Tarot with Kavita

I was 16 when I picked up a tarot introduction box at my local bookstore in curiosity. Ten years later, after countless tarot readings for friends, family and acquaintances, I am pleased to announce 

Tarot With Kavita 

Personalized tarot sessions on weekends

Why only weekends, you ask? Because I have a very busy day job, not to mention a strict boss :)

For more information and details, please visit http://www.tarotwithkavita.blogspot.com

Tales from the Dentist

There are always stories after a visit to a dentist, usually painful ones but still stories that you feel like sharing after spending time in “the chair”.

My tryst with dentists started about 3 years back with a small cavity and it is ongoing today, a relationship I feel will continue till the very end. To think that one small cavity can bring so much pain and headache to not only you but your entire family. Just goes to show that you can never neglect any part of your body at any time, this human body made by God, needs maintenance and care regularly.

The thing about dentists I have discovered in the past 3 years are that there are 2 types of them roaming this planet – the artists who can make your teeth shine with a reassuring smile and ones who I like to call clumsy and distracted, more interested in having conversations with you ignoring the fact that the patient has about 3 medical instruments inside his/her mouth and is in danger of swallowing the gravel/dust from the teeth.

My first visit to the dentist and in “the chair” was to an old family friend who my grandparents swore by. In fact, my grandfather would specially travel from Kolkata to Ahmedabad (a trip he hates) just to get his teeth checked by this dentist. With such strong references, I was pretty confident when I went to enquire about the pain in my teeth. The dentist told me I had a cavity, drilled and filled it, and then sent me on my merry way while charging me fees for a NRI (Oh beta! You live in Australia now, how wonderful).

Well I ditched that dentist, (no, not because of the NRI fees, oh okay, maybe a bit because of them) when even after 3 visits (I was a bit slow back then and a masochist) and after much drilling and poking, I realized that the dentist who works for my grandparents may not necessarily work for me also.

As the saying goes, you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. Well, luckily for me I have had only 2 bad experiences with dentists before finding 2 perfect ones – one in India and one in Australia, 2 countries where I reside. So my teeth look all set for the future.

On a side note, what do you do with your tongue when you are in the dentist’s chair? I have found that when I am in “the chair”, my normally sedate tongue comes alive and goes crazy. It wants to move around and be friends with the drill. No matter how much my brain warns it to stay away in a corner, as soon as the drill goes off, it’s like, why hello Mr. Drill.

So now tell me, been in “the chair” lately?

The Art of forgetting birthdays

I am a girl of many talents (modest not being one of them, clearly) but one talent that I excel in, and can probably hold classes and give out honours and distinction to others is how to forget birthdays of your friends. Even in this age of technology and facebook, where you have numerous apps that help remind you and get notifications to wish someone, I am capable of ignoring them all and being happily oblivious when a friend’s birthday passes by. Countless times I have seen these reminders pop up on my screen and have promised myself that I will definitely send a message later in the day, but my mind is like a sieve when it comes to birthdays apparently.

The brain is certainly a funny organ, and mine is on a completely different platform most of the time. It can remember useful and useless information with alarming clarity but it always fumbles when it comes to birthdays for some reason. In all, my brain can remember only 5 birthdays (my parents and siblings) and it is shocking compared to the number of people I meet and interact with on a regular basis, not to mention very embarrassing.

But I have learned to accept it a little, more than that; my dearest friends have managed to understand this deficiency in me and only managed a chuckle or two on my behalf. Like R, now I want to respect privacy and thus am not giving away names. I have been friends with R for close to 6 years now, which means 6 birthdays have gone by. Now she has wished me for each of those 6 birthdays even when we were in the midst of final exams. On the other hand, I have wished her only for 1 birthday (earlier this year) and she was a bit shocked that I remembered for the first time. That’s 5 birthdays that I have missed and being the sweet person that she is, she has not held a grudge against me and is one of my best friends today.

