Poem : The Wait

              


Oh silence why do you scare ....?
While life seems only too bare ....
Of clothing and jewellery entire
Can this state be truly fair ....?


Words of love not any more flow ....
Sprouts of colours now covered with snow
Why, oh why am I bound to feel so low ....?


Cool breeze of happiness gently sweeps by ....
Pearl drops of fresh dew on my lawn lie
Limp and forlorn mind oh is that why you cry ....?
        For not the breeze nor the dew no gems nor hue
        Can break the spell of the deafening silence true.

                                              Ruprekha Mushahary

                                                            03.03.2011

Poem : Lost Love

Pic downloaded from the internet

O ye moon dainty pray don't beam so bright,

                             Cos no where do I find my smile tonight.

               O'er the luxurious beauty of a vale,

                             I seem to have lost forever my gale.

               Do walk again that familiar mile,

                            Along do bring my lost smile.

                    
 

                   Ruprekha Mushahary

                                 11.02.2011

Porchetta in Italy

Porchetta : the best known Italian roast pig, a classic festival food which is traditionally roasted whole.

When in Italy, you don't really have to worry about food at all. Rome specially knows how to satisfy the hunger of her guests with wonderful mouth watering food. Roman food is actually very simple yet hugely popular.

One can find a Porchettaro in most of the gathering or fair who does a brisk business selling sandwiches or simply slices of Porchetta. It gave me immense pleasure tasting this Italian delicacy as well as freezing some of the moments in my camera  while visiting  AFL-ARTIGIANO International Fair at Milan, Italy in December 2010 and watch how this delicacy was sold in huge amounts. Visitors thronged to the stalls selling Porchetta for a slice or carry home packets full of it.

For small gathering of around 20 to 30 people, a 'suckling pig' is used to prepare Porchetta. A suckling pig is a piglet fed on mother's milk, it is slaughtered between two to six weeks of age when the meat is tender and roasted whole in big ovens.
During festivals and fairs, for Porchetta, the pig should not be less than 90 pounds (40 kg) or can be  220 pounds(100kg or little more). It is de-boned, very well seasoned and stuffed with herbs before roasting in big ovens large enough to accommodate a pig, for hours by expert hands. It's ready when the skin turns a delicious golden brown and crisp. In Italy large ovens are used with fire wood for this purpose.

Porchetta is served thinly sliced, each piece comes out with some fat along with meat and skin. It's just perfect for filling in your sandwich, a slice with some red wine or to take away for later use as it tastes great whether eaten warm or  at room temperature. 
So, next time you are in Italy, make sure to take a bite into Porchetta with a glass of red wine and feel the heaven. Bon Appetit !! 

Tekeli Mukhot Diya Pitha

Best to serve as Breakfast

This Pitha is a popular snack of the people of the North Eastern region of India, a favourite of the Assamese. It is quite easy to make, healthy as well as a filling pitha.

To make 7 to 8 pithas you need only three ingredients:

These pictures above and below show the smaller size of Pithas, for which half a kilo of  rice will make 12 Pithas on the lid of a small kettle.

Few Assamese terminologies :

1.Pitha : A snack, rice powder is the main ingredient. Pithas are of quite a few variety, both sweet and savory.
2.Joha Saol : A variety of tiny grained rice with a delicious aroma.
3.Tekeli : Pitcher
4.Mukhot Diya : To put on the mouth or to place on the mouth.
5.Goor : Jaggery
6.Teel : Sesame seed
7.Saolor guri : Rice powder

Joha saol

To make 7 to 8 pithas you need only three ingredients:
1.Freshly ground powder of 850gm Joha Saol. Before grinding, wash rice, soak for an hour and keep for an hour taking out of water so that  the water drains out.

Any other variety of rice can also be used, but I love the aroma and the taste of Joha rice best for this Pitha.

 2.Teel 2 cups. 

3.Goor 1/2 cup or to taste.

"Tekeli mukhot diya pitha" meaning of this is, to make the pitha by placing or steaming it on the mouth of a tekeli i. e. a pitcher or a kettle. Apart from the tekeli, you also need a small bowl to shape the pitha, the size of which should be that of the mouth of the tekeli and 2 soft damp napkins.

