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.

Smell the roses

 The lessons that gardening teaches you 

The first time I became invested in plants was when I moved into my first home in Delhi. It was a tiny barsati in Defence Colony but it had a huge terrace which was crying out to be filled with beautiful blooms. So, during my first Delhi winter, I planted every colourful annual I could find in the local nursery and waited for them to bloom in spring. And bloom they certainly did, turning my terrace into a riot of colour that gave me much joy as I sat there every morning sipping my first cup of coffee. 

 

Since then, no matter where I moved, and however small my balcony or patch of green, I became obsessed with plants: potting them in colourful containers, making sure they had enough sun/shade, feeding them with fertilizer, and rotating them with the seasons. I have never ever had a garden of my own, but even small-scale gardening of the kind I do in my current Delhi apartment has taught me some important life lessons. 

 

First off, it has taught me patience. You can plant a seed and water it religiously, but it will only grow in its own time, it will bloom when it is ready, and it will wilt when its time is up. You can do your best by your plants, but you must work on their time scale not on yours. Nurture is all very well, but Nature is the master – and don’t you ever forget it.

 

Having a garden – or some plants on a balcony – makes you realize that beauty is transient. Nothing lasts forever. Flowers will bloom for a while and then die. Leaves will fall off your frangipani every year, leaving you bereft. But then, new leaves will sprout and your tree will grow fractionally taller and wider, and begin to bloom once again. There is nothing quite like plants to teach you about the cycle of life and how everything that lives in the present moment will perish sooner or later. But something as – or more – beautiful will take its place. And your mourning will soon give way to joy.

 

Plants also teach you about seasonality, a concept that we have forgotten in a world in which every vegetable and fruit is available around the year. But plant some strawberries in your pots and you can be sure that they will only give fruit during October-November or April-May. My shiuli bush (called Parijat in the north) always blooms around the time of Durga Puja, reminding me of my Calcutta days when its arrival heralded the return of the Devi to her ancestral home. 

 

They say that the ultimate unselfish act is to plant a tree under whose shade you can never hope to sit. Unfortunately, that privilege has never been granted to me, but I have nothing but admiration for those people of my age and older who plant little saplings in their garden, knowing that they will only bear fruits when their grandchildren are grown and they are gone forever from this world.

That is, in my mind, the best kind of legacy to leave behind: a plant that will survive for generations, a living reminder that you once existed and had love in your heart, not just for your family but for all of creation.

 

Bloom time

We are finally taking the time to smell the roses…

 

The last time I visited Japan was seven years ago. Watching the Sakura (cherry blossoms) bloom had long been on my bucket list. And in 2016 I was lucky enough to arrive in Tokyo on the very day when those amazing white and pink flowers bloomed across the city. I spent the next week doing what the Japanese call ‘Hanami’, which basically means sitting quietly and taking in the beauty of the flowering Sakura. In this I was joined by what seemed like all of Tokyo, Sakura-watching being a national pastime during the fortnight when the flowers are in situ.

 

I remember coming back to India and writing a column bemoaning the fact that while we have plenty of flowering trees in India – amaltas, saptaparani, tesu, palash, to name just a few – which are just as pretty, we didn’t seem to make much of them. We didn’t take time off to sit in parks or simply by the side of the road to admire their beauty.

 

Last week, I was fortunate enough to visit Tokyo again during the Sakura season. And as I travelled from park to park, feasting my eyes on that miraculous burst of colour that is the flowering cherry blossom, I was struck by a sudden realization. I don’t quite know when it happened, or what brought it about, but in the last few years, we in India have begun to celebrate our own flowering trees and spring blooms with a similar enthusiasm that the Japanese show for Sakura.

 

I see it all the time during my walks in the sundry Delhi parks I haunt during the spring. I am surrounded by people, both young and old, who are more interested in taking pictures of the flowering plants – petunias, salvia, pansies, hollyhocks, roses – than in getting their 10,000 steps in. The tulips in Lodi Garden this spring, for instance, were an Instagram staple, with hundreds of posts dedicated to their beauty.

