My Dream Business

That s such a difficult question to answer. My dream business. What would my dream business be? If everything goes well, i would probably be setting up a restaurant and also write cook books for a living.
A restaurant that specialises in Fusion Indian Cuisine. A restaurant named Mojo's, that will create enough magic to tickle many tongues. And then, a few cook books about quick cooking, vegetarian food and Indian food. I would name all my cook books, With Love, Tomato Blues.
So, that s not one but two dreams. But like any other business, my dream businesses would also require meticulous organisation.
And what better way to be meticulous other than using Office 365. With all its cool features, its a boon to new and old businesses alike. I can write away all my recipes to my heart s content and save all of my hard work online using Office 365. No more worries about your PC acting up and kicking the bucket. No more hassles of taking a back up either.
Communication also becomes a breeze with Office 365 because of its VoIP services. And that would be a true gift for my restaurant. Keeping track of clients' palates, new reservations and connecting with the clientele would become simplified. With options like Home premium and Small Business packages, Office 365 is a comprehensive solution to all small scale businesses.
For a cookbook writer like me, photos of food and recipes are very precious. And a 20GB storage on Sky Drive is just the answer for my storage problems. I can click, write and store in a very organised way, thanks to Office 365.
But wait. The best part is yet to come. Brilliance of Office 365 lies in its flexibility. The option to install and use Office 365 in 5 PCs is something that s commendable and indispensable in today s harried world. My computers at home, my restaurant and my office can be easily connected, thanks to Office 365. I need not carry USB devices stored to their brim with data. For, i can easily access all my documents online on Sky Drive.
Now, all i need is a little money and i would be all set to start up Mojo's and  With Love, Tomato Blues.

The First Time Of Many Times

The clock struck seven.
I too had just turned seven.
Friends and folks were everywhere
In the house, for
I was going to cut my first birthday cake.
The knife dug in.
Ma bit the first slice and
Shoved some into my tiny mouth.
I knew there were going to be many more such cakes
But i shall forever treasure
That first cake with the mickey staring into my eyes

It was a rainy afternoon,
When the teacher beckoned me
I only wondered what it could be.
I mean, what could a teacher have to do with me.
I didn't remember being impish that morning.
She took my notebook and flashed her best smile.
And she scribbled a tiny star at the bottom of the page.
I knew there were going to be many more such stars
But i shall forever behold
That first star as though it was a celestial star.

On a hot summer's afternoon,
Daddy came home with a large bottle of fizz
Wrapped in red and lettered in white.
I couldnt contain the excitement
When the liquid bubbled over the glass
As daddy poured it for me to relish.
I knew there were many more such glasses for me to clink
But i shall forever remember
That fizz that felt like a tiny fountain in my throat.

I was taller than most girls in the class.
And a blinker perched gingerly on my nose.
Clearly i was not going to be the object of any one s attention.
May be that s why that glance, that sneaky glance
From that boy from the back
Made me somersault over and over in my head.
I knew there were many more such boys and even more somersaults
But i shall forever hold close to my heart
That first glance, for there shall be no such glance with so much ire.

His first bark was a low gurgle.
Tail all curled up and one ear dog marked,
He came leaping into my house.
He became the friend that i never had.
He also became the sibling that i never had.
And then one day, he chose
To say good bye, silently yet succinctly.
I knew there will be many more such barks
But i shall forever think
Of that first bark for one more that can make me as happy will never come.

A noisy place. They called it a pub.
I  was not very sure if i would like it.
Loud music. Neon lights.
And people screaming.
And then the drink.
One sip and i knew my life has changed for all it s worth.
And by the time that first glass was down to the last dregs,
I had the world in my hand.
I knew there were many more such drinks to gulp,
But i shall forever hold dear that first sip that made the world mine.

A sprightly June it was.
The monsoon begrudged us.
The boy came.
To the wedding hall.
I was to be married
To this boy, whom i had hardly known
For less than a year.
Oh! he had promised all that he had to.
But still 'less than a year' of socialising
Kept appearing like an apparition.
It was time for him
To tie the knot.
He did and all at once
I knew there shall be no more such times.
And that the moment shall be frozen in my memory
For i do not want another such time.
For its this man, first and last in my life.

Cinquain- New Challenges

Change calls
Me to its side
The mulish mind still thinks
That it has a brilliant chance of
Winning..