                                    Method:

Rinse teel thoroughly ...

 ...rub with hand while wet and let dry ...most of the skin will fall off....

Grind teel, but not fine. Mix goor with teel. Both the ingredients can be used separately layering the pitha.

Boil water in the pitcher

The most important part of making this pitha is to prepare the Saol guri. Add little water and knead well, too much water will spoil the pitha by making it sticky. It should remain powdery but some amount of water must be fed to the Saolor guri. Sieve it through a steel strainer so that no lumps remain.

Place a damp napkin on the bowl, spread saoolor guri-teel-goor in layers, top layer being saolor guri. Press with your hand. The pitha will take the shape of the small bowl.

Wrap this with the napkin, hold both edges and lift up from the bowl.

Place it on the mouth of the tekeli.....

...and put on the lid. The pitha will be cooked by the steam of the boiling water in the tekeli. Steam only for 3 to 4 minutes.

Delicious Pitha is ready. Serve piping hot.

Autumn is here again ....

Autumn has arrived. Once again, autumn is here to soothe the mind and body, that was extremely tired, sweaty, struggling through those long sultry months of summer. I know autumn is here as there is fragrance in the air now ... yes, autumn has arrived as I can inhale the redolence of the dew dampened grass ... I know this is autumn as I see the cuddling pair of doves that perch on the Neem tree by the window of my room preparing to bring in their babies. All over I can see the air enceinte with soft autumn, bright and lovely, perhaps in anticipation. But, that one fragrance I long to inhale deep, that one soft and sensuous feel I so desire, the joyous lightness in the air is lost somewhere... lost forever ... no more to be found ...

Loved the transition from summer to autumn as a pony tailed, chubby cheeked, bright eyed little girl. "But why is autumn associated with melancholy ? Isn't it freshening after a long summer", I would wonder. As my ever-brimming-with-joy kind of a nature refused to associate autumn with melancholy. "Well,  is it because soon winter would be here, the sky turning grey, keeping most of us indoors?" I would muse. No, I would put my foot down against this thought of cold sadness ! I should not think so, enjoy was all I should in this autumn. This was the festive season, festivity all around and in the air, then why should I worry about winter now which was still far in the horizon !

That was quite a few years ago, I would think with a chirpy mind, jump around with a feather light gait as if I was floating in the air. Ascending the flights of stairs with a light skip of two steps at a time was a fond habit, humming at all times. Bejeweled with a crisp smile on my face and eyes, I embraced life with a glorious warmth.

Every year, during the months of September, October and November, the two tall and bushy shrubs of Sewali in my Aaita's garden would be bedecked with tiny white flowers which looked like twinkling stars with an orange dot in the centre and a long stem of the same orange hue on each of them. The entire garden would be filled with sweet fresh fragrance of Sewali making the autumn atmosphere irresistibly magical. Although Aaita remembered it too well, I never forgot to remind her to wake me up early before going to bed. The house maid's daughter was my constant mate during those years of growing up in my Koka-Aaita's home in this quiet and peaceful township in the upper region of the State. Her name was Sewali, till this day I wonder why was she named after a flower. Rocky, the naughty black and white pup, a cross between a Lhasa Apso and Pomeranian was the one followed Sewali and me all over the huge compound starting from the pond and cow shed to the sprawling front garden and the grove at the back with dozens of fruit and betel-nut trees.

