m a n u s c r y p t s

Andamanned – Part 4 – Prison Diary

manuscrypts — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 04:00:48 +0000

Part 1, 2, 3

We wanted to try out a specific restaurant for dinner, but apparently the driver stayed far away and I could sense he wasn’t too happy about having to wait. Anyway, we had more than an hour to kill before dinner, and the driver was at his wit’s end as we knocked down his suggestions one by one. No, we didn’t want to see the light and sound show at the Cellular jail. We actually ended up at Mahatma Gandhi park, for children, and laughed at ourselves and the Patton Tank we found, over a good walk. We then asked the driver to drop us at Marine Park, and go home. He asked us about our dinner plans at that particular restaurant, and we said we’d dropped that.

The Marine park has a wonderful promenade, and allows long walks on pathways that extend into the water. It reminded me of Marine Drive in Cochin. I am fascinated by night lights, especially by the sea shore. Not the dazzling kind, but the ones that make themselves a background, as though each light tells a story. And it was here that Port Blair would offer me the second glimpse of itself (after Corbyn) that I would take away with me. I saw old couples taking their evening walk, younger couples putting the cozy nooks offered to good use, tourists taking pedaled boat rides in the water complex, young executives catching up in small groups, after a long day at work. Like locals everywhere, I wondered if they could ever look at their town the way I looked at it -- in a tourist kind of way, though I have read that the economy is supported a lot by tourism. But Port Blair, except for the airport, and the ferry, didn’t seem to go overboard on it. Its a little town, like any other Indian town, made special because of its history, and its unique place away from the mainland. Not a choice it made.

We dined at ‘The New Lighthouse’. This one also offered a spectacular view. The fish this time was awesome, though the rest of the dinner was unremarkable. On the way back, I clicked some things that continue to puzzle me

An uneventful, yet peaceful last night on Andaman.

The next morning, we finally went to Mandalay, the place I’d wanted to dine at. It was only 2 km from our hotel, but it was difficult to get transportation back from there, and that meant the driver had to wait, something which put him off the previous night, but which he was okay with in the morning. Hearty breakfast, including a mushroom omelet made by someone who knows how to do it, and the splendid view the web had promised me. Slightly expensive, but worth a visit. By a sub conscious association, I kept humming the very catchy ‘The Road to Mandalay’.

We quickly proceeded to the Cellular Jail. It opens at 9 and there weren’t many visitors when we reached -- 10.00. We took the services of a guide, who did a good job of taking us around the place and explaining things we might have missed otherwise. The art gallery was a good starter, but I was thrilled with the Netaji photo gallery. I went into a click frenzy, and it continued until we left the place. The effects of the cellular jail, in addition to the history lessons, are the automatic sighs and the lumps in the throat as you see the cells, the gallows, the central tower. One can only imagine -- from the pictures and other exhibits, the travails of the prisoners. All for the freedom we take for granted now. But still, my heartfelt gratitude. You didn’t have to, and yet you chose to. Thank you.

The guide told us that at the counter, we hadn’t been given a ticket in spite of asking, which meant that the official could pocket the money. We picked up the luggage from the hotel and quickly left for the airport, only to be told that the flight was delayed by half an hour. The airport was chaotic, with people representing quite a few communities. Bengalis, Punjabis, Tamilians, Gujaratis, Mallus like us. I wondered if it was always like this. Perhaps the limited means of transportation to the islands meant that everyone would have to use the airport, and on days like this, it would be a mini Cellular Jail, for an hour or so, which left everyone free to swear loudly in respective languages at the flight’s delay, to make separate queues in which one was first, to shove each other off queues that were finally formed, to litter the airport and make it a gigantic trash bin. To revel in hard earned freedom.

As I look back, I have much to remember -- the lazing around on Vinnie’s beach, the snorkeling trip, the beautiful uninhabited Wilson Island, the aimless walking around in Port Blair, Corbyn’s Cove, and all those thoughts about progress and where the collective will of its humankind would take these islands.

until next time, endaman

PS: The last vacation, when I described Leh, several people mailed me for an itinerary. I am writing a short recommended one below, in case you’re interested.