The Translucent

When Jane arrived at the party, little did she know that her life was going to change forever. He was so transparent that she thought everything was perfect in his presence. It was a typical Summer s afternoon. And they had all been invited to the most happening party in the social circuit. A party at the Rover s house.The who s who of the city arrived in style and flaunted off their stones and Chanels. Every one wanted in on that party. A party where there was no black tie. But a party that offered fun enough for a lifetime. Barbecue and grill were two things that people looked forward to when they came to the Rover House.
Jane was an exception, though. All of 26 years old, strikingly beautiful and  ebullient , she felt she had better things to do than sit and grill chicken and pine apple. She was here at her step father s insistence. Her step father who had shown her a world that was as real as it could get. Jane was a no nonsense woman who worked for child welfare. She campaigned actively against child sexual abuse and child labour and was one of the most noted women in her fields.
So, when Jane made an appearance at the party on that fateful  day, she made more than one head turn. Every one wondered how this socially conscious and righteous soul had found the time to make it to a barbecue party. Mark, her step father came and embraced her in a bear hug. While Jane shared a fabulous chemistry with her step father, she was constantly at loggerheads with her mom. Well. That was life.
The party came to life within a few moments of Jane s arrival. People went crazy. Loud music rocked the grounds and yet all Jane could do was sit and stare at the gentleman who grilled a piece of steak at the far corner. Now, Jane was never the kind of woman who gave second looks to men. But this man was different.
He was having a good time. That she could see. But what she liked very much was the sight of so many children hounding him like he was a Santa. He made them laugh. Tickled them till they had tears in their eyes. He was telling them stories at some point of time. And then he had suddenly changed tack and had started imitating Charlie Chaplin. And the children were eating out of his hands in no time. He even made caricatures of all the kids around him. The children were drawn to him like a magnet. Needless to say, Jane too was attracted to him. Only Jane was attracted to him like a zombie. The happiness was too much around him. She couldnt bear it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mark. He had brought her a glass of wine and some barbecued chicken. Jane immediately realised that she hadnt eaten a morsel since morning and started tucking in hungrily. Mark filled her in on a campaign s progress. And while she ate, her mom came to stand by her side. Jane did away quickly with all the niceties. By the time, Jane had an empty plate and Mark had left, her mind wandered off again to the gentleman. When she turned around to spot him, she could see that all the children had gone off to play musical chair. There was one little girl who stood by his side and looked up to him with sad little eyes.
And then after an instant, the gentleman and the little girl walked away towards the house. Almost as if charmed, she started following him. The little girl was full of questions. She wanted to know where Mr.Trevor was taking her. She then learnt that his name was Mr.Trevor. As to his full name, she was yet to find out. She had made up her mind now to ask him by the end of the party. Of course, her mother would consider this rather unconventional. But then she could rely on Mark for support. While the little girl interrogated Mr.Trevor innocently on Charlie Chaplin, his beard and caricatures, Jane kept up with them and their conversation.
Suddenly, they came to a stop. Outside a locked door. And she could hear Mr.Trevor tell her that he was going to show her some brilliant magic. At this point, Jane s curiosity got the better of her and she followed them to the locked room. By the time, she reached the locked room, they were already inside.And she could hear muffled conversation between the duo.
That was when Jane spotted a window that was slightly ajar. She couldnt resist herself from peeping into see what more magic could this man weave with children. What she saw through that window left her dumbstruck.Surely a man who was such a charm couldnt do this. He couldnt do this to a little girl who had taken him completely in her trust.
She could hear the little girl crying for her mother. She could hear shouts of " I want mommy" between muffled sobs. And she could hear her telling Mr.Trevor to stop removing her clothes. This was not what Jane was prepared for. This surely was not how she imagined her to be. After all  her experience in the distorted world of abused children, she should have heard an alarm going off in her head. But no. She let her emotions get the better of her. And here she was, a witness to one more such instance. For the rest of the world, it was a mere number. A statistic printed on a report. But for her, it was her whole life and all her hard work.
Jane did not hesitate for a single moment. She collected herself quickly and knocked at the door.
A flustered Mr.Trevor came to see who it was. She pushed him aside, went in and scooped up the scared kid in her arms. She was about to run down the aisle when she realised that she did want to know his full name. So she only asked, " What s your name?" An awestruck Mr.Trevor replied back, " Jake Trevor".
She carried a wailing kid down the aisle and silently made a call to the police.
Jane had learnt one more valuable lesson that day. Transparency comes at a heavy cost. And it s ok to have a little translucence in life. Life went on for Jane. Only she dint trust men who drew caricatures for children any more. 

