My Sinful Indulgence

On the insistence of my younger son, I watched 'Cloud Atlas'. Not that I didn't want to watch the movie, but  I was just hard pressed on time and felt that this one thing can certainly wait. But since he was to go back to his hostel, he insisted that I watch it with him before leaving for my trip to Delhi. It was like watching all the beliefs I have grown up with, through the eyes of Hollywood. My gut reaction insisted, that we should be the one's making highly sophisticated films on this subject and not just twidling our thumbs and being mere spectators to the philosophies our land is seeped with. But as I write this, sitting at the airport my head involuntarily turns to the TV monitor and I cringe at the sight of the blood spurting out of the mouth of the goon as John Abraham lands a punch on his stomach. This is just the trailer filling in the break of the more disgusting Ramgopal Verma Ki Aag with senseless visuals. What a waste of his talent and skills by the director !

Why? Why? Why... are we stuck in the cliched. In fact our old movies were more progressive than what is being churned out at present. My constant introspection does not lead me to any answers, so maybe the  people and the land has to live its karma and grow into something consequential only in due course of time.

I started writing this blog while I was at the airport and by the time I got back to writing this paragraph, I have already landed in Delhi and caught up with my friends in Faridabad. Great sessions of catching up interspersed with breaks of great meals. I would certainly like to mention here the scrumptious home cooked meal I had at my friends place prepared by his spouse. At home while I am made to believe that I am the best cook in the world, meals like the one I had, give me a complex. And I also should not forget mentioning the jalebis and gulabjamuns I have relished.

In the past 23 years or so  while I have become a true Mumbaiker, I still yearn for the gulabjamuns, jalebis and chole bhature's of this land. Last two days for three of my meals I have eaten Chole.....taking into consideration that I take only two meals in a day.....that is a little too much of Choles. For those who are wondering what this word means, it is an Indian preparation of chickpeas. So back to my having it in overdose!! But I am not complaining. I can still  eat more of them. With samosas and tikkis too. They don't make these things like this back in Mumbai. It's the same that they don't make Pao bhaji Mumbaiya style in Delhi. I cringe everytime I eat Pao Bhaji here. I want to shout at the top of my voice or better so have a Anna Hazare kind of morcha and tell people that this is not even close to the pao bhaji I get back in Mumbai. What we get in Delhi is a highly cinnamonised version and the regular sweet buns  replace the oh so delicately delicious pao's. I can estimate the intensity of the shock an old Parsi bakery guy can go through if he sees what is being passed off as the staple mumbaiya pao.

At times when I am shuttling between Delhi and Mumbai, I wonder if anyone can sympathise with the pull I feel between the two places. Or for that reason I can put my Bengal too in the bag of mixed parentage and upbringing. A transferable job held by my dad and then finally one day my karmas taking me to settle down in  Mumbai, exposed me to people from various cultures and religions. This has made me incorporate many things from different parts of the world into my life. I can not take sides or do justice to any particular state, or country, because for me we are all human beings with a set of good and bad qualities. That leaves me completely at a loss of reactions when I see people fighting so fiercely for their cultures, sticking to their beliefs. I personally feel that instead of making mundane laws, the bureaucracy of India should make a law  making it compulsory for people to move out of their birthplace and spend some years of their lives in different parts of the country.  Maybe they can pick up the regions they want to experience. And then the process of living life with people of different cultural ethnicities certainly will open up the minds of the citizens and make people more adjusting to the beliefs of other people. Half of our lives are spent in trying to make people change their beliefs because we all are driven by the egoistical belief that we know the best. Acceptance of our friends, relatives and loved ones just the way they are, is still a leaf in the pages of Bhagvad Gita and other inumerable books with preachings of various spiritual souls in the land of spirituality.... Don't you think so?

While you introspect let me just go and enjoy some tikkis because back in Mumbai, ragda patties though similar in looks do not taste  like tikkis Delhi people make.....

The Seeking Heart

The land of Whirling Dervishes and Rumi and Shams Tabrizi..... that is what Turkey is for me today. It took me a trip to the place to actually feel the ethnicity of the country. 

Sometimes a bit of suspense can unfold into something very exciting and that is exactly what happened with me in the past week. I hung on to the invite by a dear friend of mine, to join her on a trip to Istanbul. I could make out that it was to be a very non touristy trip. I grabbed the opportunity just to get away from the drab local news of Mumbai. The ever increasing taxi and auto fares....the onset of the unbearable October heat....and the ho hum about Arvind Kejriwal and his various expose staring at me from the local newspaper every morning.  Anything would have been good but unknowingly, a dream vacation was falling into my lap.

Istiklal Avenue

Inside the Blue Mosque

The thunderous rolling down of the trams on Istiklal Avenue and Divan Yolu, the chaos of the Grand Bazaar and the magnificence of the blue mosque will always stay fresh in my memories. The fact that I went to Topkapi palace and didn't enter the gates. Yes, I actually did that. A piece of history was there right in front of me and I decided not to enrich myself. That is so unlike me!  Deep inside my heart I felt, "will do it the next time at leisure".

