Looking for a nice Venkat giri saree in blood red color with thin zari border and very small zari polka dots. I had seen this saree worn by my aunt many years ago, hoping to find it at any cost. Wish me all the best in my search for this saree.
The train journey to the Araku valley promises to be good. On our way back, plan to drive down and visit some interesting Caves and other places of interest.
I leave you with an old blog of mine, written many years ago, hope you enjoy it.
'Madame is not in'
I leave you with an old blog of mine, written many years ago, hope you enjoy it.
'Madame is not in'
It was 2.30 pm. time to moveinto the kitchen to prepare the snack; I had planned for my children, who wouldbe returning from school by 3.45. I very reluctantly switched off the TV.
The kitchen welcomed mewith a sink full of vessels that cried to be cleaned, I don’t have servants forI don’t get along with them, I prefer to be my own boss. I am one of thoseworking women who work in the house. In short, I am a housewife.
The prospect of washinga sink full of vessels is not very appealing. But, however unpleasant thejob, it has to be done. I took my old, faded nighty and wrapped it round mywaist like a towel. I don’t believe in buying fancy- looking aprons withpockets (why do they have pockets, I wonder). My good old nighty is enough toprotect my dress from getting wet and also from food stains. After tackling thedirty work, I got down to making the cutlets. While trying to fry batches ofgolden brown cutlets, I was boiling milk and then water for the coffee filterand also simultaneously clearing up the mess on the kitchen platform. (Only awoman can do all these things and also keep thinking of all other unconnectedthings at the same time).
In between, I had againswitched on the TV to Prime Sports, where the programme ‘Prime Bodies’ was going on. I was trying topay attention to some of the new exercises that they were demonstrating.
The door bell rang and Iopened it without bothering to un-wrap my old nighty from my waist as I wasexpecting only my children. Instead, I found myself looking up at a tall, dark,handsome guy (straight from the Mills & Boons), with a packet in his hand.He studied me critically, with the famous M&Bs frown, and asked me whetherDr. Ananth (he is my husband) was at home. He spoke in Hindi, and it sounded alittle odd, coming from a man, who definitely looked like a South Indian. I toowas carried away and replied in Hindi, (what with a handsome Southy talking inHindi with an attractive frown on his face, there was no time to think ) sayingthat the said person was not in, but I could pass on any message he had.
He the reluctantlyhanded me the packet and instructed me very curtly that it should be deliveredto Dr. Ananth without fail. I didn’t look as concerned as he expected me tolook, for my mind was suddenly on the cutlets that were threatening to turnblack if I didn’t attend to them immediately. I just nodded my headdumbly and closed the door.
Withinminutes, my husband arrived and I asked him whether he had met a man called Giridown the stairs. Then I asked my husband whether this person was a SouthIndian. My husband told me he was a Tamilian.
Suddenly everythingbecame clear, and I could not help laughing at the absurdity of the situation.The man had mistaken me for a maid/ cook. Obviously, he didn’t expect Mrs.Ananth to be so shabbily dressed.
I was right in myassumption for my husband quickly said that when the man met my husband on hisway down he had mentioned that he had left a package with the maid upstairs. Weboth had a good laugh and wondered what would be his reaction if he wastold that he had been talking to the lady of the house.
It transported me backto my days in Bombay
It worked. After a while they stopped coming as they did not wantto waste their time at a place where "The Madame is not at home".
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