How did the kantha originate? Kantha is a Bengali word for quilts made of layers of old fabrics. These were usually made for newborn babies. Three or four worn out sarees or dhotis were aligned and stitched together to form a soft holding sheet for infants. Because of the many layers, they were absorbent and did away with the need for diapers. Besides, new cloth was never used for babies as they were thought to cause irritation and allergies. << MORE >>

Who are the women whom we look to for inspiration? Mother Teresa? Indira Gandhi? Sushmita Sen? Well they are right there on a pedestal – but on a more day-to-day basis, I think we look closer to home – women like us, ordinary women, who go through life, displaying rare tenacity, determination and strength, even in the face of adversity. They may not be geniuses, or breathtakingly beautiful, or from the social elite; in fact they have nothing which would make them stand apart in a crowd.<< MORE >>

The first lap of the journey from Howrah to Kharagpur by local train was quite uneventful. At Kharagpur we had to detrain and take a bus. My visions of an intimate cosy deluxe ride received a rather rude shock with the wheezing arrival of an ancient, dilapidated, rickety country bus, almost falling apart at the seams and loaded high with bicycles, baskets of animal and vegetable produce, and people of definite rustic attire. << MORE >>

Wasn’t it John Keats who wrote, “O for a draught of vintage, that hath been cooled a long age ....., O for a beaker full of the warm South, with beaded bubbles winking at the brim.....”. Well, it was certainly not poetry or Bacchus and his bards that drew my friend Nicky towards wine-making. It was the more mundane fact that she had to use up a basketful of grapes which a friend had sent across from Nasik. << MORE >>

There is a chill in the air, but a strange warmth envelops your heart. The sky is a dark velvety ink, but don’t the stars seem bigger and brighter? What is the strange magic in the air? You guessed it – Christmas is approaching. << MORE >>

The sky is still a dark grey as I set out for my daily walk. A red flush spreads across the entire canopy, lightens to a dull pink and then slowly fades away leaving a sky which is now a pearly grey. Trees, houses, people and animals, which minutes ago were just so many dark, indistinct hulks, gradually take on clearer forms. << MORE >>

It was my pregnancy twenty seven years ago which turned me into a die-hard banana lover. I was filled with a craving for this humble fruit, which surprisingly proved quite elusive, since we were stationed at that time in Srinagar. Since the valley grew hardly any crops, all food items came from the plains via the all-important roads.<< MORE >>

It’s a cold, rainy evening. My hands and feet feel like pieces of ice, and even snuggling into a blanket in front of the TV isn’t really having the desired effect of warming them up. The best way to get rid of the chill would have been our customary evening walk, but the drizzly rains have put paid to that, at least for today. << MORE >>

Mention a Defence Service officer and what is the image that springs to your mind? A ramrod straight, dashing figure, very pucca, with a commanding mien, very much on the lines of the late Field Marshal Sam Maneckshaw. There, I’m right, aren’t I…this is exactly what you imagine! << MORE >>

These days, as the mercury starts dropping, my thoughts turn to the reviving, warming powers of a steaming hot bowl of soup. Whether with chicken or vegetables, soup has that magical power to energise and titillate the taste buds. A bowl of chicken soup could be a meal in itself, an appetising tomato soup makes a wonderful starter, while a thick broth with all mixed vegetables thrown in, is the ideal way to get all my vitamins at one go. << MORE >>

When we got married, did we not make the same vows? Did we not promise to love and cherish each other? Did we not promise to stand by each other for better or worse, through sickness and health? Just because a marriage is arranged does it automatically entail that love is not part of the deal? While a couple may be almost strangers on the day of their wedding, nothing stops them from falling in love as the years pass. << MORE >>

With great effort I leave the cosy confines of my bed and he wraps a woollen scarf around my head. Around the house, others too – my grandmother, my mother, her sisters and my cousins, are all getting ready. An excitement hangs in the air as we set out, all suitably attired in warm clothing, my grandfather carrying a spare blanket, in case we kids feel like curling up to sleep again. << MORE >>