Grand Bazaar

Sharing the same roof with the hippies of 60's

Walking down Divan Yolu

On recollecting now, that I was under the same roof as the followers of hippie culture of the 60's at the Pudding Shop, and was walking on Divan Yolu, a road laid down by Constantine the great somewhere in 300 AD, gives me a high without a drop of the local Raki going down my throat. The coming together of people from different parts of the world under one roof at Konya and the opportunity of understanding not only Sufism and teachings of Rumi through their eyes but also looking at the richness of my own country through their seeking hearts, leaves me fulfilled.

View across the Bosphorous from the Asian side

I have to go back to Istanbul, to visit places around it, to enjoy a sumptuous meal of fish by the Bosphorous, to shop in loads at Istiklal Avenue, to eat Baklava, to see the whirling dervishes and to catch up with a couple of friends I have made there in so less a time. The list is endless. I want to have Simit with Cheese, walk down the cobbled streets or sit at any of the beautifully landscaped parks and do nothing. It was exactly the way I had always wanted to experience the flavour of a country.  Be on the roads, trying to figure out where to go with the help of maps.....getting the name of  the bus stop we wanted to go to absolutely wrong, but still land up at the right place. Trying to communicate with people on the streets without a common language and still manage to explain ourselves and understand what they wanted to say in their language. Everything from the weather, the ambiance,  the helpful people of the country and the stimulating discussions on the Sufism and its message of peace to the world and the vast  history of the country has done wonders to my heart. 

Turkish Coffee served with style

One more time someday in the near future I wish to share a cup of Turkish coffee with my dear friend sitting in the same restaurant, the name of which we didn't bother to find out. And the beautiful trip can again be wound up with one more coffee cup reading for me. The only difficult decision I have to make till then is whether I stay on the Asian side or the European side of Istanbul. 

MEMORIES

I had to write today, to look back at those beautiful memories I cherish of my brother, to look back at all those fights I had with him and to just try to reach out my hand into thin air and try to feel his physical presence. The last part, my heart knows, is absolutely impossible because when people move on to their onward journey from Earth, they never return back......

Fourteen years ago on this very day, early in the morning I was staring at his motionless body, waiting for him to jump up and start behaving like himself. He didn't.... and after all the rituals had been taken care of, I got to hold his ashes in a small urn and I kept on thinking all the way to Haridwar that, "Is that it?" And as I mulled over the incomprehensible secrets of life and death, somewhere inside me my reflexes told me not to look back AT ALL......as looking back meant breaking down and that would have been a hindrance to the tasks he had left behind for me......I had to keep running his company as long as I could, and had to take care of his young sons, and to try and heal his mother...our mother....who must have been absolutely shattered after losing a part of her, but refused to show her grief to anyone.

But how long can I hold myself back.....as I started treading towards the ensuing dawn of my life, I one day just turned back and looked... and there, I could see myself riding with him on his bicycle, being brought back from school after waiting for a harrowing one hour outside the school gates, while everyone else had left. I was dying to reach home and complain to my mother and satisfy myself with the scoldings being bombarded at him.

My ears were ringing with his voice singing all the great melodies of Kishore Kumar, while I was sitting there on the bar of his bicycle. Till today many times I listen to Kishore Kumar songs to feel my brothers voice kissing my ears. His was a voice exact copy of the legendary singer and very few people know that he was a trained classical singer.

I can hear him recollecting the mishaps he had had with me because as an infant being 11 years younger to him I was absolutely at his mercy. He would tell me how, inspite of being a frail clumsy boy, he would love carrying me around in his arms and one day just dropped me into a gutter full of..........well you can guess what gutters are full of!!!! I would go urghhhh.....and he would enjoy my displeasure with his full throated laughter.

He was the first boy to pull at my long plait and though it hurt me, he always enjoyed it. Maybe that is why in the past years I have preferred to have short hair, because there is no one around to pull at the plait anymore. We fought like animals, like many other siblings, but the strange part is that I always won the fights instead of being so much younger and smaller than him. He got me into the best school of Chandigarh, after dad thrust the responsibility on him.  And I enjoyed him coming to pick me up from school, because my friends found him handsome...they never said it, but I could see it in their eyes.

Oh for those long sessions of playing cricket...and hockey and football. I always preferred playing cricket though...and sticking around with him wherever he went. He would get tired of me at times. Which young teenaged boy wouldn't, with his sister, sticking around him like a sore thumb, when all he wanted to do was enjoy with his friends and flirt with the girls on the street. That too a sister who would spurt out all what he did to mom and dad, the moment we returned home. Wish I had the decency of keeping his secrets.

This place is too less to go on talking about what we shared and what all we disagreed upon. But still after so many years, I am happy I made the attempt to refresh his memories and I am sure he is smiling up there. I wish he could give me his bear hug and pull at my plait once again....oops! I forgot I don't have it anymore.

But today I want him to  be at peace wherever he is and to be in the best of his spirits, no matter if he is in any physical form or is a divine soul. And as I look at his two young sons and try to find him in them....I wish to get one more chance to tie Rakhi to him and look forward to him reminding me to touch his feet, because he was older to me and we happened to be Bengalis. The only difference being, that this time I would throw myself at his feet to pay obeisance to all that he has done for me and to hide those tears rolling down to cry over the fact that his was a life of a genius cut short by the game of destiny. And more so a life today not remebered by many which otherwise,  had he been alive, would have attracted loads of appreciation because he was on his way to reaching out for the skies.......

DO WE ACTUALLY CARE....?

