Killing them softly

 

Two & half years of incessant vaccination jabs has ended. It's time to rejoice by licking every bit of dust & dirt, from window panes to bathroom tiles. Let's give 'em viruses and bacteria - kiss of death.
 

Bespoke Maayboli

A little earlier before Nihira was born, our cable TV subscription came up for renewal.The choice was quite easy; with a baby in our midst, we had no illusion of getting any free time in foreseeable future. We chucked the set-top box out of our life & disconnected the cable feed. From the day Nihira was born, we made a  conscious effort to keep her screen time to bare minimum. Such is the world that we live in, a day will come in future when she will evolve into a digital zombie. But till that inevitable happens, we are determined to slow down her descent into virtual doom. For now, she is just a kid & there is whole wide world out there for her to discover.

The only time we gave her some leeway & switched the TV on ( with free to air channels ) was during the Rio2016 Olympics.  It was a spectacle which we wanted her to witness & possibly develop some liking for sports. That one off exposure to TV made Nihira believe that TV is something which you watch Olympics on. Long after the games wrapped up & our TV went dead again, there are days when Nihira points to the TV and says "I want to watch Olympics" ?! Well Missy has to wait 4 long years.

One immediate offshoot of  this 'screen-free-childhood' endeavour saw Nihira gravitating towards the world of books, stories & hands-on play with kids in the neighbourhood. Once in two weeks Dipali takes her down to the public library in our neighbourhood. She associates the library as a fun place & has favourite series of children's books which she never gets tired of browsing. Getting her to return the library books back, becomes a big exercise of emotional turmoil as she rarely wants to part with her favourite books.

At home, whenever she gets bored, she drags us to our bookshelf and points to her collection of books. She can't read on her own yet; but she has 2 dedicated human readers in me & Dipali at her beck & call. Thanks to hundreds of hours of our reading sessions, she can now recite nursery rhymes, bits & pieces of stories through sheer aural memory (as most kids of her age do)
  
Another thing which we instilled quite early with Nihira was the use of mother tongue in our day to day communication. It was a natural choice as neither me or Dipali are fluent in the Queen's language & we usually stutter & splutter along the way while conversing in English. Although the world that Nihira will grow up in ( be it Singapore or India or elsewhere ) will see less and less usage of Marathi, still the language remains a vital connection to her geographical roots. More importantly, it makes it easier for her to communicate with her grand parents. She now speaks immaculate Marathi, for her age group. Her English is still work in progress . Quite often she mixes both Marathi & English together with intriguing effect .

The other night she picked up a Marathi story book and although she can't read per se, she starting mouthing  off the words as if she is reading them off the pages of the book. She read aloud -

"One day Yash said, Baag'eit yetos kaa ??" !!

She confidently rambled on in a stitched-up language of her own. I smiled silently in the background, trying not to make her conscious of the verbal khichdee she was pakav'ng all by herself. The context of the sentence was correct, the story begins with a kid asking his friend to accompany him to park. She started off with clichéd opening line from an English language story and midway through the sentence switched to perfectly worded Marathi sentence! I guess we, as her vocabulary coach are to blame by mixing our own speech with the 2 languages, without making clear distinction between the two. Not surprisingly, she emulates the same with rather dubious outcome.

On yet another occasion, she was speaking into her toy phone. After seemingly wrapping up her call, she handed me the phone saying,

"Baba, take phone. Done boll'ing"

It took me a while to register what she meant by boll'ing.

For now, we are not trying to correct her bespoke maayboli. With time, she is going to learn and fix the mistakes herself. Till that happens, she continues to fill our days with unintended laughter and much needed cheer by her peculiar brand of verbal gymnastics.

Lost in translation

Maayboli                    : mother-tongue
Baag'eit yetos kaa      : are you coming to the park ?
Khichdee                   : mishmash (contextual meaning)
Pakaav'ng                  : cooking / conjuring (contextual meaning)
Boll'ing                      : speaking (definition valid only for 2 yr old demographics)
 

