A is for Atlanta

** I came across an interesting concept of A-Z blogging so I'm going to give it a shot. My blog's  been dead for a while, let's see if this is enough to revive it.

A is for Atlanta

Atlanta was the first thing that popped into my head and I didn't have to look any further. The city that's been home to me for the last 3 years and will be for only the next two months, is very dear to my heart. I can claim to know the city quite well, well enough to say it is one of the most beautiful cities in America. From tourist attractions like Georgia Aquarium, Zoo Atlanta and High Museum of Art to parks like Piedmont Park and the Chattahoochee River National Recreational Area, this city has a lot to offer.

As my stint in Atlanta comes to an end, I wonder what the future holds for me. I am nervous and anxious at the same time. What will life in India feel like, will my time in the US have been a success or will it have been 3 years lost in oblivion?

Atlanta opened my mind to several new ideas. It was a city where I learned to bake, crochet and braid. These three interests or hobbies have really engulfed my life the past 3 years. How can I forget hiking? The natural state of affairs found in the city has helped build a real connection between my husband and myself.

It is a city, I lost myself in and found a whole other me. I think I went through a quarter life crisis at 25. I incidentally got married at 25 out of the blue I fell in love with a man and decided to tie the knot. While marital life had its challenges, it brought a whole bunch of challenges that I hadn't faced before. I packed up my life and followed my husband India to Atlanta. It was a way to leave an old me behind and attempt to build a new one with him. The initial few months were torture for the both of us. Seems like I am hard to please, I couldn't be happy. I was bored and moody and unhappy. Gradually I started finding new ways to keep myself engaged to pass time.

I started with hiking. I found a club that hiked on a regularly, 3 years later I am a trip leader and have a whole bunch of friends from all walks of life. They are all twice my age, wiser and healthier than I. They have inspired me to love and treasure the outdoors.

I also rediscovered crochet. It started as way to make my husband a phone case (which incidentally I never got around to completing). I bought a skein of multi-purpose yarn, a set of hooks and I haven't looked back since then. Some of friends were kind enough to commission a few projects, the few dollars I earned gave me a sense of pride and I'm sorry to say, a sense of self-worth. The projects I created baffle me even now. All of the projects were the brain child of designers all over the world and I have to give them credit.

One of the first things I saw when I came to Atlanta was an oven. My mother never baked, so I never grew up with one. It seemed like a privilege to have one, and I cannot imagine my kitchen life any other way. On the first day my husband showed me how to turn it on and that was it! I started baking cakes, cookies and even breads. I discovered a whole other world to cooking. Baking cakes opened a new arena for me in terms of cake decorating, I have spent countless hours on youtube and other websites learning skills to create unique cakes, I have all these ideas in me and am waiting for an outlet!

When I came to Atlanta, my hair was a novelty to everyone I met. It was butt length. I got numerous questions about it like had I ever cut my hair (if only they knew how short it was 7 years ago :) ) how do I wash it, how long it takes to dry etc etc. A few months before I left India, in an attempt to do something fun with my hair, I watched a few videos on different braids, when I came to the US, the joys of high speed internet enabled me to watch hundreds of different braiding techniques. Needless to say I discovered another one of my interests. Although my love of braiding as waned in the past few months, that hobby is always there for me.

so if you ask me if Atlanta is special to me, Oh yes it is. It is the city where I learned to drive, I learned to love and I learned to live. :)

Kerala Kitchen - A Gem Hidden Away

Today we ran into a small quiet restaurant that thoroughly surprised us and made us very nostalgic for authentic Indian food. “Authentic” is a quaint word used so freely now-a-days. Every restaurant swears by their authenticity, but Kerala Kitchen stands true to its claim.

It is a Kerala cuisine restaurant and you can a variety of dishes that you normally cannot find at other Indian restaurants. I cannot claim to know Kerala cuisine myself, but my husband knew a few dishes and those suggested by a helpful customer sounded delicious!

