Look Who Is Cooking!

A casual discussion for a meet up with blogger friends turned into an awesome opportunity when lovely Rushina threw open her heart and the doors of her cooking studio for us. I couldn’t have been happier. I have picked up cooking as a hobby only recently and I had wanted to learn from experts. I knew Rushina as this fabulous food blogger with an awesome space to cook APB Cook Studio. So I lapped up on the opportunity. It can’t get better than this! (Or so I thought)

But it did get better; we were going to not only meet Rushina, we were going to cook Italian food with her. Italian food is my recent obsession; me and my 7 year old love to work on Italian recipes. (What we finally come up with is a different question altogether). I wanted to learn! I had to learn for the poor souls I experimented on.

So I crossed my fingers and left for APB studio with a lot of hope and zest in my heart and some emergency chocolates in my bag (We were going to eat only what we would cook and I don’t have a perfect track record you see)

As soon as I reached the place I knew I had reached the right place. The place was a perfect blend of kitchen warmth and restaurant finesse. Rushina and her team led us, taught us, tolerated us (Well, we were a group of giggly women bloggers who were high on life :P) to some really yummy food.

From the lovely Aglio Olio to focaccia, from loud chatters to loud thumps of kneading bread, from yours truly mixing up sugar for salt to some crazy selfie taking students in the middle of the session, everything was handled beautifully. Everything that we made turned out beautiful. The session ended on a beautiful sweet note with Tiramisu. What more could a girl ask for? Learn and cook her favorite food, from one of the masters, in the company of friends.

This wonderful session was courtesy of JAMMs. It is a wonderful group led by Ritu Gorai. Did you ask what the group is about? Well, wait and watch out this space for a detailed insider review of this rocking group. It’s a secret and sacred space. I will be back soon with a detailed account. Till then here’s a glimpse of all the fun we had!

Hope

Who are you?

A crooked line on a face

A wrenched heart

Or a broken soul

Who are you?

You are just pieces

Pieces of hatred

Spewed here and there

You are the black

You are the blood

You are the Pause

But still

You are just pieces

I am the whole

I am the white

I am the mild

I am the wild

I am the heart

I am the start

That never ends

I am the whole

I am human

I am hope

You can cover me black

You can spew me mad

You can cut me piece by piece

You can tear me bad

But I am still whole

For every piece that falls

Millions will grow

For everything that’s black

Millions will glow

In white and gold

For every word of hate

There will be million words of faith

For every act of terror

There will be million hugs

and million smiles

For every bomb

There will be million first cries

For every bomb

There will be million first smiles

For every bomb

There will be million first steps

For every sunset

There will always be a dawn

For every Pause
There will always be a hope!

(C) Juztamom 2015

Shared with  Real Toads Corey's Prompt: Heart's Desire and
 BlogAdda's initiative Blogging for Peace

Freedom

As a new mother few years back I was faced with a lot of questions. What is good and what is not good for my little bundle of joy? There were so many contradictory advice. One of the most contradictory advice I received was regarding the use of the diapers. I was told babies are extremely uncomfortable in diapers and cloth nappies are best for them. As a mother I wanted to make sure that my baby was comfortable but I was also tired with the never ending change of cloth nappies. So I used disposable diapers as often as I could. But deep in my heart I knew I was not comfortable about it.

Flash-forward to the birth of my second born, this time again I started with cloth nappies but it was extremely difficult to go ahead with it. I had a toddler and an infant and I realised I needed to make an informed decision. So I decided to buy a lot of different brands of diapers available in the market. I started with what I had earlier used. It was a popular brand but the baby looked uncomfortable. As a mother I was not at ease with it. With trial and error I finally found the perfect diaper for my younger one. He was at his active best when I started using Pampers Premium care pants. He is one of the naughtiest babies I have ever seen. So it was like a boon that the diaper allowed him to be his free self. It is one of the softest diapers. My little one looks completely at ease in it. In fact, I think the diaper has only encouraged his naughtiness. There is nothing that binds him down.

