Of girls, boobs and bras.

Let's talk about breasts, shall we?  Especially about breasts, bras and teenagers.

There's your daughter, a cute little wide eyed ball of fluff, running about:  stick-like or podgy or just-right. She's everybody's pet, ruling the house in that cute little singlet and shorts. All of a sudden, puberty strikes. Usually without warning. It could be as early as 7 or as late as 15 and the entire range is considered perfectly normal.

All of a sudden, your little girl is not so little anymore. Even before you know it, she starts to feel conscious about her changing body shape, those budding breasts and specially the fact that boys their age seem to constantly talk to their chests. Some men too. She looks around at school, is she the only one? She finds company in her peers. Sometimes she feels accepted,  at other times, inadequate. In fact a range of emotions race through your little girl; a lot of it body-shaming. Or not.  Your little girl, in fact, is, as yet, a long way from accepting that her breasts are just another part of her body, much like an arm or a leg and nothing to write home about! 

So what should you, as a parent do? 

Yes, talk to her. In all likelihood she knows about the periods business or have been through it already. Make sure she knows the right things: the biological and physiological aspects. Do not tell her that she is dirty and not cannot enter the puja room and the kitchen and henceforth should any man touch her, she will have babies! I actually know a mother who said that. And also another who thought 8 years old was no age for the child to be starting her chums so actually went to the doctor to put the child on hormones to "delay the process"!!!!

You do NOT fool around with nature. That is the only rule there is.

And the next thing, take her to a good bra shop. There are tons of them now. Shoppers Stop, Pantaloons and Westside have good lingerie sections, in fact. There are those stand-alone lingerie shops too. There are helpful young lady shop assistants who will be willing to let your little lady try on several sizes and styles for size. I mean it. In our time, budding breasts meant my grandmother made us a inner which was much like a sleeveless blouse and you wore it under your clothes. It kept things in place and did not let the nipple show. Now you have your choice of sports bras right from size XXS to do the needful. 

I remembering bra buying in my youth. It was a horror. We had to go to this clothing store which was manned by men. My mother would accompany us and announce she needed bras and proceed to select three different sizes while we cringed in the corner. Next, my mom would squeeze into that tiny cubicle pretending to be a trial room with us and teach us how to adjust the straps to find out which fit best. No, we had no choice. We had white or black pointy cotton thingies with adjustable straps that kept peeping out from under our clothes...what a mess that was!

Thankfully, times have changed. As I said, now you have a variety of choices in cotton or nylon or lycra or under-wired or padded in all colours, shapes and sizes. Just make sure that the first time you go out there and get that girl something that will not only fit her but make her comfortable and help her keep her posture straight.

I don't know if I am the only one who notices but my attention gets dragged to women or girls in several spheres of life who I find wearing ill fitting innerwear. One is bouncing, (much to the delight of the men watching her run across the street trying to catch that cab) one is squashed flat. Another is just halfway down her stomach while yet another has spread out like a tree. Imagine what this can do for their body images, imagine all the wrong kind of attention they attract! 

You'll notice, young girls , specially teens often begin to slouch. One reason is when they are taller than their friends, they tend to bend a bit. They should absolutely be told to sit up straight and be proud about their height.

Sadly, another lot of children develop slouches. They are the ones ashamed of their breasts. Someone probably spoke to her and made her feel uncomfortable, she's not sure what it is but something does not feel right,  so she hunches her shoulders and pretends she is flat. This is where you, as a parent come in . Talk to her gently, do buy her a good supportive bra. Ensure she walks with her shoulders straight and head up; poised, like the confident woman of the world she is meant to become. Not an unsure little girl with bad body posture.

It's  a little thing, but it makes all the difference.

As I end here, I must admit I am not a specialist of any kind. I'm just a woman who was once a young girl who was often, like many other women on the streets on India, subject to jibes on account of her budding breasts. Sadly, I also believe that there is no imminent revolution that will change the way men or boys  on or off the streets will see our young girls. I just want to help them get a bit of confidence so that they can walk with their head up and meet the world head on.... like it's meant to be met!

