King of Sweets - Gaajar ka Halwaa

Winters always bring in these wonderful produce all over the markets. The mind is always full of recipes and ideas. I love to cook. And this is the first time I am gonna blog about it. See how the response is.

GAAJAR KA HALWAA
Now...tiny piece of advice...here are 2 ways of making Gaajar ka Halwa
1. I have used more milk. So it won't have a very shiny glaze. But will taste better.

2. Use less milk, it will look better, but won't taste as good.

Step 1: Carrots grated. Added to boiling milk
1 kilo carrots. 2 litres Milk.
Step 2: Reduce the mixture to a slurry consistency. Requires constant stirring.
Step 3: Sugar
Step 4: Khoya. (I had homemade Khoya in semi-liquid form)
Sugars from all the sources will caramelize and enhance the reddish color of the Halwaa
The entire process takes approximately 3 hours
Once Sugar is added and the consistency thickens, the flame is lowered to min
This is probably the best time to taste and have the 'Just undercooked Gaajar ka Halwaa'
Some people prefer it this way...it's got the still in liquid-ish form milk. Gives it a bubbly, milky, light taste.

Step 5: Dry fruits. Lightly roasted. Roughly crushed. Cashews. Almonds. Walnuts. Raisins. Pistachios.
I am gonna help myself with a spoonful.

Just the correct proportions. Milky. Lightly sweet. I don't like a strong sweet taste, that overpowers the carrot and the milk
And now...let the rest of the milk condense till we have the rich reddish glaze

Halwaa is ready. Serve and Garnish.
If You have a blow torch, add sugar on top and caramelize.
Final stage...
King of Sweets - Gaajar Ka Halwaa is served

Till next then

Ciao.

Two friends

 

I once had two friends

They were the best I had

I shared everything with them

If only I knew they would not last

 

I woke up with their calls

I texted them in between work

I shared everything with all my heart

If only I knew they would not last

 

I flew over cities to meet with them

I ran over people to be with them

They had become my life’s new start

If only I knew they would not last

 

We grew up, we got mature

They got many new friends

& I got my life’s lure

Lunches were postponed

Dinners got cancelled

B’Days now forgotten

And not one of us took a name

 

We are no longer friends

They can’t stand my presence in their lives

We haven’t spoken in years

And haven’t even tried to jump over the fence

 

I miss them, to say the least

I wish I had more friends like these

The heart cries, coz now there is just a past

If only I knew they would not last

 

But now I have two new friends

And they are the best I can ever have

I share everything with them

 

And I really want them to last.

 

(For one ‘Masakali_’ and an ‘OyeHello’)

My Valedictorian Speech.

Following is the speech I had prepared to deliver at my Convocation on the 19th of Oct '13. Unfortunately NaMo, currently Guj-CM, was running short of time, and the ceremony had to be cut short, curtailing the 3 speeches, one each from SPM, SLS and SPT. Here is the one that would have been SPT's 'Last speech of Graduation'


Formal pleasantries.

Congratulations Graduates.

A week ago, I got a call from the Director of the School himself, asking if I would be interested in sharing my experience at PDPU during the Convocation. I was, frankly speaking, in a fix. The director wanted me, an average student of the batch, to share my experiences. So I did exactly what our Generation would do. What our YouTube generation would do. I saw a few YouTube videos. Steve Jobs, Randy Paush, Bono, Michael Dell, Ellen Degeneres, Bill Gates, Oprah Winfrey, Larry Page, and all this time, I kept wondering just one thing. These are big people, who have made it very big in their lives. I am no Gates, I am a normal guy.
Also, half of the above dropped out of college, so that train is long gone for me.

But seriously, what have I been asked to do here? I know today is supposed to be the day we celebrate our graduation from PDPU. However today, I would also like all of us to celebrate the people who made us into what we are today. The people. Our friends, our good friends, our not so good friends, our Professors, and our families.

These, ladies and gentlemen, are the people who shaped us. From the father who constantly pestered you for your expenses and cut short your pocket money, to the one who flew in, within a day’s notice, leaving behind all his work, because he was summoned by the Disciplinary committee for your misdeeds.

From the Professors, who threw you out of class because every day you attended his class just to look at the girl with those brown eyes and the beauty spot on her nape, sitting in the corner, to the one who gave you those extra 3 marks, without you even asking, just so that you could appear for the interview, next day.