Nonsense!

I goo boo away incoherently

To the rest of the world

It s mere gibberish

My mom finds a

Tiny SuKi in me

A word, a step, a smile

And a nod

All signs of a child prodigy

For my mom.

I raise my hand at arithmetic

To ask if three and four

And six and two are the same

My teacher looks at me

From behind her blinkers

To see if I m still sane

My mom sees a math genius in me

I  dab a red and paint a blue on the corridors

My mom finds it modern and quite like Picaso

I grow up and decide

That I shall advocate right and wrong

The world looks at me and asks

What is wrong with you?

A few friends even give me a second look

But many even refuse to take one.

My mom only says,

"Go on and you will be alright."

Today I m neither advocate nor Picaso.

My world is full of précis and recipes

Punctuated by verbs and frosting.

I told the world what I love

The world did what it is only good at.

What nonsense! It exclaimed.

My mom quietly said,

"Of course! It makes perfect sense."

I wish to get my story published in Chicken Soup for the Indian Entrepreneurs Soul in association with BlogAdda.com This poem is an effort.

How Do You Clear The Mess?

I ve been dormant here for sometime now. I know it. But then, i dont believe in writing a post for the heck of writing it. I shall write only when i feel upto it.
       When i was a teenager, i used to talk. Way too much. Yapping would be more appropriate. And my mother used to try etching a small theory into my mind, Silence Is Golden. I used to ignore it as best as i could. You know, the typical teenager attitude. But suddenly, like out of nowhere, i transformed. My mom s lesson sank deep into me like an anchor of a ship. And i became quiet. Not like i dont talk at all. I am not of one those old fashioned English School matrons. No not in that way. But i choose not to talk when i know that my inputs are going to make a mess.
         It was a difficult task to do in the beginning. After all, when you have chattered on like there s no tomorrow, it becomes an uphill climb to resist talking. But, i learnt eventually and i must say, it has rewarded me well. From the time when i changed till now. It s kept me out of mess beautifully and for that i m immensely thankful to my mom.
         You may ask, how can keeping quiet solve anything? But it s true. There s absolutely no point in talking when you are angry. I remember reading somewhere. What you do in anger can never be right. And it s not like i dont get angry. But the way you tell the world that you are angry makes a heck of a difference. I was the shouting match person. You piss me off and you would get an earful. And i used to love scoring points in the match too. But then, i realised that scoring points in the shouting match was not important at all. What was crucial is scoring the person over. So, it began that way. There was a time i used to get so angry that i never for once thought about what i m talking. Rationality was scarce when anger was abundant. But then, when i began letting go, i realised that i had more people on my side. Ready to love me and have me around. And that feeling was heaven as against the satisfaction of winning a shouting match.
         I must talk about spilt milk here. In my opinion, you can undo anything in the whole word. But you just cant undo what you ve spoken. Once you have said it loud, you have said it and that s that. On the other hand, you are angry and you let it be till the next morning, believe me, the feeling just goes away. You can be sad for sometime but you cant be angry for long. No, that comes with a heavy price and it s very difficult to clear the mess afterward.
          From being a teenager to a jittery new bride to a lazy home maker now, the theory of Silence is golden has taken me to places. Has earned me immense respect.And in the process, lots of love. I cant be in more agreement with my mom now. And if there s a messy conversation, i feel keeping quiet is the best way to clear the mess.