On either side of the road are bare rocky outcrops. Mammoth boulders of black basalt rear their head into the sky, not a tree is visible, what little grass is there is sparse and dry. But after driving for about 30 kilometres we see in the distance what looks like an oasis of green. You are amazed, but I have been heading towards it – for that is our destination. As we draw near we see a high wall behind which taller trees rear their leafy heads. << MORE >>

Why this great grief when I should have been one of the happiest and most envied of girls? For was I not just married to a smart young officer in the Indian Air Force. My husband was at that time stationed in Jaffarpore. Ah! There you have it – Jaffarpore itself was the problem. For like many Air Force stations, as I came to experience later, it was set in the back of beyond. << MORE >>

When you visit a Durga Puja pandal on any of the five days of celebrations, you expect the place to be crowed with Bengalis. Right? Ghosh, Bose, Sanyal, Lahiri, Bhattacharya, Dasgupta, Mukherjee, Chatterjee – all turn up in huge numbers. Crisp Tangail saris accessorized with red-and-white shankha-pola bangles and coin-sized circles of brilliant sindoor-bindis dominate the scene; for the more adventurous men it may be immaculately pleated and starched dhotis with embroidered silk kurtas – definitely a slice of Kolkata.<< MORE >>

The Taj Mahal is a poetry in marble and this book, as its name also indicates, is a poetry in history which traces the reasons and methods of its construction. (Incidentally, the name of the book is a translation from a Bengali poem written by Rabindranath Tagore, eulogizing the Taj Mahal) << MORE >>

Special food courts spring up in various pockets around Pune, during the month of Ramzan. Of course, it is meat, meat and more meat products! Kebabs and curries, cutlets and kormas, row after row of stalls serve up tantalizing fare. But two dishes that remain in my mind are Haleem and Khichda. I tasted these in Hyderabad – both whipped up by a restaurant named ‘Paradise’. << MORE >>

A few years ago, I had to undertake a long train journey at an extremely short notice. Failing to manage a reservation and finding the bogey hopelessly over-crowded, I resigned myself to the fact that I had to make the entire journey balancing on my feet – and holding onto my heavy suitcase as well. “Excuse me Ma’am, would you please come this way,” the soft polite voice made me turn my head. << MORE >>

Am I glad that the Supreme Court finally took that decision to ban loudspeakers for religious purposes! Otherwise after what happened during the Ganapati festival a couple of years earlier, I had serious doubts about whether Ganapati Bappa would, as time passed by, be packing his Samsonite (or the equivalent of his heavenly travel gear) to visit us earthlings. It was like this… << MORE >>

You may have read innumerable versions of the Mahabharata, written by a multitude of writers and in many languages. But Samhita Arni’s is unique in that it was written by her when she was only twelve years old. And if you are expecting a very superficial and truncated attempt, perish the thought. Her depiction of the characters is bold and unorthodox as she offers a fresh perspective on this timeless epic. << MORE >>

Whether you are about to embark on a tour of Europe and need information about the sights and sounds of the place, or whether you are an armchair traveler, who prefers the comfort and safety of your home – this is just the book for you. Those of you who have read ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’ by Frances Mayes will certainly know what to expect when you start on ‘A Year in the World - Journeys of a Passionate Traveller’ by the same author<< MORE >>

A few weeks ago, on June 6, you published a beautiful story ‘Slices of Life’, by Fehmida Zakeer, highlighting the honesty of a poor little boy as compared with the dishonesty of a wealthy child who steals an expensive chocolate cake from a bakery. It brought out clearly a fact we often refuse to believe - that poverty does not equate with dishonesty. The less privileged have as much and sometimes even more dignity than more privileged ones. << MORE >>

I’m out on my regular evening walk. Even before I reach this familiar turning, I can hear the sound of gleeful laughter. At this turning there stands a towering tree with huge spreading branches and glossy oval leaves. Below it is a crowd of little and not-so-little children. A few adults, too. There is much excited chattering and scampering about as everyone clusters around a large square bed-sheet. While a few hold up the four corners, others throw stones or try beating the high branches with a stick. A daring few have even climbed on to the sturdy branches, tempted by the rewards which they know will fall to them. << MORE >>