Another of my friends K, seeing my strike rate with R, was appalled and devised a unique but effective way of reminding me her birthday. She simply calls and messages me a week before her birthday, now to some this may seem extensive but it works (at least in my case) and don’t worry K, I remember your birthday is coming up.

But my most embarrassing forgetting a friend’s birthday incident is from a couple of years back. I had in my infinite carelessness forgotten another friend’s birthday. Now on this day, this friend called me up and we chatted for like 15 mins about odds and ends and then I simply hung up, still not realizing that it was his birthday. The next day another friend called me and asked if I had wished him, the ball finally dropped. Most embarrassing because the poor chap had given me a call himself despite his birthday.

Now that’s what I call a clutter brain. But what’s cool is that all these people are still my friends in spite of my poor memory and they never forget my birthday, even though me being a March born means my birthday falls right during exam month. So thank you to all who have been a victim of my forgetfulness and here’s to all the birthdays that I have missed and all the future birthdays that I will miss (ya I am not too optimistic).

So, how about you, missed any important dates lately?

The "K" Factor

What is entertainment? If someone was to ask me this, I would say, entertainment is that which relaxes the body, makes you laugh, makes you forget about your whole day with its tensions and challenges, something in which you can immerse yourself but not to a degree where you have to use your brains, that’s entertainment for me. So how can I possibly get my daily dose of entertainment from the Indian Television Industry?

I know I am a minority in this matter, almost every Indian that I know is addicted to some or the other TV show and love to get into lively discussion about the contents of the program. Will she marry him or run away? Will he kick her out of the house or fall in love with her? And the best question of all, also the most common; when will the inevitable consummation scene take place? I mean c’mon people, if a lady actually went through half of what the television heroines are made to go through then they would either kill themselves or kill everyone around them. But common sense is not appreciated by the Indian television buffs as experienced by me in school and in college where my logical explanations were squashed by my friends.

But my problem with the shows is not mainly of common sense, but more about how the characters are a paradox of themselves. The lead heroine is shown to be a strong, confident woman who goes out to work to be independent and support her family (which is usually poor) and meets her future husband (immensely rich) as a boss and then turns into a submissive house wife cowering under her husband or some in law usually in the name of family honour and respect. My point is that if the character is as strong as shown in the first episode then why does she take all the crap thrown at her? An independent woman would retaliate and stand up to her new family, not simper and wonder how to bring the broken family together.

I have never been able to watch a single scene of an Indian show without commenting so obviously I am not the perfect person to have beside you as you clutch your heart and moan about the injustice done to Seeta, Geeta or any such character. In fact I have gone to India, stayed for a month, not switched on the telly and come back happily oblivious to the drama surrounding a fictitious character. I call it a proud achievement; my friends on the other hand, call it a sad thing.

But on the rare occasion, in the throes of extreme boredom, I have sat down with my elder sister, Tanvee, switched the telly to a random channel and commented and laughed on the show going on. Trust me, it’s the best comedy show you will ever experience, well unless you are a fan of the show, then you will just want to kill me and my sister.

So what are you? A fan or a cynic? 

I make PETA proud

For those of you confused about what I am talking about, PETA are People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Now, how do I make them proud? Well I am never cruel to animals, the thought of even touching fur makes me shudder and meat has never touched my lips.

Vegetarianism is a very cool concept nowadays. There are so many types of vegetarians that it simply boggles the mind; vegans, vegetarians, vegetarians who eat fish etc. Frankly speaking the people who claim to be vegetarians but then add that they eat fish or bacon as an afterthought irritates the crap out of me. Why? Well simply coz it gets harder and harder to explain to people what kind of vegetarian I am. Life was much simpler when there were only two options – veg or non-veg.

