Grocery shopping that is guaranteed to make you feel like a million bucks

Let me start by warning you that this claim is strictly based on my own first hand experience. It does not borrow from any research or scientific study undertaken on drugged lab rats in remote Pennsylvania and such. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, lets go shopping, shall we?

There are of course, all sorts of grocery shopping. Those done with long lists and discount coupons, personally the worst kind if you ask me. Then there are the quickies when you have no time. Storm into the store, grab items by their collar, and then march them over to the express counter. Only the billing at this point usually takes a lifetime. Well, you were in a hurry not the cashier.

Those of us, who are lucky enough, also have the option of ordering over the phone from our local grocers. I find that this only works if you are either very sure or not at all fussy about your order. Exploring and comparing brands and prices are more often than not met with the phone being disconnected on the other end. Really, your grocer is a busy man or didn’t you know that?

That brings me finally to the kind of grocery shopping that I really enjoy and highly recommend. The kind that is more of a relief than a chore. The kind that effortlessly engages your mind, body and soul in ways that is profoundly therapeutic to say the least.

There are a few ground rules to that naturally. One, choose a store/supermarket of your liking. Some place with good lighting and air conditioning, plenty of room between shelves. And most importantly, polite, unobtrusive staff who know their Henkos from their Heinekens.

Once you’ve chosen your store, make sure you have enough time to do your shopping. Comfortable shoes and easy relaxed garments are the next thing to put on your checklist. The day and time you chose for this experience is also important. Ideally, a weekday at an odd hour is perfect. Or else an early Sunday morning outing also works out beautifully. Before the whole world and their Chihuahua descend, you are out and safely home with bliss written all over you.

Now that we’ve established all the dos and don’ts, allow me to take you on a typical day out to my favourite grocery store in town.

Welcome to Hypercity. A place anointed by the Grocery Gods themselves. Located in the northern suburb of Mumbai at Malad west, it is a place where dreams come true. Or at least mine do, on a regular basis. The sprawling expanse of grocery goodness includes among other things a bakery, wine& liquor store, a delicatessen, fresh fish, meat and poultry, fruit and vegetable market, a dedicated heath and organic food section, all other household items one can think of or ever need, from toothpaste to dog food, you name it and they have it all. The cherry on the cake is of course, the wide variety of products from various international markets that cosily hang out with all the local produce.

As I walk into the store I am always filled with eager anticipation. Phone on silent. I-pod plugged in, if I’m in the mood. Move over Alice, your wonderland has some serious competition from mine now.

I do not walk or for that matter, even stroll around the store. I glide through the aisles with the shopping cart merely an extension of myself. I know that I have a grocery list tucked somewhere in my handbag for reference, in case I need it. I do not take it out in fear of ruining the moment. Yes, I also have a budget to shop to. And somewhere within these defined limits, I have a cornucopia of pleasures waiting for me at every shelf.

I am not hunting for anything in particular. I have no agenda. This state of mind usually allows me to relax and heightens my senses to what’s around me. As I, yes, glide through the different sections; the neatly arranged shelves shamelessly flaunt their products with great flourish. My gaze sweeps across them and what’s mine to pick, seems to leap out with uncanny synchronicity. I fill up my shopping cart, mentally ticking off my grocery list. A new brand of gourmet coffee or a beautifully packaged jar of peanut butter, a quirky sounding biscuit brand or a fresh batch of organic health food, they all make my heart race a bit faster and bring a rosy flush to my cheeks with their delightfully unexpected appearance. I am torn between sticking to my original list and giving way to decadence.

You see I am not an impulsive shopper who needs to buy stuff just because it is there. Nor am I one of those people who simply can’t stick to a budget. On the contrary, I am a pro at shopping with tight budgets. The dilemma here is rather a delicious one. How to indulge myself with a thoroughly expansive gesture that doesn’t compromise too much on my essential purchases or my financial well-being. I must confess, I do get my jollies this way, every single time. I am always on the look out for these sort of challenges lurking among the merchandise in stores, big and small.

Thrilled with my new goodies, I now head towards my favourite area of fresh fruits and vegetables. The tingling aroma of fresh cilantro, the glossy coat of an impossibly violet aubergine, the blushing red apples and the teasing pink pomegranates, are enough to up my happiness quotient to positively delirious levels. The natural colours, textures and aromas that surround me are deeply therapeutic. As I pick and choose my tomatoes, strawberries, carrots, pumpkins, spinach, baby potatoes and broccoli, various recipes that I can rustle up during the week take shape in my mind. A warm glow of contentment tends to wash over me at these times. You see, Mother Nature has already nourished my ravenous soul.