I’ve never seen you polish off your breakfast so quickly, so early in the morning, and that too during vacations,” observes Ma, plonking down a glass of chocolate milk in front of me. “I’m dying to finish that Leon Uris book. Just the last few pages left to go,” I mumble as I polish off the milk in three large gulps. Ma is right. Vacations usually find me lazing around in bed. But this year is different. I have a goal – I must try to finish reading at least half the books in Chandumama’s (Mama=uncle) private library, and given the hundreds of books that he has, that’s quite a lot! << MORE >>

If you love travel and wild-life, and are fascinated by the tigers’ welfare, read this book. Ruth Padel embarks on an astonishing journey to find out the whereabouts of the wild tigers and if they can be saved from extinction, or if this is their last moment before they fade completely into oblivion. She travels to all the haunts of the Asian tiger – from the scorching forest of Ranthambhore to the swampy Sunderbans; from snowy Russia to hilly Nepal; from the high altitudes of Bhutan to the humid tropical forests of Thailand – in her quest for a glimpse of this royal animal which once held sway over the entire continent. << MORE >>

I stood transfixed before that little toy shop. Baba (my father) frequently came to the adjacent shop to buy medicines, and while he went inside, I opted to stay and gaze at the delicious-looking dolls, hanging temptingly outside. I was barely seven and those beautiful Japanese dolls had me totally mesmerized. In the early Sixties, these dolls had become the rage. << MORE >>

A few days ago, a photograph in the newspaper grabbed my attention. Four people were staggering under the weight of a giant jackfruit, which they were carrying on their shoulders! They were party loyalists and this was their birthday gift to Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M K Karunanidhi who turned 86 on June 3. This choice of gift reflects too well the special weight (pun unintended) carried by the jackfruit in the culinary habits of our country! << MORE >>

The little mountain train huffs and puffs as it slowly ascends the hilly slope. Passengers savouring the beautiful scenic beauty are treated to the sight of acres of undulating hill sides swathed in verdant green. The hills are not steep. Gentle slopes covered with thick forests of trees, and here and there you would be surprised by vast stretches of meadows, green with grass. If you look more carefully you will find one such field showing signs of habitation. A rolling field enclosed with a wood and wire fencing. Shady trees dotting the area. << MORE >>

Calling a worm my ‘bum chum’ may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I can’t deny that this worm is a very good friend indeed. A ‘special friend’ would be more appropriate. While we were introduced to each other more than a decade ago, on June 5, World Environment Day to be exact, it was only about five years earlier, that I was able to give it a place in my home. Since then, it’s been a great help as it chomps it way through my daily garbage, turning it into soft, rich, fertile soil! << MORE >>

Well, it’s laid down in the Bible too –“Love thy neighbor’ and being a good girl, I desperately try. Not an easy feat in the best of times and not especially easy in these days of apartment living where you have neighbors to the left of you, neighbors to the right of you, neighbors in front of you, neighbors behind you, all squalling and screaming (with due apologies to Tennyson) and generally making life a noisy affair.<< MORE >>

The summer is at its grueling best. For almost a month now, there has been no relief from the relentless heat. Every morning the Sun God gives us his most brilliant grin and pours down shafts of molten gold sunbeams. We groan and moan as we wipe the sweat dripping down our faces, arms and backs in gushing rivulets. “When will this torture finally get over?” is the constant refrain on everyone’s lips. << MORE >>

My daughter’s favorite sap green T-shirt has this message emblazoned boldly across the front – ‘My mother is my role model’. It is accompanied by a cartoon of a mother elephant being closely followed by a cute and plump baby elephant, its tiny trunk holding on tightly to Mamma’s tail. My husband maintains that there couldn’t be a more suitable message, and that Junior Banerjee has certainly been assiduously following in Mamma’s footsteps. << MORE >>

