preferring them over more contemporaneous stories. So yes, my favourite kind of book is a murder mystery set in an English stately home. And of course, my favourite series are those like Downton Abbey which faithfully recreate that period. 

And then, there is my habit of reading myself to sleep. No matter how tired I may be, no matter how long the day has been, it never truly ends for me until I have spent half an hour reading under the covers. My inner child still needs that bedtime ritual to fall asleep. 

Going it alone

Don't let your solitary state stop you from doing all the things you enjoy

I have ever so often, in this very column, made the case for going out to eat alone. I do this all the time and I can’t recommend it enough. It gives you time to people watch. You can simply sit with your thoughts. It means you eat at your own pace. And the best part is that even though you are alone you are enjoying your meal with someone you love. 

But when I was thinking about this on one of my solo lunches it occurred to me that there are many things that we — especially women — are wary (or just shy) of doing on our own. And it would benefit us all — men included — if we could normalise doing these activities alone. 

Here are just a few examples. 

• Going on holiday. It always irks me that single travellers are asked to join a group of strangers or some like-minded friends when they are planning a holiday. What on earth is wrong about heading out to explore the world on your own? I’ll tell you what: nothing! There is something so liberating about venturing out on a solo vacation with no thought of pleasing anyone other than yourself. Want to spend the morning lazing in the sunshine in the park. Go ahead, treat yourself. Wish to spend hours trekking around museums looking at Renaissance paintings? Knock yourself out. Feel like treating yourself to a play? Book that ticket now. 

• Going to see a movie. For some reason most people are leery about going to the cinema — or to a play or music concert, for that matter — on their own. I guess their fear is that they will look like sad little weirdos who don’t have any friends or partners to enjoy the experience with. Well, allow me to let you in on a secret. Nobody at the movie/play/concert is paying any attention to you or sparing a single thought as to why you are alone. They are simply there to enjoy themselves. As are you — so what are you waiting for?

• Attending an event. This is the one that people find the most tricky. The thought of turning up to a party, a wedding, an exhibition, a red-carpet event or even a fashion show seems to strike terror in most hearts. Making a solo entry strikes most people as being an awkward business. And imagine having to then stand around with a drink in your hand with no one else to talk to? Well, the truth is that you don’t need to do that. Have that drink by all means but mingle with the other guests. Introduce yourself. Join in conversations. And before long, you will find your own tribe. 

So don’t let your solitary state stop you from doing things you enjoy. Book that spa vacation you’ve been dreaming about. Head out for a walk or a yoga class on your own. Once you learn to enjoy your own company, you will never ever be truly lonely — even if you are alone. 

Fasting, feasting

Without worrying about what was on the plates of our neighbours  

I write this column on the first day of the nine-day period of Navratri, a festival that has always had special resonance for me and my family. But, for the life of me, I can’t remember a time when we began the Navratras (as we Punjabis tend to call them) by policing the streets to check if meat was being sold in the shops. Nor did we ever worry about our Bengali neighbours (this was in what was then called Calcutta) eating fish or mutton during this period. 

 

For us, Navratri never meant keeping a watch on what other people were selling, buying or consuming. No, in our family, it meant a joyous celebration of Ma Durga, as we fasted during the day and congregated in our family pooja room in the evenings to sing bhajans (tunelessly, I must concede) and eat the delicious prasad that my mom made every day. It was a time when the entire family came together to worship at the altar of the Goddess. And the only thing we were concerned about was our prayers being accepted; not what was on the dinner menu of our non-vegetarian friends.

 

I still remember the excitement with which all of us children gathered around my mother and grandmother as they sowed the wheatgrass – called Khetri – which was supposed to symbolize the Goddess Durga. We vied with one another to help in the process and would begin every day by running to the pooja room to see how high it had grown overnight. My mom and aunt had a running competition to see whose Khetri flourished the most; and I am happy to report that my mother won resoundingly most years. 

 

While the adults held proper fasts which entailed eating just one meal a day, us kids had a special dispensation to eat both lunch and dinner, but with no wheat or rice allowed. We didn’t really mind because my mother was a genius at creating tasty variations using kattoo ka aata (which was allowed during Navratri). So, we had aloo parathas made with it on one day, perfectly puffed pooris with arbi ki sabzi on another. And as a special treat, in the evenings, my mother would make aloo pakoras using this atta, which were so delicious that our friends would find some excuse to drop by so that they could gorge on them as well. 

 

The grand finale came on Ashtami, when the fasting came to an end and we celebrated Kanjak Day by inviting all the little girls in the neighbourhood to our home for a special pooja. The Kanjaks would be made to line up while my grandfather washed their feet with water. Then they would enter the pooja room, where they would be worshipped as if they were incarnations of Ma Durga herself, and given token presents to take home with them.

 

For us kids, though, the highlight of the day was the kala channa and puris that were served alongside some atta halwa as prasad. After more than a week of (so-called) fasting, we fell upon this repast as if it was ambrosia from heaven – and believe me, it tasted exactly like that. 

 

And no, we didn’t worry if our neighbours were eating chicken as we chowed down, either…