 

And it’s not just spring flowers that are getting eyeballs. Flowering trees are becoming as much of a crowd pleaser. The bright red flowers of the tesu, which are a harbinger of Holi, bring a spot of colour to my social media feed, as does the palash tree, which blooms soon after.

 

During the peak of summer, when the amaltas begins to show off its golden hues, everyone goes a bit mad posting those yellow-streaked trees as they shimmer in the strong sunshine and brighten up every city street. The Pujas are heralded by the flowering of the shiuli tree. But while earlier, it was just the Bengalis among us who would celebrate its arrival, now those delicate white and orange flowers have fans from almost every community.

 

In my house, it is the saptaparani tree outside the balcony that signals the arrival of winter to me. The moment the temperature drops, the tree starts to sprout tiny white flowers which give forth the most heavenly fragrance. But it’s not just me that is taking in that perfume, the rest of the world is just as enthused by it.

 

So, what accounts for our new-found passion for flowering trees and blooms? Is it just another way of brightening up our social media feeds? Or are we finally becoming sensitized to and appreciative of our environment. Or is it a bit of both? 

  

Whatever the reason may be, I am very happy that we are finally stopping to smell the roses.

Blossom and bloom

Flowers are not just for decoration – they can help you time travel as well

 

My first home in Delhi, when I moved here nearly three decades ago, was a barsati in Defence Colony. And the first plant I bought for my terrace garden was a pot of flowering nargis (narcissus). A member of the daffodil family, this elegant white and yellow flower blooms for the briefest of periods in the late winter/early spring. But for all its small size, it packs a powerful punch when it comes to its heady, yet delicate perfume.

 

This winter, when I began looking for flowering plants for the teeny-tiny balcony I now have, my thoughts inevitably turned to nargis. And thus began a fruitless trawl through all the nurseries in and around me, searching in vain for a pot of this amazing plant. When I drew a blank everywhere, I decided to do the next best thing. I popped into the neighbourhood florist and bought a huge bunch of the flowers instead. At home, I arranged them in bowls and vases, and scattered them throughout the house, so that everywhere I went, I was accompanied by the sweet smell of nargis and a heady whiff of nostalgia. 

 

It's strange how I associate flowers with certain stages of my life. Easter lilies always remind me of my childhood home in Calcutta, where my grandfather would plant his bulbs every year, watch their progress anxiously, and heave a sigh of relief when they finally flowered. Then, after the season was over, the precious bulbs would be stored away carefully for the next year. Whenever I see lilies now, they trigger the memory of those annual rituals of my grandfather.

 

Another flower that I always associate with my childhood in Calcutta is the shiuli. This blooms just once a year and the white flowers barely last a couple of days on the tree, falling down to create a lovely, aromatic canopy on the ground. But their smell wafts across the entire house and reminds us that Pujo is coming, and that the Devi will soon be among us. Now that I live in Delhi, Pujo doesn’t have quite the same resonance, but the sweet perfume of shiuli is still my favourite thing about this time of the year.

 

Assam gave me my first experience of night-flowering trees, at the tea garden owned by my aunt. Walking through the garden one night, my 8-year-old self was assailed by a smell I was hard-pressed to describe to myself, but which I loved nonetheless. It was the smell of raat ki rani, I was told by my cousin. Also called night-blooming jasmine, this bush bordered the house and the garden and perfumed the air around it every night. Even today, when I smell that distinctive scent, it is that tea planter’s bungalow that I am transported to.

 

I fell in love with orchids on my first trip to Bangkok. What they lacked by way of perfume, they more than made up with their infinite variety of colours and patterns. Whereas other people stocked up on clothes, bags, shoes and perfumes when they visited the city, I came back home laden with orchids of every stripe. They lasted for nearly a month in vases if they were well looked after, and in my mind, made the holiday last for just a little longer. 

 

More recently, it is the perfume of the flowering alstonia (saptaparani) tree outside my balcony that has become the smell of the Delhi winter. I have recreated my Assam evenings by planting raat ki rani in pots on my balcony. And ever so often, I drop by the florist to pick up some orchids to create a little corner of Bangkok in my living room, or a bunch of lilies to keep the memory of my grandfather alive.