Sewali and I would run out to the front gardens, bare-footed each morning carrying in our hands our prettily woven  bamboo baskets, Koka had bought us in the weekly market. How lovely the feet  felt as they touched the dew soaked soft damp grass ! The raw smell that the damp grass emitted was so freshening ! Sewali would say, "If only the grass remained this damp in summer too!" I promptly replied as the learned grandma, "Then we would have sweat on our body as well as under our feet." We both  burst out laughing to our own innocent fun. The two trees of Sewali were much inside on either side of the huge iron gate and the drive that separated the lawns leading to my Koka's spacious, high roofed Assam type house. By the time we arrived upon the Sewali trees, most of the flowers would have fallen on the dew soaked greens of the lawn, making it look like a breathtakingly beautiful floral carpet ! Ah such a splendid sight ! Time was all we seemed to have those days, never remembered hurrying up for anything. Talking incessantly of flowers and the tiny insects that crawled up our feet and hands while picking up the Sewali flowers, chasing butterflies, giggling every now and then for no obvious reason was still fresh in my mind. With our small hands we picked baskets full of Sewali flowers, although it was never enough to fill our hearts. There would still be plenty of Sewali left strewn on the lawns. Fragrance of Sewali would not only linger on in Aaita's puja room but also wafted through the entire house always, during the months of autumn. My most loved  part was when I sat under the Sewali tree holding Rocky in my arms and Noren the gardener gave a good jerk to the tree letting the flowers fall off all over us. Rocky would roll over the thick carpet of flowers, Sewali and I would giggle through out. We would run in and out of the house to collect thread or needle to make  garlands and offered to Goddess Lakshmi, Durga and Saraswati. Tying strings of Sewali to our ankles and wrists gave us immense pleasure. Oh what an enormous amount of fun we had tying garlands on Rocky's neck and decorating him with the flowers! How wonderful autumn was ! This was my autumn, my loving, comforting, fun-filled  autumn, how could I forget my autumn !

Too many seasons passed by, leaving me completely unaware of Sewali blooming and perfuming the autumn air without fail. Only I long shut my window, never trying to turn even once that side since. Many years from those lovely autumns, too many seasons later, there comes one more autumn, bringing along the mystique aura and the melancholy. I no longer ask nor wonder why, as I have experienced both autumn and melancholy too many an autumn. The window was long closed for the fragrance of Sewali to waft in. On the threshold of autumn of my life, melancholy seems to be my only sincere mate. All others have left me on one season or the other, while some live on, close to me, yet without being a mate, making all my seasons look the same.

As I lay awake on my bed last night, like many nights when sleep eluded me, a sudden gush of perfumed air filled up my room. Inhaling deep I realized it was morning already, 4'o clock. To my utter surprise, the bolt of the long shut window gave way, unable to withstand the wear and tear of many autumns. The window was wide open in front of me now. I could never gather courage to open this window once it was shut, hence, I froze before it, losing all strength to shut it again and tie with a string. Had the cool  autumn breeze done what I couldn't ? The fragrance of Sewali hit me hard, made my head feel like cotton wool. With a half uncertain fear in my heart, I looked through the open window.

I could see the first ray of sun had fallen on the lawn now which was covered by the fallen flowers of Sewali. They looked the same Sewali we picked up years ago, same smell. The dew drops glittered like pieces of genuine gems as the sun's ray touched them softly. A sudden longing to feel the petals of Sewali rose in me, a sudden urge to step on the damp grass and inhale the raw smell I so loved! My heart drumming ever faster now. One last effort to hold myself back from stepping ahead was but in vain. With slow yet firm steps I walked down the stairs leading to the garden, bare feet. Too many years, yes, too much tears later, I have gathered the courage to step bare feet on the dew soaked damp lawn yet again to feel my autumn once again. As I put my bare feet on the grass, the damp, yet sensuous feel seeped in from my feet. Inhaling deep, closing my eyes I  stretched my hands out and stood there for didn't know how long. A breeze that passed by touched me gently leaving a sweet fragrance that filled up my mind and heart. Mesmerized, as if in a trance, bending down I started picking up Sewali.... one now, then another, spreading the anchal with my hand I went on picking Sewali. A tiny ant tried to crawl on my bare foot, shaking it off I wanted to giggle like I did with Sewali years ago, but instead, few drops of tears fell off my eyes to my bare feet sliding down to the grass, mingling with the dew drops which now shone even brighter in the ray of sun, the soft ray of the autumn sun  ......

Assamese terminologies :
                                       Sewali : Night-flowering jasmine, Nyctanthes arbor-tristis (scientific)
                                       Aaita : Grand mother
                                       Koka : Grand father
                                       Puja : Worship           

Finding them a home ....

