The Sea Within

He stared at the vast sea that lay before him. The vast greyness, a reflection of the grey monsoon skies above. The roughness of the sea seemed to mirror the storms that raged in his head.

As he walked towards the sea he could feel the cold breeze on his face. He could taste the saltiness of the sea on his lips. As he looked ahead, at the distant horizon, he couldn’t tell where the sky ended and the sea began. It felt liked the two merged together. The gloomy, moodiness of the weather reflected the gloominess he felt inside.

The past few months had taken a toll on him, had taken a toll on his mind, had shaken his core. It felt like nature, ever so coolly but so cruelly, snapped its finger and almost half of the world (ok that seemed little too far fetched) got obliterated into thin air, like a superhero movie. Leaving in it’s path death and destruction and a broken heart.

He couldn’t shake of this fear, this feeling of anxiety, of an unseen enemy creeping up on him and taking over his very being. He tried hard to grapple with the constant news of death, people loosing their lively hood, people being afraid of getting infected (he was one of them), trying to cope with what seemed to be a new normal.

And though he tried hard to keep a positive outlook on life, he struggled with his sanity. The gloominess of the situation, with its icy finger, threatened to enslave his heart. The distant horizon felt like the vaccine to combat the enemy, still distant, and far from hands reach. Everywhere, chaos reined and no one, not even the ones in power had any clue what to do. They were all safely tucked away in their so called castles, making appearance only when needed, leaving the work of combatting the enemy to be done by the struggling subjects.

As he walked towards the sea, he wished the waves would carry him away, envelop him and take him away from this cruel struggling world. He wished to become one with it. 

But then he realised that there’s so much to live for, even in the present moment. All was not lost. Though hope and faith was only things on hand, it was sufficient to fuel him on. And there was love, the love that he had in his heart, the love that he wanted to meet, the ones who mattered most of all. He couldn’t give up, for the sake of the love he felt, he had to keep the hope and faith. A wiseman said help will always comes to the ones who never give up on hope.

So he took one last glance at the sea, and then walked back to where his friend awaited him, and they returned back on the road they taken, back to the life he had known.

When Words are more Deadlier than the Sword

A man who was visiting a small town in the States, saw a vicious dog attack a young boy. He quickly grabbed the animal and throttled it with his bare hand. A local journalist who happened witness the incident, came and congratulated the man, and told him that the headlines the next day would say “Brave Local Man Saves Child by Killing Vicious Animal”. However the gentleman told the journalist that he was not a local but only visiting a friend in town. So the journalist told him that the headline would then be like this “Patriotic American Saves Child by Killing Dog.” Once again the man corrected him that he was not an American, and was from Pakistan. In that case, said the journalist in a huff, the headlines would be “Pakistani Kills Family Pet!”

A few days back there was a headline stating that a pregnant elephant was killed after it was fed pineapple filled with crackers. The immediate reaction to the headline was that of disgust and disdaine. How could someone do something so heinous to such a gentle creature and it’s unborn child? Had we lost all our senses that made us humane? How cruel  and sadistic could one get?

And slowly and surely social media was flooded with messages and images of the elephant, and how we failed the poor creature and have lost all our humanity in the process. Some of these illustrations were indeed heartbreaking. The who’s who of social media, including the celebrities, politicians and sportspersons, posted pics and condolences and expressed their disgust of the act. Even the veg section of society accused the non veg section of society on the hypocrisy of their support and condolences, since they consumed meat (not quite sure of the logic here).

So you had all this reaction to these headlines and messages that seemed to floating around social media. However, when you peeled away this initial information you realise that there’s more to the story than just the headlines. The elephant wasn’t fed the pineapple but accidentally ate the pineapples that were not meant for it. This was a way (not a legal one though) used by farmers to keep wild boars from destroying their crops. So this was not a case of a heinous prank but a classic case of man v/a wild and man encroaching the animal territory, a constant struggle for survival. The poor animal mistakenly and fatally got caught within this battle.

