Friday, July 31, 2009

My Experiments with Food-1


I love eating! Well who does not, everyone like to eat tasty food. Still, I do consider myself a foodie as I like to eat different genres of food all the time many a times at the cost of my pocket and at times at the cost of tummy. When I some dish that was alien to me so far, I am tempted beyond nature to sink my teeth in it. Although being a Northie my favorite is of course “Dal Makhani” & “Butter Chicken”. Many a times my food adventures become misadventures. Here I narrate one such incident that made me cry, literally.

One fine morning as I picked the morning newspaper from the doorstep, a leaflet fell through. It was the menu of a newly opened Hyderabadi restaurant in the vicinity of my home. A quick glance through the menu gave me an idea about the rates which were phenomenally reasonable. It only took me a couple of seconds to make up my mind to conquer this place in the afternoon with my fangs.

I reached the place in the middle of the afternoon and my first impression itself was bad. Standing for 5 min with no one to attend to the spices got to my head and I shouted. Seeing an angry customer at hand I was immediately ushered by one of the staff to a table. When I had come to the place I had thought of trying out the “briyani, there. But my foodie instincts insisted on trying something new this time. So I thought of trying something that was truly South Indian and distinct. We all have gad dosa idli, vada the typical south Indian delicacies. So I thought of trying the Andhra thali this time.

Well the order came and it included a big plate filled with rice and then the waiter came and put 1 spoonful of dal, vegetable, chutney and rasam and moved on. I was shocked, did he actually expect me to eat that humongous amount of rice with that much dal. I know southies can have a pound of rice with a cup of dal, but I not me. So I gave the waiter a bad stare and said “what do u expect me to do with this”. Well my experience so far was proving to be bad.

Anyways I started my meal and although not great I was munching through, 5 minutes down and I realized that the food was really spicy/hot. It also refreshed my memory that in Andhra they eat the most chili compared to the rest of India. Wow, how soon had I realized this fact. Still I though as I had paid for this so I might as well finish it, but with each bite it became more and more though. My eyes and my nose both were pouring down gallons of water and I was so embarrassed of my condition that I was keeping my head down so that the other people eating/relishing their food there did not see my pathetic condition.

I asked the waiter to get me a cola or a juice, but I guess it just wasn’t my day as he had none. So I had to be content with the luke warm water that he had kept on my table and risk jaundice. I thought of taking a break and to let the burning of my tongue die down and stated fiddling with my mobile and pretended I was doing something important and that’s why was ignoring my food. But misinterpreting my idleness the waiter thought that I wanted more supplements to finish my rice and poured dal and rasam in my plate.
It really wasn’t my day, with great reluctance I started of again cursing the very moment I had decided to come, cursing the entire clan of people who eat so much chili and finally cursing god for making me suffer. I took a couple of more bites and then decided I had had it, I could not endure this slow torture. So I suddenly got up and proceeded to the cashier leaving my food unfinished. When the cashier saw my face he was horrified, my eyes were bloodshot and watery, my nose was running and I looked like a actor in a opera doing a tragic scene of death and misery. Giving him no time to comment , I threw the money at his counter and dashed out to find the nearest sweet shop to douse the flames ignited in my mouth. The funny thing about this state is it makes you so helpless that you cant even talk.

So, this foodie experience turned out to be a disaster. I really wonder how that guy in “Man Vs Food “ does it, really respect that dude.

Friday, July 10, 2009

EDDFEST


It’s the dream of every metal fan to attend a concert of his/her favourite band once before they die. For us Indians this is a bit hard chiefly because most of the bands that we listen too(not talking about Boyzone,Britney, Beyonce) have ceased to exist or if they are still performing, India is never on their tour map.

So it was with great shock and delight that I received the news from my friend that my favourite band “Iron Maiden” will be performing in Banglore, India. India…were they actually coming here, “holy fuck” was I delighted. Metal freaks throughout the country were agog with the news and every one waited for the “E” day in great anticipation.

