The Hindi-Bindi Club (35 page)

4. For eggplant: Quarter lengthwise, then crosswise into ½-inch-thick slices.

5. For bitter gourd: Halve lengthwise. Remove and discard seeds. Chop halves crosswise into very fine,
¹
/
₈
-inch slices.

6. For potatoes: Halve lengthwise, then cut crosswise into ¼-inch-thick slices.

7. Chop remaining veggies into bite-sized cubes.

8. In a blender or food processor, combine the soaked mustard and poppy seeds with ginger root. Purée to a smooth paste. Set aside.

9. Eggplant: In a large wok, heat 1 tablespoon oil over medium-high heat. Add eggplant. Stir-fry for 2–3 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon. Set aside.

10. Bitter gourd: Heat another 1 tablespoon oil. Add bitter gourd. Reduce heat to medium. Sauté 3–4 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon. Set aside.

11. Heat remaining 2 tablespoons oil over medium-high heat. Add bay leaves and paanch phoron. When spices begin to sputter, add remaining raw vegetables. Stir-fry 5–7 minutes.

12. Reduce heat to medium. Stir in ginger paste. Sauté for 2 minutes, stirring constantly.

13. Add cooked eggplant and bitter gourd, coconut milk, salt, and sugar. Cover until almost cooked, about 3–5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

14. Lower heat and remove cover. Allow gravy to thicken, then remove from heat.

15. Stir in ghee. Eat with rice.

* Anandita’s Notes:

Eat only the inside of drumstick bean pods, the fleshy innermost pulp and seeds. Slice open lengthwise and extract edible parts with spoon or thumbnail, if eating with your hand.

There are absolutely no onion, garlic, or chilies in shukto. Remember the inept “Rani” who is mocked in the Bengali nursery rhyme: “Chhie chhie Rani randhtey shekheni, mashima key boley jholey mashla debo ki? Shuktani tey jhaal diyechhey, amboleytey ghee.”
(Shame on Rani who doesn’t know how to cook curry and puts chilies in
shukto
and
ghee
in chutney!)

Preity Chawla Lindstrom: Soulprints

Hello, Sorority Sister Types! I have a question for the 30-somethings on this list: At 35, how well would you remember a two-week romance from when you were 20? Vaguely? Pretty well? Quite well?

Preity

Was it all physical or were there deeper emotions involved?

Kate <--former vixen

Very emotional -- at the time, you THOUGHT you were falling in love. Physically restrained -- first base only.:-) Then an abrupt and possibly unexplained end that may or may not have hurt/pissed you off.

Preity

I’d remember every wonderful intimate detail and have sugarcoated the more awkward ones. Painful ones would still be there, but not as searing as when they occurred. Call them manageable. But the good memories would still make me smile real big. :D

Helen

Oh, yeah. That hurt/pissed off part would sear it into my memory. Like Helen said, the sweet parts would be sweeter, polished with the ideal sheen. The end would seal it.

My two cents, er bucks (CA cost-of-living adjustment ),

Miss Nancy

And if this long-lost (maybe) love you thought was gone forever popped back into your life? Say, maybe sent a brief message of hello. Would you be curious? Or would you be more crawl-back-under-that-rock-and-leave-me-alone?

Preity

Good God! Six posts before 8 AM! Y’all are wild women this morning!;)

> And if this long-lost (maybe) love (that you
> thought was gone forever) popped back into your
> life.

I would have a panic attack. Really. I would have a physical reaction -- tightness in my chest, maybe the shakes, I would not be smiling, I would be excited but also sort of scared. I would call my close girlfriends, email my sorority sisters , guess and second-guess and triple-guess whether or not to answer (and how long I should delay my response to not seem too eager). I would be VERY curious.

Tina Bambina

I would assume if he were to contact me, he would have grown up a bit. I sure have. I’d have to be pretty immature at 35 to still be pissed off.

Leydi

Depends on what’s transpired in the meantime, personal growth-wise. It could be mild curiosity. With maturity, contact could be made with a “bygones are bygones” mindset. If there hasn’t been a lot of personal growth, or ill will is still harbored, then it might could fall into the “piss off, I don’t have time for you” arena.

Inglath

Okay, spill it, Preity. What’s this all about?:-)

spill what???? i thought this was a trivia question???? -carm

Sending this off-list, private to you…

Oh. My. God.

I just turned on the computer, and I’m skimming all these posts, and it HITS me…

This is about that Indian guy from first year! The one you met over winter break! And oh, coincidentally, SOMEONE is going to India for a wedding next month! ARE YOU GOING TO CONTACT HIM?!

Just so you know, I have goose bumps as I type this!!!!!!!!!!!!