A Cluttered Mind

 I remember reading this quote when i was 13 or 14. " Change is the most permanent phase of life." I was on the transforming spree then, from a kiddo to a teenager who almost knew everything on the surface of this earth. Too proud to accept that i ve not understood the complete implication of the quote. But as i grew up, i realised that, that quote is like the magna carta of life. You cant evade change. No, not even if you manage to become Barack Obama or Angela Merkel or even Michelle Obama for that matter. No man or woman can overcome the hurdles of change in life. No matter what power you can wield.
              You dont need a Ph. D to realise this. Some understand the quote as quick as they can eat a cookie. And some take aeons. I am on that bus ride now. On the way to accepting the reality. Today s world has become a small world. A place where people dont have the time to say hi or smile at each other or give a buzz to a good chum. We dont connect anymore. Of course, we talk. But we dont converse. We can attribute the present state of the universe to a lot of things; technology, science, money, upliftment of standard of living. I mean what not. But on thinking twice, there s this question in my mind. After all, why did someone go to the trouble of doing all this? To stay connected. Or to put it more effectively, to stay bonded.
             Somewhere along the ride to becoming swanky and cool, we ve all lost our sole purpose, to express love. To be lovable. Both are no picnics in life. To love without thinking and without attaching a conditions apply tag is demanding. But to accept such love is also overwhelmingly difficult.The other day, when i was introspecting, i realised that most problems in life occur because one of us dont want to change.  
                Lets say the culprit here is the E guy; ego. Two of us have a problem. One. We dont want to talk about it. Two: In the eventuality that we talk, we dont want to agree with each other. And three; if at all we agree, then we dont want to hold our horses. We ve lost the ability to let go. We want to hang on, carry forward the grudge and then do cartloads of regretting.
              This situation has become the humdrum of everyone s life. Especially a newly married couple. Guy earns a 6 digiter. Gal earns 6 digiter. But do they enjoy the 12 digits put together. No!! Why? I will attribute all this to a cluttered mind. A mind which is full of negativity, too many expectations and added to it, like a cherry on the ice cream, is the back seat driver attitude. If its a marriage, then it s meant to be. It s not a contract signed before God or in the name of the Almighty. It s more like living together bonded forever.
            We must realise that we are not going to live forever. And not everyday and not everyone will volunteer to live with you throughout your life. I ll say the problem begins right there when two people are married and they are so decided that they dont want to change. Ive heard a hundred people telling me that they want to remain the way they are even after they are married. But the truth is you cant be that way. If you are living with a person, then you have to let go a little. Remember, we are all made for adaptation. When you can wear a sweater if it s freezing cold and walk around in floral prints in spring, then you can accept the fact that your spouse does not like Tom Cruise. What s the big deal about that? After all we are made for change.
                The fact that you are trying to alter the course of nature is the crux of the problem. Why is it that we are so fixed about not changing once we tie the knot. Seriously, is it like committing a murder? Some people do portray it that way. Honestly, i was not open to change either. I am a pampered only child who got every demand of hers fulfilled. But i was not taught to be stubborn like a mule or act like a zombie with people around me. All this talk reminds me of one more thing. "Personal Space" is in vogue now. I dont see it going out of fashion anytime soon. Though, God forbid. I wish it does. Since when has man become such a solitary animal? Werent we social animals? If your personal space is so sacred to you, then so it is to your spouse. What applies to you applies to the other too. You are married. That means there are two of you now who are eternal in your life; you and your better half. So there s no point in demarcation of space. In fact the more lines you draw, the more trouble you are in. Erase all the boundaries around you and see how beautiful life becomes.
           I remember reading an article in Reader s Digest. Some one wrote, " i never choose, i let my husband do all the choosing. It s not because he doesnt let me. It s because too many choices make my life complex and there s this immense joy in seeing my husband glow when i m with him" Those words are still freshly etched in my mind. When you have to choose, you complicate. Remember, you made a very good choice. In fact the best choice for your own self. Your spouse. So any choice from that end is definitely not going to be bad. Let go a little. If someone s choosing for you, its surely love that s causing the choice.
                   I dont say, we should live the life of a hermit. I only tell, we should become less demanding, less expecting and more giving. It s a wonderful thing to be on the giving end. And if at all the change is for good, then what s the harm? By good, i mean happiness and peace of mind. Money, material and luxury are all mere wants. Its needs that matter. And the need of the hour is to love and to be loved. For that, we need to unclutter our mind. I am painfully aware that unclutter is not a word but i m unable to find one more which best expresses me. So lets let go, and clear the clutter.

Cheers,
Anu

Chronicles Of A Harried Consumer ~ Indian Railways

Indian Railways is the largest employer in the world according to some statistics. But are these statistics of any use? What are they trying to drive home? That they are providing employment to thousands is really appreciable. But in the midst of all these meaningless statistics, have we ever tried to gauge efficiency? You may argue that terms like efficiency and versatility are relative. I dont agree. Then we should not be comparing mobile phones and tablets. The indian railways is the most used transport system in our country. The poor man s airways. That s how a famous politician called it. Someone even came up with another bit of bootless statistics: One third of the indian population travels on trains at any given time.