 Picture credit: http://www.diomedia.com/stock-photo-anna-kournikova-russian-tennis-player-launching-only-the-ball-should-bounce-the-new-advertising-campaign-for-the-berlei-shock-absorber-sports-bra-compulsory-credit-uppaphotoshot-photo-uhy-image17490857.html

To my children on new year's eve!

 P.S. Although the following letter is addressed to my two daughters, it's message goes out to all my nieces, nephews and all the children whose lives I may have somehow touched. 

Dearest Isha and Amisha,

It's that time of the year again. Another year is drawing to a close. You are busy making plans... your friends will be here for a sleep-over and your minds are full of the TV shows or movies you will watch late into the night. The approaching exams are far from your mind and that's exactly how it should be. As the year ends and a new one begins, there is a sense of new beginnings, expectations of much happiness in the new one.

I sometimes sit and think how quickly time has flown. I can still see you being born, bringing you home, those sleepless nights, those first days at school, those bright smiles that awaited my return... you gave my life meaning, opened up a world of possibilities that hitherto I did not have. When we went partying you would cry and cling to our feet in an effort to not allow us to leave. It's been years since you've done that...nowadays you are happiest when we are out and you can do what you please.

I just saw  an old picture of your twin cousins as they slept holding on to each other and it is a real "aw" picture. I shut my eyes and was transported back to when you two tiny souls too could not do without each other. When one woke crying, the other would cry. When one was frightened, the other would call for help. When one was out, the other would moon around, bored, eyes searching for that familiar face. There have even been times when one of you would come crying to our door wanting to get into bed with us. Soon as you were allowed, you'd run and get your sister as well!

Those days are gone, you do not come to our room anymore and a sister is a good punching bag for all your raging teenage hormones and you are fighting most of the time except when you have to gang up against me. I am so used to all your bickering that it's like a constant background noise, much like traffic, only it's indoors.

You both have other friends and shall keep making them. Those friendships will remain, but I also know that one day surely you will look around you and find that your sister's friendship too is one of the most treasured joys because no one really knows you quite like your sister. And you will realise how fortunate you are, to have her by your side.

Coming back to where I was, it's been sixteen years. Yes, Sixteen years that have passed in a flash. In another three years you both will hopefully be leaving home, poised as you are on the threshold of board exams and thereafter college when I hope you will test your wings.

I know you don't do resolutions. A new year is just a time to celebrate, not make weird promises that no one keeps! I do not do resolutions either but as you grow older I just wanted to share some thoughts to live by, (I call them the 5 Cs), some things that may help you if you can fit them into your lives, especially when I won't be there by your side.

1.       Compassion. Be kind to others, specially people who work for you. You know the mess you left your room in? When you returned, everything was back in place. The table and your books were organised too. Someone obviously did that. Appreciate it. Can't find a book? Do not scream at the maid, remember she cannot read.  And  it's not her job anyway, she did it to save you from a scolding. It's your job. Just as it's your job to get a glass of water when you are thirsty. Not sit at one place and scream for the maid to bring you water. The servants are not your chattels. Remember they are here to serve only because they are less fortunate than you. There is no need for you to order them around. Or be rude. And there may be a day when you will not have any maid running circles around you, no driver to take you places either. learn to be self-sufficient. Yes, walk home from school, wash those clothes yourself, clear up after yourself! Once you start doing these yourself, you will find compassion is easy.

2.       Candidness. Above all else, be honest. Speak your truth clearly and do not think that lying will get you anywhere in the long run. In all your actions and dealings be true to yourself. Only then can you be true to anyone else. Ensure you can always walk with your head erect and look everyone in the eye. If you are dishonest, you will not be able to do that. We all make mistakes, learn to apologise for them. No one died of saying "sorry". Accept responsibility for your mistakes. There is no shame in being wrong but there is shame in lying. But let that not blind you to the fact that there is a time and place for everything. Do not gossip or feign affection. Many a time you will be faced with a situation when so-and-so will want to know what so-and-so says or is doing. Hold your counsel, choose your words wisely, so that you do not end up hurting anyone. How other people choose to live is none of your business. Live and let live. 

