Story of a book mark

What? You don’t think book marks have stories to tell? Think again. Over the years at the library, we have seen so many book marks or objects used as book marks that we can get a pretty good idea of the habits of the book mark user. Book marks (that we have found at our library, tucked within the pages of a book) range from ornately designed pieces of art to dental floss to used tissues (and everything in between). Yes, you read that right. We, library workers, wash our hands more frequently than perhaps you do so one of the most popular gifts that we give to each other is hand lotion to show some love to our rough, red. well washed and well sanitized hands. I am telling you, library work is not for the faint of heart 🙂 .

A friend gave me a hand embroidered book mark. She is a whiz at embroidery and anything she creates is beautiful. As I held the book mark in my hand, I decided this one will only go into books that I will love and cherish. I live in a world of books. I touch books through out my work day. I bring home an inordinate number of books too. So much so that I fear I have a problem of hoarding. Fortunately, I am also very conscientious so I never keep the books beyond their due date and diligently return them on time. As you can imagine, many of those books get returned unread. There are only finite number of waking hours and within those hours, I must work, eat, be present with family, do some mindless phone surfing and read. At this ripe old age, I have realized that life is too short to continue to read books that don’t hold my interest. I start a lot of books, read about 50 pages and then abandon them if they don’t keep me engaged. My beautiful book mark never goes into those abandoned books. I only use that particular book mark for books that I know I will finish. You can say, my piece of art book mark is my love language to the books that capture my heart. Authors have to earn that book mark in their books. Here is a short list of books that have earned this honor:

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

The Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery

How to Say Babylon by Safiya Sinclair

Poverty, by America by Matthew Desmond

Master Slave Husband Wife: An Epic Journey from Slavery to Freedom by Ilyon Woo

Finally Seen by Kelly Yang

The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store by James McBride

Rough Sleepers by Tacy Kidder

Lady Tan’s Circle of Women by Lisa See

Not Quite Not White: Losing and Finding Race in America by Sharmila Sen

I find this book mark to be a perfect gift. My beautiful friend and colleague who embroidered it by hand knows my love for books. And her gift of love nestles within the pages where I lose myself and find myself too. This is one of those gifts, along with her love, that keeps on giving.

What is your idea of a perfect gift?

Cadbury Fruit and Nut chocolate bar.

Last night I discovered that I threw away baba’s last gift to me. Everytime I left Kolkata, baba bought me a bar of Cadbury Fruit and Nut chocolate bar. In 2019, when Ryan and I left Kolkata with the hope of returning in May of 2020 to celebrate my 50th birthday with them, baba bought 2 chocolate bars for each of us.

After a laborious process of checking in, clearing immigration, getting my act together at Kolkata airport, we sat down near our gate and pulled out our chocolates. I opened mine first, unwrapped it and saw that the chocolate was covered in a white, powdery film. It was bought from a local, small grocery store in front of our apartment and I thought they must have kept this lot of bars beyond their expiry date. “Oh, my chocolate bar is bad. Ryan throw yours out. I am throwing mine out.” I threw the chocolate in the nearest trashcan. And as the chocolate swooshed inside the trashcan, Ryan exclaimed, “Mom!! NO!” He looked at me,incredulous that I would throw out a whole chocolate bar, “Why did you throw that out? Look it says it is normal to have the white film on the chocolate. It says it right on the cover.” And so it did.

Seeing the regret on my face at my hasty action, Ryan shared part of his chocolate bar with me before we boarded the flight for US. And he teased me mercilessly.

Yesterday, the four of us went to dinner when this topic came up. I said if you think about it, I threw away dadai’s last gift to me. Ryan said, “But I shared with you my gift from him.” And Sahana said, “Right there is a circle of love.”

Memories, anecdotes, stories circle in my head constantly. What the two kids says last night stayed with me as I tried falling asleep.

A mysterious surprise!

This box appeared on my desk at work today. I did not sleep well last night, so I woke up tired as usual. Contemplated life over coffee, looked out and glared at the cold weather, completed Wordle on the 5th or 6th try. Dragged myself to shower, put some eyeliner, slapped on my mask and stepped out into the cold, muttering how much I hate winter.

At work, I clocked in, exchanged pleasantries with some coworkers and walked to my desk. And there it was. A gift from a mysterious giver. I asked a few usual suspects if they had gifted me a box of chocolates. None of them had. I wondered all day who this kind person was? Who knew that I need a little picker upper today? That act of love carried me through my work day. And I must write it in my blog to remember, down the line, how gestures of kindness matter.

If you, the giver of chocolates, are one of those who reads my blog – I appreciate you. You made my day. Much ❤!

Some unfinished business..

The last in person image I have of my mother is when Ryan and I were getting in the car in August of 2019 to head to the airport. She was standing at the door, tears in her eyes, waving goodbye. We waved till we could not see each other anymore. I told her I will be back in May of 2020 to celebrate my 50th birthday with them. So it was just a matter of few months till we see each other again.

My last interaction with baba was an awkward hug at the Kolkata airport when I repeatedly told him to take care of his health. And to him too, I said, “See you in a few months.”

