I turned 33 this year, on the 22nd day of August. It was a weekday, and Ulhaas and my sister both happily took the day off from work. This was the first birthday I celebrated after stepping into my role as a mother, and also the first birthday I spent in Calcutta in eight years!
Needless to say, this birthday felt special. And though I was eager to create lasting memories with Ira on this day, I was also keen on spending one-on-one time with others I love. Ever since Ira arrived, all our time has been spent in collective adoration of our dear little girl — as it should be! Babies have a way of filling out your whole world with their glorious, messy, larger-than-life presence!
My birthday felt like the most perfect time to make time for those I love. So through the week, I made careful plans to slip away, at different times, with Ulhaas, my mother, my sister, and my best friend — so we could build new memories together: memories that didn’t necessarily feature the baby, sweet as she is.
Like other years, my birthday eve was largely spent alone, in quiet meditation, in beauty salons! I have made salon visits an annual birthday ritual over the years — a hair cut, a manicure or a foot rub just before a good day — an annual cleaning up, if you will, to bring a year of my life to a close and to flag off another. And while I mostly hate salons and spend as little time as I possibly can in them, my annual pre-birthday salon clean-ups double up as some enforced me-time — time I use to sit back and take stock of what the preceding year has given me, and draw up very sketchy, very preliminary mental plans of things I want to prioritise in the coming year.
After a decent-ish night’s sleep (think 9th month sleep regressing co-sleeping baby) I woke up at the crack of dawn, and got dressed stealthily. Since I was staying at my mom’s place, Ulhaas, my knight in shining Uber… er, armour…picked me up. (And as much as I would like to end that sentence with “and whisked me off to an unknown location where he had the best birthday surprise waiting for me,” I can’t.)
Instead, we went rushing through the deserted, early morning streets — a favourite thing of mine because its almost always a prelude to a grand adventure — till we reached Esplanade for a private, guided heritage walk I had planned for us on my birthday morning. I had searched high and low on Google for just this: someone who could show us around a foundational, historical part of the city we both grew up in, but never really explored.
Mr Kaushik, our tour guide, took us round Dalhousie Square, the erstwhile ‘White Town’ of Calcutta. The beautiful old administrative buildings that we walked past were our portals to the past. Buildings, friezes, pillars, bas-reliefs, even colonial era metal dustbins — the past was tangible, a living thing, and just within our reach — the past that is best recreated when stories meet structures. Every corner we turned, we saw something new, learned something fascinating, retrieved something lost. Each story was a gem that Mr Kaushik lovingly picked out, polished, and handed over to us for inspection — before carefully putting it back where it belonged — waiting for another seeker of stories, perhaps?
Neither Ulhaas nor I mentioned Ira: we just walked, talked, and learnt new things about the city that formed us, the city that waited patiently in the background while we were busy growing up, oblivious to just how rich its history is, and how fascinating its stories are.
This was, for me, the best possible way to spend my birthday morning. It brought together things that I hold dear: architecture (in my genes), photography, history, exploring (in my soul) and of course, Ulhaas (in my soul) — and all of these are things that I have had sparing access to ever since I became a mother. This walk took me back to all the adventures Ulhaas and I have shared — on foot, hand in hand, heads bent over travel guides, cameras at the ready. I know in my heart that in all our beautiful journeys through the years, in all the memories we were making, we were also making Ira, without really knowing it. All the beauty that we sought and found, all the wisdom that we gleaned from our travels: Ira is the most beautiful and fitting culmination to all those journeys, of our journey. I truly believe that Ira — with her openness and generosity and love for all that she discovers — is an embodiment of that shared love and that shared journey; in her, she has a little bit of all the mountains we climbed, the sunsets we watched, the crumbling old forts we explore
We reached home to gifts and a lovingly made lunch from Ma and Bob: she had shipped a batch of special vinegar from Coorg (Kachampuli), and used it to stir up the most divine chicken curry I’ve ever had in my 33 years: hands down, no questions asked. How lucky to be in Calcutta this year to be able to enjoy Bob’s flawless cooking that is nothing short of art: personalised, customised art that's straight from the heart. We had the chicken with some equally satisfying tomato rice, and licked on spoonfuls of lemon curd (also by Chef Bob) as a decadent but comforting dessert. Ma had baked her customary chocolate sponge cake, something I’ve eaten growing up, on every birthday, and to be able to slice a knife through one of these after seven years, with my baby girl perched expectantly on my lap — unforgettable.