Bathroom Nazi (Junior) - Prequel

It's late evening, I come  home from work, sweating like a pig & in desperate need of a cold shower. But no, that would mean my daughter would miss 5 whole minutes of playtime with Baba.  In no uncertain terms she announces: "Baba.. No bushooo, ok ?" ( babyspeak : bushooo = bath ). Of course, I am well prepared for this, so the negotiations begin.. "No Bushoo, but I will just change into this towel ok ? No bushoo, I promise!" She looks sceptically, but agrees & gives me an inch. I stare at the bathroom door longingly, & think of next move.. " I will do half bushoo ok. ?? Just splash water on my face & wash hands ?? Is that fine ? ". I make it sound like a genuine plea & not some kind of trick. She agrees conditionally. "Ok Baba, but leave the door open.. NO LOCK". Check & mate.. I am losing this battle unless I can think on my feet & outdo her. That's when pure inspiration strikes. I step inside bathroom & make big hooo-haa. "Nihira, LOOOOK there is big big cockroach.. I must catch it quickly, else it will run outside & hide inside your diaper bag !!".. That clinches the deal ( for today at least ), without waiting for her answer, I close the bathroom door firmly shut & to make the lie sound like absolute truth, I make all kinds of violent sounds as if I am battling a real grizzly bear & not some make believe cockroach. As I turn the shower to full blast & bask in my small victory.. I can hear Nihira squealing & making a dash to the living room, bragging to her mum about her Baba's heroics.

Pre-Diwali Cleanup & Gift Ideas

It's morning time & I am rushing through my daily ablutions. As usual, I get interrupted in shower by loud banging  on the bathroom door.

"Baba, are you inside ?"

I try my best not to respond to my daughter's prying question & cut down all noise inside the shower.

"Baba.. Baba... I KNOW you are inside.. Baher Gammat aahe !  Quick open door".

I meekly relent and open bathroom door.  I ask her in feigned excitement "Kaai Gammat aahe ?"

"Come outside, the Gammat is outside"..
"Ok let me atleast dress up quickly.. Why don't you step outside while I get dressed ?"
"No, I will stay here to help you. Here take this Shirt.. this is nice."

She points to one shirt which is favourite of her, as I had worn it on her birthday. That was in April, now it's October. Yet, each and every day since April, she insists that I wear just that ONE shirt everywhere.  I workaround this daily request using one of the several excuses that I have mastered by now & slip into Tee & Trousers of my choice. Not giving me any time to comb my hair , she drags me outside to show something which is tickling her fancy since she woke up.

"Look Baba, the sofa is doing Booshooooo!!"

I look at our bare sofa, which has it's covers removed in run-up to Pre-Diwali cleanup. Kids ! they get excited even at the sight of a bare sofa.. Ofcourse I don't have the innocence of a 2 year old or luxury of time in the morning rush, as the clock ticks past 8:40am, still I let out a gasp of surpise and join her in wonderment at sofa taking bath.

I collect my backpack & am anxious to escape to the childfree world, outside. Alas ! I see Nihira dragging her own trolley backpack. She stops me in my path.

"Baba, I am going office too. Here, help me put on my bag. It's heavy".

I relent again, knowing fully that I have ran out of time & am gonna absolutely positively be late to work. But I help Nihira to strap up her bag. She makes one round circle in our living room & comes to rest, yet again in my path, as I am putting my socks.

"Baba, office finish jhaala.. Help me remove bag"

I am no longer questioning anything, I do as ordered. Give her a quick peck on cheek , both to her and her mom & am ready to to bid bye-bye. Dipali, her mum, is of course around all this while, but doesn't interrupt Nihira from interrupting me,  these precious few minutes is all that Nihira is gonna get to spend with her dad in the rushed morning.  So Dipali is stepping off the pedal, and allowing Nihira to lay her claim on her 'dad time'. But try telling that as an excuse to your office HR, for turning up late for work 9 out of 10 days. I have tried, and it didn't cut any ice.

"Baba, Aai is doing Diwali clean-up.. We will put up Kandeel on Diwali" .

She continues with her early morning observations & discovery, as I am putting on my shoes. Her mum asks, "Nihira, tell Baba what gift you want for Diwali ??

"Gift ? Baba.. I want a maasse for Diwali..."
" A mask for Diwali ??" , I try to decipher her jumbled-up words.

"No No No, I want a mouse for Diwali !!"

Now it's my turn to smile listening to this new Gammat. Seems like I will be celebrating a cheap, clean & environment friendly Diwali. If any of you happen to spot a tiny little mouse scurrying around your neighbourhood, please ping me. I would do the catching and gift-wrapping myself. 


Lost in translation
Gammat : Fun/exciting stuff
Booshoo : Bath
Kandeel  : Lantern

Bhaag.. Bhaag.. Monday Blues

Watched Delhi Belly. I saw it on a typical Monday evening (7:35pm show). There is nothing more uplifting than chucking work at 6pm DOT on a Monday & heading out for a movie. It's perfect antidote to drive away those dreary Monday blues. What's more, it's easy on the wallet as well. The weekday shows are priced couple of dollars cheaper than the weekend shows & also the crowd is much much less.

