Daddy, please buy me a DSLR. Yeah, those heavy cameras you have to manoeuvre with both hands, twirling its fancy snouts with an attention that is directly proportionate to the seskiness of the passing boy/girl. And I promise, I will visit Kumortuli at the drop of Autumn. I will take pictures of ALL the pandals in the city with ALL its deities. I will pay equal attention to ALL the insects sitting on the faeces of ALL species. I will make optimum use of the zoom and the Macro facilities on the camera and make the mundane 'phuchka' look like Jupiter. I will have at least a dozen pictures of women in red-white sarees, their faces smeared with 'sindoor'. I will use the self-timer and take pictures with my friends outside the pandals holding up bottles of beer. In short, I swear I will conform, for now and forever, to ALL visual cliches.
And I promise, I won't even ask you, what DSLR stands for.

Was suddenly reminded of this incident: A few weeks down our marriage, when all our meals would still be sent over from our in-laws', breakfast arrived one particular Sunday - just one plate of sandwiches stuffed with cheese, chicken and a whole lot of other goodies. Embarrassed and miffed, the husband instantly called the mother-in-law up, in a bid to stand up for the "basic rights" (read roti-kapda-makan) of his newly wedded wife. "Why have you sent just one plate? What do you think Paroma will eat?" Mamma-in-law very coolly replied, "It *is* for Paroma; you always have luchi-chholar daal outside with your friends, so we didn't think you'd want any breakfast at home". I rue the fact that I couldn't photograph the utterly zapped look on poor Sourya's face that day, as I chomped down my yummity yum sandwich, without bothering to share! 

Was suddenly reminded of this incident: A few weeks down our marriage, when all our meals would still be sent over from our in-laws', breakfast arrived one particular Sunday - just one plate of sandwiches stuffed with cheese, chicken and a whole lot of other goodies. Embarrassed and miffed, the husband instantly called the mother-in-law up, in a bid to stand up for the "basic rights" (read roti-kapda-makan) of his newly wedded wife. "Why have you sent just one plate? What do you think Paroma will eat?" Mamma-in-law very coolly replied, "It *is* for Paroma; you always have luchi-chholar daal outside with your friends, so we didn't think you'd want any breakfast at home". I rue the fact that I couldn't photograph the utterly zapped look on poor Sourya's face that day, as I chomped down my yummity yum sandwich, without bothering to share!