A couple of months ago when the rains were about to set in,  a public awareness campaign by the BMC caught my eye. The corporation had requested the citizens not to throw plastic bottles, and plastic into the nullahs......But did we care...?

Its been 7 years since Mumbai suffered the deluge. We all blamed the administration for not cleaning the drains. But since then have we personally stopped using plastic?  We had criticised so much after the deluge that it's the overuse of plastic which clogged the drains and resulted in the loss of so many lives. Today the administration has levied charges on each plastic bag that we use in malls and supermarkets. But do we ever falter before asking for a plastic bag? Is it so hard for us to carry a bag of our own?  How demanding can it be to keep a few bags in our cars? 

Is it difficult to reuse the envelopes or the back side of the used papers supposed to be thrown away? I sometimes even use the bills given to me  to take notes. I don't care if someone thinks I am stingy. For me, I am trying to pass on a better world to the generations to come. I hate to throw an empty paper into the dustbin. 

So many times I have noticed that the window of a swanky car is rolled down and plop.... a bag full of garbage is thrown out or a mineral water bottle is tossed out with the expertise of a seasoned bowler. It breaks my heart to see even a small piece of paper being thrown out. Does it ask for too much to carry the paper with us and throw it in the waste bin at our home???

I wonder how most of the international cities are kept clean by the administrations. Obviously it's the citizens as well, realising their part and not littering. Actually, I shouldn't be wondering about this  since I have been brought up in a city like Chandigarh. I have always had problem settling in other cities basically because of the high standards that city set for me. I never saw people throwing their rubbish on to the streets. In the mornings around six when I would be cycling down to school, the streets were being cleaned. In Mumbai the municipality people get down to work only by around 11, when the traffic is already at it's peak. When the citizens themselves don't have place to walk peacefully, the BMC guy struggles to collect garbage. I look at it and think, "What a farce ........?"

I have thought over it again and again, and only a few days ago my positivity gave in to the sad feeling ,that there is no way out of all this mess. It is all like quicksand...the more we try to come out of it, the deeper we sink...!!!!

Still....still...I will keep on carrying the trash back home and putting it in my garbage bin and stare back harshly at  anyone who opens the door of his swanky car and spits on the road....and I invite you all to post your comments, photos and anything that you notice that knocks at our conscience to keep the city clean, on the page of this group started by someone with the same dreams as me but more proactive and bold than me ...https://www.facebook.com/groups/280350462071313/members/

Served With Love

Phew!!!! last two weeks have been erratically busy.  When there is loads of stuff to be taken care of within a stipulated period of time, one just loses track of time. But one thing that was worthwhile about the busy fortnight was that I was mostly immersed into my second love : cooking. After a long long time I had friends come over, and this time for brunch. I loved everything about it. The setting, the drinks prepared by me....  Of course they were mock tails. I have still not been able to graduate to cocktails though. No no no, not that I don't know how to prepare alcoholic drinks.....it's just that the old time middle class girl, used to a teetotaller dad's home has not been able to incorporate alcohol completely into her day to day routine. Although, I have learnt to use it in my pastas, risottos and tiramisu. Anyways.....what I was talking about was the menu of the brunch. Well, it comprised of waffles. bagels, cinnamon rolls , carrot squares etc. etc. I love preparing dishes for my friends and fortunately they appreciate my dishes and are ready to be the scapegoats to my experiments. I love baking. Its therapeutical. Now I know why all the chefs have such a serene expression on their face. Serving food to people is a de stressing exercise in itself.

Today, as I was settling down to plan the menu for the various upcoming lunches, high teas and dinners, I remembered my initial attempts to preparing the so called exotic dishes. I have been cooking the Indian meals since I was twelve. My dad used to love my preparations. He was a blood pressure patient, still my meals were tasty while sticking to the regime of absolutely low fat in them. Even today, I can prepare the best of the Indian meals with very little oil and they are yummy. Indian food has variety in taste. Its altogether a different thing that Kim Kardashian finds it disgusting. My goodness! what a derogatory word to use for food. Even something like cockroaches and all those weird things which some parts of the world relishes, can't be termed as disgusting. After all it's food for people who are used to it. Nobody is being forced to eat it. I am sure it was just a slip of tongue and the rather derogatory word got blurted.

But what's wrong with me today? At the drop of hat, I am off shooting from the main topic. Seems my thoughts are all jumbled up. Let me get back to the point, which was about my initial attempts to making the so called exotic dishes. I remember once I tried making pasta for the whole family with a ready made sauce. Don't remember exactly the name of the sauce but it had basil in it. Everybody on the lunch table almost went hungry that day because,  there was no back up plan and the dish had turned out so bad that even I could not  pop it into my mouth. Just so that the food didn't go waste, I asked my nephew to go and give it to the stray dog in the building. That twelve year old came back and broke my heart by saying," Well the dog sniffed it. I think it wrinkled its nose and walked away. O yes! it did turn and look back once, with the question in its eyes, that how can you people eat such disgusting food?"

I conquered it and today I am quite good at what I make. One day I want to start my blog on cooking and then I will share loads of recipes with all. Till then..... they are just simmering in my heart and getting perfected because good food is not about how many ingredients one puts, it's simply the love with which it's cooked.

