Bake the Cake

After not making it to the voting in the last week's challenge, I was a tad disappointed. But then my piece was read and enjoyed by some of the fellow writers and that made me feel a lot better. I know I am still in the early stages of writing and yes, I do tend to jump tenses at times.

So does that mean I am going to stop writing? No way! It only means I'll have to concentrate and work harder. Which is why I am taking up writing creative non-fiction again this week.

The underlying theme for this week is to keep trying and the first thing I remembered when I read the write up was about my disasters in trying to bake a cake in the microwave.

Unlike the households in other countries, in India we did not have built-in oven in the kitchen. The trend began with the increasing number of people taking interest in baking cakes & bread at home and it is fast becoming a standard feature.

It was during my early college days that we brought home a microwave and it sat in a corner, dressed in an old curtain cloth. Indian cooking doesn't really need a microwave and the person who came to give us the demo told us about reheating and preset recipes most of which were non-vegetarian.

We were totally disappointed. It looked like we had absolutely no use for it! Month after month I would look at it not knowing what to do. I searched on the internet, wrote down recipes and tried using the poor thing, but I ended up being the poor thing. They were absolute disasters and I thought I was better off using the cooker cake mix to make cakes at home.

But.... the microwave should have some use (we do not reheat food) and I kept trying asking people for tips and ideas. I hit gold when I posted the same query in a foodie group in Facebook and a kind lady explained to me the different types of microwaves(mine is just MW & grill). She gave me the approximate time settings and encouraged me to keep trying. For half an hour in an OTG the microwave takes around 5-7 mins.

Honestly, my parents were reluctant but I got stubborn and they gave in eventually. I messed up a few more cakes and even bread (it ended up looking like a ball of dough). Another round of hunting the internet began and it was then that I realized; not cakes can be made in the MW and definitely not breads.

A simple recipe caught my eye and finally I got a decent chocolate cake. It was kind of mushy though, but at least we could eat it.

I kept trying, reading stuff and making adjustments in power and time settings. Gradually, the efforts began to pay off. I still mess up at times, the cake turns out too dry or hard, but most of them come out fairly decent. I tried numerous recipes but my most favorites are the egg less chocolate cake by KK (a fellow member of the foodie group), semolina banana chocolate cake, paan (betel) flavored cake which I am proud to say is my creation. (I used a butterscotch cake recipe and moved things around). Also I discovered how the cakes taste much better the next day as the flavors intensify. I now have the confidence to use whole wheat flour, sorghum flour or finger millet flour to substitute the bleached all purpose flour in cakes. (It is comparatively healthy!)

My latest cake was an egg less Christmas cake with nuts soaked in rum (first time again). It was soft and a touch dense though the color was a pale brown (MW doesn't change the color of the batter. There will not be any golden top to drool at.)

This is the image of a semolina chocolate banana cake. 

Red!

A new week again and a new challenge. :)

For me, these challenges are a way to learn writing. And I wanted to try a new style of poetry and do it properly, unlike the haiku I messed up last week. :(

Reading the post in YeahWrite I came across the word tritina and saw that it was a poetry form. Luckily I did not have to search for the details about it. The site had a wonderfully easy explanation Here.

I am not really sure if this meets the exact standards but I did give it a try and I am happy about it.

Red

As I pause to smell the rose,

the sky turned a glorious shade of red,

and across the clouds flew a bird.

Landing on a tree, chirped the bird;

swaying to the gentle breeze, the rose

began to paint my garden with red. 

Oh! who knew the colors of red,

shimmering in wings of the bird,

would compete with the marvel of the rose.

As I hold the rose, blood drips red; and the bird swoops down to taste the blood. 