And the friends, oh those idiots. Borrowing cash from you to buy a gift for your B’day. Keeping up all night before the end terms “to study”…and ending up discussing the SLS Chicks all night long.
Friendship became a completely new phenomenon in college. “Maggi and chai at 3 in the morning at Ashok’s Galla”, would take up a Hundred-page chapter in all our lives. And damn those, who cleared Transport Phenomena in the first attempt. The ones who did not, are a fraternity, till death do us apart, I swear to God.  
Bhui Sir’s Bread & BAAttar, TP Singh Sir’s know-it-all smirk (Forgive me, Prof.), Ashish Sarkar Sir’s football stories and imagining him with this same bushy beard, even in his youth, Nigam Sir’s searious yet inPHORmative one-to-one sessions, Karmakar Sir’s Aeyi Porag, these have stories behind them that deserve to be told to the entire world.
Flare, Soul Pepper, SPE, DisCo, Internships, B.Tech Thesis, Placements, all just flashed by.

So what have I earned in the 4 years at PDPU apart from a piece of paper that happens to be my Graduation Degree and will most probably feed me for the rest of my life, and maybe even make my parents proud in the entire society?
Well, I have earned the blessings of the Professor, who used to scold me every time he saw me, whether on the lawns, or by mistake in the class, and now when I go to see him, he greets me as if I was his long-lost son.
I have earned the trust of those few, who I can depend on with my life, who I can call up at 2 in the morning to fish me out of a sticky situation in the opposite end of the world, not even having talked to him for over a year.

And above all, I have earned a life. An attitude. A pride. One that I was alien to before I came to this place. One that has become my way of life, one that I am known by, in the big bad world out there, the very world I survive in just because of what I became here.

From 08BT01062, I became Abhimanyu Manna.

This...Pandit Deendayal Petroleum University, PDPU, is an amazing place. To me, it's Magical.

God Bless you all. God Bless PDPU.

Riding: An Art.

Life is a stage and we as actors are performers. The art of living life cannot be measured by a tablespoon and made a perfect dish with appropriate ingredients. Similarly, the beauty of a motorcycle journey is not dependent on the pre-decided route, the roadmaps or the destination. What one lives through during a road trip is the flavour that one just craves for. Of course, it’s easier said than done. Because the motorcycle journeys are meant for those who are willing to take the challenges bestowed on them by themselves.

All said and done, bikers have a hard core belief that they live, breathe & feel riding like no one else. And to a certain extent, it’s true. He who rides, lives life at a different tangent and senses individuality with each passing road trip.

Companions make life beautiful and so they make journeys and expeditions meaningful. For the solo rider – the companion is the Enfield, for the one who loves togetherness – the companion is a friend or a loved one. But choose anything – it will just return back multi folds with only one thing – sheer bliss!!

The purpose of traveling is unexplained. Some do it for leisure, some for pleasure and some for explorations. When I asked myself, I got a plain simple answer – its my inner calling and passion. I feel blessed that I form a relatively smaller part of the world that not just knows his passion but also has an opportunity to live it – live it to the fullest. And I am glad that I made that choice. After all each life is all about the choices that have been made  – isn’t it?

The road less travelled calls for the nomad who may or may not believe in motorcycle journeys, but certainly respects adventure with a pinch of serenity or vice versa. The destination is and will always be a part of the journey because what it brings with itself is a thought – there is much more to be seen, explored & experience. There is no school which teaches that or no expert rider who can pass it on to you – it will just come naturally once you kick start your Enfield and begin your journey towards the ‘Art of Riding’.

When you are on the oldest motorcycle brand in the world, you see too much of the globe to remain strapped to a single identity. That’s why each Bullet means something different to each rider. There are days when we feel that I am living in a dream – a dream that is so pure and sacred that it has added purity to our beings and created new horizons for me. Fresh air and open highways, green mountains and light blue sea, no speed limits and a soothing motorcycle ride – that’s what life is all about in this dream world. I humbly bow down to the World of Bulleteers, where they live to ride and ride to live !!!

Writing, for the fun of it.

Today, I want to write just for the sake of writing. I don’t need this to be read by anyone. I don’t need anyone to comment. Today, I want to write, just for the sake of writing.
Blogging these days has become a way of communicating with the unknown. Most of the times the blogger doesn’t even know the reader. And yet they do. No doubt that has a thrill of its own.
But by each day the meaning of blogs has metamorphosed, if I may say so. Blogs are becoming more reader-centred, rather than staying writer-centred. What about expressing yourself to yourself? Blogging is supposed to be for oneself, and not for the reader. That is what blogging is supposed to be. The writer doesn’t choose his reader. The reader chooses his writer.
So here I am. Expressing to myself. I, Abhimanyu Manna, am talking to myself and hence, have gone totally bonkers. It like making those stupid faces in front of the mirror, repeating, “In kutton ke saamne mat naachna Basantiii..!” in 100 different styles & voices. Yea, just like that.
It's liberating, really. I am not a lunatic. Expressing to yourself might not be as much fun as writing to an audience, but it gives you a reality check. It lets you know about you, as it is. Time passes as it should. Emotions flow as they should. It is good. Yea it is.
So here I am, talking to myself, getting an inch closer to reality and yet edging towards ‘Moh-maya’.
Till next then.
CIAO.

