Aam Sorshe Ilish -Hilsa with raw mango and mustard

11:23 PM

It's that time again.

It's that time again to smell the petrichor, to forget umbrellas and then chase the rain with your hair flying in all directions, to snuggle on the bed when the thunder storm roars outside, to splash in the muddy puddle with the kids and not feeling guilty about it, To feel melancholic under the overcast sky, to have moods wings and follow the rainbow for happiness, to walk aimlessly drenching in the untimely drizzle, to make paper boats and see it whirl down the drain,  to gulp endless cup of masala tea and still feel thirsty...
And if you are a Bengali then to put a potful of bubbling khichuri on the stove and scour the market for the best Hilsa available.

Yes! It's monsoon again and we have a lot of catching up with our lives. It's time to slow down and smell the fresh moist air and follow our hearts-even only for a day.


Mashla Alu bhaja (Bengali style spicy potato dry dish)

8:34 PM

Every morning around 5.30 I would wake with a gentle nudge on my leg. It's Dida gently calling my name for the morning tea session in their second floor room. Though the huge kitchen was in the first floor but in the morning she and Dadu loved to make tea on their kerosene stove and drink it quietly. The veranda adjacent to the bed room had beautiful filigree and the morning sun loved to play hide and seek their creating pretty patterns on the deep red oxide floor. The pond beyond that had almost apple green water and the favourite place for morning birds to flock on the coconut trees and chirp incessantly. While I sleepily will take the stairs, Dadu will wake up the little sister only 4 or 5 back then. We would sit cross legged on the floor in a tight circle, dida facing us with her kerosene stove. She quietly will go about her morning tea ceremony. Steeping the Darjeeling tea till it turns dark amber in colour, stirring little sugar and then pouring milk. We will watch in awe how beautifully the amber turns into a milky caramely hue. Then she would sprinkle some water on the stove and we eventually would bend down to smell that smoke coming off the kerosene soaked wick. when the tea would be served we would first dunk our biscuit in them and then will drink the lukewarm tea in long slurpy sips. While Dida and dadu will go about their work afterwards, we eventually will go back to sleep again, this time in Dadu's bed. 

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