Words are indeed mightier than the sword. They have the power to motivate, to inspire, to captivate, to move mountains. But at the same time it can be more deadlier than the sword. It can be used to manipulate, misinterpret and mislead and can even be a source of tension. The case in point being the initial headlines resulted in a condemnation of the act and an outpouring of emotions based on words that were factually inaccurate. The incident indeed had taken place but not in the way the words made it to be. And then there was also an added communal angle about where the incident occurred, which once again was factually incorrect. Even the date when it occurred was incorrect.

All this shows that it’s so easy manipulate our emotions with the help of mere words. We are willing to jump to conclusion based on our interpretation of these words, which is more than willing to manipulate and mislead us.

So before we decide to condemn, let’s get our facts straight. Let’s not be mislead by mere words, cause social media and WhatsApp universities are willingly waiting to twist words and manipulate and mislead our emotions, and we like fools fall for it time and time again. So we need to be careful on how we react, cause words can indeed be more deadlier than the sword.

Indian Crabs

I remember this story that we were told as kids (damn now days I seem to be remembering a lot of things that have happened in the past, looks like quarantine has got me reminiscing on the past). The story was that of Indian crabs. For those who haven’t heard of this anecdote (a short amusing or interesting story about a real incident or person) here it is.

In a popular CRAB market, there was a store which housed all the crabs of the world. There were baskets of each country in the world lying there full of live crabs. The baskets of each country were covered from the top except that of one country "India". The basket full of Indian crabs was uncovered from the top. This perplexed a visitor who asked the owner why only the Indian basket was left open from the top and that of every other country was closed from the top. 

The owner replied: “It’s simple. If we left the baskets of other countries open, all the crabs would climb to the top and walk out. However with the Indian crabs it is never so as every time an Indian crab tries to climb up the container, another crab pulls it down and therefore none of the Indian crabs are able to leave the container!!

Sadly, in the current pandemic scenario this holds true. Rather than working together to find a way to combat the virus, the political parties have been trying to pull each other down, squabbling and complaining like little kids. Rather than bridging the political divide and coming together to work as one they are more hell bent on bringing each other down, trying their best to destabilise each other and add to chaos that’s already there. You can be critical of each other, but for once work with each other for the benefit of the people who elected you and not for your political agendas.

We don’t need clapping, or banging of plates, lightning of diyas, or showering of petals. These are for social media, they are not going to do anything fruitful. And the financial package, sadly, would never reach the ones who need it. We need a leadership, which sadly is mostly missing and mostly appears to either assign some new tasks or extend lockdowns. Celebs and social influencers are either quarantined in their farmhouses, busy posting pics of new tricks they have picked while on lockdown and will only make appearance when it suits them.

We need to stand united if we need to make it out of this situation and come out alive we need to work together, especially our political parties. After all united we stand, divided we fall. Now that’s a thought for another write up!

.. doing the things you LOVE!

“Doing what you’re LOVE is where the Happiness lives!”

This was something that I got to experience this Sunday evening. Even it was just mere 30 minutes, those 30 minutes provided me happiness and contentment that I so longed for,  I so missed. In those 30 minutes I was able to put behind me all my cares, my worries my fears, my doubts, and live in that moment. It brought me calm and joy that just made want to reside in those moments. And though 30 minutes may seem little but it gave me energy that can take me through days.

And although I may have not been certified to take a session, and so I called it a knowledge sharing session, it felt so good, felt so right, felt fulfilling and joyous. It combined the things I loved to do, and what more could I ask for. Seeing all those names pop up got me all excited, made me forget all my nervousness, helped calm me down and just be my joyous self.

I’ll admit I had doubts about my ability to share what I’ve leaned, cause I am no expert, just a student learning to dance. But thanks to the encouragement of my friends Shivam, and Risha and Salome (who also helped me put together the session), and the go ahead of Conrad, I was able to find it in me to do something like that. And not to forget the support, help and tips of my buddy Tanya, who came to my rescue with the stand and Bluetooth speakers. Besides how can I say no when Sangy ma’am asks!

In the end it was all worth it. It was worth dressing up and being ready on a Sunday evening, with now where to go. It was all worth it because I got to spend time with all my running buddies, albeit virtually. So seeing those names made me feel as if they were with me in the room, and that made me relax, that calmed me down, and made me want to give it my best, but most importantly, it allowed me to be me.