We stepped out on an early Saturday morning to see some reptilian action, and while I faced my Ophidiophobia with as much bravery as I could muster up, it all made me very hungry. So after spending a mere 2 hours at the show, we hunted for restaurants in the vicinity. Kerala Kitchen was one of the few that popped up and we were excited at the thought of some delicious fish curry. En route, I tried to look for the menu, but I couldn’t anything other than two photos of the menu pamphlet. It didn’t look very promising, but we are always up for a challenge!

The place is small but cozy. We were greeted by a bell at the counter, the place was empty except for one customer. So we grabbed a few pamphlet menus and sat down since we always spend several minutes going over the menu, One of the first things we saw was Fish Biryani, honestly this is the ONLY restaurant in Atlanta that we’ve seen offer this dish. So this was something we definitely wanted. Next I had to choose between a Fish Curry or Fish Moley. The description for Fish Moley - Sauteed Fish Cubes, flavoured with turmeric ginger, green chilli in coconut sauce - had me sold!!! To go with it I chose 2 parothas (not parathas) and two appams. The Sardine Fish Fry looked good, but I wasn’t too sure. Ready with our dishes we rung the bell and a lady stepped out of the kitchen. Turned she could make some fried Mackarel, so we took her up on the offer.

We learned it’s best to place an order an hour before you plan on arriving, all food is cooked only one an order is placed. So we waited about 40 minutes for our food to arrive. so while we waited for our food, we struck up a conversation with the only other customer in the restaurant. A Kerala native, he recommended some of his favourites. I’m particularly keen on trying the Beef Ullarthu which is Beef pieces are cooked with spicy kerala masala and fried in a pan with coconut and curry leaves.

When our food arrived, the first thing that struck me were the beautiful pieces of fried fish! Ahhh!! They were just the way we like it! A crispy coat with a beautiful spicy masala. The Moley was very delicious and the coconut gravy made every bite seem straight from heaven! It was unlike anything I’ve ever eaten! Everyone always raves about Indian food being so delicious, but honestly, food served in Atlanta Indian restaurants isn’t really what we eat on a daily basis. For example, we don’t eat naans all the time, it’s impossible to make at home without an oven. So for me this is what I feel is the differentiating factor about Kerala Kitchen. It is homemade food that is truly, finger-licking delicious, and it didn’t even burn a hole in our pockets!

We left very happy and very content customers. I definitely recommend this place to all you folks seeking a real taste of Indian cuisine. In the words of our helpful acquaintance “we rate this place an 11 out of 10!!”

The address - 1215 Scenic Highway Suite 4 Lawrenceville, GA 30045

Lucid Confusion

The doorbell rang and startled the seventy-eight year old man. Mr. Sen had dozed off on his chair like any old person would do. He rubbed his eyes and looked around for his glasses. He held onto his walking stick and stood himself up. He rarely had any visitors and he wondered who it could be at this early hour.  The doorbell rang a second time and he heard a young man call out for him. “I’m coming,” Mr. Sen called back as he hobbled across the living room to open the door.

There stood a man of about 30, tall and slender with dark black hair and brown smiling eyes. He had a sharp nose and strange ears that stood out from the rest of his head.

“Yes? “ Mr. Sen said to the man.

“Hello, Mr. Sen, I’m Charlie, your new neighbor. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but I saw the post man leave some mail for you and I thought that I may deliver it to you.  I hope that is alright?” he said as he handed some envelopes.

“Sure, thank you very much,” Mr. Sen said uncertainly, he had a confused look about him as he tried to understand what Charlie said. He took the envelopes and looked at them curiously, completely forgetting about Charlie. Charlie waited a few seconds. Mr. Sen seemed to be lost in thought; so he said good bye and just as he was about to leave, Mr. Sen stopped him, “Hold on. Charlie? You said your name was Charlie? I’m sorry I’m too old now and I can’t remember too many things. Would you like a cup of tea? There isn’t much else that I can offer you. You see the maid is out and I am forbidden from entering the kitchen. But tea is the one luxury my old age permits me in abundance. Would you like some?”

Charlie smiled at the old man, and contemplated his offer. It was better spending time with an old man than be by himself in his sparsely furnished apartment.  “I’d love some Mr. Sen.”

Mr. Sen let him in and closed the door.