In the past it has not been much of a problem simply because people in India grasp the concept of being a vegetarian and where the majority of the population is vegetarian or knows somebody who is. In Australia it is a hot topic and a moment of wide eyed surprise when you mention that you are a vegetarian. But it does not stop there, and then you have to explain what kind of vegetarian you are. Some Australians still don’t fully comprehend the meaning of vegetarian, like for Qantas, a turkey sandwich is a vegetarian meal and the air hostess is unable to grasp why I would not want to eat it when it says vegetarian. When I related this to my father, he joked that maybe she meant that the meal was vegetarian as the turkey in the sandwich was a non-meat eating animal and thus vegetarian.

My sister has her own way of telling people, she simply starts listing all the animals and types of meat available in the world. This leads to a very lengthy conversation and nowadays she simply says that “If cut open, it bleeds, then I don’t eat it”. Not something you want to picture, but I find it stops the questions or maybe people are just trying to clear their heads.

Recently I met up with some of my friends who make up an oriental mix (Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese). When the time came for lunch, they all converged at KFC while I looked around for veggie options. My status as a vegetarian came as quite a shock to all them and for the next hour I was grilled like never before on my eating choice. Since when was I a vegetarian? Why was I one? What would happen if I ate meat? What if I got a sudden desire to eat chicken? Questions that I have never pondered on before were thrown at me amidst disbelief. It was then I realized that to the meat eaters, we vegetarians look like a stupid bunch, people who forsake yummy food for roots and vegetables. I guess it’s hard for a person who eats meat 4 times a day to understand that food without meat can also be just as tasty if not more.

So, although I won’t be participating in any of their wacky promotions and protests on the streets anytime soon, PETA would be proud to know that I remain a vegetarian (hopefully for life) despite the gasps, disbelief, questions and temptations of chicken nuggets (apparently soul food according to my oriental friends). 

The Brownie Conqueror

 

I love fiddling in the kitchen, be it following recipes or trying to create a new gastronomic dish. Thanks to exams and all the midnight snacking, I have a very varied list of odd but yummy dishes to fulfil any palate. It’s also not very difficult to see why, since I have immense culinary talents from both sides of the family. My mom and dad are masters in the kitchen and they have generously passed this talent to all three of their children. Well more to me and my sister, my brother has yet to showcase any culinary skill other than mixing and stirring, and not to forget reheating.

I still remember the first thing I ever made. It was a chocolate cake, I was 14 and I messed it up bad. By messed it up I mean I forgot to add baking powder in it and the cake was somewhat flat and lumpy. It still tasted ok to me; I mean it had chocolate in it, so I forgot the baking powder, so what? But that was the extent of my disasters in the kitchen. I put the lumpy chocolate cake fiasco behind me and started afresh. Soon I was making all kinds of stuff, I forayed into different cuisines. Italian, Chinese, Mexican, Japanese, but my real joy was making desserts. Be it cakes, muffins, cupcakes, pies, you name it, I wanted to bake it. Whenever I saw a new dessert recipe I had to try it out, and luckily it used to come out quite good, except for one; BROWNIES.

Brownies were like a red mark on my culinary degree. Whenever I tried to make a brownie, it would end in disaster. They would come out black, burned, soggy, oily and so hard one could play football with them. I tried every damn recipe of brownie that there was, be it Nigella Lawson’s, Rachel Allen’s, Sanjeev Kapoor’s, Tarla Dalal’s, none worked. I got so frustrated I eventually gave up on them a year back, until my sister saw a new recipe and asked me to make them a couple of days back. I was hesitant and unwilling but my stubborn side (which is 90% or maybe even more) won and I put on my apron, wielded my whisk like a sword and went into battle.

First melt all the ingredients into submission

 

Then whisk them until they cry

Sieve the dry ones with an evil laugh

 

Spray the container to prepare them for the casualties

Use the last of your muscle power

 

And pop it in the oven at 180⁰ C

 

And viola the brownie is conquered

So how about you, conquered any desserts lately?

