All Along The Watchtower

For me, it always starts with that inexplicable widening of the eyes and a 'I need to do this right now' message running through my head.

If I fall in love with the idea of a particular book, I will drop all and run to the bookstore to get a copy. And of course, I wont sleep until I finish it. If it is a random song I fall in love with, I shall listen to it on loop until the lyrics are embedded in my memory. If my mum asks me to clear the table on a 'Monica' day, I shall not rest until the kitchen and the fridge is spotless. Well, you get the picture.

It's with every little thing I do. It needs to happen that very instant, or I shall die a restless soul.

This is the incident of 2 days before I had to leave for Kolkata. I woke up in the morning, dragged myself out of the covers, switched on the laptop and sat with my orange juice to decide my IMDb Top250 movie of the day. It was precisely at that moment the 'ping' of my feedreader caught my attention.

A few hours later, I was dazed and wide eyed. Total credits to the food blogs of course. These images of food later overflowed into a lot of conversations I had that day too. Many people accused me of making them hungry minutes after they finished lunch. I got a bunch of angry phone calls from a couple of mothers too. It seems they had to cut short their afternoon nap, to feed their kids for the second time. I was talking of food in THAT much detail.

This one particular recipe caught my eye, and looked fairly simple to make. So I decided to take the plunge.

Spicy Honey Chicken , they call it :)

A bowl, a spoon, boneless chicken, vegetable oil, grated garlic, cumin powder, coriander powder, red chili powder, salt, (and anything else you have at home, which would make sense. I tried to be cool and added something on the lines of a pinch of 'Chaat masala', and something brilliant smelling called 'Meat Masala' :P ), and honey.

Apparently, all you need to do is mix everything in the bowl minus the honey. Check for the taste, balance it the way you'd prefer (Extra spicy, lemony, whatever) and just marinate the chicken in this mixture for 5 minutes. Place it on the grill for 20-25 minutes.

Voila!

Oh wait, and finally, just coat on a layer of honey on the chicken which looks and smells gorgeous by now. Let it be on the grill for another 5 minutes. And then truly,

VIOLA!

(Can you believe how ridiculously simple this is?! Of course I had to drop everything else and make this! )

Lets take a closer look, shall we?

The first time my passport was made, was in the year 1993. Baba had just almost taken up a job offer which asked him and his family to move to Kuwait. In all the hurry, I had my passport made. Apparently, it had taken my parents quite a few hours to get me to hold the pencil straight, remind me of my sleeping and slanting lines for me to sign my name on the rectangle slot. (I just realized, why couldn't they have just made me ink my thumb print? Oh. Maybe they expected me to be more than a angootha chaap even at that age! *tongue in cheek*)

Well, the result? The letters of my names we're all jumbled up and at opposite ends of the rectangular slot. Thank God, baba didn't take up that offer and I didn't have to use that passport then.

I finally ended up using this passport of mine in class 7, when I made a trip to Malaysia with my family. Mind you, this passport photo Ashmita looked nothing like the then class 7 Ashmita.

Here, have a look. (This photo was secretly stolen, uploaded on facebook, liked and then ridiculed on by my absolutely lovely classmates! Hmph!)

The guy at the Immigration Counter had the time of his life chatting up this kid for ten minutes, about how the person in the photo was nothing like me, that I didn't have a coconut tree pony tail, and that I was cheating him and things. All with a smirk.

It took me a while to explain to my parents he was joking.

When my first passport renewal was done, I remember being rushed out of my prelim exam for a verification. My father, being one of the most law abiding citizens there ever are, was absolutely scandalized when I demanded an explanation from the police inspector as to why I was being referred to as a 'Minor'. I was 15! I knew all that an adult knew! (Or so I thought)

And now comes the latest story of my passport.

This time I was all pumped up, as my dad had told me the last time around that I would have to handle my next renewal all by myself. I did as much as I could. My visit to the Regional Passport Office, and my wait there even contributed in adding a last minute question on my Quiz that very day.

And then, Murphys uncle came to play. I am currently sick, and unable to ingest anything(to put it in pretty terms). It just had to be today the Police had to summon me, for a verification. After a two hour wait with the dog outside the cabin, I was signaled inside the cabin with baba.

"Naam"

"Ashmita Sengupta"

"Haan. Form idhar hi hai.....Call aaya tha aapko?"

"Haan. Kal shaam ko. Par abhi tak ghar pe..."

"Kitne saal?"

"Unees saal.."

"Nahi. Iss address pe kitne saal se ho?"

"Che saal"

"Hm. Birth Certificate kahan ka hai?

"Calcutta" ( My dad intervenes)

I look at him with 'Kolkata-has-gone-out-the-window-in-front-of-the-Marathi-speaking-Policeman-what? Look.

"Hm. Or yeh?"

"Yeh mera HSC ka xerox hai"

"Mumbai mein kitna saal se ho aap?"

"Unees- Bees saal"

"Haan. Toh aap kitne saal se iss address pe hain?"