Day 0: Reach Chennai from wherever you are (or Calcutta, though check when the flights are)

Day 1: Catch the 10:15 KF flight to Port Blair. You’ll land at about 12.30. KF feeds you, but if you feel hungry, you have time for a quick snack before the ferry at 2.00. The tickets are difficult to get the same day (until they have the promised online system) so you should organise it before. In spite of the small goof up, I’d highly recommend Vinnie’s for stay at Havelock and their Meet and Greet service.

Day 2: Snorkel at Elephant’s beach, Dive (rates at Vinnie‘s site) and off to Radhanagar in the afternoon. Go right till the end to the small lagoon for a good sunset view. Visit Red Snapper, its quite close by. Roads could be dark, get a torch.

Day 3: Wilson Island definitely. Off to Port Blair in the afternoon, preferably by the 12.30 ferry. That’ll give you enough time to catch the Cellular Jail the same evening. (entry allowed till 4 pm) City King Palace is quite a decent place. Fish Dinner at Lighthouse/ Mandalay.

Day 4: Ross Island, and leave by the 12.50 flight.

Resources: Vinnie’s (including Diving rates), Wiki including Citi King Palace, Havelock Wiki

PPS: D has named her Orkut album “Between the devil and the deep blue sea’.

Andamanned – Part 3 – Blair wich

manuscrypts — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 03:53:03 +0000

Part 1 and Part 2

We caught the return ferry at 3 pm, and this time, we got the non a/c seats. Arrgh, and as if that wasn’t enough, there were some noisy seat related quarrels, which thankfully didn’t involve us, so it was like watching a serial you couldn’t avoid. At about 4.30 the boat docked, and I wondered if this was some fast boat. I decided to check before getting out, only to be told that this was Neil Island and Port Blair was another one and a half hours away!! After fretting inside the boiler accommodation for 2.5 hours, we discovered the freedom on the deck (the sun had set by then).

The Port Blair view was fantastic, with the roaming beam from the light house and the glittering lights from the coast. We landed at only about 7 and were taken to the Citi King Palace hotel. The surroundings scared us, but the room was good enough, and the owner, extremely helpful. He had already got us tickets for our trip the next day, and arranged a taxi for our use. We had dinner at The Lighthouse Residency, another place which we had read a lot about, and turned out to be only about a 10 mins walk away from our hotel. Slightly disappointing food, but the place did offer a spectacular view.

The next day’s main trip was supposed to be to an island called Jolly Buoy, but we discovered that it has been closed after the tsunami, and our tickets were for Red Skin island. We had breakfast at Ananda, who also packed us a biriyani lunch. Plastic is banned there, and we were checked for plastic (they are replaced with jute bags) The boat names seemed to indicate a subtle tussle between the internet giants. I allowed myself a smile, it was let through.

After Havelock, Red Skin’s attractions – the glass bottomed boat and snorkeling was quite a come down. D beat me hands down in terms of expectations. While I had imagined a fiber glass boat, D had dreamt about a submarine like thing which would be completely under water, the reality was this.

Later, we also realized we hadn’t brought a towel, so I was forced to do a Salman in the water as my spare tee was kept as a towel. No, no packs, hell, remember we even forgot to pack a damn towel. Bloody double whammy- glass bottom and topless!!

We got back by around 2 and did a little trip to Wandoor, where D bagged her second naariyal paani, and we discovered more topless entities, and their roots.

We went back to the hotel, and thanks to the ickiness induced by the salt water + heat combination, were forced to take a bath. We rested a bit and left for Corbyn’s cove at 4. Corbyn is about 20 mins from town, and is unfortunately an example of the extent to which we can dirty a nice beach. But strangely, despite that, I felt very peaceful there. It could’ve been many things. The time, it was about 5 by the time we left – sunset time. It could’ve been the large (in terms of numbers, cheapos) Indian families, floating in the water almost fully dressed, and busy clicking away with their analog cameras. I’m not being condescending, mind you, it had a nostalgic effect.

