Water woes have been traditional to my tellings of Basecamp Rooftop, and this tale can be no different. Our plight is much like the water-logged streets of Tamil Nadu; except that the logging is not so much underfoot as overhead.
The oft-changing geography, of our rooms, reflects the waxing and waning of the rains. "October Showers" be dam*ed, these skies have burst a seam somewhere! And so, apparently, has our ceiling. And hence the steady attendance of drips, plops and drops, on a variety of surfaces, like a percussion band in a constant state of tune-up.
My carpets are rolled up, and propped against the wall, their place taken by buckets, pails and papers. Sodden papers, that is. Our beds are constantly diapered in plastic sheets, like an incontinent baby in reverse. And our electricals are shorting, leaving us lit by candles and washing in freezing cold water (there's the darn water, again!).
Nothing like the rains to toss a perfectly good house into complete disarray!
Which same is an utter and complete understatement.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
2 Days to Go
1st December 2005. World AIDS Day - the international day of action on HIV and AIDS.
The first World AIDS Day came in the wake of the World Summit of Ministers of Health on Programmes for AIDS Prevention in London, England, 1988. Delegates from 148 countries including Canada attended. They emphasized the need for worldwide AIDS education, the free exchange of information, and the protection of human rights and dignity. The World Health Organization recognized the event by declaring December 1 World AIDS Day. This day was picked because the first case of AIDS was diagnosed on this day
In 1991 the red ribbon became the international symbol of HIV and AIDS awareness. It was created by the Visual AIDS Caucus in New York. It made its public debut at the 1991 Tony Awards on the lapel of host Jeremy Irons.
Go here to know more about:
The first World AIDS Day came in the wake of the World Summit of Ministers of Health on Programmes for AIDS Prevention in London, England, 1988. Delegates from 148 countries including Canada attended. They emphasized the need for worldwide AIDS education, the free exchange of information, and the protection of human rights and dignity. The World Health Organization recognized the event by declaring December 1 World AIDS Day. This day was picked because the first case of AIDS was diagnosed on this day
In 1991 the red ribbon became the international symbol of HIV and AIDS awareness. It was created by the Visual AIDS Caucus in New York. It made its public debut at the 1991 Tony Awards on the lapel of host Jeremy Irons.
Go here to know more about:
Monday, November 28, 2005
Bangalore : From City to Cant.!
On one of my recent trips, whiles browsing through the Airport bookstore (this is RELIGION! :o) ), a book titled 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' caught my eye.
Now, I am not one usually given to reading Travelogues / Guides for Tourists / Factsy-Figuresy City Guides, unless I am actually going someplace new, but something about this looked different. And how!
Peter Colaco is an old Bangalore man, born here in 1945, and, among other things, a writer, columnist, visiting prof at IIM(B) and ex-head of an advertising agency. 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' is just that...Peter Colaco's Bangalore ; the Bangalore he knew growing up, and the Bangalore he learnt about from his grandparents and from his research, and the Bangalore a lot of us know only in urban legend!
Whether you are new to Bangalore, or have been a part of the landscape for ages, pick up this book, retire to a quiet corner in the garden, and start a heart-warming journey into a Bangalore that used to be, not too long ago.
Now, I am not one usually given to reading Travelogues / Guides for Tourists / Factsy-Figuresy City Guides, unless I am actually going someplace new, but something about this looked different. And how!
Peter Colaco is an old Bangalore man, born here in 1945, and, among other things, a writer, columnist, visiting prof at IIM(B) and ex-head of an advertising agency. 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' is just that...Peter Colaco's Bangalore ; the Bangalore he knew growing up, and the Bangalore he learnt about from his grandparents and from his research, and the Bangalore a lot of us know only in urban legend!
Whether you are new to Bangalore, or have been a part of the landscape for ages, pick up this book, retire to a quiet corner in the garden, and start a heart-warming journey into a Bangalore that used to be, not too long ago.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Observations...
If we had six lane highways, instead of two lane ones, travel would still take just as long. The first lanes on either side would be used by pedestrians and hawkers ; the second lanes on either side as parking, especially for heavy transport vehicles that are prohibited from plying during the day, leaving the third lanes for moving vehicles. Presto, we are back to square one….sorry, Lane One!
The hungrier you are the more unfathomable and inadequate the meal served on board a ‘plane. The more tired you are the longer the flight. The more your tail hurts, from all the sitting, the more turbulence you hit. And the more severe the headache the more adventurous the pilot.