Jade Cinema is the lone single screen theater which plays Hindi movies in Singapore. My office is just few blocks away from Jade. After a quick lunch at Subway, I had plenty of time to kill.. so I sneaked out to Jade & booked 2 tickets. The lady at the booking counter politely asked - "Any children ??". I blushed a shade of pink & replied "Not yet !". My coyness didn't impress her any bit. She looked annoyed and raised her voice to tell me in no uncertain terms - "(Bose D.K. !!) the movie is rated R18. Kids not allowed". I realized my folly and quickly reassured her that the tickets are meant for 2 responsible and rapidly aging adults.

It's evening now, I meet my wife & we head for a relaxing early dinner at Mumbai Cafe Xpress. This Indian restaurant is located smack in middle of the Central Business District area. On a weekday, at 6:30 pm it is practically empty. No! make that, it is completely empty. Throughbred desi's never eat dinner until it's well past 9pm. As a proof to this peculiar trait, there is not a single soul in sight. We are their first and only customers for the evening. We get to pick and choose our seats. But good well mannered middle-class folks that we are, we decide to sit at a cramped table for 2 instead of hogging the 4/6 seater tables. Dinner menu is : Bhel Puri , Schezwan Fried Rice & Iced Lemon tea. We eat to strains of "Dil boley Shickdoom ShickDoom" played on the 3/4 wall mounted TV's . The theme of decor is "Bollywood" . The walls are adorned with framed posters of blockbuster movies like "Kaalia", "Swades", "Murder" et al, with a huge blowup of Aishwarya Rai gazing menacingly down at the diners. The walls are painted garish purple. The chairs are garish purple and the menu card (yes, you guessed it right) is garish purple. The kitschy ambiance is perfect to get us in the mood for Bollywood kitsch, that's soon to follow.

Dinner done with, we head to the theater. Much to our surprise, we discover that it's packed to the rafters. Seems like the Monday blues phenomenon has well & truly developed into a full blown pandemic !

Soon the lights go out & the screen lights up. The movie credits fade in with some moody shots of inanimate objects inside a room :

- a spluttering rusty tap
- unwashed dishes
- grimy Chinese takeaway menu stuck next to the phone
- posters of half naked ladies adorning dusty walls

In short : general filth fills up the screen.

With the mood thus set, we get to witness a "first of it's kind" shot in commercial Hindi cinema - A butt crack shot !

Sorry, no other ways to describe it, but just that ! The camera lingers for a few leisurely frames on an unkempt manly butt.

Cut to reality.. Jade theatre..

Right on cue, upon seeing the butt filling up the screen, a lady sitting in row behind us says to her hubby "Kitnaa natural dikhaa rahey hein na sabkuch ?".

Well truth be told, things can't get any more natural than a man's butt cleavage creeping out of boxers while being fast asleep! Till then I had not warmed up to the movie. I was dreading for yet another Hindi comedy movie where the audience and I laugh out of sync. But that one succinct observation from the lady set the mood, it tuned me to the laugh track that everyone was laughing to. From that moment on the rest of the movie was a blast.

So dear wise lady in the back row - Thank You. Thank you for making Delhi Belly doubly enjoyable. Cut.

Dreams Interrupted

It's Sept 2008. I am in Shanghai for a short 1 week official trip. My visit coincides with the annual staff dinner for our China operations. I get pulled in for the dinner at a quirky Japanese restaurant (Kimono adorning hostesses, et al). As luck would have it, I get seated across an excitable young girl with an omnipresent smile & a mischievous twinkle (or perhaps naive mixed optimism) in her eyes.

We had got acquainted just couple of hours before (in office). In fact, she had introduced herself to me when our paths crossed across the office bulletin board. I was the odd man out, what with being the only Indian in a predominantly Chinese workforce. Perhaps that piqued her curiosity which made her to walk up to me & say "Hi, I am Luna Z". She wondered if I had joined newly ? & in the same breath she eagerly told me that it was her 2nd week in the job. She was still studying (or rather was waiting for her graduation results) & had joined as a trainee (that explained her enthusiasm alright). Introductions over, we split only to find our self seated across each other later in the evening.