At last! I’m on my way. A whole year with my nose stuck to the desk, and now it’s time I take my annual vacation. As usual, I’m off to visit my friend Freny Billimoria. Freny lives in a lovely bungalow ‘in the back of beyond’, or that’s how I term it after my cheek-by-jowl living in Mumbai. Freny and I have known each other since we were about three feet high. We went to school together and then to college. << MORE >>

It’s close to eleven at night, and I am pottering around in the kitchen, finishing off all the chores. The last one has remained a constant for the 30 years of my married life. I warm a bowl of milk, add a teaspoon of curd to it, stir it briskly, and cover it with a plate. Not a day goes by, when I do not perform this simple but all-important ritual. While the warm summer days are conducive for it to set easily, in winter I put it inside a warm casserole, and sometimes even cover it snugly in a tea-cosy. And hey presto! The next morning I have a large bowl of fresh, appetizing, creamy, healthy curd. Sometimes, I thicken the milk and add some sugar to it before adding the ‘starter-curd’ – and there’s mishti-doi (mishti=sweet, doi =yogurt), that coveted Bengali sweet. << MORE >>

Are you in the habit of creating your own beauty care products right there in your kitchen – just the way Grandma made them? Are you looking for natural ways and means to darken your hair, whiten your teeth, and make your skin petal soft? Are you interested in the beautiful world of the erstwhile princesses of our country, and how they blended the art of adornment into their daily life? ‘Almond Eyes, Lotus Feet’ is a veritable cache of the royal traditions of beauty care of our country. From herbal cures to simple home remedies, this book co-authored by Sharada Dwivedi and Shalini Devi Holkar (Sally) describes it all in a wonderfully chatty style. << MORE >>

Rima was ecstatic. In seventh heaven actually…for tomorrow she would finally get to wear ‘the star-spangled gown’. That was what she had named it in her mind. That utterly gorgeous full-length designer cocktail-gown, a rich deep royal blue chiffon, woven with silver sequins, which glittered like stars with every movement of the soft fabric. Soft fabric, which hugged her slim hips seductively and fell in slithery swirls around her feet. The neckline plunged daringly and thin straps of diamantes held up the entire confection. << MORE >>

March 27 is Gudi Padwa – New Year’s Day in my adopted state of Maharashtra. I know that as soon as I open my eyes that morning, there will be an unmistakable feeling of excitement. And I wouldn’t have to go far to search for it. Even before sunrise, there will be a hustle and bustle in our gated community of sixty apartments. When I look out of the window, I’ll be treated to the sight of dozens of Gudis, the symbol of this day, fluttering atop many houses, welcoming the new year. The gudi is a tall pole, which is draped with a piece of bright kapad (cloth), either silk or cotton.<< MORE >>

I have just finished reading an electrifying book, a book that I could not put down, until I’d finished it cover-to-cover, a book that ripped opened a veil, exposing horrors that are still inflicted on women. This book was ‘Infidel – my life’, written by well-known international author Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Some of you may have read her ‘Caged Virgin’, but Infidel, which is her memoirs, is even more powerful and profoundly affecting. It is the autobiography of a woman who finds the courage to break free from the tyranny perpetuated by her family and culture, in the name of religion.<< MORE >>

Holi is here again – that riotous celebration to sign off the winter and welcome the spring. Holi – that gaudy, colourful festival that best depicts the vibrancy that is India – with its shimmering silk saris, its hennaed hands, its sparkling bindis and tinkling bangles. Holi is sheer exuberance in a ‘the flowers-are-a’blooming and the sun-is-a’shining’ way. If you can ever think of a holiday which combines the gaiety of a Carnival, the gormandizing of Thanksgiving, the love quotient of Valentine’s Day (Holi is also dedicated to Kamadev, the god of love) or the colours of Easter – then you have a grand festival called Holi – only here it is the people who get coloured, not the eggs! << MORE >>