People who contract illnesses such as cancer or aids or TB, or have tumors , tend to get a lot of care, sympathy, understanding and assistance. Often, after a short, but heated battle, they leave their illness behind for ever. If they are lucky, they gain wellness. However, people who have bad backs, or chronic migraines, or painful joints have to live not only with the pain, for forty or fifty years, but also with the fact that a pain in the back / neck / head / knee is not going to get them any respite from work or life. They just live in pain.
The hungrier you are the more unfathomable and inadequate the meal served on board a ‘plane. The more tired you are the longer the flight. The more your tail hurts, from all the sitting, the more turbulence you hit. And the more severe the headache the more adventurous the pilot.
People who contract illnesses such as cancer or aids or TB, or have tumors , tend to get a lot of care, sympathy, understanding and assistance. Often, after a short, but heated battle, they leave their illness behind for ever. If they are lucky, they gain wellness. However, people who have bad backs, or chronic migraines, or painful joints have to live not only with the pain, for forty or fifty years, but also with the fact that a pain in the back / neck / head / knee is not going to get them any respite from work or life. They just live in pain.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Caught between Characters
Taking forward Varun's and Denty's streak of middle-of-the-week-silliness, I too took the "Which Fantasy/SciFi Character Are You" test...
...and am now caught between being one of two characters. Whiles I am basically Aragorn (nice, nice!), apparently, am equally likely to be Luke Skywalker ... talk about fictional schizophrenia!
...and am now caught between being one of two characters. Whiles I am basically Aragorn (nice, nice!), apparently, am equally likely to be Luke Skywalker ... talk about fictional schizophrenia!
I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars I am least likely to be Watto!
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Abortive Scary Story...
I started this scary story with the severely misguided belief that I would have what it takes to finish it. But, nu-uh! Had I tried any more to finish it, I would probably be a dithering idiot by now (laugh if you will...I spook easily ; VERY easily!).
So I throw this open to you to try and finish, for me. Go ahead...scare me...I dare you (errrm...no need to take me too seriously here, my bark has more spine than my bite! heh heh heh).
"It was just imagination. It had to be just her imagination. There was no one there, it was after regular hours; that wing of the hospital was empty, and the rest of the staff would have all left hours ago.
Yet, she couldn't shake that eerie feeling as she strode through the long, empty hallway, dimly lit by spluttering, badly-spaced lights.
As the dark maw of a stairwell loomed ahead of her, her strides faltered, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. There was nothing to fear, she knew the halls and every nook and cranny.
Yet, her heart thumped, sounding loud and insistent inside her head.
The stairs led up to offices that were locked for the day, for the weekend. she had no cause to go up there, there were no wards that way.
Yet, a sense of dread urged her forward, step by halting step. The darkness enveloped her, closing in on all sides, crawling up onto her. She felt cold, icy cold, hair standing on end."
And that's about as far as I got...I dared go no farther! Over to you...
So I throw this open to you to try and finish, for me. Go ahead...scare me...I dare you (errrm...no need to take me too seriously here, my bark has more spine than my bite! heh heh heh).
"It was just imagination. It had to be just her imagination. There was no one there, it was after regular hours; that wing of the hospital was empty, and the rest of the staff would have all left hours ago.
Yet, she couldn't shake that eerie feeling as she strode through the long, empty hallway, dimly lit by spluttering, badly-spaced lights.
As the dark maw of a stairwell loomed ahead of her, her strides faltered, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. There was nothing to fear, she knew the halls and every nook and cranny.
Yet, her heart thumped, sounding loud and insistent inside her head.
The stairs led up to offices that were locked for the day, for the weekend. she had no cause to go up there, there were no wards that way.
Yet, a sense of dread urged her forward, step by halting step. The darkness enveloped her, closing in on all sides, crawling up onto her. She felt cold, icy cold, hair standing on end."
And that's about as far as I got...I dared go no farther! Over to you...
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Blog Quake Day - October 26th
Whiles bloggers have been battling with issues concerning their freedom of speech, freedom to opine, people elsewhere have been battling for their lives. The 8th October earthquake has brought devastation to the people of both India and Pakistan ; neighbours, political foes, religious opposites...no matter how you look at it, politics be damned, people are dying.The Indian "Blogosphere" has shown how it can come together, for a cause, to support other bloggers. It's now time to go beyond just the bloggers....it's high time we came together help these people in need. Every little bit that we contribute can only add up to make a difference...so please give what you can, as soon as you can.
