Museum of Little Ladies-3

Read Part 1 Here 

Read Part 2 Here 

Thomas walked into the room and flung himself into the chair in front of me. He opened up his portfolio to display pages and pages of black and white prints. I knew then I had found my to be partner-in-crime. His photography slide aside, even his overall attitude matched mine, talk about building the brand image. It would also ensure he would not jump onto some other employer too soon after I hired him. I offered him the job on the spot and he did not even negotiate on the monetary details.

A month later, the windchimes rattled away merrily as I walked into my studio. The chill in the air was rising and all around was snow covered and magical. A somber reminder however persisted on the posts covered with holly and other Christmas cheer. Now covered in plastic wrap, two photographs fluttered in the wind, both of brown haired angels I had photographed. This time, the girl had gone missing from the swing set in the park. As I had walked past them today, something had begun to disturb my mind. Like there was  a connection I was missing. I tried to shake myself of the feeling.

Of late, with Thomas in the studio, I had started wedding photography too. Jim had run into me at his partner's daughter's wedding. If I wasn't very sure of him being completely invested in the investigation and therefore haranguing me, I would have suspected him of chatting me up. He had repeatedly asked me hundreds of convoluted questions until I accused him of impeding my work and he accused me back of impeding his investigation and David, his partner had to break us up. But he had definitely planted a seed of doubt in my head. Maybe I did know something, something which connected these children. Giggles broke into my reverie, Thomas and Nadia got on like a house on fire. The only time when I had ever seen Thomas smile was when he was deep in conversation with Nadia and even then unconsciously.

Museum of Little Ladies- Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

I walked into the cool confines of my dark room, I bent my head over the latest prints I had to work on.  It was time to work on my window display for the week. I liked to use this time, before Nadia, my secretary came in to get my thoughts together. I was sure that it was only my window ideas which kept me from going bankrupt. This week's collection of vintage frames with my latest portraits of Cecilia could not fail to be to hit with the local audience.

The wind-chimes rang out as the door opened and I stepped out to find Nadia unwrapping herself like a giant Christmas present. The cold weather in Gorgon was getting to her Californian roots and freezing her up like an ice cube. Sometimes, I suspected that the only reason that she came to work with me was thanks to her outsider origins. She sympathized with me and it was wonderful that she could also do the books and my appointment planning and even wield my back up camera when required. She was the closest to a friend I had in this town where I had grown up and lived for 15 years of my life.

"Clara! Good morning! Sorry, I overslept, this weather- I can never get used to. Have you been holing up in your dark room once again? Today is our interview for the assistant photographer job. Do you have all your questions ready?" She fired off one question after the other like a quick loading cannon. "Yes, I am ready. I am going into the kitchen for some coffee. Can you send him into the back room when he arrives? Did you say 10?" As she nodded her assent stuffing a croissant into her mouth, I walked into the kitchen to brew my special coffee.

The windchimes chimed again, as I moved into the backroom. A gust of cold wind hit my face as the door swung open and then it looked like some ancient God of Ice and Snow had walked in.

Museum of Little Ladies- Part 1

I walked along Walnut St. and my eyes were caught on the rising spiral of handbills. Some volunteer must have left them on the street corner and they had been set into flight by a sudden gust of wind. The same face stared back at me from the innumerable posters plastered on the walls of houses and lampposts lining the street.
She was a brunette, just like the rest of them. Similar black shiny eyes with that childish innocence beaming out of them. The photo was one I recognized. It was from my portrait sitting. I had taken it myself, her mother brought her in the day after her 8th birthday. Dressed in egg shell white, she looked like an angel in the pictures.
'A pity' exclaimed the sheriff's aide, Jim. He had walked up behind me while I stood staring at the poster. ' The mother let her in the yard alone for 15 min and this happens. We don't have a single clue. I don't know what to tell her parents anymore. There is no hope anymore. She's been gone for over a month now.'
I nodded gently, not knowing how to react to his confidences. It was rare that our paths crossed. I mostly kept to myself and my studio. As I took a few steps forward, he spoke again, 'Clara, do you know anything at all about these kidnappings? So many of these children and their parents have been in and out of your studio. Do you have any clues that could help me get to the bottom of this? Is there anything you would like to tell me?'
I spun around, outraged. In a steady but firm voice, ' Jim, do you really think I have something to do with all of this?' Figures, ever since I moved back and started my studio, everyone seems to be treating me like I was a little crazy.  Turning a deaf ear to his stuttered entreaties, I stalked off purposefully. I had become the resident witch of Pade County and I wasn't enjoying that at all. My eccentricities were all forgiven when the time came for their children's portraits. So in the interest of my business, I forgave them too.