 

 

 

 

Father’s Day

It’s Father’s Day on Sunday and unlike in India where only Hallmarks and Archie’s Gallery advertise this occasion, it is a pretty serious business here in Australia. All the shops start putting up posters and discounts months before the actual day and come up with fancy ads like “Who’s your daddy?” and “Myer knows your daddy”. Personally the ads seem a bit fishy to me, but well, to each his own, whatever brings the customers in I guess. Father’s Day in the Jagatramka household is quite simple, the three of us wish Dad a Happy Father’s Day and that’s it. A couple of years ago we tried to buy gifts for him but after the basic tie, wallet and shirt we ran out of ideas. I tell you it’s impossible to buy a present for a man.

Let me to tell you something about my Dad, he is the funniest and coolest guy in the whole world. You disagree? Well let me ask you something, does your Dad take you for movies the night before your exams to relax you? Does your Dad cook you yummy Sunday brunch? Does your Dad let you try wine and other liquor when you turn 18? Does your Dad hand you money and credit card and ask you to go shopping? Yes he lets us do them all, and unlike what you might think, the three of us turned out quite well. We are good in studies, not alcoholics and not even spoiled brats. We are his children and he is proud of us. Furthermore, we are proud of him. He has (with help from Mom) turned us into strong individuals who know their mind and can be independent, knowing that at the same time we can fall and depend on him and he will support us always no matter what.

It was in school that I realized that my Dad was a bit different from other Dads. When it was result time, all my friends and classmates used to be worried about what their Dad might think and wish that he wouldn’t get angry. I never saw what the big deal was. According to me, Dads never got angry, they just laughed with you and played with you and also saved you from Mom’s wrath. Slowly it dawned on me that other Dads were not the issue, it was my own Dad. He was unique and different. But I am glad he was and still is. There are so many qualities that I got from my Dad and so many I wish that I had. For many people my Dad is this strong, silent businessman with dynamic skills but at home he is just Dad and Papa to us.

A very Happy Father’s Day from Tanvee, Kavita and Ayush.

 

 

 

So, what’s your Dad like?





You are weird

I hear this comment a lot, especially from my childhood friends who have known me the longest apart from my family, and have no trouble communicating this fact to me loud and clear despite the punch that I will inevitably give them. But even as I am writing this, a whole other list of people come to mind who have also shared the same sentiment, sometimes not voicing it aloud but unable to hide it in their facial expressions. My parents and siblings obviously use this phrase a lot but then that is to be expected. But aside from them, I have noticed that even strangers and new acquaintances share this opinion, not saying it immediately but a bit later when a proper rapport has been established. In fact, now that I remember a teacher once said it to me too.

So why do people come to this conclusion about me? If you ask my friends, it’s my lack of relationships and my inability to idolize a hero in his shirtless avatar. Many a times my girlfriends will be drooling over a male actor in all his apparent hotness while I would be looking for anything, something to admire about him. That does not mean I have not found guys attractive, no sir in all my 23 years on this planet, 2 males have definitely confirmed that I don’t swing that way. Alas, both are too old (in their late 30s if you must know) and out of reach.

My parents are another matter altogether. I have an unhealthy obsession with North Korea and World War II which worries my parents to a large extent and mystify them as to where I got it from. My room is a disaster zone which I happily occupy but its state is a great deal of anguish in my family and nobody understands how I can voluntarily live like that. My argument is that I can always find my stuff when needed, and when I cannot somebody else finds it for me. So it’s a win win situation. My parents roll their eyes, sometimes shout and mutter sentences like “where does she pick all this” and “none of us were ever like her” but I like to revel in my individuality.

I don’t mind being weird, sometimes I even take it as a compliment. But I wonder is it just me or do other people also hear this from their friends and family. It’s nice to be weird but I think it’s even nicer to be a rainbow. I have been fascinated by rainbows since a child. A unique combination of colours forming in the sky and as soon as you turn to show it to somebody it disappears. Warm, colourful, unique, what fun it must be to be a rainbow! Lucky for me I live in a place where I witness this phenomenon quite a few times and have been able to capture it before it disappears. So enjoy!

 

 

So enough about me, what’s up with you?