One of his greatest love is being in water. He loves splashing around and is always ready to jump in his bath tub. A few weeks back, we had few guests over for dinner. He was dressed up in a really cute formal suit, looking like a miniature Pierce Brosnan and that’s when he decided to have a pool party with his friends. Out went the suit and every piece of clothing from his body. His friends followed and within a few minute our house was full of naked and screaming toddlers running around and demanding for a pool party. We finally gave in to the demand and the kids ended up having a lot of fun at the dinner cum pool party (Yes, they refused to come out and ate in the washroom) That night will remain as one of the fondest memories of him growing up.

My little one is free spirited and I am glad I have been able to nurture his spirits and let him evolve.

"This post is a part of the Pampers #SoftestForBabySkin activity at BlogAdda" 

The Wait

It is the 9th night. She had counted. This is the place; this is the exact spot where she had lost everything. This is where her life was. Chitra walks on her foot prints again. She likes doing that; walking on the same footprint again and again. It feels like she is living in her past again. Like everything is the same; nothing is changed.

What has changed anyway? The moon is still effervescent, glowing in love. The soft waves are still touching her feet. She wishes she could feel the soft, warm touch of the waves again. The sand castle that they had built was not there but the memories of it were still fresh. Her hands over his, his hands over her’s, their laughter mixed with the fresh scent of salty water. It is all fresh in her mind. She remembers how it was and how it had all changed.  That day was as beautiful as this night is. It was full of promises. They had walked hand in hand, laughing, playing and talking about how wonderful their future would be. The two souls lost in each other.  They had built a sand castle, their dream home. It was the starting of a dream; a dream both of them were sure would come true.

Lost in her dreams, she had walked towards the ocean. Lost in her thoughts, she had ignored the warning sounds. She didn’t see him yelling and coming towards her. She just remembers he was calling her name. And then she remembers floating on water, feeling light and light and then feeling formless. The feeling was surreal but she knew it was true. She had seen her body; the body that had betrayed her. Each and every part of her body had betrayed her except her heart. Her heart is still throbbing in love. It now shines red and blue. It is red when she sees him and blue when it weeps. The red and blue both glow, reflecting her love for him. There are days when the blue completely engulfs her  and there are days when she bleeds red in love. This beach has seen it all; the red and the blue. The past and the present. It bleeds and throbs red in her love and it cries and weeps blue in her pain.

She had tried leaving the beach a few times but she keeps coming back here. Her life or her afterlife is here. Her soul is still entwined with his. She can’t go anywhere, for her dream home, her heart; a piece of her soul is here. She can’t leave without collecting all her pieces. She can’t leave without feeling complete. She can’t leave without him.

Linked with BAR Wordy Wednesday#4

Broken Wings

Trees swaying to the music

Some with orange hue

Some pink and some blue

She sits under them

Her wavy hair touching her face

and gently moving away

A book in her hand

A love story maybe

Just like theirs-

Just next to the trees

is their dream

Standing tall

White and cream

Painted with hands

Dipped in love

Their home

Each room,

is them

together

Each brick over another,

is them

glued together

The air smells of rose

Or maybe Jasmine

He was not sure

but it smells of her

this he was sure

A little sweet, a little minty

Somewhat like flowers, and

Somewhat misty

His life and his home, is

filled with her heart

The joy is palpable on his face

And then he got up from his sleep

Realizing it was all a dream

His heart broke a little

but not too much

He knew she was around

and she will soon give in

He walked to her room,

where he had kept her chained

From the day he abducted her

few years back

Soon, very soon

He thought

Soon, very soon

He told himself

Image source here

Linking with A Prompt A Day. Prompt 4 Quoted#1.The quote for inspiration is:

“Everything you can imagine is real” — Pablo Picasso

Scream

“Stop it” Maria screamed.

“Who are you? Stop following me. Stop screaming in my ears. Come out if you need help but please those screams are breaking my heart. Who are you?”

She waited for the answer but no one replied. It was white all around with snow. There was no one in sight as far as she could look and suddenly the screams started again.