Clueless About Time

The concept of time with some people leaves me perplexed. Consider the scenario :  a meeting is fixed at 10 am or pm whatever....no one usually turns up before 10.30. You schedule your party for 9 in the evening, the guests start trickling in by 9.30. By the time everyone makes it, it will be 10 or 10.30. But Beware!! Don't try to be smart and schedule the party for 10.30 the next time. Because in that case it will start at 11.30.

If you are one of the rare punctual species, then you must have innumerable times faced scenarios like :

You have reached the meeting point and the other person hasn't reached. After you have been waiting for 15 minutes, you get a call or message saying, "Stuck in a bad traffic jam will be there in 15 minutes." What the person is not telling you is that he has stepped out of the home at the scheduled meeting time. After 15 minutes you call up to know the progress of the traffic jam. Your call certainly goes unanswered. After 5 minutes the message tone beeps and you are mocked at by the message, "Will be there in a minute." You will still be waiting for 20 minutes. But this time the call comes from the other end, and you get to hear, "I am just round the corner." As you put the phone down you realise that the person didn't specify whether its your corner or his corner.

God save you from statements like, "I'll be right there, I am just parking the car." You can be standing at the parking lot with no car in sight. 

You are waiting in your office for the person to turn up. Frustrated you call him up to find his whereabouts. "I have reached the gate and will be there in a second," is the answer you get, while in the background you can hear the trains rattling by and you very well know the station is good half an hour from the office. 

Every time I face a situation like this, I make a resolution that the next time I will call up the person I am supposed to meet, before leaving my house and will leave only after I make sure that he/she has left. But sadly, I remember my resolution only when I am fuming at the meeting point. GOD! WHY AM I SO CLUELESS ABOUT TIME?

Many More Years to Go...

The fact that even the jawans and officers of army can loose their cool, forces me to take back all the nitpicking I have directed towards my fellow citizens. The most astonishing part is that it happens in a place as cool as Nyoma in Ladakh. Those who don't have any clue to what I am talking about can check out the news on the link : http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Army-officers-jawans-battle-it-out-in-Ladakh/articleshow/13102508.cms

This incident forces me to come to the conclusion that there is certainly something wrong in the air. Maybe the predictions that there will be an apocalypse on 22nd Dec has made us all jittery. And that has charged the environment into an aggressive mode. I basically think this whole thing about the Apocalypse will fall flat on its face. I tell my sons that we talk so much about the new age belief that we get back from the universe what we give to it.  So, keeping that in mind, if at all, mind it, if at all the end of the world happens it will happen only because of so many Hollywood movies we keep on making and giving ideas to the universe. So much of water rushing on to the streets, dinosaurs coming back into the world, aliens of various kinds and forms coming down on earth, zombies taking charge of cities and what all and what not . It's a different scenario altogether that I am the first one to watch them when they are released.

This time people are a little cautious and its not like it was in 2000. Does anyone remember that in 2000 there was all that hoopla about Y2K crisis? I was on a trip to Nagarhole National Park and my travel agent  made me stay in Bangalore just because she did not want me, with my kids and ageing mother stuck at the airport, when supposedly all the computers could go bust. The computer bug, I suppose  chickened out and NOTHING HAPPENED.  This time around too it will be the same.  Our past experiences have taught us and that is why with about six months to go for the apocalypse to happen already alternate theories have started pouring out.  A look at this video by National Geographic will certainly pacify your nerves.  It tells us that the Mayan Calendar in no way suggests the end of the World.

http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/news/history-archaeology-news/maya-art-calendar-vin/

While you go check out this video, I look forward to 22nd December, when exactly about 7months and 10 days from today, on a cooler Saturday evening I will be updating my blog.

Our Snubbed Conscience

Its absolutely a miracle that we are progressing in spite of the mumbo jumbo state of our country. I don't know about others but I personally don't  understand the attitude of my fellow countrymen. Let me share two of my experiences :

Yesterday afternoon, I was waiting in my car, for the signal to turn green.  A lady wanted to cross the road. But a hoard of vehicles : autos, cars, bikes... decided they didn't have time to wait. This lady who actually had the right to cross the road could not. She kept on stepping ahead and back. I just looked on helplessly. I was also being honked at to jump the signal. Then as the signal turned green I found support in the driver of the car next to me. We both waited till she crossed and then we moved on.

Papers and files go missing from the courts or police station. Some papers pertaining to an application moved in the Magistrate's Court by me are untraceable. Hard to believe but true.

This leads me to the conclusion that we need strong CCTV surveillance. The move of the common man, the public servant and the caretakers running the country, everything needs to be constantly monitored. Somewhere we have let so much of greed overpower us that we are not God fearing any more. I remember as a child our mothers would tell us that  God above doesn't approve of lies and misconduct. We grew up with the belief that he is always watching us. Today in the busy schedule of our lives God figures only when we need something. When we conduct a misdeed, we forget that someone above there might be taking a note of our misdeeds. What is God for someone can be conscience for others. But that conscience has absolutely been snubbed. That calls for the need that with the help of modern day technology we position a watch guard through CCTV cameras so that we learn to conduct ourselves.

Nobody in this rushed up city waits behind the zebra crossing. Walkers cross the roads when the signal is green and leisurely keep walking across the road challenging the speeding cars to slow down. Why? Why are we testing each others patience........