However, no respectable cook’s grocery shopping can be complete without a visit to the fresh fish, meat and poultry section. And I so want to be a respectable cook. Well, off I go then to earn my badge of honour. I usually keep this for the last. All that raw fish and meat with their pungent and sometimes gamy presence doesn’t exactly inspire lingering. So, fresh cuts of the choicest fish and meat quickly find their place in my already groaning shopping cart. And with that I think I am done for the day.

As I push my cart to the billing counter, I decide to do a quick cross-check of my grocery list. Most definitely, don’t want any casualties when I get home. I glance at my watch to realize a good hour has gone by. And I’ve been on my feet all this time! Surely, this must count as some sort of aerobic activity? Even though physically I am feeling the stirrings of pleasant exhaustation, my mind and spirit are stimulated and satiated to a point of peachy well-being.

Wait. Before I walk out with my groceries there is one more thing to do.Treat myself to a generous scoop of my absolute favourite Madagascar Dark chocolate gelato from Gelato Italiano. Yes, one last reason to finally wear that million dollar smile all the way home.To all you dark chocolate lovers out there, let me tell you, there cannot be a better guilt free indulgence than this. And believe me, I ‘ve been looking for one all my life.





Pigeon



I know what you are thinking. Ahem, wrong bird there, old girl. Well, yes. No apologies here. I just couldn’t bring myself to put up a picture of the aforementioned creature. Period.

Those of you, who wish to admire the great flapping beauty of the dull gray pigeon, will have to take their enthusiasm elsewhere. This post is strictly for people like me who suffer silently and sometimes rather bitterly on a daily basis from the exploits of the pigeon population in the city. Welcome to this angst fest, people.

Come repeat after me. Pigeons are dirty. Pigeons are smelly. Pigeons are noisy. Now, what’s there to like about them exactly? When I see grown-ups trampling over each other to feed these dumb birds, I have psychedelic images of blood and carnage mushrooming in my mind. Really now, if God made these creatures (can’t tell why), then surely they have been provided with the power to sustain themselves as well? But trust these eager beavers to jump in and spoon-feed them. Maybe, that explains why these birds refuse to leave the city.

No apartment that I’ve ever lived in, has quite escaped their pesky presence. In fact, they seem to be an integral part of the quintessential Mumbai landscape. When I first came to the city, the apartment that we moved into came with a readymade pigeon’s nest, complete with eggs waiting to hatch into noisy little squabs! My mother of course, pointed out that a nest in the house was good sign. I didn’t see how. All I remember was wildly dashing from window to window like a deranged person, to fight these birds from taking over my home and hearth! That to me was a very, very bad sign indeed.

Over the years these birds have tried their best to get the better of me. And I am afraid I haven’t fared too well in this psychological warfare. Take the time when they had my bedroom under siege. About a dozen pigeons had taken to lounging on the ledge outside my bedroom windows. They didn’t even leave the back end of the air conditioner outside. I was literally surrounded by pigeons of all shades and sizes. From mid-morning to sunset, they would just sit on their ugly claws and make loud clacking and chalk-on-the-board scratching noises. These would be punctuated with violently flapping landings and take offs. I couldn’t rest in that room during the day. I had to flee my own bedroom! Of course, when the husband found out, he thought it was funny. Well, he wasn’t laughing when it was his turn.

One Sunday I woke up from my afternoon nap to the rhythmic metallic clanging, coming from somewhere nearby. Ding, ding, ding. Since I was unable to trace the source of that sound, I decided to lie down again. But soon I found myself rudely awoken by a louder version of that same sound. This time I got out of bed and went looking for the husband. I figured he must have dozed off in front of the T.V. As I walked towards the recreation room, the sound became louder and more distinct. DING, DING,DING. Curiosity having got the better of me by now, I softly pushed open the door. There was my brave able-bodied man with a large aluminum ruler in his hand. In the corner, trapped between the grill and the closed window was a very still pigeon. As I looked on in astonishment, I saw my husband raise the mighty ruler aiming for the pigeon’s head or so I thought. But instead he brought it down on the grill with a resounding DING. The pigeon remained unmoved. For a second there, I thought the bird was dead perhaps. I couldn’t hold back a gasp as this thought registered. At the sound both my husband and the pigeon turned towards me with a startled look. Looking serious and very determined, my husband explained that the pigeon had wandered in through the open window. While he was watching Babylon A.D in a trance-like state, the pigeon must have tip toed its way to the windowsill next to his chair. And there, man and bird had remained transfixed. Naturally, the moment my husband had discovered he had company, he was part shocked and part amused. The considerate man that he is, decided to gently knock out the pigeon with a blow to its tiny head with his giant aluminum scale. You see, in its unconscious state it would easy to scoop the bird and let it out. Or so went the reasoning. Well, they say my husband is a man of ideas. Although, at this point I didn’t know whom I was more afraid of: bird or man.

