Comfort Food And Khichdi

Types of People in Buses and Bus stops

1. If you’re a girl, you’ll almost certainly encounter a woman who insists on talking to you, for forty minutes, about the rising price of vegetables. This woman can be found at bus stops, and if you happen to be there at the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) time, you might even find her with her pack, all complaining about the bane of their existence: onion sellers.

2. For the guys: if you are at a bus stop, and you don’t look like a wild teenager, you’ll probably get sucked into an argument concerning politics. Before you know it, you’re listening, with growing despair, to an inane conversation about BJP vs Congress, finally culminating with the decision that, of the two of them, Aam Admi Party is the best. Go figure.

3. Most of the time, especially in the evening when people are returning from work, you’ll always find yourself a spectator to an epic showdown between The Kanjoos Lazy Conductor and The Frustrated Auntie. It will start off on a small scale, and gradually build up to a competition on who has the most lung power. It always starts because Frustrated Auntie will give a 10 rupee note for an 8 rupee ticket, and Kanjoos-Lazy doesn’t want to go through the trouble of giving the two rupees back. From there it will escalate to an all-out brawl, with the remaining passengers either cheering for their preferred side, or joining in because “those idiots blocked my way and now I missed my stop.”

4. Without fail, you always encounter a bunch of teenagers who start having a serious conversation in hushed tones about someone else’s personal problems. These problems usually involve either a girl whose boyfriend dumped her and how “she totally deserved it because her boyfriend should be my boyfriend” or it will be about a distant relative and the gossip concerning him/her or it will be about “ohmygodohmygodVarunDhawanissohot!” So before you leave the bus, you’re completely caught up on the latest Bollywood gossip and you know all about the drinking problems of someone’s jiju.

Pearls of Wisdom

I was in Bangalore for a vacation when I met my newest cousin for the first time. He didn't impress me much, just a little prune-like tot who flailed his arms around and gurgled randomly. Since he was less than a month old, there was little I could do except peep in while he slept and then beat a hasty retreat when I inevitably woke him up and caused him to warm up his deceptively deadly lungs, thus effectively kicking the rest of the family out of their sweet dreams.

Schoolwork kept me from going back to Bangalore for the next couple of years, and the memory of Cousin Ajay faded into a corner of my mind for the most part. Hence, the next time I went there, I was greeted by the shy and energetic toddler that the prune had grown into.

Ajay, I quickly discovered, was pretty smart for a two year old. He had limitless curiosity and an incredible ability to memorise everything he heard and reproduce it when it was most irrelevant. Most conversations with him went like this: (Warning: High levels of cringe detected)

Fawning Auntie: So how old are you my poochy-coo? 

Ajay: Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. 

...

A few weeks after our arrival, my uncle and aunt announced that they'd planned a trip to Coorg. So we somehow packed in three adults, two senior citizens, one preteen, one teen and a toddler into a four person car and began the long journey to Coorg. The only thing we knew was that we had to keep to a particular road, and then follow it until we reached a place called Manchanabele. Coorg was supposed to be a little further from there. 

The trip was uneventful for the most part. Simply consisting of old people talk and Grandpa complaining every few minutes about the lack of clean bathrooms in the country. Ajay clearly agreed with him, since he decided that it would be a better idea to relieve himself on my aunt instead of brave those nasty bathrooms or squat in the grass like a peasant.

My aunt somehow ignored the fragrant stain on her thigh for the rest of the journey and I too managed with minimal gagging. Soon, my aunt spotted the elusive signpost saying "Manchanabele 1 Kilometre" and read it aloud for my uncle to hear. Ajay, hearing a new sentence, quietly repeated "Manchanabele 1 Kilometre?" "Yes Ajay." "Okay. Manchanabele 1 Kilometre."

That weekend passed in a blur. We visited a waterfall, spent one day on a safari, and I vaguely remember tiptoeing around on the lookout for leeches with all the paranoia of a highly strung war veteran. All too soon however, we bid adieu to Coorg and made our way back to Bangalore.

It was on our first night back in Bangalore that I realised I had made a critical error. In the week or so that Ajay and I had known each other, I had been so busy panicking about not being able to handle toddlers, that I had completely forgotten to introduce myself to him. The poor boy had been playing with me all week without even knowing my name. 

It was when we were playing Bus and Train (wherein Ajay is the driver of a magical vehicle that changes into a bus or train randomly, while my other cousin and I were passengers) that he decided to rectify this issue. So with all the innocence of a two year old, he asked me, "What is your name?"

Glad to get a not-awkward opening to introduce myself, I replied. "Kirtana."

He clearly had difficulty pronouncing it. So he repeated the question once more. And once more I replied, carefully enunciating each syllable: "Kir-ta-na."

Now he seemed to have understood, since he was nodding proudly. Having got what he wanted, he turned around to start another game, but not before uttering this pearl of wisdom:

"Kirtana. Okay. Manchanabele 1 Kilometre."

tw violence

please don't ignore this. students are beaten up at Jawaharlal Nehru University in india and police is not protecting students. instead they're helping the goons. nobody is helping the students. a lot of students are badly injured.

signal boost

Why I Am a Confident Person

So this is a short piece that I had to write in class, on Why I Am a Confident Person. These are my thoughts. And it was written in less than fifteen minutes, so it’s not perfect. Don’t judge. Please.