Harsh Realities

In my past few blogs, I have been deliberately keeping myself away from issues which have been stirring my soul. Basically because I didn't want you all to think that this middle aged lady has lost it (trying to imbibe the lingo used by today's youth). But today morning,  when I watched  Amir Khan's TV show "Satyamev Jayate" I realised I am not the only one to be concerned. So many times even I mull over the thought  that is this the country our freedom fighters had laid their lives for? Is this the kind of future they had envisaged for us? When I talk about the daily irritating incidents happening to me or around me, it is because of the fact that somewhere I question myself again and again, that has education made us more civilised or uncivil, or maybe it would be right to say civilised brutes.

I have not and will not talk about female infanticide because I have boiled my blood immensely over it in my youth. I belong to the generation in which waves of feminism were strong. Many of us had the guts to take a stand against many issues which we felt were strong at that time. But have any of these been resolved? On the contrary they have increased and in a more civilised and sophisticated way. Female Infanticide, Dowry deaths, Polygamy, Rapes, Child Marriage, Eve teasing......and many more. They all are still prevalent. and in a more heinous way.

Female infanticide has taken the form of a highly organised money making sector. Polygamy has given way to adjustments by both the husband and wife to live lives their own way or more so to wife swapping. Rapes have been replaced by gang rapes or cases of incest.  Child Marriage has television shows on it in the prime time slot. Eve teasing has  become a man's prerogative. If the girl doesn't give into his advancements she has to face an acid attack or rape. Dowries have subtly become the gifts to be given to the young couple to start their life on a good note.

Though, I do see a remarkable difference in the woman of today. She has become more enduring. Thanks to the support of the parents, who have taken care to provide education to their daughters. Credit to those who have taught their daughters to treat themselves as human beings ....the woman of today has become more self dependent. She is strong enough to accept her fate, collect her belongings if she is given the chance to and move on. It can be her children, a pair of clothes thrown at her when she is kicked out of her house, or for that matter only her self esteem too, which she holds close to her bosom and settles down courageously to start life afresh. She moves on making a free way for the man who otherwise should have taken care of her, to let him enjoy his life unblemished.  Her place in his life is unquestionably taken by another woman. And the so called society gets one more topic to gossip about in its next party.......

Summer Love : Alphonsoes

Mangoes ......My earliest memories about them is that as a child my text books taught me about it being the King of Fruits. Little did I know that one day I will settle in the city of dreams, and relish the oh so devine Alphonso. At that age I just did not know what the fuss is all about. In a place like Chandigarh, there were varieties of mangoes available. And of them I was very fond of my dussehri, which could be bought in kilos. They were dropped into a dish filled with cold water the moment they were brought home. "This way one ensures that they cool down and don't heat up our body." my mother always told me.  After lunch we would all sit down. Pull out one mango after the other from the cold water and eat them. A dussehri  is not supposed to be sliced but is just sucked upon. ummmmm.... heavenly...... and one could have as many as one wanted. It's a different thing altogether, that a bout of loose motions after that, was explained to be good because it was cleansing the body. A few days later when I would have a big boil on my shin or calf, unfortunately my feast would get over.  I used to wonder then, as to why are mangoes not cultivated in the winters if they are so heaty and am still wondering about it, when year after year the moment the summer sets in, I see the alphonsoes flooding markets all over Mumbai.

It took me sometime to get used to the taste of Alphonso. I was also not ready to kill my ego and accept the fact that alphonsoes are  actually delish. After creating a lot of fuss  and failed unlimited hunts for the dussehri's in the lanes and bylanes of the city....I did settle down to eat alphonso. But somewhere I craved for the dussehri's. Ages later it took me a trip back to Delhi,  and an excited bite into the dussehri, to realise that I had become an addict of the king of kings. Just like the city, the fruit too had silently entrapped me into giving in to its goodness.

I can go on cribbing about the city losing it's charm.....not being anymore what it was once.... but alphonsoes  is one thing that makes me look forward to the summers, no matter how killing the humidity is.  I love it sliced or in my mango shake....in the mango cheesecake or mango souffle.... there is so much I can do with the alphonsoes. Then when I send a box of them to my cousins in Kolkata....I feel so proud that there is one thing very Mumbaiyah that I can brag about and be proud of......

POTHOLED

Pothole????? Nay I will call them craters. You find them all over Mumbai. Their count increases during monsoon. Actually they are found in abundance all over Mumbai, but it's during the monsoon that they seriously start multiplying. Their life cycle is great. They have a birth date and beyond that they just keep living.  What dies is a part of you every time your car, cab, cycle, auto or your FOOT goes into it.  You want to scream out but can't because as a mumbaikar your never dying attitude will be questioned. You spot them from a distance....you slow down your car....then just at the last minute you realize it's bigger that the surface area covered by your front tyre.  You have almost failed the test of avoiding them. But you still are not ready to give up...the never give up Mumbaiyah attitude raises its head adamantly. You swerve your car and there,  you hit against the car overtaking you. If it's not the doctors bill from the backache you got by bumping in and out of potholes, that makes a dent in your pocket, the dent in the car you hit surely will do.

It's more of a mission to spot them during rains when they are filled to the brim with rain water.  They are actually placed to keep your alerts high while driving. A way administration has figured out to keep a check on your driving. You can be a little agressive and slap a Public Interest Litigation against the administeration. But that too falls on deaf ears. Loyalty runs in our blood that's why year after year after year the contracts are given to the same people who can do a better shoddy work each time. They too learn from experience.