As if the above incident isn’t proof enough of my pigeon troubles, here’s another gem.

Recently, a pair of them decided to consummate their marriage in my bedroom (yeah, the same one that was under siege earlier). They giddily flapped in through the open window. And as I heard the fluttering noise, I rushed in to defend my turf. Well, at first they seemed to have a dreamy time cruising around the room, resting in various places of interest like the ceiling fan, the bed-side lamp and the dressing table. And before I knew it they had collapsed in a gray heap on my bed! After a rambunctious roll in the hay, with feathers flying in all directions and my bed spread mauled beyond repair, they decided to take the action to another spot: the windowsill.

By now, I’d had enough. I started making clicking and shooing sounds to guide them out of the open window. It was then that their silly little afternoon romp came to a terrifying end.

Both the pigeons panicked. They huddled together and frantically started flapping about the spot in front of the window. What amazed and alarmed me all at the same time was the sight of the dumb birds repeatedly head-butting the window frame! They were just millimeters away from the opening. Yet they just stayed on the closed side and kept up their absurd attempts at escape. Pigeons head-butting. Would you believe it? They had to be eventually scooped up by my exasperated maid and released out of the window. Needless to say, what was left behind was a messy malodorous bedroom and a very rattled yours truly.

Like Rick Blaine would say, “Of all the domestic joints in all the places in all of Mumbai, they walk into mine”. Yeah, these birds definitely seem to have a thing for my apartment. You know, they are perpetually trying to build their dreams around my nest. Talk about bird brained ideas. I say, keep dreaming you little wretches!

 

Image courtesy:www.animalpicturegallery.net

Coffee Break

I find that Monday is a tricky day to get through at best. Either it is super hectic and just disappears in a blur. Or I find myself with a very long day on my hands. Today seems to fall in the latter category. I figure, one way to break the ennui would be to take a quick break with one of my all time favourites: coffee.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well then, here are a few of my favourite coffee posters that tell their own little stories.







 





  








  
Image courtesy: www.allposters.com




Consumed by perfection

 

Last week I finally managed to watch Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan. I have to say that it is everything they say it is and then some. Of course, by now everyone has kind of decided on that best actress Oscar for Natalie Portman. So I shall not waste anymore time preaching to the converted. What I would like to share with you though are a few things that have stayed with me long after the film ended.

The awesome background score. It has a techno/electronica kind of vibe interspersed with classical pieces of The Swan Lake. Rather unusual for a psychodrama on ballet. But I must say it works beautifully to add to the dark, almost supernatural element of the narrative.

I also loved the visual treatment of the film in predominantly black, blue and white tones. The lighting, make-up and costumes all work towards this end. And it comes together rather brilliantly in that breathtaking performance by Natalie Portman in the grand finale.

However what hooked me most was the poignant struggle of the tearfully earnest Nina (Portman) to break free from her own perfectionist self. In life, Nina finds herself constrained by her relentless, overbearing mother (a retired ballerina) and her own rather submissive nature. This gets in the way of her art that demands a spontaneous losing of the self to her more ferocious wanton side.

 To play the prized part of the Black Swan she has to live through her own terrifying nightmare of doubt, despair, fear and anxiety. And when she does manage to embody the beguiling and seductively dark Black Swan to perfection, she is a wreck, hurtling towards her own destruction.

Black Swan also brings me to two other movies on ballet that I enjoyed very much in the past. One is the all American Centre Stage and the other is the coming of age British drama Billy Elliot. Incidentally, both these films were 2000 releases and have great soundtrack encompassing a diverse musical palette. Watch them at leisure.


Black Swan image courtesy:http://www.imdb.com/