So when I hugged my phone in a virtual hug I felt I was not just hugging them, I was hugging myself, telling myself as I told them that we will make it through. And in those moments I found pure joy, cause I managed to do the things I loved the most!

Fugiyas... Celebrating Life!

I’ve always had these during celebrations, be it weddings, birthdays, christening, communions, and other important occasions, and sometimes, even after church on Sundays. Being brought up in a predominately East Indian neighbourhood, fugiyas was always a part of celebrating life. 

Making these little delight brought back the warmth of the memories of those celebrations, and the aunties and nanas who prepared them. So making fugiyas was in a way celebrating life, reliving those memories, honouring all the nanas and aunties I love and miss so much. In these troublesome times these memories are the soothing balm that helps to calm down a troubled mind, proving indeed why cooking is therapeutic.

Once again mumma became my Sous Chef, though she was a bit hesitant of me taking a stab at making these. But in the end she relented to my silly persistence. So while I tried to master the art of getting the perfect fugiyas (trying desperately not to get chatka from the oil due to the water on the fingers, a technique which you used to make then). The first few were had odd shapes, but then they say “practice makes perfect”, so I channelled all the aunties and nanas, slowly and steadily mastering the technique, getting the hang of making, the still not quite perfect, fugiyas. 

Well how did they taste, you may ask. Firstly, it was edible (phew, now that’s a relief), so yeah to me! They didn’t quite taste like the ones I remember and cherished having, but then these were not bad either, and tasted good. So not bad for my first attempt. In a way making these proved to be therapeutic, just what life would have prescribed.

So in the end, this little side dish brought back memories and helped relive them, and in its own way brought about a celebration of life!

The Proof in the Pudding

I remember my mumma making these when we were growing up, and she still does. Whenever there were extra pav in the house, mumma would make it, and I would relish it, and again, I still do (cause Roddy can’t eat just one). She made it in a humble pressure cooker, and it was one of the most beautiful and delicious thing I’ve eaten, then most of the things that mum made are mostly delicious (aren’t all mum good cooks because they do it with dollops of love).

So when you have been quarantined baking and cooking, it seemed like a good idea to take a did at it. Of course, you wasn’t going to take mumma’s help, cause this was my project, your spin on a traditional dish (damn now I sound like a contestant from Masterchef Australia, definitely not the Indian one). And hey, I had to do something hatke to take edge off this lockdown, and the agonising frustration of your internet not working. Hence decided to recreate this classic dish myself.

The first attempt didn’t quite go as I would have liked it to. Firstly, didn’t have previous day’s bread, so had to make it with fresh sliced bread. Though I did try to dry it  out first by keeping the slices of bread in the sun. Next, I didn’t quite have a dish to make the pudding in. So as usual decided to use my pie dish. But then the pie bottom meant that the mixture would seep out, and it di. So had to transfer the mixture to three utensil before I finally settled on a chatti to make it in. They say you’ve got to see the silver lining in every dark cloud, so doing this meant that the bread absorbed the liquid mixture.

 Baking went smoothly, but the outcome didn’t really meet the expectations that I had set for myself. Maybe it was the lack of a proper dish, the centre was quite moist but baked. And when I tried to get it out it looked like Mrs Whiskerson. But then it tasted yumm. So not bad for my first shot.

They say “koshish karne walo ki har nahin hoti”, and I now I’ve come to believe this too. You’ve got to try, try, till you succeed. So making it just once wouldn’t wet the baking appetite, had to make it again, to perfect it. This time I actually got myself an actual baking dish, yipeee!

 So went about assembling the ingredients and then putting the dish together and hoping it would would all come together, especially since I had run out of vanilla essence and had to make do with eliachi powder, as recommended by my mum. Got worried when I saw the mixture rise in the OTG, but it looked delicious. Baking went smoothly, and  I didn’t quite create a mess, so yaay to me!The outcome looked good but not as good and shiny as my mumma makes. But hey it did look good, and when I emptied it it came out smoothly without sticking to the side (as it did previously).

In the end it was not a bad attempt. I did come close to recreating my mumma’s pudding. It may not look as great as hers, but hey I am happy with the outcome, and I know in time I will surely perfect it. And yeah having it with vanilla ice cream makes for an awesome heavenly dessert. So in the end, I can say that the proof is indeed in the pudding!