                                                                                    pic courtesy : photohome.com 


I had almost completed my walk in the morning that day when the phone rang in my pocket, jerking me out of my reverie. My hand mechanically entered the pocket of the sweat shirt I was wearing, but 'wait', I told myself, should I or should I not answer the call ? Being too sure  of the fact that a call in the wee hours of the morning or middle of the night can carry either a very good or a very bad news, hence, my reluctance to pick up the phone. The last time I received a call at 3 in the morning was not one to cheer me in any way..

The phone went on  ringing, a second time now, the pace of my strides got faster as if the ring had entered my limbs energizing my legs to take me home sooner than usual so that, I had someone near me to cheer or a supporting shoulder to weep if the need arose when I listened to the news.

Perking myself on the cane sofa of the balcony where I usually take my much needed morning cup of tea after the walk, I reached for the phone. I could still hear the pounding of my heart clearly. Now I could see that the calls were from Anita, the coordinator of our SAA (Specialised Adoption Agency), Shishu Greh. A message from the coordinator of Childline, Sanjeev too was waiting, which relieved me of all my worries instantly. I knew why Anita kept calling. "A new born (girl) found in the municipal garbage dump, serious, big ants found feasting on her head, neck and legs" was what the message said. I jumped out of my sofa, one more baby, how wonderful it feels to be a mom ! I Stood up, to get started, knew I had a long day ahead . I only prayed that God be kind and let the baby survive !

As I drove to the hospital that morning to see the baby which was by then rescued and shifted to the hospital by our Childline team after informing the CWC(Child Welfare Committee), I was wondering, what might have happened to the mother, what made her throw the child away to die on a cold winter night ! Was she unwed, was the child taken away from her  by force, had this sad incident occurred only because it was a baby girl ? The baby was in a critical condition  with some portion of the head injured severely and wounds of insect bites all over her tiny body. Passing by a garbage dump I shivered at the thought of the baby lying there the whole night. My heart cried out. I realized my vision was blurred with tears, so, slowing down the car I wiped my eyes and said a prayer "My good Lord,  just save this child, give her life and I promise you, she will never be without a home."

While wondering why had the mother left the baby to die in a garbage dump, the face of Dipali came to my mind which softened my heart. The faraway look in her eyes always disturbed me, as if her eyes searched for someone in particular in the distance. She rarely smiled. I saw a faint smile the other day when I once wore a saree on one occasion and probably mistaking me for her mother she pulled the pallu of my saree calling out "maa...maa..". Turning around I had picked her up that day in amusement, asking her to say it again. Smiling the same faint smile she repeated once again, but soon went back to her original quiet smile less self again.

Dipali was not thrown away by her biological parents like many heartless ones in the garbage dump or abandoned in the hospital. Her helpless, young mother who was under aged to bear a child was betrayed by her lover and left her to fend for herself once she got pregnant. She lived for sometime with her father and step mother, but was soon thrown out on the street with a year old Dipali in her arms as soon as her father died of an accident while at work. During this time she had befriended a man who wanted to marry her but wouldn't take Dipali in. After a lot of pleading he did finally let Dipali too be carried  along when she entered her husband's home. But soon he started torturing both Dipali and her mother. When it became unbearable she came to us with Dipali to surrender her, perhaps that was the only option left before her. There was absolutely no alternative. After a month long counselling and producing before CWC, the procedure was completed and Dipali was surrendered for ever. In just all of eighteen months, Dipali's world came crumbling down in such a harsh manner that she probably couldn't react to the situation. With the same faraway look in her eyes she kept staring towards the road as her mother left, never to return  to see how her daughter grew or how she looked in the last two years. Dipali never got an opportunity to smile. Although in Shishu Greh she gradually learnt to smile her faint smile, her lost faraway look remained in her eyes, no matter how hard we tried to cheer her up.

Parking the car out side, I ran up the four flights of stairs to the floor where I was told the baby was kept. Could barely make out anything as I looked through the glass door of the ICU. She was just a tiny bundle with a bandaged body and several pipes going in and out of her. Oh, what had the little thing done to suffer so ! The doctor assured me, he would do his best, yet probably unsure of himself, added, "...but you never know, outer injuries have been tackled well, although only the test reports will confirm of any infection or inner injury." Two days later I was informed she was suffering from jaundice too. There was nothing we could do but pray and wait, never losing heart even for once.