“Help me. Help me”

Covering her ears with her hands tightly, Maria ran towards her home. This had been going on for weeks but she had no idea who was following her and screaming for help. As soon as she reached home, Maria went about her routine like normal, trying to forget the screams. She had been thinking about telling Elan about it but it looked like he was not in a good mood and she knew it better to irk him more. His fist prints still looked fresh on her cheeks. She made coffee and then dinner, just like Elan expected her to do. Later at night she laid herself down on the bed and let Elan use her body in every unthinkable way. It was normal for her. There was an acceptance between them. He had accepted her dark past and she had accepted his dark present.

Sometime around midnight Maria got up startled. She was sweating. At first she thought she was dreaming but then she heard it again, the heart rending, tragic scream. Someone was screaming for help in her ears loudly. She turned around and saw Elan. He was sleeping peacefully, looking like an angel. If only our inner demons would show on our face, she thought.

And then she heard it again. Afraid that she might wake up Elan, Maria ran out to the drawing room but the scream followed her. It was getting louder and louder.

Maria didn’t know what to do, so she started running. She was running as fast as she could, bare feet and in only a T-shirt. The scream was following her and was getting louder and louder.

And then suddenly, just like that she started screaming with the scream, saying it over and over again “Help me”

It was only then she realized the screams were always her’s. It was her. She had been without a voice for so long that she didn’t realize when it came back; her voice of reason. It had been her all the time, screaming for help.

Maria finally realized; it was time to get help. And she screamed “HELP ME”

Image source here

Linking it with “A Prompt A day.Prompt 3 Worldle. Words used are Snow, Elan and Coffee"”

Linking it with "BAR- Wordy Wednesday. Prompt "Scream"

Together Forever

knitted in a pattern

resting together

wrinkled hands

Linked with A Prompt Each Day. Prompt2 Through Thick and Think

Simple

unkempt bed

filter coffee

a Sunday morning

Image source here 

Linking it with A Prompt Each Day. Prompt 1 is "Simple"

Tomatoes

Shama was walking fast. It was already dark and she still had a lot of work to finish. If only she had not forgotten to get tomatoes in the morning, she would have been done with dinner by now. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and a smile lit her face, as she thought of her two little bundles of joy at home. Her younger one had made a tomato train in the morning and she had ended up spoiling all of them.

Shama still couldn't believe they were already 6 and 9 years old. It seemed only yesterday Saurabh and she had gotten married. She was a Muslim and Sauarbh was a Hindu Brahmin. Both of them were ousted by their families but they had not cared. They had settled in this new city and before they knew it, they were a family of four. Life had been like a dream for her till that dreadful day; the day Saurabh left them forever. She shivered as she thought of his last day. How he had hugged them before leaving and how his last words were “I won’t take too long”. He took long; he never came back and since then life had been really difficult for her.

Somehow in last 4 years she had managed to get a job inspite of her lack of any professional education. Slowly but gradually their life was getting back on the track. They didn’t have everything but they had enough to survive; above all they had each other.

Lost in these thoughts Shama was waiting for the traffic light to turn red. As soon as the light turned red, she started to cross the road. The windows of her home were visible. She hurried looking at them. Her girls would be waiting for her she thought. Lost in these thoughts she didn’t notice the speeding truck. Shama was flung high in the air. Her clothes went hay wire and she could feel the strength of the moving beast over her; she could feel the mush of her skin and bones; her bones crushed into her heart; she could feel her heart breaking into million pieces literally, as she thought of her daughters and then just like that she felt nothing. The dark took over. She laid there still holding the vegetable bag in her hand. The red of tomato was blending with the red of her.

Linking this to Wordy Wednesday at Blog-A-Rhythm

Ram Sita

Sita was late again. She saw the railway track “In a few seconds I can be free.”

But the milk came rushing to her chest; where she had nestled together the pain, the joy, and the duty of being a mother.

At home Ram waits with a stick in hand.

Linking this post to The Fiction Challenge: From 15 to 50 January 2015. Hosted by Shailaja V of The Moving Quill.

Image credit here