I was suddenly reminded that just like the beaches at Havelock, my days on Andaman were numbered. I also realized that I was unconsciously comparing this trip to Leh, and this beach to the ones at Havelock, and even comparing the pictures I’d been taking so far. I was also looking at Ross Island across the water, and ruing that I chose Jolly Buoy over Ross Island, even though we had a decent time there. The families I mentioned earlier were enjoying the moment completely, they probably weren’t even going to Havelock, and would know about the pictures they’d taken only after they were developed. I had read about Japanese bunkers at Corbyn’s cove, but even if they were, they’d been turned into waste bins!!

On our way back to town, I could see sides of the road being dug up, and I wondered how long it would be before the Jap bunkers on the roadside would be removed! For the second time in the trip, I wondered about progress.

To be Continued…..

Shashi Tharoor, a real account… of the Bangalore Tweetup

manuscrypts — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 04:52:04 +0000

And that would explain why, when I saw the invite for a tweet up, it was an easy exception to make to my otherwise steadfast stance against tweet ups and reserve a place to meet the Minister of Status.

That’s in spite of generally having some harmless fun at his expense on a regular basis – from his non-accommodating stance on the 5 star stay to the now famous gaai-rights issue (actually wrote a couple of solidarity tweets on the latter to make up for the others)

He even featured in the Andaman travelogue. The good part – popularity in Andaman, and erm, the bad part. So that roughly explains my attitude towards the politician and twitterer.

The seeming flippancy in that attitude perhaps belies the enormous amount of admiration and respect I have for the author. The Great Indian Novel is probably my all time favourite work, simply because its satire and humour work on multiple levels. The more layers you can unravel through lateral thought and associations made, the more gems you can find. As my About page would indicate, I love wordplay, jest like that. TGIN, in my book, is THE benchmark, not just for wordplay and humour, but for the sheer imagination and brilliance that connected two seemingly disconnected streams almost seamlessly.

These days, I see around me, in the real world, politicians who can talk drivel for hours, boring the audience to premature death. I also see, in virtual world, authors and celebrities struggling with the expectations raised by their audience on real-time platforms – the result often being repeats of old jokes, terrible wordplay, banality, and a general discomfort stemming from the heightened interaction.

The tweet up. There was a palpable energy in the place, and the place almost exploded when the organisers announced that the much anticipated message had come from upstairs, and they were ready to start… serving coffee and biscuits. We came back after getting our coffee, and waited inside the audi for Mr.Tharoor, disappointed at not being allowed to bring our coffee in, but then in he came, in black and white, and made our woe seem insignificant, with his coughing. Hmm, I couldn’t be sure, but the front row possibly had coffees. (#9). And so I sat, flanked by two other Mallus – Nikhil, and Balu (who’d made it a point to arrive after Shashi Tharoor, just so we understood who was more busy ) wondering how a favourite, whose work I worshiped, would fare.

As you can see, he was favouring the right, and the centre, until a lady seated behind me forced him to answer a question from our side. I wondered aloud if he always ignored the left thus, but though my neighbours heard it, sadly he didn’t. I’d have loved a repartee. I noted that we had similar workplace issues, as Twitter was banned in the MEA too. Meanwhile, our friend Nikhil, (who claims he was) one of the voters who elected Mr.Tharoor to the parliament, had a political googly question for him. But he managed to answer it satisfactorily too.

He talked about occasions when he was asked to explain Twitter to his colleagues, and the advice to him to stop tweeting if he valued his political career. But as he said, he doesn’t like being told he can’t do something. He explained his twitter habits – following, answering questions on Twitter, and the balance he has to maintain while sharing with the world a minister’s life. He was asked about his writing plans, to which he answered that the current job keeps him too busy to write, and not just to write, but to create that space in the mind, which can be populated with people and instances that have nothing in common with his daily life. So for now, The Great Indian Novelist is reduced to the limitations of a git (great indian twitterer) – 140 char.