Looking at all these facts, shouldnt it be natural that Indian Railways be the most effective organisational community? But no, i cant be more wrong. My experiences with the IRS has always been on the unpleasant side . Try as i might to look at the sunny side of the situation, i m pulled back to the same point where i begin everytime i take a train. Why is the whole system so flawed despite having a whale of an indian population on its payroll?

I am forced to think: Why are the toilets so dirty? Why doesnt the fan work on local trains? Why do we have profanity scribbled on toilets and seats? These are just the beginning of the circle of questions in my head.  My in laws took a train this morning to Chennai from Vadodara. Needless to say, that distance is bound to cause some flurry in old people travelling. Thanks to Indian Railways, the travel began on a very nasty note. They were assigned HA1 compartment. But God forbid, it took us 10 mins to figure out where the coach is. The train departed the station within 12 mins of arrival. Ask the T.T.E, the elite ticket examiner, he irresponsibly shrugs me by showing a hand towards a coach at the far corner. I go there and i see a First Class painted boldly on the coach sides. No PNR charts, no coach display boards. How on earth am i supposed to figure out where coach HA1 is? God bless the soul of a very generous porter who had the smartness to tell me that the coach which the T.T.E pointed to is half 1A.C and half H.A1. The conductor who is assigned to a coach to do this simply seemed to have disappeared. The T.T.E who enjoys a multitude of concessions from the government for rendering his very valuable services shrugged me off impatiently.At the end of the day, its only an illiterate but responsible and good hearted porter who guided us. That s how much the whole system is screwed. And believe me i ve only started.

No one is complaining that you are charging so much. So charge a lil more but give us some nice service. Why does the conductor vanish off the surface of the already stinking train just when it is so obvious that everyone boarding the train s going to need some guidance? And the nerve of him to come and ask for a tip when i m alighting the train. A hundred bucks more on my ticket will definitely not hurt me as i m travelling on second A.C but if you dont treat me well, i m definitely going to be put off. Especially if you are getting paid with the money that i m paying towards the ticket. If its A.C it has to be A.C throughout the journey. I think that much is clear. So why does the A.C go off mid journey. Am i eligible to claim money back for travelling very uncomfortably in a stuffy coach for the half of my journey? How does the conductor manage to do that alone in perfect sequences? Why does the loco pilot never bother to keep in mind the coach position that s put up on platforms? Why are the waiting rooms infested with swarms of mosquitoes? Its not going to take millions of rupees to have the coach name painted on trains.  These are just some of the teeny weeny battles that i ve had to combat during my journey on an Indian train.

Now coming to the dirty toilets and profanity part. Why does the urge to mess a public utility service crop up in every individual? It s after all our trains. There are people like us travelling on the trains. So it s our responsibility to flush the toilets and to refrain from damaging fans, mugs and switches. The railways cant do much if you cant contribute in your own little way. We give lectures on how important women are and how much we respect them. But we are all hypocrites who like scribbling profane graffiti on toilets in trains and behind bus seats. That s how much we respect our women. Arent we all walking epitomes of hypocrisy?

We will never have clean trains and a perfectly functioning Indian Railways until we realise that people are paying for their tickets and they deserve decent service in return. And that the railways is but ours and that we also have a duty to keep trains clean.

The next time we all board a train, lets strive to make a difference to everyone s journey. Lets wait in a queue to board or alight, lets not spit on the platform, lets flush the toilets and most importantly, lets remember not to damage or steal anything.