8 Minutes.

 

“If the sun were to explode, you wouldn’t even know about it for 8 minutes. Because that is how long it takes for light to travel to us. For 8 minutes, the world would still be bright. And it would feel warm.”

- Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

We live our mundane lives every day, oblivious of what is going to happen to us tomorrow. Every next second is a surprise. Or rather, what it is intended to be. By who? Let’s not get into that now. Later, maybe.

Today, all we have is ‘8 Minutes’. What if some day, it really happened. And all we had was 8 minutes. Haah! Sounds like those cheesy forwarded texts, saying, “What would you do? Forward to falana-dimka people to get interesting answers, but first answer me.”

Let’s call the day when it happens, The Worst Day. So what would you do? In those last 8 minutes? The worst day, would also mean that it most certainly would be the last day. And hence it would mean that the Worst day would make the list of things to do a lot longer. Would it not?

You all would have your own lists. I have mine. But keeping in mind that we would have just 8 minutes, I am in a fix. What would I most certainly do? And what would I skip? There would be so many things I would have wanted to do in life. But those 8 minutes are not the time to do them. How would I know without ever doing them before if I like them? And would it be wise to do them in those 8 minutes? Would those 8 minutes be enough for all of them? It most certainly would not. And even if it were, I would not want to do them. Primarily because that would be the first time I would be doing them. I want to do only good things in those 8 minutes.

Good things. All in 8 minutes. So where do we start? How about, “What makes most number of memories?” Touch? Audio Clips? Video clips? Pictures? Pictures.

Pictures. Photographs. Photographs, to capture a particular moment in time. Photographs, to re-live a previously captured moment in time. Photographs, to remember people by. Or a place. Photographs to make your nostrils pain and your eyes itch because you miss the person, or the moment. Photographs to remind you how much you love someone. Photographs to remind you of the glorious gone-by days. Photographs to live them, just once more.

So that seals it. My last 8 minutes, I would want to re-live the gone-by moments. Rewind and play through those moments in my mind. Like a movie. A movie with just photographs. Moments frozen and captured in time. Yes, that should do the trick.

The Last 8 minutes. Now I am prepared for it.

Bring it on.

Time..is it?

Ok, lets have a reality check here.

In 3 simple words, “I am Lost.”

I haven’t socialized for almost over 5 months. Haven’t given myself a treat, ok ok, a mega-treat for a really long time. It feels like I kissed a girl last in 1826 (that is not true). I haven’t had a Subway Melt in over a decade. And to add to all this mess, I haven’t written since…’Maybe Maybe’ that surfaced on June the 21st 2012.

I have these long durations often, when I do not write, and every time I try to come up with an excuse, but the truth is there isn’t any excuse other than simply put in a single word, ‘time’. Now you shall say, ‘Seriously Dude, Time? Time nahi hai tere paas? Are you kidding me?’ Well, the answer to that isn’t quite straight. ‘Yes, I am not as busy that I can’t find time to write. But writing sometimes, most of the times, requires, how do I put it, ‘limitless leisure’.

The time to listen to the breeze blow by. The time to watch the pigeons make out on the window sill. The time to just keep gazing at the fan overhead, and that too when it isn't even on. The time to count rice while eating. The time to walk backwards all throughout the house. The time to make 10 different poses before combing your hair after a shower. The time to do a mo-hawk every time you shampoo, make a duckface, sing like a pig and dance like Elvis. The time to go to the terrace of your building and count the number of aunties around your house who are in your ‘Das saal choti se lekar bees saal badi tak koi bhi chalegi’ category.

Ab utna time to nahi hai. Hota, to likhne ko, Insah Allah, bohot kuch hota. Par hai nahi. So we gotta find a different way to manage time, because, mano ya na mano, I, simply, cannot stop writing entirely. It like Bhui Sir’s ‘Bread and Butter’. I have to write.

So here it is, making a promise (Haah!). I will write, more often.

And in Ratan Tata’s words, “A Promise, is after all, a Promise.”

Till next then.

Peace out.

Ciao.

Maybe…Maybe.!