In case you haven't understood what I did in the poem, concentrate on the words at the ending of each line. :) 

Fly High

I found a blog by Ronovan Hester when searching for something. (I usually go off tangent when it comes to searching things on google)
In his blog was a post that hosted Haiku challenges every week. (Yeah!) It's been running since longgg, but the idea of joining it was fun. That too when I am learning to write haiku. (lucky me, touchwood)

So he gives two words and we've got to use those or their synonyms and write a haiku. This week's words are Bold and Daring. In case you wish to participate, visit Ronovan Writes #178.
I am using Brave as a synonym for Daring and writing a 5-7-5 syllable haiku.

 Fly High 

Be bold spread the wings
Brave the wind, the clouds, the rain
Fly high touch the sky.

The Cookie Thieves

“There is no light.”

“But I want one cookie.”

“I can’t see!”

“The candle.”

“There is no match.”

“In the drawer.”

“Found it!”

 “Here. Take only one.”

“Umm..”

The mother laughed silently, watching her sons steal cookies in candle flame. 

Holiday Haiku

Hustle bustle in the house
Children, stockings, sweaters, presents, cookies and music
Angel on the tree top.



P.S: The image was sent to me last year by my best friend. (It was her first snowfall)

Where is my muse?

Where are you?
No response.

What do I do now? The deadline is less than three hours away and here I ma pulling out my already messy hair. Good thing, I don't like to bite my nails or my fingers would have been bleeding by now. The paper stares at me with a blank expression while the screen blinks in disappointment. The fountains, my darlings glare at me in frustration. Well, none are helping me today. Where did my muse run away when I needed it the most, traitor.

"Come on, think of something." I mutter and tear open a slab of chocolate. The burst of bittersweet flavor makes me sigh. At least the chocolate never disappoints. As I close my eyes, I hear a sound but do not bother. It comes again, closer this time; a high pitched scream that makes me jump.

"What! Where!" I look around in confusion. All I find is a little bird sitting on my window. It was hanging precariously from the mosquito net fixed onto the frame. It chirped again and I blinked in wonder.

From where does such a tiny bird gets its voice? It is hardly the size of my thumb while the screech is piercing my ear drums. Ouch!

The birdie balanced on the net, its small feet gripping the holes and not letting go. That was hardly a comfortable position; yet it stayed staring at me. I stared back trying to scare the mini creature, but there was no movement.

I gave up on the staring competition when an idea struck me. The paper filled as words flowed from my fountain. I kept looking towards the bird, it hung on looking at me. The first draft was complete and it chirped again. This time, I smiled and waved. Now the birdie flew away, poking the net once with its long beak.

Laughing, I blew a kiss to my lovely muse hoping it would find the home of it's dreams in my home and come back to stay with me.

IBMC #10: Happiness is

Hey!

We are into the last challenge of the marathon!
For Day #10 we are given a single prompt that has to be used as the starting line to write a paragraph in less than 500 words.

So the prompt given is "Happiness is..." Good one, right?

My first thought was the Happiness page I follow on Facebook. It has such cute sketches and images; I have quite a few saved to my computer. :)

But if you were to ask me what happiness is, I'd say it is the ability to make other's smile, especially kids. Happiness is to see a child hold my finger and not let it go, it is to see a flock of birds flying across the sunset sky, it is to bake a perfect cake, it is to listen to an old song and remember all its lyrics, it is to see my mother happy, it is to read Christie to Holmes, it is to take the exact picture I wanted of sunsets and clouds, it is to see the seeds sprout in my flowerpots.

Happiness is so many tiny things that seem inconsequential in this busy and fast-paced world. It is the ability to be able to live life on one's terms and take time to smell the roses in a garden. And finally, happiness is to listen to the national anthem as the flag flies high!


This post ends the IBMC and I totally enjoyed participating even though there were times when I had no idea what to write.

To read the rest of my posts of this marathon, visit the Main Post. And thank you Prakash Hegade for hosting this challenge.

IBMC #09: Baby Steps

Hii!

We are into the Day #09 challenge of the marathon and this one is slightly different. I have to take a word, sentence, etc and try to look at it from a new perspective. I should be able to think differently from what I would usually do. This sounds easy, but trust me it is not. It is like writing from the POV of an ant, rose or lighthouse (I did those for Microfiction).

