#metoo – how long before we can say not me! 

Last week there was the horrifying sex scandal of Harvey Weinstein. Before that we have had too many – from Phaneesh murthy to Bill Clinton. Sexual predators lurk everywhere. Last two days the topic trending on Twitter has been #metoo. It talks about women speaking out about battling their own sexual abuse nightmares. The idea is to give a shout out to every survivor about the solidarity in the pain we share. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone of my sex who can say not me here. It took me a lot of will power to revisit the dark memories and recount them.
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Coffee, memories and a delicate relation called Ma in law 

It’s been raining cats and dogs since last night. Only two days have passed that we have returned to Kolkata. After holidaying for close to two months in my hometown, amidst fun and chatter with my joint family members, the emptiness of this flat was haunting for Gogol. It was evident that he was struggling to cope up with the new environment. I had quite a rough night,kept up by the continuous downpour and the intermittent waking up of the toddler.

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Durga Puja, food fetish and an ode to the twenty years of an emotion called UCC 

Shubho Bijoya everyone.

So we had an incredibly exciting Durga Puja this year. Baba’s asthma attack on panchami got better with time. From panchami to dasami morning, we worked out schedules basis rains whims and still we managed to cover the best pujas in town. Gogol seemed way too excited to have been introduced to the variety of Asuras in different sizes, colors and ferocity. The hangover continues till date and he continues calling the Asuras to come in more colors soon. I have a gut feeling that next year the affection is going to tilt slightly towards Ganesha or Gonsha, as he prefers to call.
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Asura-the demon and my toddler 

Twenty plus years ago, I stopped Durga puja pandal hopping. Probably because I felt that I was grown up enough to decide what I wanted to do and what I would want to stop doing. Until then, every year Baba and I along with his colleague and his daughter, my best friend then would get on to two pedal rickshaws and cover maximum of my hometowns pujas over a span of three noons- saptami, ashtami and navami. By the time we returned home, it would be late evening and we would still be all enthusiastically dress up to sit and assess the crowd coming to see our para pujo. With time, even sitting outside para (our lane) pandal stopped. Then 10th boards happened followed by 12th. Amidst all the pressure of studies, choosing a career and moving out for higher studies, I indeed grew up.
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Ma and Mahalaya

Shubho Mahalaya friends.

This morning, just like every year spent in this town, I woke up to the sound of insane cracker bursting. This has been a trend ever since I remember but of late, the wee hours of the morning that some people choose to start celebrating is ridiculously insane. With a soon to be two year old son whose sleeping time starts at 2am, I really can’t appreciate any festivity that disrturbs our sleep at 4am.
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Dosa delight

I am a self proclaimed foodie. At some point in life, I actually had this funda that there’s no life without food. That’s how essential food has been as part of my growing up.

Growing up in a small town, the first proper restaurant that opened near my house was a small south Indian joint. Having traveled extensively, my father was proud to have been acquainted with the special cuisines of various parts of the country. Born and raised in Kolkata, eating out at restaurants was part of embracing the new culture for my mother. Thus we became such regulars at this eatery that the owner gradually ended up taking our suggestions regarding decor, food, menu changes and even background music that was played.
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The journey of a breastfeeding mother 

Written on August 3rd,2016. Updated as on September 14,2017

Since this is breastfeeding week, I thought it apt to share our breastfeeding journey. My son was born on 22nd sep 2015. I had an extremely complicated 2.5 hrs c section thanks to a horrible mess up by a junior anaesthetist. So while she tried spinal injection 7times on me, the end result was a delivery involving general anesthesia. Just to add the irony,my husband’s a doctor and he works in the Bangalore wing of the same hospital while I delivered my son in the Kolkata wing.
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