So my wish remains unfulfilled. Largely. Except for a couple of folks. But even with them it never happens like it did for my Mother. Every afternoon Ma would change into a crisp cotton saree for summer or a rustling silk for the winters.She would dab some of the Mysore sandal talc on her nose, tie up her long black hair in a plait and then put a kettle of water to boil. Some days a neighborhood aunt would drop by. On others Ma would go over. They would share stories over those cups of hot chai which I was not privy to. "Ja porashuno korte bos (go, get along with your studies)" was what they said if I lingered longer.
Naturally I nurtured a secret hope of such evenings, maybe even grander ones, once I was in charge.It is yet to happen. So when this thing--- that I have been desperate to tell you all along--- happened I wanted to sit right besides you, feet tucked under my pajamas,a cup of tea in hand.
And no it is not what you are thinking. No. Not at all. Okay, what are you thinking anyway ?
But I am eternally grateful to you for what happened. For your kind words, for your belief in me, for reading me, for telling me that you liked what I wrote. This wouldn't have been possible without you.
For like you, a very nice editor from Harper Collins (India) read my blog. And last year around summer she sent me a polite mail asking if I would be interested in writing a book. First I gulped and then decided it was one of those spams like the Nigerian government promising to transfer billions to my account. Turned out it wasn't. This was really, truly, a real life editor from Harper. She wanted me to write a book based on my blog, a food narrative along with my recipes. I was so struck by the wondrous nature of the whole thing that I of course said "Yes". Only a month later I realized what I had done but by then the contract was signed. The deal was sealed. And I was going to write a book. THE BOOK. The Bong Mom's Cookbook.
So I have been writing a book. It has been nine months. Given that number I now treat it like a third child in my womb. I have been putting my everything into it. My love, my emotions, my thoughts, my life. In fact I am so attached to it that I am having separation anxiety and am yet to hand over the manuscript. Every day when my girls are finally in bed, the dishwasher is humming a Dadra, the crickets outside have given up chirping, I sit on the black poang, open up MS Word and pour my heart into it. I am also dead scared (very unlike a third time new Mother is wont to be) and that is the reason I had kept it in my heart though my mind itched to share it with you long back.
But now I need your support, your trust in me, your wishes and your blessings. Send me all your good vibes so that I can do my best. Please, pretty please.Else my toes are going to curl up cold and the gestation stage might get longer than that of an elephant.
The Book: The Bong Mom's Cookbook
The Publisher: Harper Collins India
What is it about : More of a Food narrative than a cookbook per se. In short mine, yours and everyone else's life in food with recipes thrown in. More details as I write the book.
When: Will let you know as the thing happens
Now that you guys are in the loop trust me you are going to hear of my third baby as much as you do about Big Sis and Li'l Sis. And then don't come back and tell me that irritates the heck out of you.
There's an whole army of talented bloggers whom I owe big time for this whole blog thing. Almost all of them are on my reader you see on the left.
Thanks Miri, Mandira, Manisha, Indo of Daily Musings, Sra, Vani, Nupur of One Hot Stove, Mallika, Happy Cook, Cham, Sig, Sailu, Anita, Linda, Jaya of DesiSoccerMom, Supriya, Jaya of Spice and Curry, Soma, Pree, Sharmila, Eve's Lungs and Kalyan for being there and sharing your food. And Cynthia I owe you big time for helping me through the jargon of the contract language.Then there are those who do not blog anymore but had set up the path like Indira of Mahanadi, Inji, Asha, Mallu Girl, Sunita and Vee. I think half of my book is going to be just Acknowledgments.