‘What do you think is the main quality a person should possess?’ This is a question that I’m getting sick of, to be honest. Or, to put it more accurately, I’m getting sick of the answers I hear to that question. Everyone spews the same, recycled mumbo-jumbo: Love, Kindness, Honesty, etc. However, in my opinion (I’m going to act like you actually care about my opinion) the most important quality anyone should possess is a sense of humour.

Now I’m not talking about cracking the occasional *ahem* non-veg joke, for lack of a better term. The sense of humour I’m referring to is the ability to laugh. The ability to laugh at yourself, and the ability to laugh at your situation. These two are the keys to having self-esteem and confidence. At the same time, you’re aware of your own failings, so it keeps you from getting swollen-headed. But because you can laugh at those failings, you don’t enter that never-ending downward spiral of Doom called ‘Why Me?’

Let me give you my own example. My life is a short joke! If I had one rupee for every time someone said, “Hey, what’s the weather like down there? I wouldn’t be travelling by BEST bus. However, if I became moody and started sulking every time someone made fun of me, I would be spending every waking moment offended and upset. And I’d also have no friends, because honestly, who likes a crybaby?

So there you go. The reason I’m a confident person is because I already know what’s wrong with me and I laugh at it. So when someone else tries to bring me down by pointing out my faults, I just laugh at it, as I always do. Also, another perk of this method of self-esteem-boosting is that, whenever someone tries to bring you down, and you laugh at them, their faces at that moment can be added to the list of things you will look back on and laugh at for the rest of your life. Aah, the memories!

Having been classmates in school with his son, I've seen him a couple of times at school. He never had any of the airs that you would normally associate with celebrities, and was really shy and quiet. He was incredibly talented and a great role model. May he Rest in Peace

In The Memory Of Irrfan Khan

On April 29th, 2020, the well-known actor Irrfan Khan passed away due to a colon inflammation. This was unexpected even when he disclosed his condition on Twitter in 2018. This is a sad occasion for everyone, so I thought instead of mourning his death, we should celebrate his contribution to the industry.

Long Story Short

Born in Rajasthan to a Muslim family, Irrfan Khan was from a generally low class family. Although he was talented in cricket, he had to opt out for acting instead because he didn’t have that much funds. He did his MA in Jaipur and joined the National School of Drama in 1984. After graduation, he was given minor roles in TV shows with little to no acknowledgement. Soon enough, he was given a slew of feature length films that gave him critical success and recognition, such as Rog, Maqbool, and Haasil. In 2008, he appeared in Slumdog Millionaire as the cop interrogating Jamal ruthlessly and he gained international recognition from there. After some more movies, he recieved a National Film Award for best actor for his role in Paan Singh Tomar. During this time, he recieved the fourth-highest civilian award, Padma Shri Award. He got a taste of commercial success with movies like The Lunchbox, Piku, and Hindi Medium, which eared him Filmfare Award for Best Actor. His career seemed to be going stable with movies like Karwaan and Angrezi Medium, but little did we know that the latter will be his last film appearance.

Notable Performances

Miyan Maqbool in Maqbool

Ranvijay Singh in Haasil

Ashoke Ganguly in The Namesake

The Police Inspector in Slumdog Millionaire

Paan Singh Tomar in Paan Singh Tomar 

“Pi” Molitor Patel (adult) in Life of Pi

Saajan Fernandes in The Lunchbox 

Rana Chaudhary in Piku 

Raj Batra in Hindi Medium

Champak Bansal in Angrezi Medium

Legacy

In his 35 years of acting, Irrfan has grown a cult following with very devoted fans. Coming from a low class family, his inspiring story to stardom is the best example of hard work and perseverance. He was a role model for an entire generation of film lovers and showed how far true dedication can get you. Truly a humble talent Bollywood didn’t deserve, his death has left a gaping hole in the industry. May he rest in peace and may his memory and legacy live on forever.

Changing Status of Women

This was a short piece I had to write in class (in about 10 minutes, so be patient please). The topic given was “The changing status of women” I’ve drawn inspiration from the stories of my grandmother’s childhood in a small village in Kerala, as she was one of the few women of her generation who was allowed an education, because of which she values it a lot more than my own generation. I hope this will show everyone how lucky they are to be educated. ________________________________________

Part One: As usual, I woke up unnaturally early, a couple of hours before the sun rose. Tiptoeing around my sleeping relatives, I quickly grabbed some clothes before running towards the pond nearby for a quick bath. Finishing the bath in record time (exactly 8 minutes) I got dressed and rushed back home, quickly finishing the rest of my chores before hurrying back out to begin the 8 kilometre trek to school. All before the rest of the family woke up.

I smiled sadly to myself, wondering, for the umpteenth time, if all this would be necessary if my relatives were not so against the idea of an educated woman. Why do I need to go to school feeling like a criminal? Just because I want to be educated?