Mysorepak- Not bad for a Sweet Novice

 

When you don't feel like doing anything and are bored of your work, it is best to distract yourself with something that you do not typically do. I do some of my best creative work when I am irritated and at the end of my tether. It is worrying and good at the same time- worrying because it makes me concerned about my  mental make up and good because I at least know how I can shake myself out of a funk quickly and without annoying too many people around me.

So yesterday was one of those days, where everything seemed tasteless and boring. With Diwali around the corner, I decided that the best way to cheer myself up was with some sweet making. This is only the third time ever that I have attempted making any sort of sweet. My first trial was kaju katli with ground cashew paste, it was an unqualified disaster with half cooked cashew paste and oodles of ghee, resembling some sort of halwa. It was a lesson well learnt though and I tried again with powdered cashew, I ended up with very good looking katlis though I chose to slice them super thin (Almost like cracker thin).

Mysorepak was on the cards yesterday owing to readily available ingredients. I made a very small quantity as I only wanted to cheer myself up not worsen my mood with all the slaving over the hot stove. But it came out surprisingly well, causing even a sweet skeptic like me to go back for more.

What you need on your kitchen counter:

Makes 10-12 pieces

1. Besan (Gram) Flour- 1/4 cup

2. Ghee- 1/2 cup

3. Sugar- 1/2 cup

How to make mysorepak ( Takes a lot less effort than you think, especially if you choose to be lazy like me and make very very little):

1. Line a tray/plate with foil. I used a pie tin for this. We will use this to pour and set the mixture.

2. In a heavy bottomed pan, place the sugar and just enough water to submerge the sugar. Place on low heat and allow to come to a steady boil.

3. On the side, start melting the half cup of ghee. Once melted place on low heat, so you can ladle the hot ghee into your mysorepak.

4. Sift the besan flour to avoid lumps and fry it for a couple of minutes with a couple of tsp of ghee.

5. Once the sugar has dissolved and starts to thicken into syrup, test the syrup between your fingers. You should wait for the syrup to form a string between your fingers (an unbroken string- this is the single strand consistency).

6. Once the sugar syrup reaches this consistency, add the besan flour to the syrup, stirring continuously and breaking up any lumps that might occur.

7. After the besan is completely dissolved in the syrup, start ladling in the ghee little by little, continuously stirring the ghee into the mixture. All this must be done at a low flame and do not stop stirring at any point.

8. Finally once the ghee has all been added, the mixture will start to come away from the sides of the pan, it will still be soft but will start to sort of bubble and have air pockets within.

9. Take it off the heat and pour into the prepared pan.

10. Allow it to cool for a couple of minutes and then slice into it with smooth strokes to avoid breaking up the pieces.

It was therapeutic to write this down considering I am trying to sound like a Mysorepak Maven, the very first time I made it. :P

Try to keep and consume until Diwali, else you could always make another batch if you decide to give in to temptation.

Of Reading and Book Shopping

I finally made a trip to my old haunt, Blossoms after a long long time and stocked up on some books. Not as many as I generally buy. I come home usually laden with two bagfuls of books. This time I exercised plenty of restraint and ended up with just 5 books- Flappers and Philosophers, Bring Up the Bodies, The Ladies Paradise, The Girl on the Train and The Invention of Wings.

I am done with reading The Girl on the Train and The Invention of Wings. In fact I went through Girl on the Train in a single night, rattling through it like a high speed train myself. The book is very reminiscent of Gone Girl. I ran through that book as well in a single flight and I definitely liked the book better than the movie.  So coming back to Girl on the Train, interestingly this book has had its movie rights bought as well. It definitely has excellent potential for a great screenplay. Bordering on the obsessive, it traverses the thin line between imagination and reality. It's almost like the 4:50 to Paddington in the sense that a fleeting glance from a train window leads to unraveling a  tangled and complicated mystery. No relationship is straightforward nor goes in the direction you expect. All the characters and naturally and quite annoyingly human and fallible. There are no heroes or heroines, just people dealing with their lives in their own twisted fashions.

The Invention of Wings is an inspiration. I loved this book even more than her previous book, the Secret Life of Bees. I have to thank Hollywood because the movie brought me to Sue Monk Kidd. The Invention of Wings is a moving part fic- part bio story of the Grimke sisters and their struggle for racial equality. The story has a very St. Assisi feel to it, two poor little rich girls rising above their feelings, their familial attachments and personal dilemmas to get on to a global stage in the face of rising criticism and overwhelming opposition. It's written in a he said she said style, one of my favourites and it grips you with the unique ideas and the revolutionary thought processes of these women for the times they lived in.