They wanted to plan a big party for my 50th and I said a hard no. Although in my mind I knew if they were determined to throw a party they will, my ‘no’ would have no value.

Covid attacked the world. We did not see each other for my 50th birthday but we lived in hope. 2021 brought so much promise. And then it took them away. There are a few unfinished business that were not taken care of though.

I requested that they buy me a couple of Kashmiri shawls for my birthday. Baba loved to buy clothes for me, their son-in-law and their grandkids. Ma did too but she felt my father’s tastes were superior to hers so she allowed him to make the selection. Baba went to Kashmir Emporium in Dakkhinapan to buy the shawls. I got to see them via video call. They are beautiful. They were hoping to give them to me for my birthday when I went home. The shawls are now sitting in the closet waiting for me. The ones who bought the gifts with so much love aren’t around to hand them to me. But their love persists.

Last Christmas I wanted a gift of a family portrait. Despite Ryan’s reluctance, we all got dressed up, went to a studio and got a professional to take photos of us. I ordered a couple of extra prints to take home with me when I went back. They are lying in an envelope in my closet. The ones who had requested the prints and who would have proudly hung them on their wall are not around anymore. I realized there is absolutely no one left who would treasure our visits or our photographs.

I was told to bring a bag of dark chocolates, cans of tunafish and a bottle of advil. Those were standing orders. Whatever I brought on top of those were surprises. Now there is no need for any of those things.

There are these unfinished transactions that we did not have time to finish. I will keep the extra photographs and eventually when I go back I will wrap the shawl like I wrapped their love around me. They do not need the photographs any more as they live in our memories and our hearts now. Sean and I both cried tonight talking about their sudden departure and then laughed too at memories of their constant bickering.

I believe that is how life will be from now on.

Masala kaju (cashew)

Although I met this young man at work, he quickly became more than a coworker, he became family – my adopted brother in my adopted land. What does that have to do with the photo above? I will get there. But first I must ramble, as is my habit.

One day, my friend who I mentioned above brought me a Tupperware full of roasted cashews. I ate a few and the tastebuds in my mouth did a happy dance. The nuts were so flavorful. He had fried the nuts and mixed them with Thai red chilies, lime kefir leaves, salt and the flavor was divine.

Cashews (kaju) were, and still are, expensive in India. We could afford them once in a while in small quantities and only at the beginning of the months when we were flush with new paychecks. Cashews were for rich people, peanuts belonged to us.

One of my most popular gifts that I take back home are big jars of cashew nuts from Costco. They bring smiles of joy in people’s faces. The weight of carrying a heavy jar of cashew nuts is totally worth all those smiles.

If you want to spice up your cashews, and if you have some Indian spices lying around, you can have jar full of spicy, savory cashews to snack on when hunger strikes.

Heat a tbs of vegetable oil in a large skillet.

Fry whole Kirkland jar of unsalted cashews on low heat till they attain a golden color.

Keep the fried cashews in a bowl.

In a separate bowl, mix 2 tsp of chaat masala, 2tsp (or less) of Kashmiri chilli powder, a tsp of garam masala, a pinch of Himalayan salt or rock salt, a pinch of citric acid.

In the same skillet where you fried the cashews, throw in a handful of dried red chilis, and once they give out a spicy smell (10 seconds) add the spice mix. Keep the heat to medium low. Mix the spices for about 15 seconds and add to the fried cashews.

Coat them well. Cool completely and store them in a jar.

Lastly, chomp away.

Sometimes I add a few raisins to a handful of spicy cashews when I snack on them.

Divine!

Please figure this out for me.

On every Mother’s Day, I get a gift of seeds. When Sahana started this tradition, I was immensely touched by the thought behind it. I am a nurturer, nourishing my saplings so they become big, strong trees. Ryan has kept the tradition alive. This year I received pretty flower seeds, chilli pepper seeds ( since I hail from the land of hot peppers) and a tomato plant.

After careful nurturing and waiting and observing for the better part of summer, the pepper plant has beautiful peppers, the flowers are gorgeous and the tomato plant has plump, green tomatoes. We are all very, very excited because we are not a family of green thumbs. We end up killing our green children. This one time we did not and understandably we all smile widely as we walk by our flowers and our produce.

My resident entrepreneur, however, is at his mercenary best.
“Mom, I have decided to give you a family discount. For you, and only you each tomato is going to cost 75 c and each pepper is going to cost a nickel. For others, tomatoes are a dollar and peppers are 20 c.”

“Wait! What?? How did the produce become yours, might I ask?”

“Well, I weeded and I watered them. So I labored and so the tomatoes and peppers are mine. But I will sell them to you at a discounted price!”

“But they were my gifts! You gave them to me! And I paid you for weeding! You were my employee! You can not claim ownership!!!”

A hot debate ensued. He did not understand my logic. He was illogical to begin with. Finally, I became the mom voice and said, “Forget about it. The tomatoes are mine, the peppers are mine. You, my friend, are mine! So deal with it!”

He has not given up yet. The issue of tomatoes and peppers come up often. Nothing has been harvested. I am expecting a blood bath when I actually pick the vegetable. Stay tuned for the epic war.

Never a dull moment.