Nestled in the heart of the Deccan, about 10 km before Palamaner on the road from Chittoor, you find the village of Bangarapalya and the Lucky Punjabi Dhaba. Snuggling in the shaded lee of a hill that is little more than rocks and tufts of grass, the dhaba is a long, cold, drink on a hot, sweltering, day.
Under the spreading arms of an old, green, leafy tree you lounge, in a khatiya strung with bright red nylon rope, looking out across the road at the fields of sugarcane stretching away into the distance. The Sun is warm, the breeze is cool, and there is a sweetness and quiet to the spot that belies the busy National Highway rushing by just a few feet away.
The food is fresh, simple and tasty, served by the wide-eyed, curly haired Jasmine with the serious mouth. All of 8 years old, she flits between the table and the kitchen, where her father is bustling, with the younger, tow-headed Tasmine trailing behind her. All attempts to engage her and get her to smile are met with a long, solemn look. Papa roti nakko kehte! she trills when you turn down the offer for more food. Sitting back, stuffed, happy, sleepy, you watch as she brings you hot tea, to cap off the lunch. Having handed the cups over, she darts back to the waiting Tasmine, to play in the shade, watched over by her mother.
The only time you see her smile back at you is when she opens up the little bag of sweets you give her, as you pay your bill and prepare to leave. The Sun shining overhead on a swath of clear blue sky, the bright green trees waving in the breeze, and the little girl waving happily at you as you drive away. A picture from the heart land of India.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
It raineth, It poureth...
...and Bangalore floateth. Beats me why its raining this hard (no, I don't listen to the weather analysis, and I don't work at the meteorological department!) but what with today's Bharat Bundh keeping the kids and most autos off the roads, atleast office-goers mercifully have a whole lot less havoc to navigate through!
Pull on your flippers, Bangalore, the drains have just invaded the roads. Yeeesh.
Pull on your flippers, Bangalore, the drains have just invaded the roads. Yeeesh.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Thursday, September 15, 2005
A Tale of Two Cities...
Namma Bengaluru and Aamchi Mumbai...
I returned last night from the city of Vada Pav and "Ganapati Bappa Moriya!". I came back from seeing a city ravaged by the recent onslaught of the rains, and yet smiling as it greets fresh showers and dancing as it takes it's utsav murtis to the seaside for "Visarjan". "I love Mumbai in the rains" said one of the people I met during my day, affirming the strength of spirit of a city that has seen bodies of its families floating past in those very same rains. "I love Mumbai during Ganapati, going around town seeing the various society Ganapatis.." vowed another. And I too was overwhelmed by the spirit of the people around me, walking, dancing, laughing in the constantly descending rains, as they proceeded in slow congress towards the beaches, accompanying their respective Ganapatis. The spirit went beyond the immediate group and engulfed even passersby, attracted everyone irrespective of caste, creed or religion. But, for a city with a much vaunted public infrastructure, I also saw Mumbai grind to a slow crawl in places as traffic snarls, rain-damaged roads and inconsiderate motorists attacked.
What struck me was how Mumbai today is what Bangalore is steadily working its way towards. And I am not lauding the survival and community instincts here. I am referring to the similarity, to the Mumbai I saw, coming from the state (or lack thereof) of our roads, our traveling public and the sheer chaos that greets you at every turn. And from the fact that Bangalore is today turning into what Mumbai started out being - a destination for everyone who wants to find their fortune.
Back home, I landed to greet a Bengaluru taking a break from the rains, cool, breezy and relatively more quiet and composed even on Day 8 of the Ganesha festival. Bangalore takes its festivals seriously, but festivals don't "take" Bangalore the way they do it's sister up in the West. You will find warmth, joy, festivity within your homes and families and with your friends. But you will rarely find an occasion to share this with absolute strangers, both of you never rendered same, equal and joined in some common cause. Here the festivals are about family, not about community.
I sometimes wonder if there does exist a common thread, here in Bangalore, that winds its way through the lives of all Bangaloreans and gives us a sense of oneness. Does Bangalore make people here profess love for any part of the city they have made their home, forcibly or otherwise? I sometimes wonder if today's Bangalorean sees this city as more than just a means to fulfill the immediate needs of Life. Do we care about our city?