So now, with the BMC unabashedly making true statements that they won't be able to fill all the pot holes before the monsoon, even with mud or tree branches, The Road Ahead Certainly Seems To Be Full OF Potholes.

To Moustache or Not To Moustache?

"Why are Indian men so much in love with their moustache?" I am sure you think that it is my teenage daughter speaking. Nope, that is my teenage son. Yesterday while we were driving down to the local store to buy my weekly provisions I don't know what made him blurt that out. But it immediately took me back to the times when I was a teenager and had taken fancy to men with moustache. My brother would laugh at me and I would wonder what the fuss is all about. Then as I kept growing, my liking for men with moustache kept growing in the opposite. My apologies to all my mous'tached friends, but the fact may be that I am not even aware of them supporting one. I won't say I started disliking men with moustache but just that when I looked at them I would think how can they support it without any problems on the upper lip right below the sensitive nose.....

One has to credit the fact that they have had an evolution of their own kind. They are in  all sorts of shapes and sizes too. Right from the huge ones that find a mention in the Guinness Book of Records to the tiniest ones. When I talk of the tiniest one, Hitler comes in mind. This moustache sits right there, in the cleft of the lip making a person look so Hitler like. To make it feel better let's say so Charlie Chaplin like. A search on google tells me that it's called the toothbrush moustache. Can you believe it, that there was  a moustache spoon for mous'tached people to drink soups during the Victorian England? That's what Wikepedia informs me. Here are two links one should visit. One brags about the goodness of the hairy fashion statement, and how to maintain and take care of them, http://www.nowthatsnifty.com/2009/05/great-moustaches-and-moustache-types.html#.T5ws1cT9NH8 while the other  http://www.cracked.com/blog/a-guide-to-the-modern-moustache/ talks about the ones which should be banned. My personal favorite is the second link. But then whatever.... I never wished to talk about the types of moustaches, I was just retrospecting as to how can people support such a thing in such a sensitive part below the nose. Specially the real bushy ones.

Observing the movement of a moustache while the person supporting them is eating or talking is a pass time on its own. Watching those with the thicker ones is more ticklish to one's heart. Then when the men supporting a huge burly moustache gulp down a glass full  of milk or butter milk and have it smeared all over their moustache.....the way it is licked clean eeeeeew....

Not to forget, that there are people like our own Hindi film stars like Anil Kapoor and Jackie Shroff, who look the best in their trademark moustache. (I abhor saying Bollywood because I find that name very downmarket). In fact these two people without their trademark moustaches come across as if they are going through an identity crisis. 

So can the verdict be that the problem is not the person supporting the moustache, but the shape of the moustache? That's why maybe I support the second link. Ban some keep some. Can't be more judgemental than this. My dad too supported the toothbrush and the pencil moustache, but that was long before I was born. I fortunately saw him clean shaven. Thank you daddy. Your sweet kisses otherwise would have been so prickly.....

"To Moustache or not to moustache that is the question."

Can We Be More Considerate

Last week I struck Gold. Watched two good movies back to back. First Vicky Donor, and then I decided to go and catch upon Pan Singh Tomar. I had to struggle my way through the early morning traffic jam, to go to The Hub in Goregaon. That theatre has been a blessing whenever I have been late to nose out  a good movie. From  experience I have learnt that a delay of only two weeks too can make me go galloping to The Hub, to catch up on a movie. While all the major multiplexes shuffle movies within a few weeks, this theatre always has the worth watching movies running for quite some time.

Pan Singh's life  made me think... about the fact that how circumstances make a completely different person of us. Deep within, while we remain the same entity, we keep weaving our life around the challenges thrown at us. Then one day when we reflect back, we realize we are not the person that we were. Kept thinking of the callous policeman who was just not ready to carry out his duty.  I wonder as humans, why can't we relate to someone's problems. What makes people do what they do? Why do we carry so much of burden of selfishness within us?  How can someone who is supposedly a caretaker of the people  behave so callously. Why do they step out of their institutions and wipe clean from their conscience, the oaths they had taken during their training. Policemen and doctors, should be our support system at the time of crisis.  How many doctors have the sympathy or the guts to take in patients who deserve immediate medical attention and attend to them with urgency and  save their lives. A helpless patient and his family members are made to run from one hospital to other till they can't defy death any more.  Do these doctors, even for once at the end of the day think as to what must have happened of the patient they turned away during the course of the day?  Patients are lying in the wards awaiting treatment and there are no doctors available. This still happens after years of planning by the government to provide more medical aid to the citizens. Believe me it was easier to feel helpless twenty years ago, because we knew there was genuine scarcity of doctors.

To think of a time when every citizen's medical care will be a responsibility of the government, is still a far off dream, because the harbingers of the foundation of the country are busy collecting the who's who of the society in the Rajya Sabha. For all you know next they might even come out with the idea of a Madam Tussauds. Where..? Ahem, ahem...give it your best guess, it's easy.

This Vicky is Progressive

I am just back after watching the much talked about movie Vicky Donor.  A Fabulous film. An extremely delicate topic handled with such maturity, that I didn't feel awkward watching it with family. And I can say the same thing about the others too, in the audience.  It is wholesome entertainment and a progressive film. Oh how I wish, that the count of good hindi films is as good as Vicky's sperm count.  At least I will have more choices of  Hindi films to watch and not keep running back to Hollywood. 