The Boy who Bakes

Well, can a 40 year old still call himself a boy when he’s far from being one? Even If I can’t, for all practical purpose I shall stick to the title, after all I am a child at heart (which many of my friends and family would vouch for), a boy who refuses to grow up (but I’m no Peter Pan)!

Now that we have got that out of the way, there shall be no further debate (though I can still hear the snickering), let’s get back on track (did we ever get started,to go off it in the first place?)

They say “A way to a person’s heart is through their stomach” (see, I’ve tried to be gender neutral... but then enough of trying to be politically correct), but would it be right to say that a way to his mind is through his stomach too? At least in these strange and anxious times.

Whatever may be the outcome of that theory, cooking and baking has been the calming balm in these strange stressful times, except when it is the cause of the stress. Like when your dough doesn’t come together and is all runny, so your buns are end up looking like an amoeba, or when you try to grind tomatoes and cashews and add water to the content only to have it splash all over the kitchen, leaving you (and in most cases , your poor mumma) the task of cleaning it, or when your cookies keep getting burnt. All this could be quite stressful to a novice hobby baker like yours truly. 

But despite it all, cooking and baking have been proven pretty therapeutic to me. A proven outlet to escape the insanity. And the good thing is you get something delicious (well, maybe not always, but most of the time you do get something edible) from all your endeavours. It taught me patience, especially when it comes to kneading dough. It showed me how to succeed after failing a couple of times (a thousand times would definitely be an exaggeration). So I tried and tried until I succeeded (to be read as burnt a couple of cookies and a few fingers). It showed me how to roll dough without it looking the map of India, or any other country for that matter. But most importantly it taught me how to read, understand and follow a recipe (and here we thought that men couldn’t take directions).

So I have baked cookie6, apple pies , chocolate ganache tart with peanut brittles, cheesecakes, burger buns, as well as made aloo Parathas, chicken sukha, butter chicken, and not to forget, a mess. And mother has been the one reaping the benefits, or enduring the torture, of the fruits (or the outcome) of my baking and cooking l.

So in the end, whichever way you look at it, I can say with pride that baking and cooking has brought me joy, kept me sane, kept me from loosing my mind. Cooking and baking has indeed been very therapeutic to me. And so is this write up on my love for cooking and baking.