Whiles there is a directory of organizations helping with the Earthquake Relief effort, here are some sites you can use for online donation:
And even if you are not in a position to provide monetary or material aid, please spread this call for help - the more people we reach, the more we can give.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Support Petition
The Bangalore Bloggers have raised an online petition in support of the Bansal-Sabnis issue in specific, and freedom of bloggers in general. Read on...
The members of the "Bloggers of Bangalore" community would like to bring to the attention of the media and society at large, certain unfair and intimidatory actions undertaken by the Indian Institute of Planning and Management (IIPM) against members of the Indian blogging community.
In June 2005, JAM, a popular youth magazine published out of Mumbai, ran a story on IIPM titled 'The Truth about IIPM's Tall Claims' pointing out blatant exaggerations in the institute's claims about infrastructure, courses, affiliations and placements. For instance, the magazine article pointed out how IIPM continues to use certain rankings conferred upon it AFTER those rankings have been withdrawn by the bodies conferring them.
The magazine ran an ethically researched investigative story on IIPM, revealing what was a marketing fraud by the college.
Alongside, the editor of JAM magazine and a former student of Indian Institute of Management (IIM) Ahmedabad, who is also a blogger, published the same on her personal blog. In August 2005, blogger Gaurav Sabnis, another Mumbai-based blogger, posted about this on his own blog, linking to JAM's original story. Soon after this, he received an e-mail from the IIPM legal department threatening to sue him for a huge sum of money unless he withdrew his comments. Simultaneously, he was also pressurised by IIPM through his employers, a global hardware manufacturer. Rather than put his employers in a tight spot, Sabnis decided to quit his job.
The mainstream media has picked up on this issue and the stories are available at the links provided below:
and the Mumbai rains at Mumbai Help
and Cloudburst Mumbai.
For detailed information on the bloggers vs IIPM issue, please visit Desipundit for chronological updates on the controversy.
The purpose of this petition is to express solidarity with the bloggers who have suffered threats and abuse at the hands of IIPM and also to draw attention to the original issues at the heart of the JAM story on IIPM.
If you believe that journalists and the media should be free to inform the public of false advertisement which directly or indirectly affects their lives,
If you believe education should not be reduced to a marketable commodity,
If you believe that blogging is a powerful supplement to traditional media,
If you believe that bloggers should be entitled to individual opinions as also their own online space for airing and discussing these opinions,
If you believe in standing up for your rights, as an active member of society, as a blogger, as a citizen with the right to know
Please show your support to this cause.
Sincerely,
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Freedom Curbed, Freedom Challenged
The past few days have seen a storm of proportions fit to anger and agitate any blogger. Over the past few days Gaurav Sabnis has been the target for legal as well as antisocial, un-constitutional action by the IIPM. Why? For writing a post on his personal blog, linking to a published article that openly questioned the veracity of the IIPM's claims in their ads. And for adding his own queries to those already raised. Was he wrong to doubt the IIPM and to question their version of the truth? Perhaps, from where the IIPM are looking at the issue. But since when did this give the IIPM the right to not only issue a notarized legal notice via email, threatening arrest, damage claim et al for Gaurav's "deliberate and fraudulent intentions", but to also harass both Gaurav and his employer, IBM, by threatening to burn the IBM H/W the IIPM had purchased?
Guarav has every right to ask what questions he may, right or wrong. We do NOT live in a police state, our thoughts and opinions regulated and dictated by the Powers that Be. We are Indians, born with the freedom to think, to choose and to speak. And to stand firm by our rights. Gaurav Sabnis has stood by his rights and refused to either delete his 'offending' post or to issue a retraction of his opinions. And he has voluntarily resigned from IBM, in protest against the pressure from IIPM, firm in his belief and with trust in his merits. More power to him.
I, however, see it as the duty of IBM to have stood by Gaurav, and not allowed him to resign just to save potential embarrassment and loss of H/W revenue. What is the worst that would have happened? The IIPM would have burned many lakhs of rupees worth of laptops. And would have cut their own nose off to spite their face. Would this have in any way lowered the intrinsic value of the IBM laptop and their technology? No. Would this have given other IBM customers pause before a buying decision? I don't think so. As I see it, whatever negative press there may be, around the burning of the laptops, would be more than offset by seeing IBM exercise social responsibility, and extending support to an employee whose basic constitutional and human rights are being challenged. All the more so when he has explicitly stated that his personal views are no means those of his employer.