After almost a month, finally she was allowed to leave the hospital and come home. Come to the home where we bring them up with all the care and love these infants were denied by their biological parents for reasons best known to only them. Carrying her in my arms as I came out of the hospital to get into the car, she saw her first sunlight and shut her eyes hard finding it too bright. I choked in happiness, planting a kiss on her eyes I sat in the car securing her on my lap, holding her firm, and whispered in her ears, "you are safe now sweetheart .... "

Everyone in Shishu Greh was overjoyed to welcome the newcomer in their midst and were excited to find her a suitable name. Supervisor, helper, ayah all flocked around the baby with their usual chirpy and loving inquisitiveness. Mira said, "Mirinda", Latika said, "Lata", "Ah, so you want her name to match yours, no, Mala sounds much better", said Malati. Amused at their effort in finding a name for her as they playfully argued with each other, I sat smiling, listening to them. Finally they seemed to give up and decided I might as well come to their rescue finding her a nice name. The little one blinking in the sunlight was still fresh in my mind, so the first thing that came to my mind was the blinking of those two bright sparkling stars. Tora, yes, Tora she would be !

I carried Tora around to introduce her to the other children: One year old Junak the naughty fellow who was everyone's pet, Lily who had  won us over by her pretty smile at barely seven months of age, Dibya who was showing off her two little teeth with pride when lifted up from her cot. Naina, at nine months had already found a home. While the papers and formalities were still pending, Naina's loving parents-to-be and grand parents-to-be, often came to play with her. Naina would soon be taken away to her new home, where she would be brought up with love and care, where she would never be abandoned .

All this while two and a half year old Rahul jumped around Tora cheerfully and would not leave Tora's side even for a moment. I could see that a bond had already been established, a bond that was beyond human understanding. He pulled me towards the cot, which was ready for Tora with fresh sheet, small side pillows and a pastel coloured blanket. Oh how I love this sweet fresh smell of the baby room!  With his tiny pink fingers, he gestured to me to put Tora in the cot. Following his directions like an obedient student, I laid Tora down on the cot gently. I lifted Rahul up in my arms and kissed his little hands.

Looking at Rahul's chubby pink cheeks and smiling inquisitive eyes, my mind raced back to that particular day. I can never forget that day when our Childline team had rescued a new born baby boy from the railway tracks. They had later brought him to Shishu Greh, and we fondly named him Rahul. It was a humid summer afternoon, and it had been raining heavily for the last two days. The city was experiencing major flash floods.  Submerged roads,  erratic power cuts and poor telephone net works played havoc with our lives. That was the day when following a phone call, our Childline team with the help of Police personnel had set out to rescue the baby, lying on the railway track  for God knows how long. Walking several kilometers in that heavy downpour wading through water, the team rescued Rahul. During his treatment in the hospital and the following months of care at Shishu Greh were like ages. But slowly yet certainly, Rahul recovered; recovered to be fit enough today to welcome to Shishu Greh, our home of love, care and life,yet another beautiful God's gift who was abandoned by the person who brought her to this world

While many Rahuls, Junaks, Nainas and Toras happily grow up in Shishu Greh, under the loving care of a trained team of doctors, nurses, supervisors, helpers and ayahs, another team takes upon itself the hectic job of planning their future in a new home with adoptive parents. Shishu Greh is a Specialized Adoption Agency(SAA), as per provisions of the JJ Act, licensed by CARA(Central Adoption Resource Authority), for in-country as well as inter-country adoption, under the Ministry of Women & Child Development, Government of India.

Through a systematic procedure and guidelines notified by the Government of India, we move forward with our aim of turning these orphaned, abandoned, surrendered children into the legitimate children of their adoptive parents with all the rights, privileges and responsibilities that are attached to a relationship.

