Just like that

Kamsahamnida —that word has been stuck in my head lately. It means “thank you very much” in Korean. No prizes for guessing why—I've been on a Korean drama binge for the past three weeks. Yes, I am a late bloomer. And let me tell you, they are dangerously addictive. So much so that even my regular chores have taken a backseat! What makes these dramas so captivating? When I think about it, I can draw a few parallels: Korean culture, at least as portrayed in these dramas, reminds me a lot of Indian culture from the ‘80s. I say this specifically because, post-liberalization and the brain drain, we seem to have embraced Western influences more than our own traditions. There’s a certain warmth in their visuals—nothing jarring or loud. Everything is so easy on the eye, creating a soothing effect. The sound design is subtle. No unnecessary high-pitched screeches. Even when a scene demands it, it’s kept brief. The storylines—some of...

“Hey, you’ve put on weight since the last time we met!” This isn’t an uncommon greeting from one of my friends. Trust me, he doesn’t mean to hurt—but somehow, he always does. He’s not a mean guy; in fact, he’s one of those friends I can call in the middle of the night for help. But that’s just his way of talking—not just with me, but with everyone. I’ve tried explaining to him that this sort of comment is body shaming and that it’s neither kind nor funny. But he just waves me off, insisting it’s all harmless fun. The truth? He’s far from alone. Comments like these are ingrained in our everyday conversations, especially among women. Often, they come from people who claim to mean well. Think about it—how many times have you heard a relative or a friend casually drop a remark like, “Your dress seems tighter. Gained weight, huh?” For me, it’s my aunt. She never fails to greet me with, “Enna nalla sappadare pole irukke?!” (Translation: “You seem to be eating well!” ) I know she do...

  Today, my husband was pleasantly surprised when he called out from the bathroom for a shampoo bottle. Normally, this would prompt a tirade about his laziness, followed by my hurried hand off of our regular brand of shampoo. But today, I handed him expensive bottles of shampoo and conditioner with a smile, saying, “With love.” Though puzzled, he was happy to indulge in the fancy products. I quietly slipped away before he realised they were the result of one of my hair care experiments gone wrong. Since moving into our new home, my obsession with hair care has reached new heights. Hair loss is such a rampant problem in my community that it’s probably the only topic people don’t argue about in our WhatsApp group. In a desperate attempt to save what’s left of my hair, I’ve tried everything: onion shampoo, rice water conditioner, WoW serum, Adivasi hair oil—you name it, I’ve tried it! Adding insult to injury, my mother delights in reminding me, “You used to have such thick hair I ...

    A couple of weeks ago, my husband had inadvertently given three bags of washed clothes to an unknown ironing person. He said some new person had come asking for clothes to iron when he was on the phone, and he had handed them over to him. And now, all his new pants were missing. My first reaction was, “Oh dear! All my good Katta Pais!”   I know I know… but I really couldn’t help it. Katta Pais, or what we call the Big Shopper bags, are not just some random objects; they are, as the new lingo for all things close to the heart goes, an emotion! There have been many Instagram reels by various groups around the theme of Katta Pais. The most hilarious one for me was the one by Vikkals Vikram group when the son informs his mother that he scored cent per cent in Class X Math exam or came state first in Class XII or even that he got a handsomely paying job abroad, her reaction was a simple smile. But when he says that he said no to Katta Pai at a saree shop in line with ...

   Nostalgia is a powerful emotion. Every one of us is nostalgic over something or the other and this gets stronger as we grow older. And when it involves moving into a new apartment, it is certainly a vast change. The people, the place, the community, the neighbourhood  - you are in for a sudden change, and it takes you a long time to adjust to it. I moved from the earlier home, our first purchase about 20 years ago. And you can judge how strong my emotions would be. My son’s childhood was in that place, and he still feels strongly about the old house. Since we moved into the new place, he has been away for studies and work. So he fondly reminisces only our earlier house as his home.   I couldn’t let go of the house so much that I had kept it under lock and key while occasionally going there to clean up the place. But as time grew, I felt my hold over the old place loosening and I slowly got into the mindset of letting it go. But till that time, when I prepare...

If you are gloating over solving the day’s Wordle on your third attempt, try the daily breakfast/tiffin conundrum. For someone like me who hates cooking, this is the worst puzzle that tires me out at the start of the day. Most of you may have your favourite word to start solving the daily Wordle puzzle. The keyword that you rely on to find the word of the day in minimum attempts. Similarly, I have one for my breakfast riddle. But this one’s usually towards the end. After exhausting the options of Idli, Dosa and Pongal, this serves as my saviour of the morning dilemma. Yes! You guessed it right! As copy editors, we were always taught this universal thumb rule to follow when editing a story: When in doubt, cut it out. Similarly, I follow a standard proposition to crack my tiffin conundrum: When everything is out, bring  upma  out. Ah! Was that my son frowning at me? Never mind. That is a universal reaction from most people across the country. I have never understood why a breakf...

  I am not a fan of cooking. And I make no bones about proclaiming it. However, to my surprise, of late I have become a sort of an expert in the smoked style of cooking and have been churning out a variety of dishes day after day. And no, I haven’t got a new barbecue or an oven.  Since I couldn’t put my finger on what triggered this spree, I decided to pass on the credit to the back-to-back episodes of MasterChef Australia that I have been watching ever since the start of the pandemic in Star World. (I choose to ignore the annoying Koffee with Karan that always gets tagged along with the cookery show.) I now invariably end up naming my smoked items in some fancy chef terms that I picked up watching the cookery contest. Be it, eggplant with spicy lentils and herbs (sambar), mixed veggies in coconut and yoghurt sauce (avial), greens simmered in spices and coconut (arachuvita keerai) or even Indian wafers (appalam), the smoked list doesn’t end!  I can hear my son grindin...

Apart from the time when I was down with Covid-19 for a brief while when I had lost my sense of smell and taste, I have always been showing signs of mild hyperosmia. No, no, this is not some fatal disease but it refers to a heightened sense of smell. Trust me, I was not even aware that this was a medical condition until I watched a detective series, about a decade ago, in which an agent cracked a crime using someone's hyperosmic skills. Only after that, it made sense to me as to why I felt nauseated in air-conditioned rooms, new cars with fresh leather seats, perfume sections in supermarkets or five-star hotel restrooms. Well, the reason I am bringing this up now is because of an interesting news item that caught my eye this morning; the one about agarbatti sales taking a dip because of the discontinuation of WFH (work from home). Yes, you heard me right. WFH and agarbattis! The article went on to talk about how the lockdown period had actually boosted sales of agarbattis up to 3...

It’s finally that time of the year which makes you feel both happy and sad! Diwali is a festival that the avid shopper in me always looks forward to but it is also that time of the year when the otherwise, languid, fitness-conscious self just raises her head to scare me into business. But trust me, that’s always been a short-lived one! The truth is, while it's super fun to go shop-hopping checking out the latest designs and wanting to make a fashion statement, the ugly truth of one’s expanding size really starts to bother then; only then. And that’s why I love to shop at Fab India.  No! I am not one of those hardcore handicrafts fans who have vowed to work assiduously for the upliftment of the artisans of the land and hence would buy only clothes made by them. That I would love to do when my purse permits; but I love the shop for a completely different reason. Their ethnic designs, exquisite craftwork, handwoven cloth, natural dyes and high prices apart, what matters the most...