We spent the rest of the day just resting, warm and fuzzy from our walk in the sun and all the food and the love. Come evening, MIL dropped by with some gifts and a madly decadent salted caramel cake from my favourite Kolkata confectioner: Kookie Jar. How insanely good is their ganache?!
And then it was time to pack a diaper bag, tumble into the big car, and rumble on to ‘Thakali by Blue Poppy’ for dinner. Bob, Ulhaas, Mum (in law), Ira and I chose to eat on the low wooden dining tables, slipping our shoes off and sitting on the floor and generally having a merry time. I took along Ira’s booster seat (the BEST baby buy right after the ergonomic carrier) and she sat next to me like a tiny bonsai adult and had the best time with us oldies. The food at Thakali was delightful: succulent aloo cheese momos that were creamy and melted right into our taste buds, traditional sel roti that was crunchy and sweet and a great palate cleanser,
Taking Ira out for a meal is always unbelievable fun. She interacts with everyone she meets, enjoys looking at her surroundings, takes little nibbles from the salt-and-sugar-free portions of our orders, and LOVES looking through the menu (and occasionally hurling it here and there!). She never strains or tries to get out: she’s happy to sit down in her little seat, stares in wide-eyed wonder at the world of flavours and smells and conversation swirling around her, graciously waves and smiles at other diners, and does her usual sing-dance-babble routine while tinkering with the cutlery and other dining paraphernalia that we sanitise and hand over to her. As much as I hate to see her transition from infanthood, she makes for such a fun, charming, convivial dining partner that I can’t help but admire her and anticipate many beautiful evenings we will spend dining out with her.
The Sunday following the 22nd, Ma and I headed out for a curated group heritage walk, which I had booked for us in advance. This walk took us down the oldest road in Kolkata — it actually predates Kolkata — Chitpore. We walked on the noisy, hectic streets down Bagbazar, through Kumurtuli, to Shobhabajar, parts of our city that are a world apart from the sedate planned residential quarters of south Calcutta: we walked past old Ghats, decrepit ‘dangerous buildings’, explored hidden terracotta temples, and marvelled at exquisitely built mansions. We listened to stories that took us back to the formative years of our city.
Having Ma with me on this walk made it exceptionally special. The life I am able to live today, the wealth of experiences I get to enjoy, the family that I grow and love — ALL of this has been achieved on the back of incredible sacrifice from her. She’s been my biggest source of strength in the journey of bringing Ira into this world, and we haven’t had a chance to do something special — just the two of us — since we came back from Mumbai way back in December last year. This walk along Old Calcutta with ma was the crowning experience of my birthday: something I will remember and hold dear to my heart for years to come.
The birthday shenanigans ended on Sunday with yet another delicious meal cooked up by my sister: Thai rice, Thai chicken curry, wilted greens, spinach and chicken stir fry, and a truly delightful aubergine stir fry with Thai spices she had just received from a friend. Bob loves expressing her love for people through her cooking. I have observed her planning our birthday meals: brows knit with concentration as she draws up lists of ingredients, furiously researches and develops recipes, thinks of accompaniments. She picks ingredients with care and thought, tweaking her plans as she goes along. It’s fascinating to watch her cook: she chops, slices, dices and stirs with the precision of a surgeon and the creativity of an artist. Bob is otherwise a rather laid back person, so seeing her come alive in the kitchen and cook us meals with love, commitment and dedication is inspiring and heartwarming, all at the same time. And the food is always, always superlative. Quickly gone from the plate, but stays for the longest time in memory!