Her first reaction was "It's you, AGAIN!". The very fact that I am a vegetarian tickled her fancy to no end. All through the evening, she kept piling meat based stuff on her platter & each time she would ask me.. "You can't even eat this ?" "So sad.. It's so tasty you know" "Are you sure ?". She felt genuinely sad that I had to limit myself to eating salads, corn , mushrooms & few samplings of tempura. She told me that she was an avid traveller. But being a student, most of her travels were limited within China. In a wistful manner she said she dreamt of travelling overseas, with India & Europe being her dream destination. In the same breath she asked me what are my dreams ? The ever so honest guy that I am, I told her in a matter-of-fact tone - "I am not a dreamer. I don't have any dreams or grand plans in life" .

She seemed genuinely concerned & crest-fallen upon hearing my rather dour outlook towards life. On seeing her stricken face, I regretted not coming up with some fake dreams just to make her feel nice or at least not to come across as a morose pessimistic guy. I rarely get singled out for conversations by young girls. And yet here I was, in intimate conversation with a single girl in a foreign land and I am making no attempts whatsoever to leave a positive imprint about myself.

Anyways, the conversation soon veered to the places to visit while I was in Shanghai. She briefed me on the must-see places. The evening ended soon. Needless to say, it was her conversation & pleasant company which left a lasting impression on me more than the Japanese food or the restaurant ambiance.

True to her words, next day she handed me a hand written note on which she had dutifully written down places to visit (in English - for me , in Mandarin - for Cabbies). The 1 week tour ended & I was back in Sg. We continued to be in touch through AOL. On many a mornings, she was the first person to greet me, as soon as I logged in at my workplace. During some of our recent conversation, she had voiced her frustration on not being able to speedup the steps leading to marriage with her BF (college sweetheart) . Now that she & her BF had settled jobs, she was keen on taking the next logical step. The BF on the otherhand wanted to follow the current trend of marrying after crossing 30. He wanted to cling to his single life a bit longer.

Things started to look up in early December 2009, she mentioned that her parents were coming to Shanghai to visit her BF's parents. The proverbial "meet the parents" anxiety had gripped her. This was a significant step, it seemed that finally things were falling in place with the BF relenting & the parents agreeing to meet. As the year end approached , I got caught up with the year-end closing rush in our office & I didn't get chance to check what transpired at the parents meet.

The new year dawned, and last week I got a mail from our HR based in Shanghai, with the subject line "Passing away of Luna Z" . Knowing the penchant for weird usage of English language by our Chinese counterparts, I thought maybe this is another such case where the writer means something (in Mandarin) & writes something else (in English). I started reading the mail casually. With each successive line I felt a cold wave sweeping across my heart. It was mail informing that Luna Z was found dead from gas poisoning in her apartment over the weekend. Her 2 flatmates also died tragically along with her. A quick google search confirmed that accidental deaths from gas poisoning is commonplace during harsh cold winters in China.

A young life nipped in the bud just when she was on the verge of realizing a long cherished dream. Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised that she must have been busy conjuring more dreams in her sleep, when death interrupted her cruelly & swiftly. Rest in peace Luna & never stop dreaming.

Isolation

"Only in relationship can you know yourself, not in abstraction & certainly not in isolation" - J Krishnamurti

Where : Bugis, Singapore

When : 25th Jul 2009

City Without A Horizon

So Biju lay on his mattress and watched the movement of the sun through the grate on the row of buildings opposite. From every angle that you looked at this city without a horizon, you saw more buildings going up like jungle creepers, starved for light, holding a perpetual half darkness congealed at the bottom, the day shafting through the maze, slivering into apartments at precise and fleeting times, a cuprous segment visiting between 10 & 12 perhaps, or between 10 & 10:45, between 2:30 & 3:45. As in places of poverty where luxury is rented out, shared, and passed along from neighbor to neighbor, its time of arrival was noted and anticipated by cats, plants, elderly people who might sit with it briefly across their knees. But this light was too brief for real succor and it seemed more the visitation of a beautiful memory than the real thing.

- extract from "The Inheritance Of Loss" , Kiran Desai

Where : Suntec City, Singapore

When : 25th April 2009

Instutionalized

"These walls are funny. First you hate 'em. After long enuff , you depend on them. That's - instutionalized. "

- Frank Darabont, "The Shawshank Redemption"

Where : An overbridge across Pan Island Expressway, Singapore
When : 18th April 2009

Vigilante

"I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed & that I stood next to you like this ?"

- 'Norwegian Wood' , Haruki Murakami

Where : Sultan Mosque, Singapore

When : 12th April 2009

Evanescence

"Beauty is the eye discovering in our world what the mind already knows."