Love in the time of Quarantine

We found ourselves in a strange time

In a strange time we found each other

While the world around was social distancing 

It was social networking that brought us together 

We were out there

With not much of a clue about the other 

But destiny conspired 

And social media obliged

A simple comment lead to conversation 

A conversation lead to sharing

Sharing lead to a bond 

And that bond only got stronger 

We bore our soul to each other

Narrated our past

The events of our present

And what we expected from the future 

We exposed our very being

Till there were nothing much to share

To souls laying, almost naked to each other

We poured our hearts out

Exposed scars and wounds

That we hid from the world 

Cause we didn’t want anyone to see

But we were comfortable to share it

We found a comfort level in each other 

And became comfortable with each other 

Though it may feel strange the way we found each other

Especially when considering we were healing 

From our own respective wounds

From our self inflicted scars

But we came into each other’s lives

Like a dawn in the darkest of night

A breath of fresh air in this strange, strange situation

I’ve had this feeling before

But it still feels new, feels different, feels beautiful, feels strong 

And though there may have been fears 

There have been doubts

And in my silliest of lows 

I’ve tried to push out

But the truth is I can’t bare a day without talking or seeing you

Sometimes I fear that I’ll take you for granted

And you’ll get fed up of my idiotic ways

And just give up on me

But you calmed me down and brushed away my anxiety

Helped me to be rationale and not an overthinker 

You brought calm to an overthinking mind

You gave me love, showed me love

That I had given up on

That I didn’t feel I deserved 

And through all my fears

I couldn’t help myself from falling for you

And I couldn’t hold myself back 

From saying those three words to you

Cause it encapsulated what I felt for you

What you meant to me

I did question myself about it

My mind tried to rationalise with my heart 

But then my heart won the debate

And when I said those words to you

It felt like a weight lifted off my chest

My whole world going from monochrome to technicolor 

And when you said it back to me

You lit my life with a million watts bulb

Banishing the darkness of fear and doubt 

That had engulfed my heart

Though people may scoff at us

Say we are going too fast 

And I myself may have questioned myself  

But it felt so good 

It felt so right

It felt like the right thing to do

And then, as they say, rest of it is history 

And now can’t live a single moment 

Without thinking about you

Can’t t think of a future without you in it

My feeling for you are real

My feeling for you is true

They are genuine

From a place deep within

And I know you feel the same way too

I love you for who you are

Who you will be

And how we are when we are together

And though there maybe distance between us 

I feel you all around me

Your love envelopes me

Makes me feel safe and secure

I promise you this

I’ll be there for you

Like I know you’ll be there for me

Through the ups and downs

In the good times and the bad 

In sickness and in health 

In life, death and beyond

You can lean on me, as I lean on you

You are my love, my heart, my life

The love of my life

I love you forever and always

Till my very last breath

I love you and will always love you!

Sexuality and Sensuality and ME

My sexuality and sensuality are sacred

It’s who I am 

It’s who I choose to be

It’s something that no one 

Can take away from me

You can choose to label me

To box and pigeonhole me

Call me names and try to tear me down

But I will be unabashedly unashamedly me

My body is mine

And I have every right to enjoy it

But my body too has the right

To be treated with respect

I am proud of it

Every inch, every curve

Every scar left by wounds

I am perfectly imperfect 

They way I am meant to be

The way I intend to be

But Before I can love anybody else

I am learning to love myself 

I am learning to accept who I am

Cause if I can’t love myself

How will i love somebody else

My sensuality and sexuality are sacred to me!

Hum Honge Khamyab

He stood in his window staring at the darkness outside, with a candle flickering in his hand. A kind of reflection of life at the moment, trying to keep the flame burning, trying to be the flame, in the darkness that he found himself in, that the world found itself in.

He stood there with the candle in his hand, not because someone told him to but because he wanted to. He didn’t know what much could be achieved from all this, other than a photo-op for social media, and rabble rousing. There wasn’t going to be any tangible outcome in it all, nor did he see any religious significance that others associated it with.

He was there out of his own free will, because he wanted to. He wanted to applaud the ones in the frontline, the true warriors, the fighters, the defenders, the ones keeping them all safe, keeping them alive. He wanted to show his appreciation, though he knew this was not really what they wanted. They didn’t need appreciation, they needed support and cooperation and a lot of help in combatting an unseen enemy. He stood there for these warriors.

So he stood there with his candle in his hand, standing there for what he believed in, what he stood for. Low and behold others joined him in their windows, some because they were told to, others out of their own free will, just like him, and still others for the photo-op which they would later post on social media for their followers. 

As they all stood there together someone began to chant some shloks, others began shouting nationalist slogans and reciting the national anthem. For some reason this made him feel uneasy, made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t an atheist nor did he have anything against any particular community, he just felt that brining religion into it wasn’t the need of the hour. Matter of fact he didn’t support the misgivings of his own community. Again, it wasn’t like he was not patriotic he just didn’t believe in the brand of pop patriotism where you were to required to wear your patriotism like a badge across your chest, on your sleeves, to shout it out. The present moment was more bigger than anyone, was bigger than any religion or nation. It was the whole world world in it together. 

He stood there with a sense of uneasiness  growing within him. He wanted to scream and just ask them to shut the fuck up, cause he felt that they would never really fathom what they should be doing against what they were actually doing, what he thought they should be doing. 

He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. And suddenly a song rose from his heart and traveled to his lips. It started as a whisper, a simple humming, but then the voice in him only got louder. And then his mother joined him. Slowly it began to catch up, and others too joined in. The beautiful song slowly drowned out all the sloganeering as more and more people joined in song. Soon the night was filled with beautiful music as people sang in one voice, with a song on their lips and hope and prayer in their heart, a feeling of thanksgiving, of togetherness, a will to overcome all obstacles, a knowledge that together they will, a sense of gratitude for everyone who was helping them get there, fighting for them, protecting them.

