Going on a short holiday: Hyderabad, Vizag and Araku Valley

Planning to visit some historical places, and of  course do all the touristy things, with beaches and shopping thrown in.

Looking for a nice Venkat giri saree in blood red color with thin zari border and very small zari polka dots. I had seen this saree worn by my aunt many years ago, hoping to find it at any cost. Wish me all the best in my search for this saree.

The train journey to the Araku valley promises to be good. On our way back, plan to drive down and visit some interesting Caves and other places of interest.
I leave you with an old blog of mine, written many years ago, hope you enjoy it.

                                             'Madame is not in'

It was 2.30 pm. time to move into the kitchen to prepare the snack; I had planned for my children, who would be returning from school by 3.45. I very reluctantly switched off the TV.

  The kitchen welcomed me with a sink full of vessels that cried to be cleaned, I don’t have servants for I don’t get along with them, I prefer to be my own boss. I am one of those working women who work in the house. In short, I am a housewife.

  The prospect of washing a sink full of vessels is not very appealing. But, ­­however unpleasant the job, it has to be done. I took my old, faded nighty and wrapped it round my waist like a towel. I don’t believe in buying fancy- looking aprons with pockets (why do they have pockets, I wonder). My good old nighty is enough to protect my dress from getting wet and also from food stains. After tackling the dirty work, I got down to making the cutlets. While trying to fry batches of golden brown cutlets, I was boiling milk and then water for the coffee filter and also simultaneously clearing up the mess on the kitchen platform. (Only a woman can do all these things and also keep thinking of all other unconnected things at the same time).

  In between, I had again switched on the TV to Prime Sports, where the programme  ‘Prime Bodies’ was going on. I was trying to pay attention to some of the new exercises that they were demonstrating. 

  The door bell rang and I opened it without bothering to un-wrap my old nighty from my waist as I was expecting only my children. Instead, I found myself looking up at a tall, dark, handsome guy (straight from the Mills & Boons), with a packet in his hand. He studied me critically, with the famous M&Bs frown, and asked me whether Dr. Ananth (he is my husband) was at home. He spoke in Hindi, and it sounded a little odd, coming from a man, who definitely looked like a South Indian. I too was carried away and replied in Hindi, (what with a handsome Southy talking in Hindi with an attractive frown on his face, there was no time to think ) saying that the said person was not in, but I could pass on any message he had.

   He the reluctantly handed me the packet and instructed me very curtly that it should be delivered to Dr. Ananth without fail. I didn’t look as concerned as he expected me to look, for my mind was suddenly on the cutlets that were threatening to turn black if I didn’t attend to them immediately. I just nodded my head dumbly and closed the door.

    Within minutes, my husband arrived and I asked him whether he had met a man called Giri down the stairs. Then I asked my husband whether this person was a South Indian. My husband told me he was a Tamilian.

  Suddenly everything became clear, and I could not help laughing at the absurdity of the situation. The man had mistaken me for a maid/ cook. Obviously, he didn’t expect Mrs. Ananth to be so shabbily dressed.

 I was right in my assumption for my husband quickly said that when the man met my husband on his way down he had mentioned that he had left a package with the maid upstairs. We both had a good laugh and wondered what would be his reaction if he was told that he had been talking to the lady of the house.

  It transported me back to my days in Bombay many years ago, when I used my maid – like look and attire to full advantage.  Often being pestered by sales -people  and others the only solution, I found was to pretend to be the maid and send them away with a polite "Memsahib gar may nahi hai". (Madame is not in)

  It worked. After a while they stopped coming as they did not want to waste their time at a place where "The Madame is not at home".