- 'My Name Is Red' , Orhan Pamuk

Where : Thian Hock Keng Temple, Singapore
When : 11th April 2009

Darkness

"The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out under you. And once that happens, you've had it : things'll never be the same. All you can do is go on living alone down there in the darkness."

- 'After Dark' , Haruki Murakami

Where : Some obscure park off Potong Pasir, Singapore

When : 4th April 2009

Solitude

Little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth.

For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures,

and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.
- Francis Bacon

Where : Fort Canning Park & some obscure park off Potong Pasir, Singapore.

When : 4th April 2009

Mind Over Matter

After months of deliberations, I finally jumped onto the DSLR bandwagon. The pics you see here are from my first outing with Canon EOS 1000D. I had a particularly awful night on Friday. My acidity flared up & it kept me awake throughout the night. Had 2 bouts of forced retching ( vaman dhauti) one at 3am & another at 6am. The easiest option was to stay at home & mope (like I always do) and put off the picture taking outing to another day. But i didn't, hence the title 'mind over matter' . Just took a quick shower , drank cold chocolate milk (to pacify the acids) & left home at 7:30am. Though the pics are nothing to shout about but I am happy just the same to have gotten over my inertia.

Sprite - Seedhi Baat - No Bakwaas

It's another dreary afternoon in office. I am killing time & in turn time is killing me. In between all of this mayhem I am browsing rediff. I see a link which says "Chat with Kalki Koechlin". In a blink of an eyelid i don the nick of "sg-fanboy" and jump onto the forum which is already swarming with thousands of fanboys like me. I see desperate shouts like "Mam, please atleast say Hi to me". I pray that I don't end up with a plea like that loser & quickly start drafting a question in my mind. Something which would make her notice me, without resorting to blatant flattery.

It seems like my stars were aligned favorably as Kalki (or whoever was moderating the forum) deemed my queries (yes, 2 of them) worthy enough for reply. Here'z a cut 'n' paste for posterity..

+ + + + + + + + +
Sg-Fanboy asked, Hi Kalki, the scene in which you are seen coloring Abhay Deols face in the balcony.. what is it meant to signify ?

Kalki Koechlin answers, It was improvised at the shoot, it was kind of a reflection of how Chanda and Dev paint on happy faces when there's so much pain going on inside.
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Sg-Fanboy asked, What was the need of re-interpreting Devdas story ? Minus all the gloss , it is still a very simple & linear story. IMHO, a talented guy like Anurag should use his energies on telling new universal stories. The kind of stories which would bring an Oscar home. Dev-D is totally India centric.. don't you think so ? AK is meant for bigger stuff.

Kalki Koechlin answers, It is India centric. But it's a step for Indian cinema, I think this allows him to do bigger stuff.
+ + + + + + + + +

There was a 3rd question which I slipped through shamelessly.
+ + + + + + + + +
Sg-Fanboy asked, Will you be my Valentine.. plz plz say Yes.. (lie if you must, but say Yes)
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Unfortunately, it didn't make the cut. One would hardly blame me, for being so blunt. At my rapidly advancing age, I am entitled for little bit of desperation. Sprite, "Seedhi Baat. No Bakwaas". That is my mantra for finding everlasting love, in 2009.

Cheers to me & my never ending singledom.

p.s : Happy Valentine's day to all of my loyal readers & disloyal valentines.

Mann-waa Ko Algolagnia Hui Gawaa

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Sadism refers to sexual or non-sexual gratification in the infliction of pain or humiliation upon or by another person. Masochism refers to sexual or non-sexual gratification in the infliction of pain or humiliation upon oneself.

Sadists desire to inflict pain; this may or may not be sexual in nature. Masochists desire to receive pain, which again may or may not be sexual. The simple physiological enjoyment of pain is technically known as algolagnia.

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Interior – Movie Theatre – Night

One by one the lights go off. The opening montage of a movie starts unfolding on screen . A female voice can be heard on the soundtrack. A typical modern day easy paced melody with techno beats.

Tum Se Mohabbat Kar Lu.. Ji Bhar Ke aye ye ye
Poori Hasrat Kar Lu.. Ji Bhar ke.. aye ye ye

Everything is normal. Majority of the audiences have settled in their seats. Late comers are stumbling and feeling their way to their seats (**Ouccchh, mera peir baapu.. Meraa Peir **). The female voice fades out from the soundtrack, and a distinctly familiar male voice fades in..