I won't be grumpy in my post today, coz I have had a content Sunday. The girl who cooks at my home had taken a day off, so I was supposed to work in the kitchen. Now that is one thing I love doing. So obviously the lunch had to be something other than the routine fair. Prawn Risotto, that was great as lunch. Italy is one place where I want to take a culinary trip to. These trips are the latest craze. One gets to travel and even learn the local dishes from the chefs. Now what's better than that for a foodie like me! So the next time when I prepare Risotto, I will know how close my dish is to the original.

After a Sunday spent contentedly, I am off to prepare a cup of peppermint tea and retire for the day, to be ready to face a great week ahead.....

Goodnight and vedervi presto.

Will Miss Famous Studios

My older brother has been there looking for work, then I went there looking for a job, my brother's son too went there and dropped his CV at one of the studios about 3years ago. Unfortunately his children will only hear of it or read about it in nostalgia evoking articles.  Famous Studios, Mahalaxmi.  It has been a landmark. The first time I went there, I was about 21 years old. I wasn't prepared for the maze I was stepping into. I couldn't find my way out. Kept on going round and round. At last,  I went back to the office, where I had dropped my CV.  The sweet lady at the reception was not amused at all at my plight. She smiled and asked the office boy to show me the way. The boy guided me to the stairs and asked me whether I wanted him to come down, to the gate. I am sure he used to come across lot of dimwits like me. By now I was feeling so stupid that I refused any further help and managed to find my way out from there.  I would have still been feeling foolish about that incident, had it not been that many years later when I happened to be there for some work, I led another lost soul to the gate.

Generations after generations of film fraternity and ad world  has stepped into the building which has been a landmark since 1946. So many tales of the past must the walls of the studio be holding close to them. Euphoria of the citizens of a country moving from being a colony to an independent nation must have unfurled around it. They all will be lost in the rubble of the building to make way to a new structure. I just hope whatever comes there is not a grotesque structure of steel and glass, something most of the builders in our country have taken fancy to. We find it easy to copy what the whole world is doing.  We don't want to pull out anything out of the hat. There are structures of glass all over the city which I personally feel do not go well with the heat of the city. Mostly these structures are so ill maintained that there are layers and layers of dust settling on them, making them extremely dirty to look at. But they are cropping up like weeds all over the city.

I am ready to hold the address Famous Studios, Dr. E Moses Road Mahalaxmi, as a sweet memory close to my heart and make way to a new structure only if the new structure makes me look up at it in awe.  Just like years ago when I landed in this vibrant city, I loved the view of the sea from Mahim Causeway. Even today I love that view with the added incentive of admiring the Worli Sea Link sprawled across the sea. As it is last year we bid adieu to many legends of the film world.....similarly with a heavy heart we will bid adieu to this legendary building too......

Life Post Auto Strike

Am back.  We all survived the auto strike.  Moreover, without complaining, we are shelling out more money for our auto rides. My son just walked in looking depressed because of the amount he paid for his auto ride back home from his office.  And I learnt a great way to force my employer into a pay hike. But what worries me is what my friends were discussing.  While some have posted it as their status messages too. That's the fact that the streets were so empty during the strike and they enjoyed driving. Hope the citizens don't get addicted to the regular on off strikes, and decide that they don't want auto's at all like downtown Mumbai. But surely we are too lazy to rebel to any inconvenience. We'd rather lap up the inconveniences in our stride and be the martyrs.

 A day after the strike was over, the streets were  chaotic again. Every one was in a hurry. Impatience and agression is regular on Mumbai roads and as the temperature in the city goes up, more and more agression sets in. People don't have the time and patience to let the others pass by. The Zebra crossings are mute spectators to the commotion. At New Link Road, there was a traffic jam and I thought, 'maybe its a nakabandi'.  But when I reached the tip of the bottleneck, I realized,  a private taxi and our trademark yellow and black cab had bumped into each other.  Surprisingly, the drivers had all the patience to let their vehicles be in the middle of the road, step out in the blazing sun, and argue right there, inconveniencing a whole lot of traffic...... "Nothing can happen of my city", I thought and moved on, only to be proved wrong soon.

At Juhu, near Marriott, once more I was crawling in the traffic. This time the driver of a private taxi must have been in a tearing hurry. So rather than driving further ahead of Hometown cafe and taking a U turn, he decided to drive on the wrong side of the road. With passengers in his taxi, he like a hero, tried to cut across the road and maneuver his car through the opening near Marriott and move to the other side. Poor soul encountered a hot headed citizen, who not only obstructed his path by his car, but got off and gave him a piece of his mind. In the centre of the road stuck in a strange position the red faced taxiwallah was not only forced to gulp down the piece of advice, but was also made to reverse his taxi and take the right path. His plan to save may be 3 minutes backfired and he ended up wasting everybody's time. Oh how I wish I was as courageous as that citizen......

Illegal strikers will face six months of jail...For that I think first the government has to construct more of jails....because taking into consideration the kind of strikes that happen in my country, I am sure they need lots of space to accomodate the number of strikers. But then what with the kind of law and order that only one out of 198 auto drivers responded to RTO's show cause notice....?

Congress has lost in delhi.....Wasn't that bound to happen? Is there anything to analyse about it? I would rather analyse the fact that why in the mornings when I sit down to read my newspaper, do I feel that I am holding a crime tabloid? To all those innocent lives lost either due to a negligent governing body or by the waywardness of a strayed citizen, May their Souls Rest in Peace.