 

As I write this, the heady smell of nargis fills my senses. And I can’t help but feel that flowers really do have the power to take us back to other worlds we inhabited not so long ago. And as time travel goes, you simply can’t beat this mode of transport. You really should try it some time. 

 

Will you be my Valentine?

Save yourself! Say no to the commercialisation of romance that is Valentine's Day

It's that time of year again. When we are exhorted to up our game when it comes to gourmet dinners, expensive gifts and mushy greeting cards. When we are asked to break out the fancy chocolate and those overblown hothouse flowers. When we are encouraged to go for the extravagant gesture that translates as excessive expense.

Yes, Valentine's Day is around the corner and suddenly we are required to see life through the rose-tinted glasses of romance. Whisk your girlfriend away for a romantic mini-break. Surprise her with a diamond. Book a band to serenade her over dinner. (Sorry guys, but this is one time when you are expected to do all the heavy lifting while your better half sits back and prepares to be pampered!)

As I may have mentioned before in these pages, there is nothing I hate more than all this palaver. It's bad enough to suggest that one day should be set aside to celebrate romance (if you ask me, given the hate we see all around us, we should celebrate love and lovers every single day.) But it's even worse to take that day and commercialise the living bejesus out of it.

And that's exactly what has happened to Valentine's Day. Schmaltzy greeting cards flood the shops in the run up to V Day. Flower shops push up their prices to absurd levels to take full advantage of young (and sometimes middle-aged) love. And restaurants ditch their regular menu to come up with Valentine Day specials that always involve such 'aphrodisiacal' ingredients as oysters and asparagus (this seems borderline insulting to me but then I've never been to one of these 'special V day' dinners, so what do I know?) paired with dodgy sparkling wine that they pass off as champagne.

Growing up when I did, I was fortunate enough to go through my teenage years without worrying about whether I would score a Valentine card of my own. There was certainly no pressure to find a date for Valentine's Day -- or be considered a loser forever. And nor was it considered mandatory to waste an enormous amount of money on this day to prove just how romantic you were.

Young people these days are not so lucky. Being home alone on Valentine's Day is likely to reduce your status to that of social pariah. But if you are going out, guys, then be prepared to shell out the big bucks to prove just how devoted a lover you are. Bring on the roses, pop the champagne, and prepare for an evening of conspicuous consumption made tolerable by some mandatory canoodling.

Speaking for myself, I can't think of anything more soul-destroying -- or romance-ruining, or even bankrupt-making -- as participating in this commercial exercise that goes by the monicker of Valentine's Day. So my way of registering a protest is to stay at home, cook a simple meal, open a bottle of wine and then settle down on the couch to watch a good movie or TV series (which, to be honest, is what I do most days).

But if you want to push the boat out on V Day, don't let me put a damper on your enthusiasm. By all means, spend a fortune on overpriced flowers, max your credit card out on buying the most expensive set meal ever, and surprise her with the stone of her choice. If you want to be a chump, then it is hardly my place to stop you.

If, on the other hand, you want to Just Say No to V day and its vanities, then here's a handy guide to what you can do instead with the money you have saved:

* You can buy a bottle of champagne -- the real thing, not all that sparkling wine nonsense -- and invite your date over to pop it open ceremonially. Drink it in the privacy of your home (or your room if you still live with your parents), pairing with a simple meal of smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and buttery toast. I am not sure if any of this stuff is 'aphrodisiacal' but I am pretty sure it will put you in the right mood.

* Book a spa break for you and your loved one over the weekend. Sleep in late, have a nice brunch, get massaged. Rinse and repeat. Bliss!

* Create a bespoke experience for your significant other. Buy the best bath products in the market and stock up on scented candles. And when she/he gets back from work, surprise her/him with a lovely bubble bath (bottle of bubbly and back scrub optional).