Part Two: I watch in wonder, as my granddaughter throws yet another tantrum while my poor daughter tries to coax her out of bed to get ready in time for school. She’s complaining this much…. because of school? Does she not realise how lucky she is? Her parents actually support her education! Her grandparents like hearing about her school and her friends there! She never has to hear snide remarks about how she’s neglecting her duty as a woman by moving out of the kitchen! Does she really not understand how privileged she is?

Quack Attack?

My family appears very normal. I have a father who loves sports and crime shows and I have a mother who is obsessed with vegetables and imaginary specks of dust. The only thing (yes, thing) that disturbs this image is the nutball I call my brother.

Don’t get me wrong, in front of other people he acts completely normal. Maybe a little like a clown, but still normal. The worst part is that people actually respect him! They think he is a very responsible older brother who has to babysit his bratty baby sister all the time (never mind the fact that I’m sixteen). This is what he has other people believe. I’m here to shatter all of these illusions.

My brother is an idiot. Now before you start protesting that he is in fact a very intelligent boy and I shouldn’t be saying things like this about my family, let me outline a few of the more prominent incidents. There is of course the one where he woke me up by dragging me feet-first into the kitchen. Then there is also the one where he decided to show off his arm strength by grabbing my feet in one hand and my hands in the other and flinging me onto the bed. But the one day which stands out in my mind is the day he abruptly decided to call me Quack Attack.

He likes to tell people that there is a reason behind this ridiculously idiotic nickname. There isn’t. He just suddenly decided, ‘Thou shalt henceforth be known as Quack Attack’ and that was it. I honestly didn’t know what was going on. One minute I was innocently sitting at my table and doing my homework, the next he had graced me with his extremely unwanted presence and declared that I “shall henceforth be called Quack Attack.”

My initial thought was something along the lines of, ‘doesn’t he have a hobby?’ but I dismissed that thought and, quite foolishly, I admit, asked him where this sudden announcement came from, whereupon he began to laugh and told me that I had been mumbling those words under my breath. Now that in itself is quite plausible, I do generally mutter while I am writing. But I clearly remember doing my Marathi homework at that time, so there was absolutely no reason why I would be saying ‘Quack Attack’ under my breath. But does that deter him? No, he just ignores my logical argument and sticks to his utterly idiotic beliefs!

It has been almost four years since that fateful day, and I would like to tell you that he has changed and has actually become the respectable 20-year-old everyone thinks he is. But I can’t do that because, sadly, he is still as much of an idiot as he was all those years ago. Time has not affected him one bit. His affectionate nickname has become rather famous *sob* and even certain friends have taken to calling me Quack Attack!

To those who believe that I may be exaggerating a little, I assure you, I’m not. Yes, there are times when we get along, and, having put up with him for sixteen years, I am quite used to his needling by now, but still. In my case, the ‘tyrannical older sibling’ myth isn’t a myth at all! I live it every day!

*cue Optimus Prime voice* I am Kirtana Menon, and I send this message out to all those who battle the forces of annoying older brothers. We are here. We are waiting.

i searched on hathras and dalits, and there’s not much posts here now. i made posts about it, and even they are not there now. is this tumblr’s standard operating procedure for all social movements and rape cases?

also people have already started to forget this case. let me remind you people are blaming the girl’s family as we speak for doing this to extort money from the accused. already violence against dalits is breaking out again. the upper caste monsters are threatening media, people and other political parties from entering hathras otherwise they will be killed.

don’t let this issue die. it represents everything wrong with my rotten country. please it’s a request.

and tumblr - tumblr up.

Quick Guide for Arts Students

Since students have to make a lot of important career and study related decisions in a few short years, I decided to make this overly sarcastic guide for Arts students. Hopefully this helps. Step One: First you must score less than 60% in your tenth exams, because in India, it is unacceptable to be a smart Arts student. It is always assumed that you are an Arts student because you couldn't get into Commerce or Science. Step Two: You must spend your entire time in the college canteen, even if it serves only substandard vada pav and soggy idlis. Arts students are supposed to be drop outs and/or "weird theatre types." Step Three: The syllabus will require you to memorise the birth dates of obscure scientists, because logic. This will kill all your creative genes. For the sake of extremely necessary degree, deal with it. Satisfy creativity by table graffiti. Step Four: You are an Arts student. Sanskaar dictates that you are not on the same level as Science and Commerce students (apparently), therefore 99% in exams is out of question. But you must still get 99% in your 12th exams. Of course, questions in Arts papers are very subjective and as a result it's almost impossible to get 99% in them, but meh. Technicalities. Step Five: Everyone, from ancient relatives to the woman cutting your hair, is going to ask you about your results in the 10th standard. Lie and say you got 50% so that you don't have to hear the standard argument of "Arrey?! Aapko 92% mila toh aapne Science kyu nahi liya???" (What?! Why didn't you take Science if you got 92%???) It's actually easier to bear the judgemental looks rather than try to explain that you might actually be interested in Arts and Humanities. Step Six: Become a teacher.

Chocolate, ice cream and kulfi are probably the only reasons God hasn't destroyed all of us yet.