Vegetable prices are set to soar. That is what the newspapers tell me. Reason : scarcity of water in the rural areas. Since the time I have read this news I am trying to figure out when was the last time the prices were stable. They have only been soaring up in the skies, be it because of the scarcity of water, the rising prices of petrol, the strike by the transport department or closer home, my bhajiwala deciding to take leave for two days. The third day he comes back with prices of his own because in his own right, he too has to make up for the lost two days.....

On the other hand what goes up should never come down. So the prices keep soaring and we keep on buying the veggies without flinching a bit because Indians today can afford anything and everything. The bhajiwalas know this very well, that's the reason they have different price slabs for different areas. What may be selling for Rs 32/- a kilo in Malad, will have a price of Rs 40/- a kilo in the more upmarket Lokhandwala or Versova. Upmarket because these areas boast of addresses of many stars, and that's what gives it the tag of being upmarket. And people talk about equality...???  If that is not enough to irritate you, then go ahead and pick up your phone and place an order for home delivery of some veggies. Try asking the bhajiwala the price of any vegetable...there will be a second's pause and you will be asked sweetly, "Kaun si building bhabhi?" (which building?). The price quoted will be according to the name of your building. You fume...! Believe me, that's all you can do, because no one around you is cribbing. Well, I go a step ahead and wish for a rebirth of Mrs. Indira Gandhi.

Today being a Sunday, you must have certainly replenished your veggies.  Primarily because the city is going to wake up to another auto strike tomorrow.  By the way, by now most of us must have gotten ourselves well versed in facing this challenge, that looms large every couple of months. As a money making idea, I was thinking,  somebody who has a sound financial background and good contacts, can invest in a good amount of Nano's and on such strike days can just bring them on the road. Given the regularity with which the auto's take a break, I am sure he/she will mint enough money (even if it happens only twice a year), that he can go on a vacation for the rest of the time.

While two issues, I feel are enough to crib about for today. I would say good-night for now. And while u brace yourself up for a busy Monday, minus the trademark auto's on the streets, let me ponder over the fact as to how a quake in Indonesia can damage a flyover in Lalbag.......

Will come cribbing back next weekend.

Summer has set into my city. The heat is getting unbearable with each passing day. So today morning when I stepped out for my walk, I was taken aback by the whiff of fresh air which filled my lungs with the pure smell of morning dew and greenery. Hurriedly I took a few deep breaths, so sure that by the end of it the freshness will be gone. But fortunately I  enjoyed it for another 20 minutes and felt blissed. My thoughts immediately wandered off to the times when I used to go visit my son when he was studying in Woodstock School, Mussoorie a couple of years back.  24/7....yes 24/7 I could fill my lungs with the pure fresh air. Supposedly some years back my area in Mumbai too, was less crowded and there was no dust. I could keep the windows open ALWAYS. Didn't need the AC's. The maintenance guy would finish his job in ten minutes and would crib that we didn't use the AC much. But today if I keep the windows open for even 10 mins, I have a fine layer of dust all over my furniture. My heart yearns for the blissful days lost to the  agressive  development and the continous interior re-decoration going on in people's home every year. By March end I feel the need for AC's in my home. Sadly, my thoughts wander back to Mussoorie and I realise that few years from now I won't be able to fill my lungs with fresh air in Mussoorie too. I am pretty sure about this, taking into consideration the various changes the beautiful hill town is going through with so many brands coming in and the quality of the tourist getting rowdier. The town seems to be developing, but, I wonder at what cost?

Development should transform a place in a way that life gets easier and healthier for its inhabitants. It doesn't seem so when I pick up the morning newspapers and go through the statistics of pollution and the diseases setting in. The city should be getting more appealing to the eyes. On the contrary, the Metro construction is not even done and there are posters pasted at many strategic points already. I miss what Mumbai was and looked ten years ago. But then, its name sounded good as well.

When it comes to sounds, today morning at the age of 44 I wondered if I should go for a phonetics class in English. The afterthought was a result of a discussion with my son on how to pronounce Chris Evans' (Captain America in The Avengers) name. (Well he is from Woodstock school and has an accent to his English, which he has not given up even after two years of being back in Mumbai and knows how to pronounce all the English names) I pronounced it ee-vans...but he corrected it to be eh-vans like..... There was a heated argument and I tried to support with various examples that Eva makes it to be pronounced as  ee-vans. As a dedicated soul to the rightfulness of English and to prove that he is correct, in the heat of the argument he too excitedly put forth an example saying, "it might be at some places but Eva (he was talking about Eva in Wall E) was called eeva and so it is eeeeeeee......  errrrrrr.... Eh-vans." There was a pause and then we both could only burst out laughing .....

After contemplating for a couple of years I finally sat down today, to write this blog, because I felt my frustrations  as a Mumbaikar were innumerable and I needed to vent them out. I feel sad at the way the city is shaping up, but still my heart wants to believe, that after maybe about ten years of development, it will turn out to be beautiful and at par with major cities of the world. That's the undying attitude the city imparts to its residents.

I'll be back soon with few more frustrations. You too are invited to vent them out and let's discuss them and throw them out of our systems. Maybe that way we can cool ourselves off a little this summer...