It would be a sad, shameful thing if, today, Gaurav is denied employment on account of this issue. Especially when the IIPM should be taking the original authors of the article to task, if at all they have published wrong information. Nor is he the only one to be asking these questions. It is not a matter of whether the questions raised against the IIPM are right or wrong. It is not a question of whether the IIPM's ads are making true claims or false. That's not it at all.
It's a question of Freedom. The freedom of the average person to have doubts. Freedom to question and the freedom to share opinions. It is a question of Gaurav Sabnis's, and in fact anyone's, freedom of speech.
Today, the IIPM has moved to silence one individual who has, in an open forum, raised his voice against them. They, and others like them, must never again be allowed to make such a move against anyone, blogger or no.
Guarav has every right to ask what questions he may, right or wrong. We do NOT live in a police state, our thoughts and opinions regulated and dictated by the Powers that Be. We are Indians, born with the freedom to think, to choose and to speak. And to stand firm by our rights. Gaurav Sabnis has stood by his rights and refused to either delete his 'offending' post or to issue a retraction of his opinions. And he has voluntarily resigned from IBM, in protest against the pressure from IIPM, firm in his belief and with trust in his merits. More power to him.
I, however, see it as the duty of IBM to have stood by Gaurav, and not allowed him to resign just to save potential embarrassment and loss of H/W revenue. What is the worst that would have happened? The IIPM would have burned many lakhs of rupees worth of laptops. And would have cut their own nose off to spite their face. Would this have in any way lowered the intrinsic value of the IBM laptop and their technology? No. Would this have given other IBM customers pause before a buying decision? I don't think so. As I see it, whatever negative press there may be, around the burning of the laptops, would be more than offset by seeing IBM exercise social responsibility, and extending support to an employee whose basic constitutional and human rights are being challenged. All the more so when he has explicitly stated that his personal views are no means those of his employer.
It would be a sad, shameful thing if, today, Gaurav is denied employment on account of this issue. Especially when the IIPM should be taking the original authors of the article to task, if at all they have published wrong information. Nor is he the only one to be asking these questions. It is not a matter of whether the questions raised against the IIPM are right or wrong. It is not a question of whether the IIPM's ads are making true claims or false. That's not it at all.
It's a question of Freedom. The freedom of the average person to have doubts. Freedom to question and the freedom to share opinions. It is a question of Gaurav Sabnis's, and in fact anyone's, freedom of speech.
Today, the IIPM has moved to silence one individual who has, in an open forum, raised his voice against them. They, and others like them, must never again be allowed to make such a move against anyone, blogger or no.
Friday, October 07, 2005
My scrapbook of Bangalore
I see Life as a series of "freeze-frames" that capture a piece of time, and add definition to the picture of our own lives. From the entire stack, that comprise my own passage through time, here are a few that, for me, define the experience that is Bangalore. Some of these, sadly, remain only a memory today, having given in to the fast pace of change:
- Leisurely strolls down an almost-empty MG Road, after 10 pm, kept company by chai-vendors, rickshaws and other night owls
- The coloured lights strung out over the Brigade Road stretch during the New Year and all Festival seasons
- Chatpata churmuri, eaten at the handcart in front of Plaza theatre, chased down by tangy tomato slices with pori on them
- Browsing through the racks at British Library, surrounded by other people interested in more than just the next best-seller, on a weekend morning
- Heading downstairs to Koshy's, after the above browsing, and reading, over sandwiches and pots of coffee, in the smoke-filled haze
- Catching sight of Girish Karnad, at the next table, through said smoke-filled haze!
- The dusk-to-dawn magic of Vasanthahabba, experienced through a chill February night, marked by the red-dust at Hesargatta and never-ending wonder
- Arundati Nag MC-ing Vasanthahabba
- Waiting in line, from 6:30am, for breakfast at MTR (coffee served in silver tumblers!)
- Scrounging food, after midnight, at the Hilals, the Tajs and the carts of Shivajinagar
- Puliogare and thatte idlis at Cadambams, followed by hot, filter coffee
- The STRAND Book Festival
- Second-hand bookshops in the alleys around MG Road, where you can 'borrow' a book for a measley fee!
- Chowdiah Memorial for innumerous plays and concerts, surrounded by a Bangalore that truly appreciates
- Scrambled eggs on toast, at India Coffee House, followed by a masala dosa that you MUST eat with a fork and knife
- Rosgulla chat at Gangotri
- Masala puri with dum aalo at KC Das. And being mistaken for a Bengali as you leave, pot of misti doi in hand :o)
- Endless evenings of friends, food and fooling around at Casa's
- Dosa camps that save the life of many a hungry night shifter
- Akkirotti dinners in front of Canara Bank on Mission Road
- Speed runs down the inner ring road, to test out a friend's bike / car, after midnight
- Standing on the roof watching the jets come back after the Air show
Errm...as you would have probably figured out, by now, Food plays a huge role in the memories I make :o)
Thursday, September 29, 2005
A Picture of Jasmine
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.