I returned last night from the city of Vada Pav and "Ganapati Bappa Moriya!". I came back from seeing a city ravaged by the recent onslaught of the rains, and yet smiling as it greets fresh showers and dancing as it takes it's utsav murtis to the seaside for "Visarjan". "I love Mumbai in the rains" said one of the people I met during my day, affirming the strength of spirit of a city that has seen bodies of its families floating past in those very same rains. "I love Mumbai during Ganapati, going around town seeing the various society Ganapatis.." vowed another. And I too was overwhelmed by the spirit of the people around me, walking, dancing, laughing in the constantly descending rains, as they proceeded in slow congress towards the beaches, accompanying their respective Ganapatis. The spirit went beyond the immediate group and engulfed even passersby, attracted everyone irrespective of caste, creed or religion. But, for a city with a much vaunted public infrastructure, I also saw Mumbai grind to a slow crawl in places as traffic snarls, rain-damaged roads and inconsiderate motorists attacked.
What struck me was how Mumbai today is what Bangalore is steadily working its way towards. And I am not lauding the survival and community instincts here. I am referring to the similarity, to the Mumbai I saw, coming from the state (or lack thereof) of our roads, our traveling public and the sheer chaos that greets you at every turn. And from the fact that Bangalore is today turning into what Mumbai started out being - a destination for everyone who wants to find their fortune.
Back home, I landed to greet a Bengaluru taking a break from the rains, cool, breezy and relatively more quiet and composed even on Day 8 of the Ganesha festival. Bangalore takes its festivals seriously, but festivals don't "take" Bangalore the way they do it's sister up in the West. You will find warmth, joy, festivity within your homes and families and with your friends. But you will rarely find an occasion to share this with absolute strangers, both of you never rendered same, equal and joined in some common cause. Here the festivals are about family, not about community.
I sometimes wonder if there does exist a common thread, here in Bangalore, that winds its way through the lives of all Bangaloreans and gives us a sense of oneness. Does Bangalore make people here profess love for any part of the city they have made their home, forcibly or otherwise? I sometimes wonder if today's Bangalorean sees this city as more than just a means to fulfill the immediate needs of Life. Do we care about our city?
Monday, September 05, 2005
ATMs & Akkirotti
By day a simple, nondescript ATM, up the stairs and right next to the entrance to the Bank. But by night, a haven for the hungry. As the darkness falls and the stars twinkle on, the stairs to this ATM transforms into an alfresco dining experience, fronted by a trestle table and a portable hot-plate-style stove. And what does one dine on here? Rottis and dosas and idlis and omlettes. But the show stealer is the Rotti (no, I haven't mis-spelt 'roti'...I mean the famous down-south rotti...flattened-by-hand-masala-roti!)...in every form...akkirotti, raagirotti, jholadarotti...**drool drool**!
You come, you ask, you get served steaming hot rottis with a variety of chutneys, you munch, you swoon with delight. Then you get up and do it all over again...this is the true finger-licking-good experience.
And where this magical Akkirotti ATM be? Mission Road, before the flyover...smack in front of Canara Bank (or mebbe it's SBI...I have always been too busy eating to notice!), opposite Ad Labs or some such photo joint. Rottis on offer only in the evenings and the best times be from 7-9pm.
Don't just take my word for it...go and try it out for yourselves!
You come, you ask, you get served steaming hot rottis with a variety of chutneys, you munch, you swoon with delight. Then you get up and do it all over again...this is the true finger-licking-good experience.
And where this magical Akkirotti ATM be? Mission Road, before the flyover...smack in front of Canara Bank (or mebbe it's SBI...I have always been too busy eating to notice!), opposite Ad Labs or some such photo joint. Rottis on offer only in the evenings and the best times be from 7-9pm.
Don't just take my word for it...go and try it out for yourselves!
Friday, September 02, 2005
Crêpes de Taz
The Crab strikes again. This time with a healthy breakfast number…wholewheat pancakes dressed in honey and cinnamon!
I have been trying to get across town, every weekend, to go pig out on pancakes and waffles. And have been failing rather miserably. I simply cannot wake up early enough on a Saturday (and you can completely forget about Sunday!) to make it to Infinitea in time to get their breakfast spread.