Paromita cast an anxious glance at the clock as she tucked a hasty hairpin into her neatly coiled bun. More salt than pepper there, but there was not a strand out of place. “I must hurry, or the train will arrive before I reach the station, and Debu would have taken a rickshaw to come home,” she thought. In less than two minutes she had draped on a starched white sari with its border of dark blue stripes – the uniform of the Head Matron. Debu would be seeing her in it for the first time. After all, it was only a month since her promotion to the post. << MORE >>

“These teenagers of today are such a useless, irresponsible lot,” moaned a friend of mine, a mother of two such products. “Look at my Abhishek and Anamika. All they do is loaf around and waste money. They are rude and do no work around the house. They are even too lazy to stir themselves for games. They just sit in front of the TV, hogging wafers. No output at all. Why don’t you write about these terrible teen years?” << MORE >>

Calories - I just adore them. One of my favourite pastimes is to capture and try to hoard them. The more, the better. Being a positive-minded person and also since my Mathematics is weak, I find it easier to count calories by adding them on happily, rather than subtracting them painfully. I prefer to follow diets which abound in added calories. It is okay if they come on in tens, even better if they add up to hundreds and if the calories cause an additional jump of thousands - ooh-la-la, there is nothing like it!<< MORE >>

Swanky shopping marts seem to be the order of the day. Every week, one seems to pop up in some part of the city. But they are not for me. I stick to my local grocery or the baniya ki dukan. No locality in India, be it a large city or a tiny hamlet, is complete without that most ubiquitous shop of all. This is one important place none of us can do without. I for one am totally dependant on my friendly grocer. He is not just the nukkad ka baniya (corner grocery store). Kanhaiyalal Gupta is my saamne wala khirki ka (right in front of my window) grocer. I hop out of my gate, skip across the lane and into his shop.<< MORE >>

A few months ago, while watching an Oprah Winfrey show, I was deeply influenced by what she had to say to the audience regarding unhappiness and how to deal with it. Said Oprah, “Every night before you get into bed, write down five good things which have happened to you during the day. Write it down so that it makes greater impact.” As simple as that! followed the instructions and realised that not only did I sleep better after counting my happy moments, but the happiness also spilled over into the next day. I understood how, in the daily grind of life, in the everyday serious business of living, we overlook the lighter moments<< MORE >>

It is a cool December morning. Wrapped up in my warm grey shawl, I sit on my balcony, clutching a large mug of hot tea. The first shaft of golden sunlight cuts into the frothy mist, which realising that its end is near, swirls frantically, breaks ranks and lifts itself off the ground. A newspaper boy comes whistling by on his cycle; the clanging cans of a milkman heralds his arrival; a group of uniformed children come trotting down the street, armed with school bags and water bottles. I take another appreciative sip of my tea as I watch a new day unfold before me. The golden liquid<< MORE >>

“I cried because I had no shoes, but then I met a man who had no feet.” Ladies are a pampered lot in the Armed Forces. It is a common joke amongst ourselves, that we wives are always a rank senior to our husbands. Of course, if even the Chief of Staff gallantly stands up when a young Captain’s wife enters a room, it is no wonder that a few ladies do tend to take this joke rather seriously. << MORE >>

Every year, starting from August, we have a continuous stream of celestial visitors, descending on us, each doling out their particular brand of insurance. Ganapati Bappa kick-starts the festive season, indulging in a bellyful of modaks. Soon after that we have Ms Durgaji, the martial goddess who fights our resident demons; she comes astride her fiery lion, not wishing to depend on the local buses or three-seaters, which can at short notice go on a lightning strike and leave her stranded.<< MORE >>

Ah! I’ve just got a Barbara Cartland book to read. Oh yes, the same Barbara Cartland who wove those seductive spells of romantic fantasy, and bound them in printed eternity, within covers depicting handsome lovers in a tight embrace. Incidentally, she was an aunt of that well-known and glamorous, but-oh-so-tragic Queen of Hearts – Princess Diana.I can see your lips twitching and your eyebrows going up, at the sight of me – a stout, gray-haired, wrinkle-faced lady - reading romantic pulp. << MORE >>