Nazronnn Meinn Teri Kashish Ka Aalamnnn..
Dil Meinn Heinn Armanonn Ki Sargamnn

There is no mistaking that voice, its him alright. It's HIMesh – the high octave – Reshamaiyya. Spontaneously the whole theatre erupts in a cacophony of whistles, cat calls, doggie howls, clapping, hooting, hysterical screaming. People who were perfectly sane just few minutes ago, are now behaving like inmates of some mental asylum on a full moon night.

I have witnessed such scenes only once before in Singapore. The setting was same, interior of a theatre. The person who was making people behave irrationally was one gentleman with the name Sivaji Rao Gaekwad, and the movie was Baba. Now I am not much of an expert on Tamil cinema, but I reckon it must have taken Rajni few years to achieve that kind of cult status. But here is a guy (Himesh) who is getting that kind of mass adulation in only his 2nd movie! There has to be some logical explanation to the phenomenon that Himesh has become in such short span of time. While pondering seriously for 48 hours after watching Karzzzz, and after discounting several theories, realization dawned on me :

“Arey Mann-waa Ko Algolagnia Hui Gawaa"

I am predicting Karzzzz to sweep all major categories of Filmfare awards.Apart from the obvious best actor in a leading role, best playback singer, best music composer et all there are 2 other categories where it is gonna come up trumps:

Film-Fare for Best Costume Design / Makeup Artist

Himesh flies down to Kenya in a helicopter to meet his lady love. True to his Mumbaiyaa roots, he is seen hanging outside with the door open in mid-air, much same way as people hang out from local trains in Mumbai. The high point of this scene soon follows when the chopper lands near a lake where his gal is having a stand-up antakshari session. Without missing a beat the girl rushes in Himesh’s arm and they embrace right beneath the chopper.

You might wonder what has this scene got to do with costumes & make-up ? Well if you are watching this movie on DVD, I would request you to pause & rewind the scene and watch carefully again. The blades are rotating at full tilt, the grass is swaying wildly under the influence of turbulence, but guess what ? Himesh’s wig is firmly in its place. Blimey! it doesn’t fly off. Such fine display of craftsmanship has not been seen on screens since Bhanu Athaiya won Oscar for designing dhotis and scull cap for Baapu.

Film-Fare for Best Dialogues

Himesh is sitting poolside with a Apple Mcbook on his lap. Apparently he is busy composing a new tune ( “Pappu can’t type saala”) . A girl in bikini wades out of pool & walks up to Himesh and says with utmost sincerity ,

“Hi, Handsome”

Classik. There was not a single soul in the theatre who didn’t 'get' this dialogue. It almost brought the roof down. Err, almost, cause the roof shattering dialogue was to come bit later.

Urmila and Himesh are in middle of jungle. Himesh is trying to convince her that he is indeed a re-incarnation of Ravi Varma, her husband from previous life.

And Urmila is like, whatever dude I won't sleep with you, I don’t believe in this reincarnation crap. So Himesh says, I am gonna tell you few intimate things which only a husband and wife would know about each other (apparently, this is pre YouTube era, so whatever transpires between a husband n wife within the 4 walls of bedroom, stays in there)

Urmila : [contracting her already contracted neck muscles] Haan Monty, bataao tum aisi kaunsi nazook baatein jaante ho hamare baarey mein ?
Himesh : Kaamini, tum jab bhi kiss karti ho, tum aankhe bandh karti ho.

Classik.. Roof Down et all.

No Woman, No Cry

This post heralds a new low for this blog in terms of creative content & imagination. Instead of my usual self-pitying "mummy O mummy tu kab saans banegi" kinda blogs, I am posting a simple recipe for "Batatyache Kaap" (fried potato slices). If you were to ask my neighbours or relatives , what is that one thing that comes to your mind when you think of IW ? The answer would be unanimous - "Batatyaache Kaap" . This is my signature dish in more ways than one. I have eaten these humble slices of potato practically everyday for close to 20 years. I was introduced to Kaap's during my early school days & I got well & truly hooked, so much so, that I refused to eat any meals without having Kaap's in my plate. As my love for Kaap prospered (to obsessive levels) my love for all meat/fish based dishes diminished in equal proportions. I turned into a total vegetarian (or more like potatorian), much to the anguish and despair of my carnivorous Malvani family. I lived , breathed & ate batayache kaap. Only after I came to Sg'pore, I was forced to curb this addiction of mine. Six roommates (including me) = 6 into 5 Kaap's per person = 30 Kaap's was bit too daunting to make. But in past 5 years, that number has comedown to 2 roommates and now to just one. So the Kaap making frequency has picked up once again. These days I make them at least twice a week. With that bit of history & trivia out of the way, lets start with the basics of this amazingly addictive dish :