Tickets @1500 per head were a bit expensive but something I could afford for Maiden along with the traveling expenses. Leave from work was also not an issue, will simply fake illness, simple. Everything was planed tickets both train and concert were bought now all we could do was wait and wait and wait.

Finally, the day came, I was accompanied on this metal journey by my 2 seniors from college who shared my passion for the band. We boarded the train at night and soon realized we weren’t the only fans on board the train. In fact the train was packed with them. It wasn’t hard to identify people going for the concert, they had 3 distinct features disheveled appearance, long hair and black T shirt of some rock band . Of course there were some working professional like us whose outer features weren’t so distinct but from inside they were equally crazy.

The night in the train was spent chit chatting , pulling each other’s leg, discussing some lingo’s and abuses that we had invented their and then and the usual guys talk. I was experiencing some discomfort in my throat but that did not stop be from shouting at the top of my lungs while gossiping. Morning came and I realized I was developing some sort of throat infection, great I am going to a concert to howl and head bang and I develop problem in my throat. By evening this infection had brought with its cousin the fever.

Being the usual thoughtless dudes we had no medicine with us nor the great railway stations where the train stopped at times had anything to offer in terms of medicine and food both. On top of that their was no pantry in the train, we cursed the guy who had made reservation on this fucking train, we had no food not much water and I was fucking sick….literally sick. The best part isn’t over yet, we thought of informing our friend with whom we were supposed to stay to arrange for some medicines for me, but voila of the 3 phones we had 2 did not have roaming facilities and mine’s battery was dead. I send a desperate SOS to our friend and my phone’s battery breathed its last, unaware is the message will be delivered on not.

We reached bagalore/luru at 11pm and took an auto for our friend’s place. I was visiting this city after almost 12-13 years it did look changed; the city was more crowded the traffic was more fucked up the smell of LPG filled the air.

The autowalla was a true bastard befitting his clan and dropped us at the wrong place, so at midnight and in a tired fucked up state I had to walk about 1km to locate our friend’s place. It was a relief to finally settle in the apartment and to know that my mobile had not failed me, I popped in few medicines and rested while the others drank beer and had pakora’s to my discomfort. Wow, what a trip I had come here to enjoy and had fallen sick like an asshole and while others drank and sang songs I picked up a magazine. I tried joining the party, but when it was evident that my voice could not be heard by anyone despite my full efforts I thought of going to a corner and sulking.

The morning was a little better but I still had a sore throat and slight fever. What disappointed me the most was I would not be able to shout and cheer the band for which I had traveled so many miles. Nevertheless, we thought of spending the time we had at our hands to explore the city. After roaming for some time we thought of checking out some good rock pubs in the city. We finally decided on “Styx” and here we saw many fans who had accompanied us on the train enjoying the music and pounding their legs on the floorboards.

What I am going to tell you next you might not believe but it is the truth. Being I lover of alcohol I did not want to miss my chance of enjoying with my friends by not drinking so I ordered some whiskey for me. Two large down and I was fit, hallelujah I was cured and was singing along with the music from the speakers. Who says booze cant cure problems.
So, a little tipsy and with my voice restored we left the pub for the show with elated hearts.

We reached the concert grounds after once again being cheated by the fucking auto guy. Damn these guys really know how to fool outsiders. Anyways, we gleefully reached the entrance where the bouncers were checking the tickets, I put my hands in my pocket to retrieve and what do we have here no ticket. This was really like a scene in a movie and color drained from my face, I mean now of all the ties I lose the ticket it was with me at the pub. The news was equally shocking for my friends, suddenly I was filled with questions “What will I do now?”, “Should I climb the fence and crash in?”, “Can I still buy a ticket somewhere?”. Occupied in these thoughts I started to retrace my steps , I must have walked about 300 meters when I found shining on the ground my ticket. Man, what are the chances of this you lose a ticket and then find it also amidst a so many people who were walking through the same path. If there was a time I thanked god with my whole heart it was this.