Lets Give A Little

Its been a month. I ve read 3 books since but haven't had the time to write a review. Other things on mind. No, i m not writing a book review today. I had a blissful and an unexpected holiday. Unadulterated quality time with amma, daddy and my dog for a week. But time does not stand still. I had to get back. I was travelling on the train from the made over Coimbatore to the culture hub Baroda. Takes an agonizing 34 hours. Seems sinful to waste such time sometimes. At the end of 12 hours, one keeps checking the watch hour after hour. Gets bored and starts observing people around. That s just what i did. I had a nice friendly family with me. Exuberant 12 year old son and a very gratified 16 year old daughter back from a joshing vacation. A bubbly mom of 2 and a wonderful father.
                                                 I was getting bored. My feet were itching to alight the train and walk the length of the platform by the 20th hour. But i remembered my mom's affectionate admonitions. I resisted and continued watching the people. Just when i was wondering why some people choose to swear in public ( upon overhearing the conversation in the next bay. An angry young man threatening someone at the other end. God knows who!!), this bit of talking between the Exuberant Kid and The Bubbly Mom caught my ears.
                                                   The conversation goes something like this,
Mom( looks out the window)- " Beta(son), look there s a train on the other track.
Son-" Train is empty ma."
Mom-" I think they are going to clean the train"
Son-" Where will an empty train go?"
Mom- " The train will move once its cleaned and ready. Lots of people will use the train. Trains are cheaper and comfortable beta"
Son- " They should probably plant some bombs on the train while its empty. ( Roars with laughter) Many people will die( Again laughs his head off.)
Mom- Laughs ridiculously and tells me," My son is so funny"
The conversation rang in my ears throughout my journey. All along, i was thinking, " Have we any value left for human life?" And i was scared of the answer that stared right up at me. I knew it was a no. I found it hard to accept. This unjustified killing or rather organised massacre of lay people is so not hunky dory. Ok that said and done, is it ok to laugh out loud on a bomb blast? From where did the idea of planting hideously perilous explosives come to the mind of a 12 year old? I mean, is that where we are heading to? Aren't we supposed to nurture better human beings? Have we digressed so much that we ve forgotten to teach our kids the value of life? The value of anything at all. We have stooped down to immeasurable depths in terms of integrity, love and trust.
                      I was left dumbfounded. And it did not stop there. The family carried enough food to feed some 6 people. And still, they bought everything on the train. The daughter simply refused to eat the biriyani that her father affectionately bought. Reason- colour is not so great. They probably wasted food that could have filled another two stomachs. That kind of thing was not admissible when i was sixteen. I am twenty five today and its still not acceptable to me.
                         We are a generation of people who take things for granted. A spawning of homosapiens dunked neck deep in technology, passion for power and conceit.All we think of is us. All we want is the best for us. We simply refuse to accept that there are less fortunate people among us who do not have the appurtenance of eating three meals a day. We are blind to the bitter truth that there are many among us who will pay an arm and a leg to sleep in that cozy bed of ours. We simply don't appreciate the little things in life granted to us without even a pee-wee of an effort. We see terrorist attacks as a platform for discussing our voting prerogatives. We don't think that one among us could have been in that carnage.
                               Its time we all grew out of our "Cool And Hep Selves". Its time we saw beyond I Phones, Facebook, Pizzas and Expensive Fishing Holidays . Its time to stop and think about people around us. It s time we all came of age and share a little of the excess we have all accumulated. Someone s always out there to benefit from that teeny weeny excess. So this year, lets all give and live. The giving need not be material. You can give love, warmth, understanding, why, even a little bit of your happiness. We need not be Mata Haris to do that, do we??

The Particular Sadness Of A Lemon Cake- Aimee Bender

             The Particular Sadness of A Lemon Cake is all about feelings in food. That s what hooked me onto this book. The book is a story on how little Rose Edelstein bites into a piece of lemon cake made by her mom for her birthday and feels the empty feeling in her mom. Rose goes on to empathise with others through the food they make. It becomes unbearable for her to go on feeling what others feel. A young Rose does not want to feel when she eats and only wants to enjoy the food. But eventually she learns to live with her ability.

              Aimee Bender has done a marvellous job when it comes to Rose Edelstein. But her characterisation of the brother Joseph only leaves you muddled and confused. The frequent disappearances and appearances of the brother makes you want to think that he s a delinquent kid but she has not done a great job in convincing you that he is. Looks like Bender herself is in tangles about Joe s life.
                When it comes to all the other characters, Bender has done a great job. She has depicted the Father and the Mother realsistically. Parents and more adults who do not want to wake up to the greater predicaments of life.Joe s friend George is the ideal guy in the book and scores well with whoever is reading. An endearing character.
                  Rose s growing up and learning to fight with the world is well penned but Aimee Bender could still have done better in those tantrums and hopelessness. She could have included a little bit of fun and happiness in a young Rose.
               On a closing note,The Particular Sadness Of A Lemon Cake is at some places too sweet and some places too sour. Like a cake whose batter has not been mixed well.