They all closed their eyes and joined together in song, the perfect way to show their appreciation and their will to battle on and not bow down, to overcome all obstacles in their way.

हम होंगे कामयाब, हम होंगे कामयाब

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हम होंगे कामयाब, हम होंगे कामयाब

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

होगी शान्ति चारों

होगी शान्ति चारों ओर

होगी शान्ति चारों ओर एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

होगी शान्ति चारों ओर एक दिन

हम होंगे कामयाब, हम होंगे कामयाब

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हम चलेंगे साथ साथ

डाले हाथों में हाथ

हम चलेंगे साथ साथ एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

हम चलेंगे साथ साथ एक दिन

हम होंगे कामयाब, हम होंगे कामयाब

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

नहीं डर किसी का आज

नहीं भय किसी का आज

नहीं डर किसी का आज के दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

नहीं डर किसी का आज के दिन

हम होंगे कामयाब, हम होंगे कामयाब

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हम होंगे कामयाब, हम होंगे कामयाब

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

हो हो मन में है विश्वास

पूरा है विश्वास

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

Hey Jude!!!

“Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Hey Jude, don't be afraid

You were made to go out and get her

The minute you let her under your skin

Then you begin to make it better”

.. sang The Beatles in a song that was written for (or allegedly written for) John Lennon’s son, Julian Lennon, as he coped with his fathers separation from his mother, and his relationship with Yoko Ono, helping him cope with the entire situation. In some way this song speaks to us in our current situation, as we try to stay positive, try to sane, while being indoor and safe but is actually very difficult to do.

It’s very difficult to keep a positive outlook when you’re quarantined, which seems to go on and on, although you know it is for the best to combat the virus. But you struggle with yourself, with your mind and body. Though you try to block out the negativity, things still have a way of getting to you.

In a situation where there’s nothing much to do, it’s difficult to maintain a positive outlook of life when there’s a lot going on your mind. There’s so much going on in your mind that you fear it will overheat and explode. You fear for the safety of your family, the ones you love, the ones who matter, your friends and colleagues. You worry about the future, what is to be once this situation passes (and it will pass, eventually). Your worry about your job security, how would you fend for yourself. You think about the people infected, the lives lost, the ones in the frontline, and it sends a shiver down your spine as you fear for them.

And then you struggle with yourself, your mind, your sanity. You struggle to let nothing get to you but in the end, even the little things triggers you off. You try not to be vain but you worry about your health and fitness, about you putting on weight. Your insecurities keep getting the best of you especially when others are busy and you are sitting on your fat lazy ass, when others seem to be doing workout but you find it a struggle to find the motivation. 

This all turns you irritable, with even the slightest thing ticking you off, when things don’t go your way. You end up taking it on others, the ones quarantined with you, never considering they too are going through the same thing, or even worse. 

You want to do so much, write, read, learn new things, put your life in order, but you can’t quite get yourself to do it at all. And when your health fluctuates, you find yourself riding the lows, down in the dumps. That’s when you really start to social distance because you start to push people away from your life, isolating yourself. This can actually end up taking a toll on your head.

But then as Paul McCartney sang, we need to take a sad song, and in our case, a situation, and try to make it better, not letting it get under your skin. So the key to getting to the other side same is to not let things get under your skin. There are things we can’t help, we have no control on. So we need to accept it and move on and learn to live with it, at least for the moment. There’s nothing much you can do about it so why don’t you make the most of it.

We can always use the time not just getting closer to family and friends, but also to get closer to ourselves, the one that’s buried under all the piles of stress and worries. Use this time to go on a self discovery. Cliched as it may sound, use this time for yourself, and ease yourself into doing the things you like, doing things you need to do (but have alway put off), doing things that will help you improve, that will keep you sane, that will make you the better version of you. And hey you don’t have to go at this alone, you will always have someone who will lend a helping hand, if you just reach out and take it.

So in the end, when you don’t let it get under your skin, you can make it better, cause you can always take a sad song and make it better. You just have to go out and get her. What do you say Jude!

Say Cheese... Cake

Cheesy as it may sound, or is it actually cheesy to say it out loud, or should I just say CHEESE? Are you getting the gist what I am trying to get at? I guess you’ll eventually get it, but for now I guess I am deviating from the topic, or I am actually speaking random gibberish?