So, the Crab decided to take things into her own hands, and marched into the kitchen and whipped out her apron (yes, I insist on wearing an apron. And on playing the radio whiles I am in the kitchen ; gets me into a creative mood and all that!). She was going to make her own pancakes, or die trying (you think I am kidding? Hunger can kill ya!).
A brief visit to the Internet to get the general hang of how pancakes are made, with a dollop of my own ideas, and here’s what I wrought:
I have been trying to get across town, every weekend, to go pig out on pancakes and waffles. And have been failing rather miserably. I simply cannot wake up early enough on a Saturday (and you can completely forget about Sunday!) to make it to Infinitea in time to get their breakfast spread.
So, the Crab decided to take things into her own hands, and marched into the kitchen and whipped out her apron (yes, I insist on wearing an apron. And on playing the radio whiles I am in the kitchen ; gets me into a creative mood and all that!). She was going to make her own pancakes, or die trying (you think I am kidding? Hunger can kill ya!).
A brief visit to the Internet to get the general hang of how pancakes are made, with a dollop of my own ideas, and here’s what I wrought:
Cinnamon Crêpes de Taz (Serves 2… or 1 depending on how hungry you are!)
2 cups of Milk
1 Egg
2 cups of Flour (I used wholewheat…you can use any kinda flour actually)
1 tbsp of Sugar (Powder the regular stuff, or just use icing sugar)
1 tbsp of Cinnamon powder (Forget store-bought…try fresh powdered cinnamon sticks!)
0.25 tsp of baking powder
Pinch of Salt
Honey
Beat the egg in the milk, adding the sugar, baking powder, salt and flour evenly as you go. Make sure there are no lumps and that you have a smooth batter. Heat a small skillet over a medium flame, and grease it with butter / margarine. Pour in about a 3/4th cup of batter to make one pancake…more if you want it thicker. Cook one side on a low-medium flame, and then flip over to cook the other. Make sure that the pancake does not burn. Plate the hot pancake and sprinkle cinnamon powder over the top. Pour honey over it (liberally, if you happen to be related to me!) and Voila!
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Iqbal
Take the average underdog with dreams concept. Intersperse it with a drive to rise above physical disability. Add a dash of secularism to it. And the lay it against the background of the country's favorite pastime and passion, Cricket. What you will have is a delectable morsel titled 'Iqbal', directed by Nagesh Kukunoor.
Le Kukunoor has always made the kind of movies that make up in the thought area, what they lack in glitter and polish. But 'Iqbal' has gone beyond his usual styling and hits straight at the heart, making a pitstop at the brain on the way.
I find myself liking the movie not just because I am the kind of eternal optimist who loves a good story with a triumphant ending, but because there was so much to learn from it. Oh sure, you could argue that he made it too simple to be true. But I see it as simple enough to be digested by anyone.
It's the concepts at the heart of the movie that really matter - how to find dignity in your dreams, despite a physical disability, how to accord such dignity to such challenged people and how to never bow down to stereotyping. The wave in the direction of the dhandha of the game, and the ills of drinking, do not detract from the main story and only help reinforce it.
After 'Iqbal' all I can say is that Nagesh Kukunoor is turning into a fine wine - Blackberry matured in the Sun!
Le Kukunoor has always made the kind of movies that make up in the thought area, what they lack in glitter and polish. But 'Iqbal' has gone beyond his usual styling and hits straight at the heart, making a pitstop at the brain on the way.
I find myself liking the movie not just because I am the kind of eternal optimist who loves a good story with a triumphant ending, but because there was so much to learn from it. Oh sure, you could argue that he made it too simple to be true. But I see it as simple enough to be digested by anyone.
It's the concepts at the heart of the movie that really matter - how to find dignity in your dreams, despite a physical disability, how to accord such dignity to such challenged people and how to never bow down to stereotyping. The wave in the direction of the dhandha of the game, and the ills of drinking, do not detract from the main story and only help reinforce it.
After 'Iqbal' all I can say is that Nagesh Kukunoor is turning into a fine wine - Blackberry matured in the Sun!
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