The unspoken rules of the kitchen

First let me get this straight: My husband is an EXTREMELY helpful person to have around the kitchen. However the problem arises when he doesn't understand the unspoken dynamics that determine crtical operations of a kitchen.

For example, when one lowers the stove and turns away from a simmering pot of contents, it is known amongst regular kitchen experts that the said contents can continue to cook without anyone needing to constantly stir. In fact it's not just in the kitchen that it is considered rude if you go around stirring someone else's pot!

When more than one person is preparing food in the kitchen, there is a silent 'first come first serve' tenet while using the cutting board, blender or burners. You cannnot simply move / remove the first cook's dish and begin your own, any more than you could walk into the living room and switch TV channels (ahhh... but that's another rant).

Let's also not forget that there can only be ONE head cook. Juggling can be done by jugglers, bartenders and mothers of young children, the kitchen is not the place to showcase your roti flippng skills and we are definitelty not Italian pizza makers.

Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. Gentlemen, we are delighted that some of you are choosing to move with the times, help your spouses or pursue a new passion, but let's face it: for most of you this is new territory like any trip into the unchartered it would help if learned the rules.

Or asked your wife.

Out with the old

Ok, here it is... another New year, another resolution.

This year I've gotten older. All my life I've waited for to "grow up", and as of 2005, it's finally happened. Tension headaches, anxiety attackes, psychosomatic ashtma and writer's (near) burnout.

Congratulations Vidya! You are now an adult.

So now that I'm in-charge of my life and doing such a bang-up job of it, this year's resolution is to be more adult-like and less of a granny.

My resolutions in a nutshell are:

1. Thou shalt write a daily blog: I have views, I am a writer. The two shall meet.
2. Thou shalt move thy ass: The theme of the year is "fitness". Yoga, Walking, gymming,
3. Thou shalt spring clean thy God-given Talents: Tanjore Painting, My Vocals, My Guitar.
4. Thou shalt write like there is no tomorrow: No more moaning over ideas that amount to nothing more than a synopsis
5. Thou shalt chill: Dirty dishes are not the end of the world. Hubby blowing 1000 rupees a month on dvds is no big deal. Life is still good even if there is a pile of dirty, soggy, smelly laundry at end of the rainy season.

And last and biggest of all.

6. Thou shalt remember thy life is full of blessings and only getting better.

Cricket in the air…

In my original role as a full-fledged tom boy, my first experience with ‘Crickets’ were these paper clip-sized black insects that hopped around (somewhat similar to grasshoppers, but in my mind, not as big, not as powerful and certainly not as gross). I spent many a constructive day honing my stalking, hunting and capturing skills with a focus and intensity that would’ve had my farthest African ancestors smiling down with approval. Those cricket days opened up one of the simple childhood joys in life… you caught them, they entertained you, and you sent them hopping along their way when you were done. Casualties were negligible.

My second experience with ‘Crickets’ was when my parents excitedly trundled my sister and me into the car with the limited information that we were going to meet some famous people called ‘Crickets’ at some friend’s big bash. My curiosity was piqued only when we stopped at a drugstore to pick up an autograph book.

“Why on earth would we need an entire autograph book for a rock band,” I wondered aloud. And since when did my folks become fans of The Crickets? As far I knew at the time, they only listened to records of The Bee Gees and The Carpenters.

“It’s a sport,” my dad clarified, “we’re gonna meet the Indian team players…!”

“Oh!” (parental enthusiasm is sooo infectious when you’re eight). Then, of course, since I was now a big fan of our Indian Cricket (no ‘s’) Team it was important for me to know how we were faring… “Are they any good?” (I was a pretty naïve kid back then…)

Cut to rich family friend’s house. Turns out my parents decided to have kids so they could get us to do these oh-so-oddly-demeaning chores for them… like pulling weeds or hey, getting autographs. In the US, you never talk to strangers and you’re always very careful who you mingle with. But if you’re parents think it’s ok, you may push your way roughly through a crowd of boys twice your size and age, wave your autograph book under the nose of the chunky guy with the big moustache and get his autograph all without saying a word. (Except of course “Thank You” since we were very polite)

If you’re me, getting the entire teams’ autographs becomes an exciting quest and may result in having the cricketer in front of you raising a “what have I done wrong?” eyebrow and saying with as much aplomb as he can manage “I’ve already signed this”. This happened a few times before I decided I had ‘gotten’ everyone. (Hey! When you’re a kid growing up in the US, all Indian men with moustaches look alike.)

Deciding the pool was a much more fascinating subject of study I went to the edge and stared at the bluey depths a little mesmerised… when two large hands held my shoulders and turned me around. Another mustachio. He got down to my height (which believe me, an eight-year-old kid will always appreciate) and said quite calmly, “Hey baby, watch out... you could fall in.” (Grrr… let me add here that eight-year-olds are NOT babies and don’t like being addressed as such.) And then he kissed me.

Years (and years) later I wonder… what is it about the first kiss (albeit on the cheek) that ensures a girl will never, ever, forget it?

And what is it about Kapil Dev that ensures he always makes a lasting impression?

Crickets anyone?