We had to punish our ears by listening to three bands before maiden started performing out of which Steve Harris’s daughter sucked the most and got the maximum boo’s from the crowd which was 20,000 strong. I can’t describe the feeling when Bruce popped up the stage and the band started playing “The Tropper”, I was mad with joy and was shouting and head banging like crazy. Being in the 4’th row from front I could see the band clearly it was once in a life time feel, you have to be a rock fan to understand it.
To describe the show I have no words, it was simply fantabulous a experience worth the pains that we had taken for it. To end this narrative by saying and we all lived happily ever after would not be right as the actual fun starts now. If our journey to Banglore was bad, our journey back was even worse.

We had initially decided that we could spend the night in the “waiting room” at the station as our friend’s apartment was pretty far and we had an early morning train to catch. It was with great difficulty by changing buses and walking like lost souls that we finally reached the station. There was hardly and activity in the platform and it looked like a scene from an old western classic. We located a dingy restaurant near the station where we had our dinner at 12.30 am. We were so tired, exhausted and hungry that no one had a heart to complain about the food.

We reached the station and tried to locate the waiting room, but since “Lady Luck” was smiling(with her fangs out) on us there was no waiting room on the station. We cursed the friend who had made the travel arrangements, no problem we said we will spend the time chit chatting. Easier said than done, in our state we could barely talk for long and soon sleep overpowered us and we slowly started to drift of to sleep and would have been successful in that only if there was a place. The wooden benches on which we were lying so uncomfortable that only a dead body could rest on it. On top of that since it was February so it was cold and we had no sheets to cover ourselves with, smart boys.

By 3am when I could take it no longer I got up and sat on the bench, to my surprise my other 2 friends are snoring to glory and I am awake like a dumb fool. Suddenly a thought struck me, while we were trying to sleep on the benches the train on which we were supposed to travel had come on the same platform where we were sitting as it was supposed to depart from the same one in the morning. An idea came to my mind and I thought why not sleep in the train as it will be warm there. I tried opening the doors of few of the compartments but they were mostly locked, so I finally found open the door to the general compartment which again had wooden seats! I tried sleeping there but thanks to the numerous mosquitoes sleep was something I could not get.

By 4am while I was still twisting and turning I heard the voices of my friends, they too had woken up and were thinking of sleeping in the train.We somehow tracked our bogie and occupied our seats which were reserved by us, finally I thought I could sleep. Even though the seat was covered with a thick layer of dust, it did not matter to me, I could have slept amongst animals at that time. But my joy was short lived as some cleaning staff informed a railway constable and he asked us to vacate the seats as they needed to clean and do some shit with it. Again we were out in the cold staring at each other with puffed up eyes which were burning like coal.

By 5 am when the cleaning staff had done their due, we finally reoccupied our berths for good and the next thing I know is the shouts of a tea vendor by mid day. The others were already up and were planning for breakfast, why planning you ask, well simply because we were on such a wonderful trip that on this train also their was no panty moreover the train was not stopping at many places and wherever it stopped the stations were to small to have something good to eat and the stoppage time was fucking less. Around 2pm when the train stopped at a god forsaken place one of my friends got down, we were expecting some goodies on his return, but what he could muster in that time was , 3 idli’s and 1 packet of parle biscuits which I feed to dogs, wow it really was not our day. We nibbled on whatever we had but the thirst was still an issue. It felt as if we were hiking on some mountains with no supplies but in realty this was a simple train journey. Around 4pm the train once again stopped and this time I along with another friend got down. I located a decent shop and bought a bottle of water, I thought of buying some bananas as it was the only edible thing there, but before I could overcome the language barrier and tell the guy what I want the train started moving, I threw the money and the guy and rushed back with bananas in one hand and bottle in other. The train had already picked up speed and I literally threw myself inside with no free hand to grab the bar for support, half my body dangling outside the train. Phew!, that surely was a close shave. Finally had water after 14hrs.

The rest of the journey wasn’t as eventful but if you think that my miseries ended their, you have another things coming. We reached Pune around 2 and after some haggling convinced an autowalla to take us to our homes, since we lived in different places after dropping my friends the guy dropped me about 300 meters from my apartment. I just couldn’t wait to feel my bed after this gruesome trip, but I had half a dozen howling dogs between me and my bed. I had to wait for about 30 min for the dogs to disperse, during I tried to look for various alternates routes to reach my place but found none. Finally after half a hour I managed to reach my flat and thanked my stars for still being in one piece.

