Kaadu mavina saaru / wild mango curry

Along with the chilling weather of Coorg, tags along the spicy, sweet, and sour wild mango curry with a finger-licking taste. Not only in Coorg but this recipe is passed from generations in all parts of the western ghats. Here’s the recipe on what you’re missing out in Coorg or something you can whip up at home with simple ingredients.

The toadstool’s tale!

Toadstools or mushrooms are something that has created an unofficial Olympics for Mushroom hunting amongst families, from generations. I would rather bravely state that, mushroom is a cursed treasure unspoken of. I mean it literally because you would never find a person who’d yell at the top of his lungs about the mushrooms he’d found in his estate. If yes, that person is either a fool or not a localite. A person in Kodagu might leave a gold coin behind but never a mushroom. Be it even in somebody else’s estate, you see it first, it’s all yours. Such are its bewitching powers.
As soon as the first showers hit the dry earth and the lightning cracks it open, people after milking their cows head to the secret places, passed on from generation to generation. The sacred place where the mushroom grows, which is the place where the dormant spores lie from the last year…

A life before toothpaste!

Irrespective of the generation, the era, or the presence or absence of beauty pageants, the woman always wants to look pretty. The only difference is that my grandma had a slight gruesome method for beautification compared to my stick of Lakme colossal kajal. ” A species of small bat’s blood was used to make Kajal.

Huttari- A festival of reunion

Huttari, (meaning ಹೊಸ ತೆನೆ -New paddy stalk) along with being a promise of a reunion of scattered relatives is also a season of the rustling of dry, golden, and proud paddy stalks. A time when parrots soar the sky with a determination to taste the golden cereals of delight. A time when wild boars and elephants are head over heals to munch down the fibrous goodies. And thus, the season of sleepless nights for framers on stakeouts with battery torches, lighters ( Both to drag a beedi to keep them warm and also to light the sutli bombs) and two well trained dogs.

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The nightingale’s last song

Today being the birthday of Dr. Salim Ali, a person no words can describe, I’ve written poem on how birds are. They are the most sensitive being scarred from the slightest of sounds and movements. Yet a birds mysterious life gets anybody intrigued. This is my opinion on birds and humans.

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The Paper boat series #1

We’ve all sipped on the mango flavored Paper boat brand of juices which claims to remind us of our childhood. I am not sure about the feeling of nostalgia but I find the marketing strategy very clever. So, here I am. Writing the Paper boat series of stories of my childhood away from the harsh pixel world. Let us all have our doses of Paper boat and actually indulge in nostalgia, shall we?