And thus, thankfully, he didn’t disappoint, and i sat, listening in rapt admiration, as the man displayed his ease with the language, bringing a smile and making us LOL, with witty answers to even the most banal of questions. Yes, there were quite a few of those too. But thankfully there were the opposite kind too, which got him to talk about the working of his ministry, and future plans. I could throw in erudite, polished, confident and similar adjectives as descriptions for him, but a master craftsman is usually beyond adjectives. (as anyone who saw that jaw-dropping 175 would vouch for)

Though he had arrived a bit earlier than announced at the venue (the twitvite said 3, when the actual time was 3.30, but the reason for that is easy to guess, so I wouldn’t complain), we still had only an hour, and it passed very quickly. But it was undoubtedly, fun!! So, finally everyone posed for photos,

(guy in grey-blue striped t-shirt, asked the best questions)

and somewhere in between I accomplished the other thing I’d come for.

until next time, end of gushy Tharoor post

(HUGE) UPDATE

ST RTs !!

Andamanned – Part 2 – Nagaron ke beach main

manuscrypts — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 04:35:39 +0000

My sarcasm regarding the airport welcome, it seemed, wasn’t totally lost on the resort staff, as two people waited on/for us at Havelock. In about 20 mins, we were at Island Vinnie’s, on beach #5 (alias Vijay Nagar beach). On the way we passed Beach #3 (alias Govind Nagar, which also serves as a market place for Havelock). Havelock, I’d say is Goa without the overdose of tourism. Coincidentally, I was reading Michener’s ’Chesapeake’, and was at the part where the coming of the white man destroyed the paradise the Indians had. Later, when I would remark (sometimes) on the lack of options in Havelock (compared to Goa), I’d also wonder about ’progress’, and how its positives and negatives are such a subjective thing, as is the answer to the question ’where to draw the line’ when it comes to change and progress.

Meanwhile, though the watch claimed 5.30 pm IST, it was already dark. Obviously nature cares two hoots about IST, not unlike the Indian nature. My body, however, seemed to understand the new time very well. I was famished, and we had an early dinner at the newly opened ‘Full Moon café’ at Vinnie’s.

Though some of the menu items had still not made their debut in the kitchen, there were enough options. And it felt almost like home, because Vinnie played ‘The Prestige’ by popular vote. Dinner watching a movie. We disappeared towards the middle of the movie. No one applauded, thankfully. D wanted to get up in time for the sunrise. She was told that it was at 4.45 AM. The early bird might get the worm, but on my sleep I was firm. All vacation days are like Sundays, I get to see the sun at a time of my choosing. Hmmph. She did get some awesome snaps though.

We’d planned a snorkeling trip at Elephant Beach, so my snoring stopped at about 6.30 (!!) and we set out at 7.30. We got there to find out that the Navy guys wanted to do some shooting there, with real guns, so snorkeling was not allowed on that day. I remembered the Army guys playing spoilsport in Leh. I wanted to argue with them that they had a vast sea and many uninhabited islands to do target practice, and that I had my own shooting plans, but the gun silenced me. Talk about Navy Blues, thankfully, our resort staff took us to a nearby place which they said was equally good. Unfortunately, though, D betrayed her fishy star sign. She gulped before we got into the water, during the time we were underwater, and after we got back into the boat, when we were given samosas. No, actually, underwater, she behaved like the South African cricket team. She choked, but thankfully only after we did a fair bit of snorkeling.

We got back in about four hours and spent an hour on the resort beach, where you could go a long distance into the water and would still be only waist deep in water. We had read about the Red Snapper restaurant and decided to go there for lunch. Its five minutes away from Vinnie’s and worth a visit. The Goan fish curry and the full Bluefin Trevally with Chinese sauce are highly recommended.