3.       Condone. Everyone makes mistakes, learn to forgive. It is not easy, but there will be times when you will have kept a relationship alive by a simple acceptance of a softly spoken "I'm sorry." And never make the person saying sorry feel small, tomorrow you may be wearing those same shoes! Most of all forgive yourself. Learn to accept yourself, warts and all. Curly hair is not a flaw. But if you keep using harsh straighteners each time you wash your hair, pretty soon there won't be much hair left to straighten! In any case at the end of the day, remember, what you look like does not matter. It's the person behind those curls that people will care for. People will come and go from your life. But there's one person who will always be there with you: Yourself. So be good to yourself. You will have your bad days and there will be times when you will fail. Face them and make no excuses. One can live with failure but not with excuses that take away your right to fail. Learn to laugh at yourself, learn from your mistakes and move on.  

4.       Consistency. Be sincere in all you do. Whether you are studying or just making a card for a friend, do it well. Whether you are at work or at play, sincerity is the cornerstone to success. There will be times when you will find less hard-working or less-deserving (in your eyes) people will do better than you. Let that not deter you from putting in your best effort. At the end of the day, you will sleep better.

5.       Contentment . One does not need Gucci handbags or Prada shoes or a Lamborghini to be happy. if you can get those, it's good for you. But if you can't, remember happiness can be found in the smile of a friend, a hand to hold, a warm bed to return to at the end of the day. The quality of your life does not depend on the brand of the shoes or clothes you wear. The quality of your life depends on you. You alone can find happiness from your life, be it in a small shared apartment or a mansion by the sea. The key is contentment. A lot of motivators will criticize me for this, "dream big", they say. By all means, dream big... but do not make your dreams your masters. Strive to be happy. Appreciate and be grateful for what you have, the rest of the world will fall in place.

Go then, may 2016 bring you every joy and happiness you deserve. 

May you always have enough.

Always and forever,

Ma

Yes, I am a bully!

My older daughter and I have been fighting a lot lately. The squabbles spill over to the younger one as well. So often enough you have the three women of the house flouncing in three different directions, heads in the air, not on talking terms with each other! No wonder my poor husband, who is painfully out-numbered, runs away each evening to his Chambers.

That said, I must admit it’s not only raging teenage hormones. Often, it is me. Goading them to study, change out of the school uniform (after all they came home from school four hours ago!!), finish the damn milk, clear the study table, clean up the mess they made in the kitchen (I tell you ever since Maggi has come back to the shelves, you won’t believe the amount that has been cooked and consumed by the girls!!!) etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

You see, one child is sitting for her ICSE next February. That’s about 2 months away. Let’s face it. The child in question does not have a brilliant track record. She loathes Science and Maths. But as we all are aware, ICSE has Maths and Science and you need to pass the subjects to clear the ICSE. And only then can you move on to subjects that are more appealing. I’ve said this softly. I’ve said it loudly. I’ve said it lovingly. And I’ve said it angrily. Somehow the penny does not seem to drop. She gazes at me unflinchingly and asserts that she is studying.

You know, I’d love to believe her. And I do believe she thinks she is studying. But do the kids know HOW to study? Are they retaining anything? Do they write things down, do they make notes, do they jot down the important points? More importantly, do they teach these things in school? I don’t know. All I know is that I wander into their room where the girls are purportedly studying and find them both sitting with their legs on the chair, books open in front of them. (I must be a terrible mom: I haven’t even managed to teach them how to sit on a chair! My daughters assure me that even in school everyone sits like that, as if it is some consolation!) Anyway, the table is a mess with books, papers, story books, files and an assortment of pens (obviously without their caps) lying about. Often a glass or mug or bowl of some half-eaten snack is balanced precariously on all that. As they say, if you looked you could find an elephant in there!  How can one study in that kind of an environment? I could ignore all that if I thought they were actually studying. One is cleaning her fingernails with the studiousness of a Buddhist monk. The other has one eye on her new phone (she got her first phone on her 15^th birthday about a fortnight ago) and the other on some card she is making for some friend at school!!! I growl. I confiscate the phone. I take the other one too, for good measure. The girls sit up, yes, yes, they are studying they assure me.