I turned 33 this year, on the 22nd day of August. It was a weekday, and Ulhaas and my sister both happily took the day off from work. This was the first birthday I celebrated after stepping into my role as a mother, and also the first birthday I spent in Calcutta in eight years!
Needless to say, this birthday felt special. And though I was eager to create lasting memories with Ira on this day, I was also keen on spending one-on-one time with others I love. Ever since Ira arrived, all our time has been spent in collective adoration of our dear little girl — as it should be! Babies have a way of filling out your whole world with their glorious, messy, larger-than-life presence!
My birthday felt like the most perfect time to make time for those I love. So through the week, I made careful plans to slip away, at different times, with Ulhaas, my mother, my sister, and my best friend — so we could build new memories together: memories that didn’t necessarily feature the baby, sweet as she is.
Like other years, my birthday eve was largely spent alone, in quiet meditation, in beauty salons! I have made salon visits an annual birthday ritual over the years — a hair cut, a manicure or a foot rub just before a good day — an annual cleaning up, if you will, to bring a year of my life to a close and to flag off another. And while I mostly hate salons and spend as little time as I possibly can in them, my annual pre-birthday salon clean-ups double up as some enforced me-time — time I use to sit back and take stock of what the preceding year has given me, and draw up very sketchy, very preliminary mental plans of things I want to prioritise in the coming year.
After a decent-ish night’s sleep (think 9th month sleep regressing co-sleeping baby) I woke up at the crack of dawn, and got dressed stealthily. Since I was staying at my mom’s place, Ulhaas, my knight in shining Uber… er, armour…picked me up. (And as much as I would like to end that sentence with “and whisked me off to an unknown location where he had the best birthday surprise waiting for me,” I can’t.)
Instead, we went rushing through the deserted, early morning streets — a favourite thing of mine because its almost always a prelude to a grand adventure — till we reached Esplanade for a private, guided heritage walk I had planned for us on my birthday morning. I had searched high and low on Google for just this: someone who could show us around a foundational, historical part of the city we both grew up in, but never really explored.
Mr Kaushik, our tour guide, took us round Dalhousie Square, the erstwhile ‘White Town’ of Calcutta. The beautiful old administrative buildings that we walked past were our portals to the past. Buildings, friezes, pillars, bas-reliefs, even colonial era metal dustbins — the past was tangible, a living thing, and just within our reach — the past that is best recreated when stories meet structures. Every corner we turned, we saw something new, learned something fascinating, retrieved something lost. Each story was a gem that Mr Kaushik lovingly picked out, polished, and handed over to us for inspection — before carefully putting it back where it belonged — waiting for another seeker of stories, perhaps?
Neither Ulhaas nor I mentioned Ira: we just walked, talked, and learnt new things about the city that formed us, the city that waited patiently in the background while we were busy growing up, oblivious to just how rich its history is, and how fascinating its stories are.
This was, for me, the best possible way to spend my birthday morning. It brought together things that I hold dear: architecture (in my genes), photography, history, exploring (in my soul) and of course, Ulhaas (in my soul) — and all of these are things that I have had sparing access to ever since I became a mother. This walk took me back to all the adventures Ulhaas and I have shared — on foot, hand in hand, heads bent over travel guides, cameras at the ready. I know in my heart that in all our beautiful journeys through the years, in all the memories we were making, we were also making Ira, without really knowing it. All the beauty that we sought and found, all the wisdom that we gleaned from our travels: Ira is the most beautiful and fitting culmination to all those journeys, of our journey. I truly believe that Ira — with her openness and generosity and love for all that she discovers — is an embodiment of that shared love and that shared journey; in her, she has a little bit of all the mountains we climbed, the sunsets we watched, the crumbling old forts we explore
We reached home to gifts and a lovingly made lunch from Ma and Bob: she had shipped a batch of special vinegar from Coorg (Kachampuli), and used it to stir up the most divine chicken curry I’ve ever had in my 33 years: hands down, no questions asked. How lucky to be in Calcutta this year to be able to enjoy Bob’s flawless cooking that is nothing short of art: personalised, customised art that's straight from the heart. We had the chicken with some equally satisfying tomato rice, and licked on spoonfuls of lemon curd (also by Chef Bob) as a decadent but comforting dessert. Ma had baked her customary chocolate sponge cake, something I’ve eaten growing up, on every birthday, and to be able to slice a knife through one of these after seven years, with my baby girl perched expectantly on my lap — unforgettable.