Ok, so to get to the point, baking has been quiet therapeutic especially during this lockdown situation, when find yourself quarantined in your house, though you still make trips to put together household essentials. So after you have baked buns, chocolate ganache tarts, biscuits, the natural thing is to try your hand at baking a cake. But why go with a normal cake, how about baking a cheesecake?

Your first step is to find a recipe that you can follow. Once the recipe has been zeroed in, you read and re-read to make sure you are aware of the list of ingredients and have memorised the steps to prepare your cake (even though you will spend time referring to it during the duration of your bake).

So you make a couple of trips down (and here you were supposed to be quarantined) to put together the ingredients. After standing in a line for almost an hour, or what felt like an hour (cause time doesn’t go fast when you’re not having fun) only find out that they don’t have cream cheese, your core ingredient, which ends up getting your panties in a bunch (was I even wearing one 😉). But since you are hell bent on baking, you pick up the next best thing you think you can substitute for the ingredient. 

When you reach home, all tired and sweaty, you google ways to make cream cheese, and you figure out you can make it home. So off you go (so much for being quarantined) to get milk and vinegar. Once back you set yourself to the task of splitting the milk and trying to make some cream cheese (which suspiciously tasted a bit like a better version of paneer). And you stir and stir and stir, till the milk splits. After draining the water (which mom insisted on storing, as it could be used as butter milk) and letting leftover content cool and then putting it through the food processor (read mixer) to prepare you very own homemade creamy cheese (how cheesy of you). So problem solved, and the cheesecake’s back on the plate (at least the idea of baking it).

Now that the problem of the cream cheese was solved it was time to prepare base from Oreo cookies and butter, and me desperately fighting the urge of consuming some of the cookies. Putting together the ingredients for the base brought up another problem, I didn’t have tray to bake a cake and the pie dish I thought I would bake it in turned out to be too big. So in the end had to use my tart trays instead. 

Once the base was ready it was time to let it cool in the fridge (in this heat I would love to be the one cooling in the fridge). While the base rested (and I didn’t), it was time to get the filling together. So taking the freshly made and cooled cream cheese (which was lesser than what the recipe called for but still decided to go ahead with the bake anyway), and the other ingredients, you prepare your filling. You then take out the bases from the fridge and you pour the filling into the trays only for you to realise that you  didn’t have sufficient base for your filling. So after you fill the trays to the brim (another of your silly mistakes) you let the rest go down the hatch (read, into your mouth, down your throat and into your tummy).

While the trays were being filled, the oven was getting warmed up (or in baking lingo, preheated) and the water for the water-bath was getting ready (cause apparently the cake cooks well in a water bath). Once all the stars aligned together, it was time to bake. Ok there was nothing to do with the stars aligning together. Once everything was ready it was time to bake.

I tried hard to be steady and not let the filling leak out into the bath water and water spill on the floor and in the overnight. But no matter how hard you try you’ll still have some spill over, thanks to your unsteadiness. Finally you manage to get it in the oven and set the timer and let it bake. 

While your cheesecakes are baking in the oven (you have two those), you go about doing the time pass you do. You keep an eye on the cakes as they bake while going about your daily chores. After an hour of baking, you set the timer for another thirty minutes cause you oven doesn’t have a 90 minutes timer and that how long you need the cake to bake. You let them bake a little longer till the filling turns brown.

Once the 90 minutes are up (where exactly did time go), you let the trays be in the oven for sometime (read an hour). After an hour, you take them from the over and keep it on the rack till it cools down to room temperature. When they are cooled you transfer them to the fridge to let them cool down further (they seem to be getting more rest than you).

After a good four hours of refrigeration you remove one of trays from the fridge because let’s face it what use is baking if you can’t click and post it as part of your lockdown diaries. As you try to get the cake out of the mould, you try and do this as gently as possible. But then the cake won’t leave the mould without a fight and threatens to crack under pressure. But somehow you manage to get it off the mould, with a little part still sticking to it. Once off the mould, it was time to say Cheese... Cake, and then enjoy the labour of love for baking.