This routine with minor variations is pretty common. Amid all that, often, they are fighting. In our household sibling rivalry has been perfected to a fine art. And the rules are simple. If I can hear them, they are in trouble. I do not care who started it or what she said or did. If I have to get up and go to the room, they are in trouble. So nowadays when they fight it’s like one boom and then silence. There are sounds of frantic whispering and a thud. Sometimes a shriek and “I’m telling!” Then silence. I call out from the next room, “what’s happening?” “Nothing,” comes the prompt reply, in chorus! Often these outbursts end with one child moving to the dining table to study while the other sulks or vice versa... I try not to involve myself. As they say, don’t trouble trouble till trouble troubles you!

Anyway getting back to where I was. Studying. I generally do not panic but as the ICSE looms ahead I find myself worrying. What is good enough? One mother is busy collecting question papers. Another calls to ask what text book is taught in the other school. I run about collecting notes. It looks like only the mothers worry. The little darlings are busy dancing to the fiddler in their own heads to music only they can hear.

And whenever I see my daughter I swear it’s like she has ICSE written in bold neon letters on her forehead. All I seem to say is “go study,” “have you studied?” “are you studying?” or words to that effect. She growls back at me, that’s all she has been doing apparently! She storms off, she doesn’t want to talk to me or so she says! The younger one suffers along with her sister. How can you have one child studying and the other loafing about and watching TV? She has been told to sit at the desk and do something useful. Write an essay or whatever! She sulks. She wants her phone back. I give it, but refuse to turn on the wi-fi. She doesn’t say it but I can see she doesn’t want to talk to me either!  

Truth is, sometimes I tell them to go study and regret it immediately. I think it isn’t fair. I wish I could let them do what they want. I wish I could tell them that ultimately these exams will not matter. In the long run what they do with their lives will not depend solely on their school results or Board Exams. I wish I could tell them that despite that I will keep goading them because I want them to have lives of “choice” and not “chance”. I wish I could tell them that happiness has nothing to do with the grades they get or the subjects they study. Ah no, I can never tell them that. I must be the evil mother, the relentless bullying harridan in their lives. For I know I may not be there to hold their hands forever. And I only wish to ensure that they have the strongest wings so that they can be straight and true when it is their turn to fly.

Do you know where your children are?

Sometimes I look back on my childhood and think we were a privileged lot. Of course, we did not know it then. We had no TV and the lone telephone rarely, if ever, worked. Computers were myths and radios were about the only exposure to a live world outside.

I'll tell you what we did have: we had the outdoors. We had a cycle and a huge garden and a pond and all the freedom to explore every inch. We had earthworms, we had fireflies, we had ladybirds and butterflies. We skinned our knees and wiped away the blood without a thought of running to tell our mother for fear of tincture iodine that burnt like hell and when we fell we never cried out. I remember being chased around the fields by my aged grandfather who wanted to put tincture iodine on a cut, I remember sneaking into the neighboring houses from under the fence and always being welcomed with orange squash, I remember lazy somersaults in the pond, our bodies tanned and black in the summer sun and I remember turning a deaf ear when being called to go indoors because the sun was too hot. We explored the streams near the house, swung from the branches of the Litchi trees and ate raw tamarind and mangoes drying in the sun with our grubby fingers and imagined nobody knew about it. We had the terrace, we had kites, we had the skies and we were our own masters. We had endless hours of making tea out of mud and water and making a mess. We played with our imaginations, and we bent them to our will. Dinner times always had the whole family gather at the table (no exceptions) and we'd  all sit and share our day. There was warmth and there was conversation. Often, there was Laughter... in our lives there was always room for Laughter and I am glad, that even now, he has lingered in my life. Sometimes, after dinner, we’d play chess or scrabble or just read a book. Often, we would go for long walks in the night and my father would point out the stars and I’d gaze at him in admiration and now I desperately try to remember all that he said but I was too self involved to pay attention to back then.

