Monday, 31 March 2014


Indeed it has to be a block, a writer's block!

It has been over a year since my husband started stalking my thoughts and left no opportunity to say his magical sentence – “Dear, I want you to start writing regularly!

An explosion of events happened meanwhile in our lives. For instance my husband got promoted from “Would be” to “Is” position. I lost flab, gained mass; still swaying. Touchy topic but I guess with pizzerias getting ever more active and efficient than local ambulances; I and my generation are not to be blamed wholly for falling prey to the sinfully fattening hunger satiating alternatives floating and beckoning! The idea of your food being ‘few touches and a hello’ away, when you are glued to your laptop and badgered by incessant calls from your boss; does sound like a redeeming option.

Thanks to my health freak partner who essentially sulks if his digestive system does not receive home made meals twice in a row. I am blessed to have a 'much needed restrictive pull' to whisk me out of the reverie of Olives and Jalapenos; cheddar and mozzarella. But then I would not let him walk away with all the credit here; my BMI reality and unimpressive digestive powers do keep me on my toes :-P Tough luck, I am not a skinny lass with gargantuan appetite and electrifying metabolism, you see!

The other factor which deserves a mention here would be the joy I experience every time I step into the realm of beguiling kitchen. The tinkle of spoons, clang of pots and pans, aroma of freshly ground pepper, gurgle of cooking oil, swish of knives and sprinkle of spices teleport me into a distant world of brilliant colors and intoxicating smells. As I lose myself in the whistles of pressure cooker and poundings of mortar-pestle in the stuffy yet enchanting Indian kitchen; I cut off from the humdrum of sweaty summers and dreary routine. I could scribble endlessly on my imaginative transmutation from a tip taping IT professional to a ‘Karchi’ (ladle) wielding entity within the threshold of my personal kitchen (A la attachment!! :-) ) But that tale would be for another day.

Meandering back to the topic, my husband’s obsession to getting me back to penning down actively was turning into an annoying pop up alert with each passing day (He would be mortified when he reads this!).

It was our first candlelight dinner at our honeymoon; a perfect out-of-romantic-movies ambience. There was the slow lilting breeze which tickled softly and dim flickering candles placed artistically amidst flowers laid out to form a heart.

(Slightly corny for my taste but I guess the attendant was at his creative best).

Raging waves crashed at the shore in a rising crescendo and hot savories excellently complemented by sweet red wine kept us smitten. I particularly enjoyed the waves gaining momentum each passing minute; they had a life of their own. Strong and loud never meek and timid! The musicians played wisely in the distant; no overbearing garish notes bam on your face. A truly divine moment when you had everything set just right. Draped in the cloak of soft light, surrounded by the magnanimous Nature whilst wolfing down scrumptious morsels and finishing off with a draught of wine; my husband raised a toast to the occasion and took the chance to make the experience unforgettable by exchanging a few chosen romantic words. Little did I know a pinching phrase would be injected into the sweet nothings, a syrupy version of the now archaic request -“Go back to the papyrus O Lady!”. Not sure if it was supposed to be inspiring and lift my soul out of the fetters or boredom; give me hope, give me reason! But I did feel like a kid who was had just been rewarded for acing a test with more books on the topic. Tadaa!! You stood first in quiz; here is your prize – a GK journal! Woohoo!!

Scrawling & jotting was always my passion. But each time the catalyst to kick start my mood gets ever more elusive and hard to discern. So, I empathized with my hubby in his mission but I was thoroughly clueless. Write! Sure. But what :-( ??

Sluggishly I would discreetly peek into the effervescent pool of blogs, best sellers and editorials. Every one had so much to write, to say and express. Almost every kind of experience had already been documented. ‘Making of my first aloo posto’  to ‘my experiences in SOA’; I ran into every genre of blog I could relate to. And seriously all were writing this vigorously? Was some kind of mass documentation spree announced that I missed? I have already read five different Mahabharata inspired narratives which featured in the top sellers chart; met three perspectives of Draupadi and bumped into untold heroic sides of Duryodhana (Or Suyodhana). Every time I looked for a new recipe with some zing; Tarla Dalal or Sanjeev Kapoor had settled into by lanes submissively; there was this new breed of refreshing emigrant Indian ladies who posted interpretations of their Mom’s recipes beautifully interspersed with vibrant snaps and an episode here or an anecdote there from their lives. So, now I know the accounts of females who flew off to the Land of Eagle and Oz; and sharpened their cooking sense to drizzle Olive oil with equal panache as they would have the age old pungent mustard oil.

So, I was back to muting my hubby’s mellifluous voice each time he resumed his chanting. I wanted to tell him; every subject has been taken care of. Why beat your nerves to creak and crank when you can just sit back and enjoy the ride guided by expert enthusiastic hands briskly hammering on the keyboard across the globe.

Some people are way more persistent than you would presume; so flipping on the “Ignore” mode did not shield me for long. Should I credit my husband’s relentless pestering or my flimsy patience; Ah! That would need more introspection before zeroing in on the verdict. My next defense strategy involved hurling a grenade full of excuses. If you can not sit at the fence serenely; better take the plunge in the mean match before being dragged off mercilessly. I would whine and complain that I utterly dislike my blog site’s URL –!!! Ok, I was a cheesy kiddo when I started my spree of dabbling and grappling with expressions. Still nothing would justify “ranithinksalot”. It is like a food lover’s blog being titled “”. Horror of horrors!!!

Most of my best poetic compositions hit me when I was sad! Whoever said that grief inspires was precisely true. And ever since I bumped into you; I am not sulking so no push to pour out my feelings; I would tell my husband. This excuse would render him speechless for few seconds. Oh! No not out of bliss, but as he claims the sheer preposterousness of my argument stupefies him in his tracks. But I still defend my stand; grief lends gravity and intensity to thoughts. The more you are left to brood, the ever more alluring does the pen appear. Or should I say MS Word appears. Write your worries away.

To seal the groovy episode off, here I am timidly sliding my way back into the hullabaloo of virtual wordy world; tormented by a believer and hard-pressed by a fanatic.
I know not what to seek;
I know not where to peek;
I look around for a hint;
In the world governed by mint;
Choking, chuckling, chasing and cheering in the cacophony!