Ingredients :-
- Cockburn's Special Reserve Port Wine
- Snickers Almond Bar
- 1 FAT,well rounded, Potato
- Malvani Masala
- Salt
- Wheat Flour
- Cooking Oil


If you thought the wine and chocolate were for some exotic garnishing then you were mistaken. They are just for starters, to get you into the swing of things. Pour yourself a generous serving of this silky smooth port wine. The thing about Cockburn's (besides its obtuse name), is that you don't need any extra efforts to swallow it. Just let it rest on your tongue, it will slither under its own silken weight and slide down your throat in an elegant swirling arc, without you having to exercise your throat muscles. Wait for about 15 mins for the wine to make it's way into your blood stream. The time may wary depending upon how thick your blood is or how cheap the wine is. For me, it takes just 7 minutes flat, to get that funny light headed feeling. The emphasis here is to become comfortably numb as opposed to being soddenly drunk, coz very soon we will be dealing with a sharp knife and hot oil, so we would need steady hands & feet.

You would need a chunky fat potato. Unlike batata bhajjiya's which are thinly sliced, Kaap's come in thick slices. If you cut them too thin, in all likelihood they would get burnt while shallow frying. I do opt for thinner cuts, sometimes, just for the sake of variation.

Rinse the slices under water and get the excess water off. The idea here is to just get their surface wet. Transfer them to a wide plate, before doing that rinse the plate with water as well. Sprinkle some salt on both sides, & rub the the slices over the salt ensuring that it spreads evenly.

Now comes the mother of all ingredients of Malvani cuisine - "Malvani Masala". A dozen or more spices are blended with 2 varieties of dried red chillies (Kaashmiri & Bedki) to make this masala. Thanks to my mum, I get to use home made masala, else I wouldn't know where to buy it in market.

Sprinkle the masala onto the slices. Turn them over, and sprinkle on both sides.

If you have got the water content just right on the plate & on the slices, you won't face any problem in spreading the masala layer evenly . If you have too much of water, you would end up with watery mess and the masala won't stick to the surface. It takes few attempts to get a hang of the right combination of dampness.

Next comes the wheat flour. Dab the slices with flour on both sides. You can use corn flour if you prefer crispy Kaap's.

Put a frying pan with little bit of oil. Remember, we are not going to deep fry, this is a shallow fried dish. Wait for the oil to get warm. You can hover your palm over the pan. Once you feel the warmth emanating from the pan reaching your hand, you are ready to transfer the flour dusted slices onto the frying pan.

Let them fry for few minutes, before flipping them over. If you are a seasoned pro, you would know when to switch off the gas. If you are bit new to cooking, you can poke the slices with a fork or knife. If it goes in smoothly it means the slices are well n truly done.

Transfer them onto a plate covered with double layered kitchen towels & observe a golden halo appearing around each slice. The paper not only helps in soaking any excess oil, it also helps in draining any underlying sense of guilt over eating unhealthy oily food.

Kaap's goes famously well with rice and daal or you can eat it on its own like a snack. Before tucking in, I usually close my eyes and utter a silent prayer to myself - ## No Woman, No Cry ##

ps : In case you can't lay your hands on Malvani Masala, you can try a more generic variation of this recipe listed here on Mumbai-Masala dot Com . I doubt if it would taste half as good without Malavani Masala (but I maybe biased here).

Wind Beneath My Wings

The time is 3:38am. Yes, that's 3:38 in the middle of a dark night. You are blissfully asleep (what else do you expect?). Someone taps violently on your shoulder. You wake up with a start (sic) and drearily open your eyes. You see a food tray - filled with raajma chaawal, chana masala, pickle & a stiff dry roti thrust onto your, bed sheet covered, lap. As you look sideways, you notice, you are not alone in this. A couple, also draped from head to toe with bed sheets, are propped up next to you. They too are rubbing their sleep deprived eyes & staring blankly at the food trays in front of them. What's happening?, you wonder. A threesome in middle of night, with some food thrown in to make things bit raunchy?? Is this real? Is this really happening?

How are you supposed to react, faced with situation like this?

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Reaction - A
Scream your guts off and wake up the entire neighbourhood.

Reaction - B
Stay Calm. Dismiss this as just another of those weird nonsensical dreams and go promptly back to sleep. Perhaps during the day time, you met a comely Punjabi gal. Thanks to some deep seated psychological cravings for the aforementioned lass, you have woken up dreaming of Punjabi food in middle of night.