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Josh sat on the subway barely able to keep his eyes open. He had just returned from night school, he would go home, shower and change, grab some food and then proceed to his job as a ticket issuer at the local theater. There were hardly any people on the train, and it gave him an opportunity to stretch his legs out and take a nap during the one hour train ride.

He thought how different life is for most twenty-somethings… Parents to take care of them… friends to hang out and party with… and the company of ladies. He saw them enjoy life everyday while he sat sullenly on the other side of the ticket counter. “Good morning sir, how may I help you?”… “Thank you sir, enjoy the show!” is what he said every day to every customer.

The train jerked to a stop at a station and a ragged old lady got into the train. She looked around and ignoring all the empty seats, she took a seat next to Josh. The strong stench of body odor and urine hit him and he opened his eyes to look at the old woman. Her silver white hair was in a thin braid with several strands come loose. Her teeth were broken and her face was dirty. Her clothes were in tatters though once it had been decent looking. She was jittery and fidgeted about. She rocked herself back and forth as if an unknown force were cradling her. She looked at no one in particular and began talking aloud. “I am on old woman. I am 80 years old. My husband was in the army. He fought in the Vietnam War and died. The government took away all I have and now I am homeless.” She paused for a moment. It seemed like she was trying to recollect the next line of her rehearsed speech. Then she continued, like a little child saying a nursery rhyme, “I haven’t eaten in 5 days. I haven’t taken a shower or slept in a bed for I don’t know how long. I have only 3 dollars with me. I need another 5 dollars to enter the homeless shelter for the night.” She looked about herself in a lost confused manner and continued mumbling some gibberish. All this while she rocked herself… back… and forth... Josh took a dollar from his wallet and gave it to the old lady. She quickly got out at the next station.

Josh shut his eyes once more and rested his head. His thoughts once again wandered to his own life. His parents were teens when they had him. Often they were too drunk to care for themselves let alone care for him. His grandfather took him in and raised him like his own. Josh acknowledged he had more to be grateful for than to complain. Things could be far worse than they were.

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Charlie and Mr. Sen sat down with their cups of tea in the open patio. The apartment had a beautiful view of a calm and quiet lake.

“So what do you do young man?”

“I am here to do my Masters in medicine, Mr. Sen. I will be studying at the university.”

Mr. Sen’s face lit up, “Oh, you will be a doctor is it? I used to be a doctor you know. In my younger days I was the most sought after neuro-surgeon, but now old age doesn’t permit me to be active anymore.” He sighed.

“Oh, is that so? I would love to discuss case-studies with you. It would be such a wonderful experience!”

Mr. Sen nodded his head and looked out towards the lake. His face changed expressions quickly from nostalgia to excitement to confusion.

“I live here with my wife, she is a doctor too. She was called in for some urgent case. It’s like that you know, they call her at odd times and she must go.  She has a small clinic that serves mainly the poor.” He looked at the clock and wondered, “I don’t know when she would be back, I must let the maid know about lunch,” He continued as if talking to himself, “I must call the clinic. She might be busy, but she always does like it when I leave her a message. She works so hard you know, on that clinic of hers. She loves those people and they love her.” He turned to Charlie and asked him, “Do you think I should call her?” and without waiting for an answer he continued, “Yes… yes, I must, oh but how can I? I do not have a phone,” He looked at Charlie once again, “Charlie… you said your name was Charlie right? Would you happen to have a phone with you?”

“Yes, Mr. Sen, I do. But, it is back at my apartment.” Mr. Sen’s eyes lit up and then it was lost in confusion again, he mumbled something to himself.

Charlie rested his cup down and said, “I could fetch it for you if you would like.”

Mr. Sen’s face lit up again, he grabbed Charlie’s hands and said, “You would?”

Charlie patted Mr. Sen’s hand and stood up, “Sure, I promise I will be back shortly.” And he left.

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The train finally pulled into the last station, and Josh woke up from his nap. The automated voice on the communication system urged passengers to alight the train as this was the last station. Josh was the last person to leave. He took his bike and went home.

He used his keys to enter the apartment. He always carried his set of keys just in case. His grandpa was sitting on the patio drinking tea. He noticed an extra cup laid out. He went into the kitchen and realized the pot of tea was empty. Just as he was about to confront his grandfather, the doorbell rang. It startled his grandfather and he felt a pang of pity for him.