We spent the rest of the day just resting, warm and fuzzy from our walk in the sun and all the food and the love. Come evening, MIL dropped by with some gifts and a madly decadent salted caramel cake from my favourite Kolkata confectioner: Kookie Jar. How insanely good is their ganache?!
And then it was time to pack a diaper bag, tumble into the big car, and rumble on to ‘Thakali by Blue Poppy’ for dinner. Bob, Ulhaas, Mum (in law), Ira and I chose to eat on the low wooden dining tables, slipping our shoes off and sitting on the floor and generally having a merry time. I took along Ira’s booster seat (the BEST baby buy right after the ergonomic carrier) and she sat next to me like a tiny bonsai adult and had the best time with us oldies. The food at Thakali was delightful: succulent aloo cheese momos that were creamy and melted right into our taste buds, traditional sel roti that was crunchy and sweet and a great palate cleanser,
Taking Ira out for a meal is always unbelievable fun. She interacts with everyone she meets, enjoys looking at her surroundings, takes little nibbles from the salt-and-sugar-free portions of our orders, and LOVES looking through the menu (and occasionally hurling it here and there!). She never strains or tries to get out: she’s happy to sit down in her little seat, stares in wide-eyed wonder at the world of flavours and smells and conversation swirling around her, graciously waves and smiles at other diners, and does her usual sing-dance-babble routine while tinkering with the cutlery and other dining paraphernalia that we sanitise and hand over to her. As much as I hate to see her transition from infanthood, she makes for such a fun, charming, convivial dining partner that I can’t help but admire her and anticipate many beautiful evenings we will spend dining out with her.
The Sunday following the 22nd, Ma and I headed out for a curated group heritage walk, which I had booked for us in advance. This walk took us down the oldest road in Kolkata — it actually predates Kolkata — Chitpore. We walked on the noisy, hectic streets down Bagbazar, through Kumurtuli, to Shobhabajar, parts of our city that are a world apart from the sedate planned residential quarters of south Calcutta: we walked past old Ghats, decrepit ‘dangerous buildings’, explored hidden terracotta temples, and marvelled at exquisitely built mansions. We listened to stories that took us back to the formative years of our city.
Having Ma with me on this walk made it exceptionally special. The life I am able to live today, the wealth of experiences I get to enjoy, the family that I grow and love — ALL of this has been achieved on the back of incredible sacrifice from her. She’s been my biggest source of strength in the journey of bringing Ira into this world, and we haven’t had a chance to do something special — just the two of us — since we came back from Mumbai way back in December last year. This walk along Old Calcutta with ma was the crowning experience of my birthday: something I will remember and hold dear to my heart for years to come.
The birthday shenanigans ended on Sunday with yet another delicious meal cooked up by my sister: Thai rice, Thai chicken curry, wilted greens, spinach and chicken stir fry, and a truly delightful aubergine stir fry with Thai spices she had just received from a friend. Bob loves expressing her love for people through her cooking. I have observed her planning our birthday meals: brows knit with concentration as she draws up lists of ingredients, furiously researches and develops recipes, thinks of accompaniments. She picks ingredients with care and thought, tweaking her plans as she goes along. It’s fascinating to watch her cook: she chops, slices, dices and stirs with the precision of a surgeon and the creativity of an artist. Bob is otherwise a rather laid back person, so seeing her come alive in the kitchen and cook us meals with love, commitment and dedication is inspiring and heartwarming, all at the same time. And the food is always, always superlative. Quickly gone from the plate, but stays for the longest time in memory!
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