We got back and I napped (my default mode during vacations) a bit before going to the famous beach #7 (alias Radha Nagar), about 9km from Vinnie’s. I think the hype set stellar expectations, and I found it to be less impressive than say, Palolem, in Goa. Forget Goa, the beach at the resort was way better, I thought. But I managed to film “A Snail’s pace” there, and D managed to get the naariyal paani, which had been eluding her all this while. At just Rs.10. We had hired an auto for the entire trip, and the journey, especially the return, on winding roads, with glimpses of the village life, gave me quite a sense of peace. At a price, of course, Rs. 500, for the to and fro journey, and a wait of an hour and a half.

When Vinnie got to know our travails, starting from the ferry fiasco, he offered to knock 50% off from the ‘Meet and Greet’ package, and give us a complimentary trip the next day to see the mangroves. We accepted the latter and enjoyed it, more thanks to David who took us to Wilson Island, an amazing little place.

We had a largely forgettable lunch at Seashells, and finally, it was time to say goodbye to our little hut.

To be continued….

Andamanned – Part 1 – The Chennai conditioning

manuscrypts — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 04:03:20 +0000

I could say “No man is an island, yet Andaman is” or I could say “No man is an island, nor is Andaman, it is a group of islands”. Bwahaha. Forgive me, all that time in the water must’ve diluted the brevity of this twit. Either that, or the brewed stuff that was also consumed occasionally. Really cheap stuff, that’s apparently made in AP – light Gult stuff that won’t make you feel guilty.

As per the status message across platforms, I was off to Havelock, away from keys, I wouldn’t get bored, though I wouldn’t be surfing, because I’d be watching surf, and waves (of the non-Google kind). Ironically, the first notable event was meeting a fellow Twitterer. 6AM finds me groggy, if awake, flight or no flight. Anyway, since my display picture across networks is an initial, I’m usually saddled with the responsibility of initiating conversations with people I recognise. I remembered this person because of his awesome puns (like this gem), so it was good fun to suddenly turn and ask him ‘Are you Partha?’, and to see him looking at me curiously. If he wasn’t Partha, I was prepared to give the 6AM excuse. But he handled it pretty well when I introduced myself as the handle he knows on Twitter. So, at the high altitudes where birds usually tweet each other, two Twitterers ended up having a normal chat. It turned out that he was off to AP, and as his profile states, he is into ‘consumer research to help sell beer’. Beery eyed and bleary eyed, we landed in Chennai.

Chennai usually gives me a warm welcome, okay, that’s an understatement, it’s a bloody hot one. So its kind of insulting to insinuate that Chennai gave me a cold, but my sinuses are proof that the Chennai airport, which seemed to be making a desperate attempt to get rid of the ‘bloody hot’ (no, that doesn’t make it anti Channel V) tag, was on freezer mode, almost did. Every time I found a relatively warm corner, it did a Sub Zero (from Mortal Kombat) move on me. It didn’t help that our flight was delayed. On the board, the time never changed to the new time. From an earlier adventure, I had my doubts and I finally asked the KF Help Desk what time the flight was expected.

“You can go for the security check, sir”, she said, “the flight will take off in less than half an hour”

“So, why don’t you change the status on that board”

“If there is a delay, we don’t change it, sir”

It was only about 9.45 (during vacations, sleep-wake patterns are deferred by about 2.30 hours), so I didn’t trust myself to have heard correctly. Anyway, it was a welcome break from the real time status updates on Twitter and FB. So, we made the flight, and though we didn’t expect a meal on the flight, we actually got breakfast. The only disclaimer is that when they announced ‘alpaahar’, they really meant it literally. After they served the meal, I thought I’d ask the air hostess for the main course, but D played spoilsport again. Oh, okay, I couldn’t be mean to anyone who gives me a chocolate mousse anyway.