The TV was actually the first intruder in our home. Dinners were accompanied by the news and conversations verged on the (often) boring matters of State. We were, by and large not allowed to switch on the TV at any other time so I grew up unable to appreciate the finer aesthetics of TV serials and shows although I hankered for them after hearing all about it in school, but that is another story.

Foreign holidays were unheard of. We never came home and told our mothers "so and so is going to Spain, again" or, "can we go to Paris, three of our friends are going!" For our holidays we had my maternal grandparents' house in Kanke, we had the garden house in Maniktala and we had Madhupur, famous for its ghosts where we let our imaginations roam wild.... For serious diversion we had the beaches at Puri. Don't get me wrong... we did go on other holidays, we travelled to Lucknow, Agra, Darjeeling, even Kovalam and Kanyakumari but those were later, those came when we were older. The places I describe here are when we were younger and when, come winter, all the cousins would gather round from near and far and just fill the houses with love and happiness and lots of memories.

Now I look at my girls and wonder. Living in a joint family, they do have cousins at hand. They also  have TV which apparently tells them all they need to know, they have social media so they can communicate with their cousins and never have to climb on top of the tank just to share a secret that cannot be heard by others. They have computers that can download information in seconds so they never know the joy of hunting through an encyclopedia. They have cell phones to tell me just where they are and when they reached…hell, we ourselves never knew where our adventures would take us and when we were out, well, we were out. They have SnapChat and Instagrams and weird games, if I ask them to go out and play I may as well be punishing them! They have amusement parks; for us, the annual rickety Ferris wheel at the Park Circus mela at puja time was enough. And candy floss. And if you teamed it up with pop-corn our lives were full! Now pop-corn comes in microwavable packets in an assortment of flavours and any toddler that can reach the microwave will be able to make you some! My girls know all about international immigration and customs but they have never dabbled in the sand at the local stream where the clear water reflects every blade of grass. My girls promptly take off their shoes while undergoing Security check in foreign airports but have never walked barefoot in the soft dew-laden grass at dawn.

Their lives are fraught with dangers, real and imagined: physical punishment or criticism can traumatize them, or so I have been told. In our time we all recall a few well placed slaps that did us no harm, and criticism made us cringe but also made us want to be better. Yesterday I attended a Twitter Chat on cyber safety for kids. How much is too much? How far should we let them go? We have new worries to worry us: too much time on the net, social websites, strangers approaching them online, meeting up with strange people who they have met only online, peer pressure to participate in groups online, the trauma of not having enough 'likes' on a facebook post, the list goes on and on. It's not that the fears have changed all that much, it's just taken on a new name: The Internet. Over exposure to the media shares the blame. Every teenager wants to be as cool as the kids in those serials they watch. Every other child has a boyfriend! Our parents dealt with their fears their way; they warned us about the wolves out there and let us be. There was little else they could do, short of keeping us housebound. Those real fears of  letting the kids out alone, bus rides, accidents, not knowing where the children were going and pedophiles are rampant even today. In fact, I would say it is more of a threat now, "too much traffic, have you heard of the bus accidents? The auto drivers are too rash, so many rape cases!" We dare not allow them out on the streets on their own. So we do the next best thing we can, we give them the internet that opens up worlds for them. We allow them to chat online and leave them be. It's only facebook or twitter or whatever and you hope the friends are all people they know. But can you be sure? Do you know who your child is talking to? Do you know who their friends are? Most of all, yes, I know she is sitting at her desk in front of the computer, but do you know where your child is?  