He opened the door and there was Charlie. Charlie held his phone up and started off, “Here Mr. Sen, I have...” but he stopped on seeing an unexpected face. “I’m sorry, I was expecting Mr. Sen. I’m Charlie, your new neighbor.”

Josh stared at the man curiously.

Charlie continued unsurely, “He requested for my phone to make a call, could I give it to him?”  

He opened the door to let him in and gestured towards his grandfather on the patio.

Charlie went up to him and said, “Mr. Sen?”

“Yes?”

“Here is my phone that you asked for.”

Mr. Sen looked at Charlie and then at the phone inquiringly. For a long time there was complete confusion on his face and then he said, “Who are you?”

It was Charlie’s turn to be confused, he turned to look at Josh and then back at Mr. Sen, “Mr. Sen, I am Charlie, I brought you your mail, you offered me tea and then asked for my phone.”

Mr. Sen looked about apologetically, and mumbled, “Is that so? I’m sorry I’m too old now and I can’t remember too many things. Would you like a cup of tea? There isn’t much else that I can offer you. You see the maid is out and I am forbidden from entering the kitchen. But tea is the one luxury my old age permits me in abundance. Would you like some?” and the mumbling continued.

Charlie shook his head in disbelief.  This was a curious case indeed. He turned around to leave. He looked at Josh, “I don’t understand, five minutes ago he asked me for a phone; he wanted to call his wife at the clinic... I just don’t understand...”

“His wife is dead,” explained Josh.

“What!” exclaimed Charlie, “But...”

“His wife, my grandmother, died a few years ago. Last year he was diagnosed with Dementia.  He is losing his memory and tends to hold onto the good times. He doesn’t remember new people he meets. I’m sorry for the trouble it has caused you.”

Charlie was deeply saddened. He turned once more to look at Mr. Sen and he hurried out of the apartment without saying goodbye.

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The next day, Josh was sat in the subway, his eyes closed, pondering over the episode the day before. He felt sorry for the neighbor.

Just then the train stopped at a station and the old ragged lady from the day before entered the train. She looked about her and sat next to Josh.  She rocked herself back and forth and began talking aloud, “I am on old woman. I am 80 years old. My husband was in the army. He fought in the Vietnam War and died……..”

Josh took a dollar from his wallet and gave it to the old lady. He closed his eyes and went back to his thinking. The lady got off at the next station.

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--DiVyA--

That Old Chair

She sat on the old chair that lay on the patio, a regal wooden chair, past its prime, lying in the open unforgiving weather. The chair had been there for ages. She imagined its brother and sister chairs standing comfortably in the living room looking at it haughtily as if it were a leper with a broken arm. She sat on it and looked out over the lake. A gentle rain was falling muddying and dirtying the river, so different from its usual transparent state. The river reflected her state of mind, clouded and dimpled with a thousand unconnected thoughts. She looked at the leafless trees standing naked and bored with the constant rain, lifeless and still, very much like her own life. She sat there trying to stay unmoving, to make an effort to listen to the sounds around her, the ticking of a clock behind her, the humming of the neighbor’s heater, the trickling of rain water down the drain pipe. She marveled at how little of nature’s pure sounds she could hear over the constant incomprehensible babel inside her own head! She was never the type to stay still, she envied people who said they could gaze at the ocean for hours, she never quite understood what was so captivating or fascinating about it. On this day she wished she did.

She thought of that morning, of the reddest vegetable she chopped for a salad - the beetroot, tough to chop yet so delicate as to stain anything upon touch. She hated the beetroot ever since she was a child. “Eat it and you will have the rosiest cheeks” her mother would lie to her. Today she was intrigued by the novelty of something so familiar, the curves inside it so similar to the veins on her arm, its crimson juice staining her fingers as she sliced through it, revolted by how another object could taint her.

And now as she sat on the chair, she thought, how ironic the chair with the broken arm must feel, with warm crimson liquid seeped gently over it, tainting it, and the life gently seeping out of her….

  --DiVyA --