I went scrolling down the dictionary app but nothing caught my eye. I typed random quotes on google and went through the images until I got bored. Somehow I wasn't able to find anything interesting. I almost gave up and then this came up. It isn't great or anything but I kind of liked it.

Image Source

The question here is how do I look at this from a different perspective? I honestly have no idea because I belong to the category of people who are masters at this.

But a challenge is a challenge and I have to look at this from a different perspective! Let me think...

Okay! Let us take the example of a crowded bus where everyone is busy trying to make sure they don't trip on other's feet, send a text, etc and most of them are seen either talking to themselves. But there will always be a person or two who will stare at us like we are demented. Does that stop there? No. They then mutter under their breath, "Crazy! Who talks to themselves!"

Now I think you are beginning to see my point. Exactly. Everyone mumbles or mutters and has conversations with themselves. But the difference is people like me accept it as a common condition and carry on while some feel they are special and have the self-control to not talk to themselves. 

What I don't understand is why is it wrong or wired to talk to oneself? It is way safer than talking to a stranger and offending them (especially when people get offended for nothing these days). 

It doesn't mean we are crazy or have multiple personalities unless of course, one starts to enact various characters (Then they definitely need a therapy). 

Even as I write this I read it to part of myself to see how a normal reader might react and you will also be doing the same, except that you will be judging. 

Those who have understood what I wrote above, you guys are awesome. :) 

If you would like to read the rest of my posts of this marathon, visit the Main Post.

IBMC #08: Nursery Rhyme

Hello again!

We are into Day #08 of the challenge, and this is a pretty interesting one. I've got to take a nursery rhyme and give it a new interpretation. Sounds fun, I know. But it needed some research to get things sorted out.

Firstly, each rhyme has a backstory of its own, and I needed to know that before I choose a rhyme. That was when I realized that a good number rhymes have a dark history attached, and we need not actually teach our children those rhymes. Why on earth would I want my child to sing a poem/ rhyme that talks about old England history? I'd rather have them listen and learn the poems we have in our native languages.

Alright, I am deviating from the topic here, so getting back to the challenge. I chose Humpty Dumpty as my rhyme. It was my favorite as a child. I remember the image of an egg-shaped person sitting on a wall and laughing.
But the history of the rhyme is that it was written (supposedly) about King Richard III of England, (now you see what my rant above was all about!) who fell off his horse in the Battle of Bosworth and his enemies hacked him into pieces (gross). He was so mutilated that his men couldn't put his body together and probably left him on the battlefield.

If I were to interpret this rhyme I would rather deal with live humans than dead bodies. So here, my Humpty Dumpty is going to be a person's attitude. Yeah! That sounds good.
Sitting on the wall is cool and fine (wall here is a border, and sitting on a wall implies how some people keep changing sides in any argument to stay with the winner) until their truth comes out, and they are literally pushed aside. Who would want an opportunist to be with them, anyway? They are the most dangerous kind. Well, then this opportunist gets detected and pushed down the wall, and nobody wants to catch them either. So they fall, break their ego or whatever. If, by chance, any optimist wants to help them, it would probably be too late by then. If it is not, I feel sad for the optimist. Some people never learn, and they should be left to deal with their mess alone.


With this half baked interpretation, I end my post for this challenge. I promise I will try and revise it one day. If you wish to read the other posts related to the marathon, visit the Main Post.

IBMC #07: The News and Paper

Hii!

So we are into the Day #07 challenge and for this, I have to write my opinion on a topic or article I choose from the news. It could be anything, I just have to tag along, the link to the article or post a screenshot for reference.