No, I don’t blame anyone, and as they say, the old order changeth….the new has many wonders too. It’s just that once in a while I wonder where we are headed. A part of me feels sad that my daughters cannot hear the music of the stars and are instead lulled by the song of the air-conditioner. I guess I just feel nostalgic and wish those idyllic days were once more in my fist and I had my entire life to re live them and share them with my kids!

C’est la vie!

Durga Pujas... when Kolkata goes bonkers..

The Durga Pujas are over. The Goddess's short sojourn with her family to her home is over. She has returned to her husband's home in Mount Kailash. As always, her visit, right from the day she arrived, to the day of her departure amid much pomp and fervour is over. On street corners pandals are being dismantled, skeletons peep here and there, some will take longer to remove than others.

I have friends on my TL asking if it's worth it. All the traffic, all the crowds, the pandals that block the road,  the noise, the food stalls, the garbage... is it worth it?

Before I answer that question, let me tell you something. I always, but always make it a point to be away from the city when Durga Puja fever hits Calcutta. You see, I hate crowds. And noise. I particularly detest that shuffle-shuffle of feet interspersed by a cruel hoot of the hooters as they merrily visit the pandals every night full of inexplicable enthusiasm late into the night. I do not understand the cranky sleepy kids being dragged along, or the winding lines in the puja areas. Or the way a child's eye light up as he counts his 18th lion! Or the joy of eating phuchkas laced with the occasional light insect or the lines in front of the ice-cream vans. One relative once asked me, pointing to the crowds in front of the indigenous "Chinese" chowmein outlets that spring up everywhere, "Durga-puja or Chow-Puja, I can't figure it out!" I smile at the thought. I was watching the goddess being taken away from the puja up our street last night. As I watched, safely ensconced in my third floor balcony, I saw a little drummer boy, fast asleep, his body wrapped around his instrument. I wondered then, what is he thinking? Is he dreaming of the money he will rush home to his mother with? Where is his village, how many sisters and brothers wait for his meager income? And how long will it last? That man sitting on his haunches next to the big dhaak with his face in his arms.....does he dream of his family? Or will he spend his earning on cheap country liquor and fade into obscurity, just for this night? My thoughts are interrupted, someone calls out and the resting drummers sprightly rise and begin playing those drums. Dad-da-da-da--dad-da-da...... the base seems to kick start your heart; the smell of incense permeates the air...., a few crackers go off and amid much festivity and noise, the Goddess returns home. Until next year. I sigh. For five days and five nights, sometimes longer this has been going on every day, I'm glad I was away. I retreat.  

Getting back to the question. Yes, it's worth it. For those few days on the roadsides, in the pandals, gorging on bhel and biriyani, everyone's an equal. Everyone looks nice in their new outfits, there is a spirit of camaraderie and celebration.

True, traffic gets clogged. But on the bright side Kolkata Police does an exceptional job to ensure that the huge chunks of cars keep moving. It's hell getting anyplace to anyplace. The malls, the market places and shops are crowded, trying to negotiate your way into a shop  can be disastrous. Half the narrow lanes are blocked with pandals, if you do not know, you can get frustrated trying to back out of the area. Yes, there is cacophony on the road... the river does get polluted for a bit. A lot of people do not like to venture out during this time... or, like me, run away to escape the madness.

But do stop once and think of the larger picture. There are worse things happening in the world and all around us. If, for a few days there is some joy and that is shared...if, in those few days, a dhaki will finally be able to afford the school books his children need, or an artisan is finally able to afford that blanket for his sick mother in a village far away that you have never heard of...... can't we put up with the cacophony and minor inconveniences for a few day? After all, Durga puja is only for a few days every year. Our extravagances on the other hand...... 

...are perennial

. 