To say on this trip I experienced more than I bargained for would not be an understatement.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Visit to Sabarmati Ashram...


This time when I went back home to Ahmdabad, I chanced to visit “Gandhi Ashram” that is located on the bank of river Sabarmati in A’bad. Hold your horses, before you jump to any conclusion…..No…I repeat No ..i am not a fan of “The father of the nation” nor of his ideology, “Ahimsa” what bull crap. In fact I thank “Mr Godse” for what he did from the bottom of my heart. But being a history buff somehow my feet automatically took me to the said place.

First impression was as I had expected; a serene and quite place with lot of trees providing shade to visitors in this hot Indian summer. I started my visit with a small museum dedicated to the man, displaying his works, old photographs, letters etc.
Then I moved on to the hut where he had stayed , his belongings which were almost non existent, no wonder people in states auction his belongings as they are surely missing from the place where it should have been. We only have our government to thank for this.
Also saw the famous seat, table and charkha that we use to see in doordarshan when we were kids.

It was after visiting the hut that something’s kicked in and some things that I saw that made my mood bitter and have made me share some of my thoughts. I am devil to the core, descendent of devil himself but I have certain ethics, I respect a place that has historical significance, I respect a person who has historical significance in this case the person who is given the status of father of our nation which is a big deal. The youth today might not agree with his beliefs but in the by gone era their were people ready to take a bullet for him and yes whatever ways he might employed he was a freedom fighter , he was a leader, he did play his part in the freedom struggle.

Now if you’re wondering why I am being so vocal about the chap is for the following reason. The sheer disrespect, lack of common sense and vulgarity displayed by my fellow countrymen present in the ashram just pissed me off. For starters people had made this place of such historical significance where pre independence dignitaries from all over the world came to meet Mr Mohandas K. Gandhi, where big decisions in regard to freedom struggle were taken into a “fucking” picnic spot. Excuse me folks, but I do not think this is a place where parents should come with their children to play ball and laugh and be merry. It is not a public park. This place is a part of our history, a symbol of our nation and you are only mocking this symbol by this crude and callow behavior.

I would not have minded had this been a singular incident, but there was more to follow. There was a sitting statue of the Gandhi in the middle of the park and people were getting their pictures clicked along with it. Perfectly fine, no issues but at least don’t pose by sitting on his head which was precisely the case with one kid and his father who had equal amount of brain as his kid was merrily clicking the picture. I mean seriously in Cartman’s words WTF. You don’t sit on someone’s head and in this case not on the head of a person of this magnitude. The bald head may look a tempting place to sit but its not, at least the parents should understand that much.

Just when I thought that this was the end of my horrendous experience, my excessively broad spectrum of vision made me spot two love birds pecking, and I don’t mean birds.
Ok, I am a very open mined guy and this necking is completely expected behavior according to me even in public place but for fuck’s sake spare this place. I am positive that the said couple would not have come here to see the place but to sit in their corner and enjoy their youth. This must be a regular meeting place of many more like them who would be flocking the ashram to have their private corner. Once again I have to say WTF man.

The above disturbing seen actually made me think that do we Indians give a “rat’s ass” about our past. Their were foreigners who had come to see the ashram and were behaving in quite a dignified manner and showed genuine interest in their surroundings but we the “people of India” had once again proved that we don’t care about our heritage. With couples engraving their name on buildings of historical significance. With youths playing football in this tranquil place and urinating in the open the list of our misdoings is endless.

All this makes you think, have we failed as a nation to teach our kids or even adults for that matter to respect all that that belongs to us our past, our culture, our heritage, our history. Why do Indians respect everyone except themselves. We are the folks who make spit on the walls of “Takshila” or”Nalanda” but who will marvel at the sight of “Harvard or Yale”. So the question is do we suffer from inferiority complex and don’t appreciate our own things when the whole world does. Well, I guess so!