For the Love of Dog!

Magdalena Frackowiak photographed by Walter Pfeiffer for Vogue Paris, June / July 2009 

I am not so ashamed to admit that I have gone from being someone who mildly judges people for hogging a conversation and droning on about something irrelevant, to that person who takes the first opening to start spewing 87 anecdotes about my dog. So of course this was the first post I had planned for this blog, but it's oddly difficult to write about something so dear to you, and not make it sound entirely like a diary entry.

After approximately 15 years of pleading with my parents on every birthday, I finally got Picasso, my currently 5 month old Belgian Malinois puppy, courtesy of my beloved brother-in-law Phiroze. We often get offended gasps and groans about his name because people seem to think this is somehow an insult to Pablo Picasso, but in all honesty, Picasso is probably the most loved entity in each of our lives, so please feel free to name your pets after me! 

Picasso was actually named about 7 years ago on a Sunday afternoon while my parents and I were watching Back to the Future on TV. When I couldn't stop gushing over Doc Brown's adorable sheepdog and his cute name, Einstein - you know, because Doc was a scientist - we decided that if we ever got a dog we would name him after a public figure relevant to us. Since art is a shared interest in my family, we quickly narrowed the pool down and thought Picasso had a nice ring to it - although the little dork in me was very tempted by Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael or Michelangelo.

This is our first dog and a Belgian Malinois is probably not the easiest dog you can have, so there are those times when I wonder if we are well suited for Picasso, like when he sees red at the sight of our cook / scares the daylights out of our guests / insists on tearing his bed or toys apart to eat the cotton inside / jumps into our lily pond and comes out covered in filth. I am an extremely light sleeper and am not to be messed with between the hours of 11PM and 8AM on weekdays - if you know me well, you probably know this, but Picasso still doesn't! He not only sleeps in my room but also wakes me up between 6 and 6:30AM every morning by sniffing / licking my face / wreaking havoc on the weakest object in sight - but now I really wouldn't have it any other way! 

My favorite part about being a dog owner is driving back home at 7PM everyday to have Picasso drop whatever bird or ball he's chasing and run across the yard to greet me - ears plastered down to his head / tail wagging excitedly / panting profusely. I now look forward to going home everyday, and know that there is no better antidote to the slight headache from a long tiring day at work than a furry hug. 

The overwhelming feeling of good old happiness and contentment that Picasso inspires, more than makes up for the work. On the flip-side, hearing him yelp every morning when I say bye, breaks my heart. Friends who have dogs warned me about this when I was still deciding whether to take the plunge, but this is so unlike the emotional contract we experience in any human relationship, that it's almost impossible to anticipate. This got me thinking about the differences - why does it feel different to love a dog than that a human?

The obvious answer is unconditional love - but is that really an obsolete notion between two humans? What about parents / close families / or soul mates (if you believe in that sort of thing)? I think the real difference lies in the lack of inhibitions and expectations. Humans naturally build walls around themselves to avoid exposing their vulnerability - we overthink that 1AM text filled with endearment and try our best to be so very self-important, lest we appear too needy. The acceptable frequency and intensity of our expression is dictated by some unwritten code of societal norms. Oblivious to our complex rules, dogs aren't afraid to pick sides or declare their undying love, day after day. They jump up and down at the first sight of you and keep looking back when you walk away - and amazingly, do not hold it against you if you fail to display the same level of exuberance. After all, doesn't everybody just want to be loved and needed without worrying about its temporality? So I guess dogs are the Switzerland of love, and it's even kosher to brag about them (case in point, this post).

If you are dying to meet the infamous Picasso, here are some pictures taken on his better hair days –

Kolkata Sandesh

Sabyasachi Mukherjee's lust-worthy collection for LFW 2015

I recently visited Kolkata for a quick overnight trip which was filled with lots of art and food!

Normally when I think Kolkata, I think Macher Jhol (Bengali fish curry), Sabyasachi, and maybe the iconic Howrah Bridge. If any of you are outraged by my ignorance of the scrumptious Bengali desserts, I do not mean to offend, Rasgullas have just never been my favorite.

However this time, I made a new discovery of sorts - Sandesh! (Bengali dessert made with Paneer, i.e. somewhat like cottage cheese). I mean, everyone knows what Sandesh is, but until this time around, I didn't appreciate just how delicious it is. To be fair, most of my trips to Calcutta occurred during my pre-teen / early teenage years when I was a terribly fussy and disinterested eater. But I am now a self-proclaimed 'foodie' so I can make cool new discoveries and write about them -

Sandesh from left to right: Ras Bhara, Gulab Patti, Chocolate

I sampled three types of Sandesh (pictured above) and surprisingly, my favorite was the Chocolate - and nope not just because I love all things chocolate, but mostly because of its element of surprise. When I bit into it, I expected the typical soft-textured-medium-fluffiness I have come to associate with Sandesh, but was instead met with a filling of crunchy pralines and a hint of liquidy caramel. Almost like it was custom made for me!