Back to the kitchen, ladies...Recipe by special request

Mangshor Jhol (A basic mutton curry)

Growing up, Sunday afternoon meals were, without exception, mangshor jhol time. All hell broke loose if that particular item was not on the table. There could be ilish(hilsa) or koi(climbing perch) or Kankra(crab) of dimer bora(fish egg balls) or any other delicacy but that mangshor jhol could not be missing! All week, we looked forward to it. And in my head I can still see that dining table laid out for a Sunday lunch and imagine the taste of that curry. My Mother was a very good cook. So those of you lauding my culinary skills know where I got it from. That, and my love of food. For I do earnestly believe that unless you love food and are willing to try out different things, you will never be able to make food work for you!

Enough chatter already. An old friend on twitter @monikamanchanda wants that "mangshor jhol" recipe. So here goes.

Disclaimer 1: There are as many ways to make mutton curry as there are Bengali households. In fact my father-in-law made one of the best mutton curries ever. As always, with everything Bengali there are no dearth of opinions. We all have something to say about everything. So you may soon find enough people to say "add a bit of ground poppy-seeds", another will say "what, no mustard paste?", yet another will ask for something else, the list continues. The following recipe is basically a combination of my mother's recipe with inputs and twists as added by my father-in-law.

Disclaimer 2: I am lousy with measurements and do it by eye. So all measurements except that of the mutton is approximate.

Without  further  ado:

MANGSHOR JHOL:

INGREDIENTS:

Mutton, cleaned and washed, medium to biggish sized pieces 1kg

Sunflower/any white oil: I tsp

Mustard oil 1tbsp

Onions 2, medium sized

Ginger 1inch, thick

Green chillies: 2 ( more if you want it spicy)

Garlic; 6/8 pods peeled

Haldi 1 tbsp

Pepper powder 2tsp

Jeera powder  2tsp

Chilly powder 1tsp

Sugar about 1 tbsp

Unsweetened curd 1/3 cup

tomato sauce 2tbsp

Potatoes 3 big size, peeled and cut into halves

Salt  to taste

METHOD:

1.       Make a smooth paste of the onions, garlic, ginger and green chillies.

2.     Take the mutton pieces in a bowl. Add mustard oil and the paste and rub it in. Add salt, sugar, chilly powder, pepper, jira, curd, haldi and tomato sauce and mix well.

3.     Keep aside for at least an hour. If leaving it marinated for longer consider keeping it covered in the fridge.

4.     Take a big pressure cooker. Add the white oil. You can add a bay leaf if desired but I usually do not bother so you will not find it on the ingredient list.

5.      Add the mutton along with all the marinade when the oil is hot. Stir.

6.      As you stir and keep stirring, the mutton will emit a lot of water and juices. Keep stirring. In Bengali this is called 'kosha'. Stir the mutton till all the gravy disappears. This can take some time, be patient.You can also do this part in a non-stick kadai if you want.

7.     Once all the gravy disappears, add about two cups of water, mix it in nicely and cover and pressure cook for about 20 minutes on low heat. I wait for the pressure to blow the first time and then lower the flame and my timing of 20 minutes starts then. By now the kitchen should be smelling of something delicious cooking!

8.      After 20 minutes, turn off the flame and open the cover. For this you can hold the closed lid under a running water tap or whatever.  Add the big aloo/potato pieces. Stir it in. (A lot of people fry the aloo before putting it in the gravy but in my head that's just unnecessary additional oil so I do not fry them). If the gravy looks too dry, add about 1/2 cup water. The gravy must neither be too watery nor too thick.

9.     Close the pressure cooker lid and cook again for 5 minutes on low heat. As soon as 5 minutes are up, turn off the flame and let the cooker sit where it is.

10.   After about half an hour, open the pressure cooker. The meat and aloo should have settled down and you should be having a lovely red gravy. Check seasoning and pour into serving bowls, be certain to take all the gravy. Your mangshor jhol is ready!

11.   More often than not, this is had with steaming rice and a  side salad of cucumbers and onions. It also goes well with rotis or even a chunk of bread!

12.   I'd love to know if this recipe worked for you. Waiting for your feedback

13.   Oh yeah, enjoy!