Most of my posts are triggered by some or the other thing/incident I come across in life. Almost all of them are based on what happen to me, and what I do about them. I generally have a reaction only to events of massive proportions. I need to let them out of my system, and that is the main reason I let them out, because if I don’t, I can not be at peace with myself. On those days, I do not sit to think what to write, because that thought has already taken root in my mind long time ago, whenever what happened, happened.

But today, I feel different. I find it difficult to express, really. I do not feel the need to blog, because nothing of that sort has happened with me, today, or in near past, for that matter. I do not feel agitated about anything worth mentioning that has happened to me in recent times, or so I think, and maybe, feel. Today, I feel free. Away from all chaos in life. I am sitting here, thinking what to blog about, actually. Do I write about the rain, that is yet to come? Or the strong wind outside? Do I mention the heavy Desi dinner I had today, or that my prof. has asked for a treat and a good chat, and I am very much looking forward to it? Or that a couple of my lady profs wanna go out on a date with me? (Or so they said! )

Its 04:20 in the morning, and I am wide awake, no pressure of any deadlines, or exams, no tension even. My fingers are urging me to write, but my mind is lazy. It isn’t in an agitated state, maybe that is why its giving me no signals, or suggestions. But I will write. I want to. Not need to. Want to.

Today all somehow feels quiet. Serene. Or maybe this is the quiet before the coming storm. Maybe this is the still before the menacing pace of life ahead. Maybe! In that case, I better gear-up for the same. Will start with a couple of hours’ sleep.

Till Next then.

Ciao

Harmony & Disharmony

For those that define Harmony as the natural state of existence, or a state that we should aspire to, I have a question:

Does the Universe not exist in constant battle between contradictory forces of Harmony and Disharmony? Like the sunspots of the Sun, the Universe too tends to explode out of itself and then is pulled back by a contradictory force?

Would the Universe and everything that existed in it not be completely dead and non creative if there was a continuous stable non moving state of Harmony? And the same would go for us, in any form you may decide to see ourselves. Our consciousness, our soul, or our ‘five senses self’. The one law of creativity, of existence, of consciousness, of life itself, all that exists, or potentially exists, does so between extreme contradictions.

After all, Good can only be described in the context of Evil and vice versa. So what is that state that is one of complete acceptance (oops – here we go again in that word) which is neither good nor evil, nor moral or immoral, nor active or inactive, that is neither violent nor non-violent ? That has form but no recognizable form? A state that defies all adjectives, nouns or verbs we can think of, a state that exists without context with anything else, that is complete within itself yet completely infinite and incomplete?

For those that claim to have found that state which is often described as 'nirvana' (Hinduism) , or 'shunyata' (Buddhism) , or the eternal life (Islam and Christianity), I assume have encompassed the forces of contradiction and disharmony within themselves, battling neither, so experience themselves as the Universe and Eternity themselves. They are neither one nor the other, but part of a stillness that allows the battle to rage within. Knowing it to be an eternal battle, but able to smile upon it.

For me, I am still part of the battle, but learning that being buffeted by contradiction and giving into the contradictory forces is just the first step – the step that gives into the unknown without resistance. Or atleast active resistance, for the mind and the ego still rebels. The first step is to accept Chaos as the natural order of things, before reaching and yearning for that which is called 'enlightenment' or inner stillness, or whatever word and religion or philosophy chooses to use.

So forgive me if I question those that seem to emphatically KNOW. I don’t. I yearn to experience, and wonder at people that say they know. Is it mere knowledge? Or is it experience? Is it intellectual or is it emotional? The only people I meet that seem to be completely comfortable with contradiction (or duality as it is commonly called) are children , who have not yet been taught to separate completely that which is imagined and that which sensed.

I see everything I write here as huge question mark. A search and questioning, and sharing that yearning with others.

Till Next then
CIAO

Thanks to you, my friend.!

There are days that I wish to empty myself.

Empty myself of everything.

Of all the clutter that distorts.

 

So I can make room to breathe.

So I can make room to imagine.

So I can make room to love.

So I can make room to forgive.

So I can make room to listen,

 

To listen to you that is.

 

Listen

to your worries,

to your fears,

to your aspirations,

to your hopes,

to your dreams,

to your passions.

 

That way, I have little to do but be still,

be silent,

be kind,

be empathetic,

as I listen to you.

 

And in understanding you,

I become me again,

I become hopeful,

I become gentle,

I become uncluttered,

I become quiet.

 

For your wishes

are like mine.

 

For your dreams

are like mine.

 

For your fears

are like mine.

 

And as I bid farewell to you

My hesitations are silenced.

I no longer wish to be empty.

Rather, I want to be drenched,

saturated even,

in the beauty of life.

 

Thanks to you, my friend.!