A full moon night is always beautiful, but amongst them all, Kojagari Punrnima is the most beautiful of all. It is therefore not surprising to find that it is indeed an important occasion in most communities across the country. Kojagari Purnima, also called Sharad Punrima, marks the beginning of the month of Kartik, which is supposed to be a very holy month << MORE >>

The season of hope is here again. We are in the midst of nine days of merry-making, celebrating the triumph of good over evil. Whether it is Durga Mata overpowering a vicious Mahisashura with her gleaming trident or an exulting Shree Rama cutting off the ten heads of the arrogant Ravana, good is seen to vanquish the evil. But do the situations of the religious texts happen in real life too? The past twelve months have indeed been tumultuous ones. So many catastrophes have taken place – wars, train accidents, air crashes, terrorist attacks, murders, scams, the list is endless.<< MORE >>

Last evening, I attended a ‘naming ceremony’. Nasreen has had a second baby, a girl this time and they have named her ‘Tabassum’. I sit in a corner and watch the happy tableau in front of me. Nasreen, radiant with joy, holding her baby daughter, flanked on one side by two-year old Farhaan, her happy, bright-eyed, quick-to-smile son, and on the other by her husband Ayub, who is so obviously bursting with pride. Hovering around in the background are the two sets of happy grandparents and siblings. The entire atmosphere is fragrant with a deep sense of joy, so different from what it was when I first met Nasreen more than five years ago.<< MORE >>

‘Cancer’ strikes terror into the most courageous heart. When, last August, the doctor performed an internal-sonography, and uttered those dreaded words “You have ovarian cancer”, time seemed to shatter and collapse around me. “Not me,” my mind screamed in terrified silence, as my world blacked out. For me cancer was synonymous with death. I did not want to die now - my daughter, 25, and my husband still needed me. It was not as if the verdict was totally unexpected. Our harrowing ordeal began six weeks ago… I had gone to visit a dear friend who was dying from breast-cancer<< MORE >>

“ .... and the best speaker of the evening is ..,” here the announcer paused dramatically, “ ...Devina Rana.” Devina looked up stunned. Had she really heard correctly? Obviously she had, because the announcer was beaming at her, while her friends surged towards her, congratulating her. In a daze, Devina heard the thunderous applause and the lusty cheering of her friends. She could hardly believe that she had won this Inter-School Debating Competition, defeating all those who had come from bigger cities<< MORE >>

The World War came to an end one day as did the one in Vietnam, in the Gulf, and a great many wars all over the world at some time or the other. But one battle, it seems will continue for much longer – alternating between raging hot words or biting cold sarcasm – and that is the confrontation between the working woman and the stay-at-home housewife.<< MORE >>

Have you wondered why mothers never ever fall sick or even if they do, they have to be back on their feet in 24 hours? As a child, I hardly remember my mother taking to her bed and in time, when I donned the mantle of motherhood, I soon found out why, because I too, found similar conditions which prevented such a restful activity. Etched deeply into my memory is the record of incidents as they unfolded on the one-and-only occasion I happened to take to my bed…<< MORE >>

My thoughts were entwined like tender green creepers wrapping themselves lovingly around the branch of a tree. Slowly I went back to the time when the computer hadn’t entered my life, how I learnt to use it, and the way my daughter encouraged me all the time, patiently and lovingly holding my hands. Thanks to her I have made the transition from a complete computer ignoramus, to a tolerable computer handler.<< MORE >>

When I first saw Kanti, she was a skinny little thing of twelve. Dressed in a dirty ragged frock, with her hair tied up in two straggly pigtails, she crept hesitantly into the room, clutching the corner of her mother’s sari (an Indian wrap-around dress). << MORE >>

Sound, light, action - that is what comes to mind when you think of this relationship. I bet you’ve understood which one I’m talking about – that most volatile, charged with ten thousand watts of super electricity relationship<< MORE >>

Although the clock chimes five in the morning, it is still dark outside. The faint glow of the white light emanating from your room, tells me, my child, that you are up and awake and already busy with your books.<< MORE >>