Now, this is the topic I choose to write about. I will be frank and say that I haven't been really that into central politics for a long time. I also belonged to a pretty secular set until I actually started to notice the difference in the news we were being shown on the television and the numerous version I got to read on Facebook and Twitter. Added to it was how some people on Facebook began ranting and abusing Hindus and Brahmins, despite them being Hindus themselves and enjoying the benefits of reservations. That was when I took twitter seriously searched for the right handles to follow and began to track the trend of MSM. 

It did not take me long to notice how the content posted by certain people in Facebook who have some sort of following and the content that was tweeted by the politicians and others in the center was similar. In fact, it was the same stuff, in different languages. 

Coming to the main post, there was a mess about RG signing a declaration as non-Hindu and the Congis showing a picture of visitors' book to prove otherwise. Then suddenly came this man (I have no idea who he is) and declared that RG was not just a Hindu but a Janeu dhari Hindu. I was so stunned reading the post that I did not know if I should be angry or laugh it their stupidity. 

For those who haven't understood, janeu dhari is a brahmin, janeu being the jandyam or the yagnopavetam (I will not call it a thread). The party that has since long been accusing the ruling party of being communal and using caste to divide the citizens is using the same religion and caste to declare RG a suitable candidate for PM of the country. 

From calling Hindus as terrorists to becoming a janeu dhari Hindu RG has truly come a long way in just a matter of few days. (The magic of Gujarat elections!) His party members could kill a calf in public (Kerala) to show this protest and the man is claimed to be a Brahmin! 

My only question here is how can a person whose grandfather is a Parsi, whose mother an Italian Catholic become a janeu dhari Hindu? Do the Congis think we Indians are such fools that we will blindly believe anything they say (just because some puppets actually do)? How can they talk about removing caste-ism when RG can be no one less than a janeu dhari Hindu? Why can he not be a normal Hindu (without caste) or even a Catholic?

The latest being Kapil Sibal who suddenly changed his track and declared the PM as non-Hindu while RG comes from an apparently pure lineage! 

I could go on and on but I will end it here. In case you do not agree with my views you are welcome to stop reading and exit the page. I do not tolerate abuse. 

If you do read the entire article and wish to read more posts of this marathon, visit the Main Post.

P.S: I usually draft my posts a day in advance, hence any last-minute updates may or may not be posted. 

IBMC #06: Mass Media

Hiya!!

Now we are on Day #06 of the marathon, and this is an interesting one. We are given three prompts and should use all three to create a story or a scene.
One is a poem, another a word, and third a picture.

Poem: In,
search of skin,
color no matter,
brighter or darker,
tell no one,
I will take someone,
Ssssshhhhh!
–  ghost, me!

Word:
Telephone

The Telephone

The sky turned pink as I sat watching the rippling lake. It was my favorite place as a child. Years later, I am amazed to see that the rustic wooden fence is still intact. 
"It is to keep the monsters away. The magical fence keeps us safe." My mother would tell me with a wink when I asked her. I would smile and laugh at her words. How good were those days when even monsters and ghosts made me smile!

My mother walked towards me, silent as to not disturb my thoughts. Little did she know that I wanted to be disturbed. 
"Is the monster still alive?" I asked her, knowing the answer.
"It doesn't die, dear." She replied in a soft voice. I nodded, staring at the pink water. The sun was down, yet the sky held on to its shade. 

"The telephone isn't working." She said. 
"I will get it repaired. No one calls anyway apart from me, and I am with you now." I told her, trying to smile. 

She shook her head. "Someone does. Once a week every Saturday night."
"Who, mother?" The tension was evident in my voice. 
"I don't know. I'm not sure if it is male or female. They always say the same thing. They are searching for human skin and threaten to take someone, anyone irrespective of their color. I am not supposed to tell anybody." She answered in a flat voice. 

I stared at her for a minute before pulling her with me. An hour later, the telephone lay at the bottom of the lake, and our stuff in the back seat of my car as we sped away, never to turn back. 


Personally, I did not plan to write a horror story but it turned out to be one, so I am letting it stay.
In case you want to read the other posts of this marathon, visit the Main Post.