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.
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!
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Je désire...
I have decided that I need the following to make my Life partly complete:
1. Bright, Blood-red, Honda. The Bike, not the Car.
2. If 1 is not possible, then Midnight Black Skoda
3. Olde Style Fountain Pen that writeth like Silk.
And not necessarily in that order!
1. Bright, Blood-red, Honda. The Bike, not the Car.
2. If 1 is not possible, then Midnight Black Skoda
3. Olde Style Fountain Pen that writeth like Silk.
And not necessarily in that order!
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Vive Le Independance!
Vive la Victory!
Victory against British Rule, you ask? No, this is not about Satyagraha, Passive resistance, Mangal Pandey, Sepoy Mutiny, Spinning cotton or White Caps. Yes, tomorrow is indeed Independance Day, and I WILL be misty-eyed, firm-resolved and will feel a surge of pride with every patriotic thought / act. No doubts there. But that is not what I speak of.
I am pointing rather vaguely in the direction of the flood of work-related happenings and doings and yet-to-be-taken-care-ofs that has swept through my life the past few weeks. Not unlike the recent rainwater floods, when I survey the damage to the brain cells. (No, I am not insensitive to the real-life tragedies and the unneccessary, yet unavoidable, loss of lives that has ensued. We, Indians, are not strangers to tragedy and that in itself is immesurably sad)
This long weekend (THREE WHOLE DAYS!) has been a great break from work, at home, with the folks (the geriatrics, as my suicidal brother, Hem, calls them), kitchen experiments...not the brain-transplant kind, more the "how many eggs in the cake?" variety!...and lots, and lots of lovely weather. A weekend of silly frogs croaking in discord all through the night (sheesh!! How do these people ever sleep!!!!), a loony dog who is currently pining for an imaginary lady-love and stories of creepy snakes wandering through the garden, making an occasional visit to one of the bedrooms (UGH!). Loving the feeling of not having to harbour more than half a thought in my head, for any length of time, during the long, lazy day. Loving the half-cups of chai and coffee my dad and I are sharing, and the crazy hindi tv soaps my mom and I are watching (logic be darned...we get our giggles poking fun at the outfits!).
And come Tuesday, will have to shift back into overdrive and then the race will begin, non-stop, from far too early in the mornings. But atleast, that is still a day and a half away, and till then, am still on my weekend :o)
Victory against British Rule, you ask? No, this is not about Satyagraha, Passive resistance, Mangal Pandey, Sepoy Mutiny, Spinning cotton or White Caps. Yes, tomorrow is indeed Independance Day, and I WILL be misty-eyed, firm-resolved and will feel a surge of pride with every patriotic thought / act. No doubts there. But that is not what I speak of.
I am pointing rather vaguely in the direction of the flood of work-related happenings and doings and yet-to-be-taken-care-ofs that has swept through my life the past few weeks. Not unlike the recent rainwater floods, when I survey the damage to the brain cells. (No, I am not insensitive to the real-life tragedies and the unneccessary, yet unavoidable, loss of lives that has ensued. We, Indians, are not strangers to tragedy and that in itself is immesurably sad)
This long weekend (THREE WHOLE DAYS!) has been a great break from work, at home, with the folks (the geriatrics, as my suicidal brother, Hem, calls them), kitchen experiments...not the brain-transplant kind, more the "how many eggs in the cake?" variety!...and lots, and lots of lovely weather. A weekend of silly frogs croaking in discord all through the night (sheesh!! How do these people ever sleep!!!!), a loony dog who is currently pining for an imaginary lady-love and stories of creepy snakes wandering through the garden, making an occasional visit to one of the bedrooms (UGH!). Loving the feeling of not having to harbour more than half a thought in my head, for any length of time, during the long, lazy day. Loving the half-cups of chai and coffee my dad and I are sharing, and the crazy hindi tv soaps my mom and I are watching (logic be darned...we get our giggles poking fun at the outfits!).
And come Tuesday, will have to shift back into overdrive and then the race will begin, non-stop, from far too early in the mornings. But atleast, that is still a day and a half away, and till then, am still on my weekend :o)
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