"Che saal"

"Aas paas koi rehne waala?", he asks my dad

"Haan. Prabir Das. Unka naam aur phone number yahan likha hai"

"Kyaa? Praabir kya?" God. I feel bad. No one recognizes Oriyas

"Prabir Das. Hamare Upar waale flat mein rehte hai"

"Theek hai. Aur unke saath? Verification ke liye koi gaye toh? Rahega koi?"

"Haan. Unki wife"

"Unka naam?"

"Ranjita Das"

"Ranjitaa kyaaa?"

"Daaas"

"Unki kitni umar hogi?"

Dad is stumped. 'What? I am being asked of my neighbour's wifes age?!' look on his face. Herecovers quick, makes a quick calculation under his breath.

"Haan kuch 49 .. 50 age hoga unka"

I see him scribbling down her name and age on my application

"Theek hai. Toh kitne saal se rehte ho aap idhar"

"Che saal"

"Theek hai. Do photo de do"

He efficiently staples my photo my form. Looks my dad square in the face and says,

"Aapko house verification ke liya ghar bhejoo, ki idhar hi karlenge ?"

"Idhar hi kar do aap"

"Theek hai. Toh aap 300 de dena. Unka chai paani. Aur mera bhi"

*This is where baba asks me to leave the room while I see him take out a 500 note*

On our way to the car, I clarify. Will the police actually be showing up at our place now?

Baba smiles and says " No. But it makes no difference. Ghar bhi aatein, toh 300 toh phir bhi lete. Chai paani ka. They know we know the drill. So this is just cutting to the chase."

"But any which ways, you verified that form. So if any discrepancies occur with that detail of Ranjita Das and her age, as that is the proof of them making a visit, you shall be beheaded. Not me". He adds with a playful smirk. Rascal.

Still. I was a little confused to see a law abiding citizen, a proud PSU employee to be so cool with under the table money offerings. So I asked him again.

And boy, did the bangali erupt! He spoke about how the guys in the security force are horribly underpaid, and horribly overworked. They pull double shifts without getting paid for overtime. They get paid maybe a 4k -5k to maintain law in a country like India, and not an idealistic country like Japan or Norway. To the people who say "It is their duty", he replies with "Then where are you doing your duty to the nation, boss? Just because your job isnt directly related to the public they dont realize how much you slack off. You don't get to do some fancy sales job and earn 20k a month when these overworked guys get paid 4k to 'maintain the laws in the crime infused Indian society' "

Shameless as I am, I agree, I do not know enough about ANY of this to comment or take sides for that matter. But it does make a lot of sense to me right now, even though it is still odd somewhere on the back of my head.

Just makes me realize how horribly ignorant I am about so many things around me.

Any which way, it's been 7 hours since. And I haven't been able to stop laughing everytime I look at my dad.

My police verification to attain my new Indian Passport depended on my father's knowledge of his neighbors wife's age.

Who could've thunk it?

My first quiz.

I thoroughly enjoyed the whole process of framing questions, and actually standing up and receiving answers and the blatant guesses in room no. 207, although i now absolutely loathe Microsoft Power Point.

Have a look. And criticism is completely welcome.

This is something I would love getting better at :)

Up until 4 hours back, I was even consciously aware of the presence of the red velvet cake/cup cake in the world. Like any other Saturday afternoon, I was fiddling with the laptop and came across this video about 'Re inventing the cupcake', based on this nice female with a 'cupcakery' in New York. Needless to say, the moment I laid my eyes on the gorgeous cupcake she was baking, I knew I had to try it.

Like a tune which is playing in your head on loop the entire day, the image of the cupcake was flashing before my eyes every few seconds. Scanning through the recipe, I realized I could actually pull it off before the sun sets, and before my family wakes up from their 'Saturday - post lunch - fish curry and rice' slumber.

Terribly sorry for the ones who don't stay nearby and can't come over, and bite into the awesomeness this is. The red colored cupcake is a delight to look at, the subtle taste of dark cocoa which hits you at the very first bite, is very gratifying ;and the huge blob of chocolate frosting on the top is just plain sinful.

Look how red!

*drool* chocolate.

So, yes. That. :)

P.S- I mean. Seriously. These things are a pain to carry out of the house with the roads that we have. The frosting gets absolutely ruined. So I mean, call. And come over won't you? And stop threatening me!

Yes, Samata, I mean you. :P

A wise lady once said, "When you look at a cupcake, you've got to smile."

And every time I open my fridge, 'smiling' is the most polite version of what is smeared on my face!

You see those gorgeous things sitting on the counters, jumping out of magazines, staring at you out of the professionally clicked photographs on other food blogs, and you can't help but hate yourself a little bit for not having one in your hand. And the worst of the lot are, the mini cupcakes which inhibit Candies. Little rascals, all of them.

So after donning the hat of improvisation, I decided to bake a few cupcakes myself. Vanilla cupcakes are swell, and the butter cream frosting is heavenly. Thankfully, I had some coloring left over from the cutout cookies ("Raspberry Red" to be precise), so i could end up with a very pink set of cupcakes :P

Oh, and the frosting! Swirling the frosting around with my awesome new nozzle, is just a hoot I tells you.

And, yes, you. A batch shall be on their way to your tummy very soon. You know who you are.