Reaction - C
Sob gently & start eating the food, unmindful of the tears dropping into the food tray. They say food is a great comforter (perhaps not as great as sex, but still).Someone knows that you have been depressed lately over your work life, love life, sex life, social life or perhaps just "life life". That's the reason you are being fed a 5000 calorie comforting meal in middle of night.
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I truly had not bargained for a scene like this when I confirmed my 2-way tickets to Shanghai. I was flying Singapore Airlines and I had instructed my ticketing agent that I would need Indian vegetarian food on the flight. What had totally slipped my mind, was that, my return flight was scheduled for a midnight take-off. After a breezy 1 week stay in Shanghai, I find myself heading back to Sg'pore. I arrive at Pudong airport - sleep deprived, tired & with a cacophony of hungry crows crowing in my belly, eagerly awaiting Indian vegetarian food on the flight.

As I board and quickly settle in my window seat, the usual rigmarole starts :

[ Hot Towels, for you sir ? ]
[ Juice.. Juice.. Juice.. ]
[ Fasten your seat belts ]
[ All cabin crew to their stations, we are about to take off ]
[ Tinnnng, the seat belts signs are off, for your own safety we recommend you keep your seatbelts fastened throughout the journey ]

After hearing the Captain's reassuring words, I unfasten my seatbelt & start counting down the time, waiting for the Air Hostess (AH) to push the dinner cart along the alley. As if reading my mind, one of the AH glides along the alley with a big chocolate cake balanced expertly on her hands (Pastries for starters ? who cares!). I whistle softly & wait for her to stop and offer me a bite. Before I could latch down the dining tray in front of me, I see her walk right past the economy class and into the business & 1st class cabins. Damn those business travellers ! Human Rights fella's are you reading this ?

I wait for her to return with leftovers, I am sure those business travellers are kind enough to share the cake with their fellow (lowly ?) economy class brethren. Ten minutes of anxious interval passes. The AH returns back with a smiling face and an empty tray. The whole bloody cake had been polished off by those effing business travellers, leaving me to lick my dry parched lips & nibble onto my economy class boarding pass. Before I could request for a glass of water to moisturize my dry lips, the lights go off. (And) with it, diminish any hopes of me being served dinner (Indian vegetarian or otherwise).

I reluctantly tear open the plastic bag containing the bed sheet, cover myself from head to toe, recline my seat and doze off. Three hours and thirty minutes into the flight, the AH wakes me up with her professional fake smile, and delivers the promised Indian vegetarian meal. Needless to say, the quintessential non-grumbling middle-class person that I am, I react by opting for “Reaction - C” .

The after effects of this seemingly (ab)normal turn of events is to be felt much later when the flight lands and I find myself standing in the baggage collection area. I fix my gaze on the belt & watch it churn out bags of all shapes and sizes. The slow rhythmic motion of the belt triggers some kind of parasympathetic reaction inside my body. (And) then, without any warning, it happens.

[ section edited out for sake of modesty ]

It's too late, I turn around and watch in horror as the girl standing behind me crinkles her nose and scurries to the opposite direction from where I am standing. Thankfully, I notice my bag inching closer towards me on the belt. I quickly snatch it and make a hasty exit through the green channel of Customs. I've got nothing to declare, except for some highly voluble & volatile gases. As I take a cab back home from Changi Airport, I request the cabbie to switch off the air-con and instead roll down the windows to let some fresh air in. The cool early morning breeze does the trick and I fall asleep once again to the accompaniment of Bette Midler's melodious voice wafting over FM waves.

Oh, the wind beneath my wings.
You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings.
Fly, fly, fly away. You let me fly so high.
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.

Fly, fly, fly high against the sky,
so high I almost touch the sky.
Thank you, thank you,
thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.

Mumbai 2051 - Perhaps

From the looks of it, it's gonna take whole lotta work and few lifetimes, for those khaadi clad politicians, to transform Mumbai into Shanghai. While we play catch-up, I got a chance this past week to visit Shanghai & get a first hand look at how Mumbai would look like, long after I am dead. The aerial pics that you see here, have been taken from the 88th floor observatory of Jin Mao Tower.

It's actually quite frustating to take pics atop the Jin Mao tower. For starters you need to shoot through a thick glass wall & then there are like 1001 tourist pressing themselves against the glass walls, as they pose against the panaromic views. I had consciously left my SLR back home in Sg'pore, and instead, I bought a point & shoot Olympus digital camera. Cheap camera, teeming masses, & dull cloudy weather notwithstanding, the pics did turn out quite ok, i guess.