Heather <--first-year roommate who remembers ALL

I wasn’t going to go to Kiran’s wedding. I hadn’t planned on it, even after she returned my email, and we exchanged a few more. I didn’t go to her first wedding; she didn’t go to mine.

Then she phoned, and we both felt the winds of change that had blown through our adult lives. Afterward, I knew I couldn’t miss this, even if it meant leaving my husband and kids for the first time and traveling alone to the Other Side of the World.

“I
’ve always been jealous of you,” Kiran said to me on the phone. “That’s why I was such a little shit.”

“First of all,” I said, “you were a
big
shit. And second, jealous of
me
? Why on earth would
you
be jealous of
me
?”

“Because you’re perfect, Preity.”

I about laughed my ass off. “No one’s perfect. Least of all people who appear to be.”

“Yeah, that’s what you hear all the time, but—”

“Did you know I was bulimic?” I couldn’t believe I said it, to
Kiran
of all people, but once it was out, I felt like a ton of bricks lifted from the top of my head. (Picture a female Indian laborer here.)

“
No,
I did
not
—! Geez, no one tells me
anything
about
anyone’s
medical condition. And why would they? I’m only a
doctor
.”

“No one knew. Except my dentist.”

A pause, and then, “No one…?”

“Not even my parents. They still don’t.”

“When was this? How long—? Are you still—?”

“I’m fine now. It went on for about five years, on and off, starting in college when the ole metabolism took a nosedive, and a lifetime of
‘khaa, beta, khaa’
caught up with me.”

At our house, “eat, dear, eat” was my mother’s
mantra
. She practically ran after Tarun and me with food in her out-stretched hand. It was never, “Are you hungry?” but “Have some” of this and “Have some more” of that. We could say
no, thank you
all we wanted; still she heaped another helping on our plates, striving to ensure our stomachs never rumbled and we never experienced a single hunger pang. Mom said she knew she and Dad “had arrived” (meaning attained success) when they could afford ($$, not lbs.) to eat ice cream, a luxury in India, until they puked. Needless to say, ice cream was a staple of our diet.

My little brother, being “Joe Athlete,” can still get away with pigging out, no worries of packing on the pudge, but my
Get Out of Jail Free
card expired in college. “Welcome to my world,” my best friend Veronica said when I stepped onto the scale and shrieked in horror. (Picture Munch’s
The Scream
.) I thought my jeans had shrunk in the wash, but no, it was me who had expanded. And only through the midsection. My figure resembled a toothpick spearing an olive! “No more gorging on ice cream in the dining hall,” Veronica said. “Desserts go straight to the hips.” But try as I might, I couldn’t control myself with ice cream. Even today, I lack portion-control with certain foods and must avoid them entirely, like an alcoholic must abstain from alcohol.

“I rotted my teeth with all the stomach acid,” I told Kiran. “And still, I couldn’t tell my parents. Can’t you just imagine? I’d never hear the end of it. ‘All these starving people in the world, and here, this spoiled rotten girl not only has the luxury of eating like a queen, afterward, she sticks her finger down her throat and
intentionally
throws up. She’s puking enough food to feed a village! We should send her to India. Let her volunteer in the Peace Corps. That will teach her.’ So, since I couldn’t tell the folks my shameful secret, I couldn’t afford to pay for the kind of dental work I
really
needed until after grad school.”

“Oh, Preity…”

“Hey, on the upside, no college loans. But yes, downside, I’ll be making payments on the Mercedes in my mouth for several more years.”

“And I was
just
noticing your lovely smile at New Year’s…” Kiran said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “It’s over and done. All’s well that ends well.”

And that’s what brought me to the Other Side of the World….

I
n Mumbai, I feel like a woman waking from a coma, then more like a ghost. A dead wife looking down from heaven, able to see, but not touch her loved ones.

Life in India went on without me. My memories, flash-frozen in time, thaw and feel fresh. Raw. This is how my parents feel, I realize. Why my mother never wants to come here, and my father never wants to leave.

I learn Riya-
didi
never delivered the letter to Arsallan. I locate him—he’s a pediatrician, how wonderfully fitting for him. I wait outside his office, just wanting a glimpse of him before I decide how and when I’ll approach. But when he steps out, when I see him, I’m bowled over by a barrage of emotions.

He looks the same. Aside from his hair, now threaded with copper and silver. Otherwise,
the same
.

It doesn’t feel like sixteen years have passed. It hardly feels like sixteen minutes.
Didn’t we just walk on the beach? Didn’t you just kiss me under the stars?

Don’t I want to go to the bookmark we placed at the end of our chapter, to resume our story?