* Eschew cliches like jewellery and designer bags and find a present that is meaningful for your loved one. Find a first edition/signed copy of a book she adored as a child. Buy a piece of art that he admired as you walked past the art gallery. Or better still, if you are up to it, write him/her a love poem of your own, have a calligrapher copy it down, and set it in a beautiful frame.

And most important of all, don't wait for Valentine's Day to do all this stuff. Love is worth celebrating every day of the year.  And lovers, even more so.

Spring is in the air

And with it, comes the promise of new beginnings...

Did I happen to mention that winter was my favourite season? Well, dear reader, I lied. As the weather warms up, the nights get balmier, the days longer, I realise – as I do every year, without fail – that my favourite season is, in fact, spring. The trees begin to get green again, the flowers start to bloom, and it gets that much easier to struggle out of a snug bed every morning. What’s not to love about spring?

So, while we are on the subject, let me count the many ways I love this season; and the many things I love about it.

First up, are the flowers. I have always loved the way Delhi is transformed by the colourful waves of flowers which raise their pretty little heads, nodding in the cool breeze as if they were acknowledging the arrival of warmth and happiness. There is the brilliant red of salvia, peeping forth from deep green leaves, as if asking Nature if it was safe to come out and play. There is the riotous joy of fuchsia and the wild profusion of pansies, as they threaten to destroy the symmetry of flower beds everywhere. And then, there’s my personal favourite: the Nargis (or Narcissus) flower, with its sweet, delicate aroma and shy white and yellow petals, looking a trifle embarrassed about being made much of.

But my love for spring pre-dates my love for Delhi. Growing up in Calcutta, spring (or Basant, as it was called in my household) was heralded by the most important festival in my calendar: Basant Panchami. For us kids, this meant Saraswati Puja, where we would wake up early in the morning, have ritual baths, wear something yellow, and start the day by worshipping the Goddess of Learning. It was an utterly unasked-for bonus that this was also a study-free day, because all my school-books had to be placed reverently at the feet of the Goddess so that she could bless them at her leisure, and I could spend my time reading my favourite Enid Blytons.

This was also the first day that we were allowed to eat ber, a fruit that has come to be associated with Goddess Saraswati. The prevalent superstition was that you would fail your exams if you ate ber before the day of Saraswati Puja. Fervent believers all, we would faithfully steer clear of the fruit until Basant Panchami, and then gorge ourselves silly. This not only introduced us to the concept of abstinence but also taught us that everything tastes better after a spell of deprivation – an invaluable lesson to learn in life.

Those rituals of childhood – and the superstitions that came with them – are long gone, but the arrival of Basant Panchami still puts an extra spring (pun entirely unintended) in my step. And adulthood has brought its own spring rituals with it. A pedicure to spruce up unsightly winter feet, hidden away for months behind socks and boots. Waxing arms and legs, so that sweaters can be peeled off and skirts worn without any embarrassment. Packing away winter clothes and digging out the cottons and linens languishing forgotten at the back of the closet. And bidding goodbye to layering, which can turn the slimmest among us into little butter-balls.

It’s not entirely surprising, then, that so many of us embark on special fitness programmes around this time. The weather is just right to go for a morning or evening walk. And there’s no excuse for that glass or two of alcohol to warm you up at night. You can forgo the dense soups for a light salad made from crunchy spring vegetables and not feel deprived. You can give up calorific cappuccinos for refreshing iced tea. And if you’re lucky, maybe in a month or so you can get rid of all the lard you’ve accumulated over winter and get back into your old summer clothes.

Or better still, you can do that one thing that actually takes its name from the season: spring-cleaning. Throw out all the old stuff that is cluttering up your life (not to mention your mind-space) and create the space to bring some newness to your life. This could mean anything from last season’s Anokhi kurtis which no longer fit to old acquaintances who bring you down with their negativity. Throw out everything (and everyone) who doesn’t add anything to your life. And use the space cleared to fill your life with positivity, joy and good cheer. 

So, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and enjoy spring while it lasts. Go for a walk. Eat an ice-cream. Enjoy the feel of wet grass on your feet. Buy a beautiful new dress. Paint your nails green. Wear flowers in your hair. Start a journal. Sign up to learn a new language. Take dance classes. Be brave. Make new beginnings. It is the season to do just that.

What women want

It really doesn’t take much to make them happy – you just have to know what does

This column is dedicated to all those men who keep complaining that they have no idea when women want. To those men who despair of ever making their wives/girlfriends happy. To whom the mind of a woman is a closed box with No Access written in large red letters on the side. And most of all, to those who get it wrong despite trying their very best to please.

Take it from me, it doesn’t take much to make a woman happy. And contrary to all that guff you read in women’s magazines, it’s not all about oversized bouquets and boxes of expensive chocolate (though sometimes these may be very welcome). A woman’s happiness is tied up in a set of intangibles that vary through every stage in her life. And to know what these are, you need to pay pretty close attention to her.

But if that seems like a huge ask, here are a few pointers to nudge you in the right direction.

• What is the best compliment you can pay your woman when you are out with her? Telling her that she looks like a million bucks? Assuring her that her bum looks terrific in those pair of jeans? Well, yeah okay, that may be one way to go. But you know what they say: talk is cheap. If you really want your woman to feel like a million bucks, stop shooting sidelong glances at the other women who pass by through your peripheral vision. Stop checking out the derrierre of the lady riding the escalator ahead of you. Don’t open doors with a flourish for the babe in a tight mini-skirt. In fact, don’t even clock her existence. Have eyes only for your woman; and see her blossom and shine as she glows with the confidence of someone who knows that she is loved and desired.

• When the woman in your life is telling you about the problems in her life – at the office, with her parents, with the maid – all she wants you to do is listen and act like you care. She doesn’t want to be told that she is “making a mountain out of a molehill”. She has no desire to be asked to “just calm down and relax”. And she certainly doesn’t want you to go into problem-solving mode and tell her what exactly she is doing wrong and how she can resolve the situation. All she wants is that you pay close attention – i.e. switch off the television, get off Twitter, shut the newspaper and put down the volume on the I-pod – acknowledge that she has a genuine problem on her hands, and sympathise with the difficult situation she finds herself in. That’s ALL you need to do. So long as she feels that she is being listened to – rather than just heard – she will feel validated.

• Okay, so you are not the greatest of shoppers, and choosing a birthday/anniversary present for your woman is probably your idea of hell. But no matter how stressful gift-shopping may be, on no account must you delegate this task to your secretary/personal assistant (mostly because the woman in your life will always find out – and then all hell will break loose). This is one job you have to do yourself. If you are not confident about your taste, take the birthday girl along to choose something. But on no account must you buy her anything that you could end up enjoying yourself (so no flat-screen TVs, no Jacuzzi for the bathroom, or even expensive lingerie). The gift must be personal, something so luxurious that she would feel guilty about buying it for herself, and frivolous enough to suggest that you still see her as a fun person rather than a staid mother of two. Most importantly, you must also arrange that she can return the gift if she doesn’t like it and choose something else in its stead. And if she does – don’t look sulky. Just smile and say that this is what you had meant to buy her in the first place – before the salesgirl steered you in the wrong direction.

• When it comes down to it, remember that it is the little things that matter. Greet her with a kiss rather than a demand for a large drink when you arrive home at the end of a long day. The great toilet seat battle has already been waged and lost, but don’t rub salt in her wounds by leaving wet towels/clothes on her pristine new bed linen. Send her a text message in the middle of the day to tell her that you are thinking of her. Take the kids off her hands for a couple of hours on Saturday so that she can enjoy a manicure without them wrecking havoc around her. Be nice to her parents. Rub her feet as she lies in bed, exhausted after looking after a fractious one-year-old. Surprise her occasionally – whether it is with breakfast in bed, a single red rose, a CD that reminds you of the time you went dancing in Goa, or a weekend away without the kids. But most of all, just show her that her happiness matters to you. At the end of the day, that’s all you need to do to keep her happy.

See, I did tell you, it really doesn’t take much.