The Gulab Patti Sandesh, I believe, is a universal favorite. What with its air-light texture, medium sweetness and fresh rosy aroma. And last but not least, the Ras Bhara had a denser texture and higher sweetness, with sugary orange liquid filling inside.

Suffice to say Bengali food needs no introduction, so my stomach ache from being over-stuffed right after my first meal in the city, came as no surprise. The two highlights of this lunch were Potoler Dolma stuffed with shrimp (Potol is a Bengali vegetable and the dish looked something like this), and Paturi Steamed Fish with mustard in banana leaves (image reference). Given the surplus of specialty and multi-cuisine restaurants cropping up everywhere, and some amount of travel, it is not often that I am exposed to entirely new dishes and flavors, so this meal was already special in anticipation (since the menu was pre-fixed). 

If I'm being entirely honest, I was slightly intimidated by the Dolma because it looked like one or more of those green veggies you normally despise as a child, but its taste couldn't be farther from that ball park. I was hooked right away. Besides, who doesn't love shrimp, right?!

The Paturi fish was a more acquired taste, given its overpowering aroma of mustard. But I found that if you can brave the first few bites, it grows on you quickly. The element of surprise was also quite pronounced for me because I was expecting it to taste like Patra ni Machhi, a Parsee dish that looks almost identical because it is also steamed in banana leaves - which my brother-in-law, Phiroze, recently cooked for me. 

Before I get carried away with further details, I must mention other factors that made this lunch one of the more special meals I have had recently. The lunch was organized for us by Naveen Kishore and his wonderful team at Seagull Books (recent article) in their art gallery, which resembles a spacious three bedroom apartment. The walls were decorated with some of KG Subramanyam's most stunning canvases / reverse paintings, both old and new. The dining tables were set in the middle of each room so we could enjoy our meal amidst the vibrant art, making for a pleasing experience for all our senses. 

Polyptech on Canvas, 1968, KG Subramanyam

An addendum about Seagull - they are one of those very unique organizations that participate in various initiatives largely based on their interest and its cultural / societal value. When I asked Naveen about whether this is sustainable, he said "we function on a project-to-project basis. We decide to do something first, and then worry about the means. It's a strategy that works for us in the long term".

These could be words to live by! They stayed with me because I'm always worrying about whether something I did / want to do, is the right choice / and how 514309+ things are going to be affected by it. But I realized that sometimes you just have to sift through the other stuff and follow your gut. And then work backwards and forwards with a decision, instead of getting lost in translation. Hey, if an entire organization can do it, why can't an individual sometimes?!

Picture Perfect

Mont Sainte-Victoire painted by Paul Cézanne

"Love is missing you and the way your skin brushes mine the way Cézanne painted so many Mt. Algiers, different every time but with the passion of the first. It's feeling incomplete without you."

Paul Cézanne was a french Impressionist painter in the late 19th Century. The late 19th-early 20th century has always been a period of immense fascination to me. I truly believe that some of the best art and literature was created in this transition period that we now call Modernism. There is something so profoundly romantic about the uncertainty of change hidden between the glamor and promise of modernity. The disillusionment and journey towards rediscovery in these works never fails to enchant me.

Cézanne in particular caught my interest through the works of French author, Emilé Zola. Zola and Cézanne were childhood friends who became estranged once Zola used him as a character in one of his books - but I digress. I like Cézanne because to me he personifies Modernism - he worked with the purpose of changing Impressionism into something more meaningful and lasting. To this effect, he simplified the landscapes and subjects of his paintings through small strokes and similar color planes, but ended up producing very complex pieces.

For a few years of his career, he painted multiple copies of a mountain in the south of France (pictured above), where he was from, almost to the point of obsession. I realize that the idea of redoing a single landscape multiple times and trying to perfect it is the antithesis of our cultural norm where time is money and technology allows for everything to be edited and improved, rendering the concept of remaking quite obsolete.

I incidentally came across the above quote today and it caught my eye. Could it be that Cézanne and Modernism have anything relevant to teach us other than moral imagination? I can't say for sure, but what I admire most is his pursuit of rediscovery - this much like most other 'modernist' ideals is so simple yet complex, especially for a confused but ambitious person like myself. His was a passion dedicated to perfecting an abstract emotion. This period in his career is known as the Constructive period. It seems to me that the average person today is so fixated on certain ideas and goals that we aren't willing to take a chance on rediscovery and if / when we are forced to do it, it scares the shit out of us.