We go through endless number of PAP(Prospective Adoptive Parents), give pre-adoption counselling to couples, followed by registration, submission of documents, our team's home visit and finally selection of PAP. Then the selected couple is invited to Shishu Greh and pick the child of their choice. The rest of the procedure then follows, medical test of the child again if the PAP so desire, pre-adoption foster care after signing of deed between PAP and SAA, filing of petition in the court of the Session's Judge within ten days of pre-adoption foster care and appearance before court on evidence date. The formalities are complete once the honorable Judge gives his order for legal adoption. Our job doesn't end here. Even after two years of follow-up, when we formally have nothing left to do, as the child gradually settles down in the new home, with his/her adoptive family , the bond that binds us together doesn't get snapped so easily.

Our Tora soon grew up to be a sweet little darling, winning everyone's heart with her twinkling eyes, the habit of shutting her eyes hard, pressing both the eye lids remained with her, making her smile irresistibly beautiful now. How time flew, soon Tora was a year old, and as per procedure left us for her new home with her adoptive parents. I couldn't witness the moment of her departure from Shishu Greh, couldn't put her on the lap of her adoptive mother with these very hands which so lovingly,  carefully brought her  from the hospital a year ago, these very eyes which were fixed tirelessly on the bandaged bundle that lay in the tiny cot of the ICU of the hospital from outside the heavy glass doors. Why, why did I feel the way I did ? Wasn't it what I wanted, wasn't it why our whole dedicated team worked so hard ? Didn't we want a home, parents and family for every Tora, every Rahul ? Then why did I cry every time when each of them left ? This was one of those days I would quietly sneak out, shut the door of my room and weep like a child in sorrow of losing, yet, blissfully happy and contented in finding a home for a child, till exhausted I fell asleep. "God, do keep the twinkling smile on her face always."

Dipali's look still says she waits for someone, yet forces a smile when someone appreciates her drawings, which she paints mostly with black or pale shades. Tora visits us with her parents on occasions like Bihu or Durga Puja bringing lots of gifts for new babies in the Shishu Greh.  She is looking prettier with each passing year, and God, couldn't believe my eyes, she looked so much like her adoptive mother ! Rahul cannot visit too often as his father is posted to another district now, although he mails me the pictures he draws in the computer. Last time Naina visited us, she insisted that we attend her birthday party and we did. Her happiness knew no bounds seeing us at her home. "Junak came first in his class this year, after all he is my son", declared his proud father. This is bliss, ultimate bliss, I told myself.

The journey continues .... bless those parents who give a home, a family and lots of love to these Toras,  Rahuls, Dibyas and Nainas........     

Seen here in the above picture: The officials from Ministry of Women and Child Development, Govt of India, officials from the State Govt, Assam, members of ICCW (Indian Council for Child Welfare), Assam, parents and some of our Junaks, Neinas, Toras and Rahuls .... at an orientation program cum get together with the adoptive parents and their children. 

ICHIBAN

Big Chill

Market CAFE

Grilled river Sole in creamed mustard-pimento sauce

Lamb Taqive, a traditional Moroccan lamb stew with almonds, saffron, tomatoes and plenty of mint served with couscous or thick pea pilaf.

Lasagna in Italy

Lasagna : Originated in Italy, this delicious dish is popular all over the world, be it vegetarian or non vegetarian. The plural of 'Lasagna' (pronounced as 'La'zanna') is 'Lasagne', (pronounced as 'La'zanne').  It is made of layers of wide/ flat pasta, having plain or wavy edges with a wide variety of delicious fillings and toppings of alternative layers of cheese, sauce, meat or vegetable.
According to one theory, the word 'lasagna' was derived from the Greek word for chamber pot 'lasanon' where the dish is cooked. The main theory is that, 'lasagna' comes from the Greek word 'laganon', a flat sheet of pasta dough cut into strips.

Cheese has got a particular importance while cooking lasagna, although any type of cheese can be selected according to personal taste, the traditional cheese is 'ricotta' and 'parmigiana'. It's quite simple to make this dish, if you follow the recipe carefully from various cook books. The meat sauce is cooked, pasta is boiled separately, then on a baking dish pasta, meat sauce and cheese is arranged in layers and baked. It is then cut into big pieces and served with salad and garlic bread, for wine, I would suggest Chianti which is traditionally served with pasta in Italy.