Andaman didn’t quite hit it off with us in the beginning. I was quite worried. After our sulk with Goa, we’d planned Andaman last year, but that’s when D reacted violently to the idea. I was afraid if there was some jinx involved. There was a driver from our resort at Havelock, he was holding a placard that displayed the resort name, the snag was that he was looking for a single foreigner, and I failed on both counts. Obviously D was partly to blame. After all the passengers had left, we were left looking at each other, and he finally took us to the ferry. Mis-communication, we were told, but fortunately, we didn’t miss the ferry to Havelock, they had tickets. There are only 2-3 that ply daily, and even boats worked like a well oiled machinery only when palms were greased. The rishwat ka rishta with the mainland, I was touched. Apparently, getting tickets was a real pain, and that was what had prevented Havelock from becoming like Goa.

The boat had a a/c and non a/c options (within the latter, there were even a couple of 7 seater rooms, with what seemed like lounge chairs). We couldn’t see outside from the a/c section (which was at a lower level) but realized its worth only on the return trip. Moreover, we could move around the deck with no restrictions. A vast ocean, dark, angry, choppy, an awesome contrast to the equally vast, light blue, calm sky. The journey takes two and a half hours, and somewhere in between, D wondered if she should try these instructions on me.

To be continued……

Kungh

manuscrypts — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 05:21:55 +0000

The BJP central leadership is in a crisis state. In the state of Karnataka, the BJP government has dissension in its ranks. Its a bad time for the saffron party, but all that didn’t stop us from visiting Kungh, a restaurant on Castle Street, serving Kashmiri cuisine. Eh, connection? From Pampur, thirteen kilometres from Srinagar, where it is cultivated, it comes to us – Kungh (pronounced Kong), Kashmiri for saffron.

To get there, get on to Richmond Road at the beginning (Lifestyle) and then take the right on to Castle Street. Some set of government guys seem to be digging there for that treasure, but you should get parking in one of the side lanes.

This is the second ‘Saffron‘ we’ve encountered in Bangalore. Its an absolutely unpretentious place and somehow manages to convey a very homely feel, which is reflected in the way they treat customers too. They suggested dishes and combinations, told us what would be sufficient, talked to us about the ‘wazwan‘, (which I remembered reading in Salman Rushdie’s “Shalimar the Clown”) and generally made us feel absolutely comfortable.

So, on to the menu. There are starter options in veg, cockur (chicken) and maaz (lamb). The veg options consists of paneer, cauliflower, potatoes and mixed veg. (Rs.50-100). In chicken, you can choose from the special fried chicken (waza cockur), the boneless tandoor grilled chicken, (troosh cockur), the spicy version (talith cockur) or a cashew grilled version (kaju cockur) (Rs.150-200). In lamb there’s Tabaq maaz (fried ribs), seekh kabab, barrah kabab, or the pasanda kabab. (Rs.150-250)

For the main course rus (gravy) options in veg consist of bottle gourd, brinjal, palak, mushrooms, potato, priced between Rs.75-100. In chicken you could have qorma, malai or kungh (Rs.150), and the mutton options consist of rogan josh, dhaniwal qorma, marchwangan qorma, rista (dumplings in spicy gravy), or the yakhni/goshtaaba. (Rs.175-200) There are also a couple of daal options. (Rs.50-75) To go with that, you could choose from roti/naan/phulka or rice (steamed/kungh or kabab pulao) While we went through the options, they gave us a complimentary kahwa. Amazing stuff, that!!

We started with a seekh kabab (”minced lamb grilled in tandoor and fried). Extremely well made – smooth, cut into small rings, and with enough flavour to make it probably the best I’ve had in Bangalore. I was tempted to order a waza cockur, but there were too many things to try out in the main course. So we ordered a Kungh Cockur (spicy gravy), a yakhni (”lamb dumplings in yoghurt gravy”), and to go with that a naan, and steamed rice. We ended up ordering one naan later. The chicken dish was excellent, but the yakhni was definitely the pick. A great combination with rice. The meatballs were extremely soft, the ‘melt in your mouth’ kind, and had a good combination of spices that lent it a very unique flavor. Highly recommended.

In addition to dessert options which included kheer, phirni, khubani ka meetha and a badam meetha, you could also try the kungh lassi/nimbu, kahwa, sheer chai, or the noon chai (salted tea). I asked for a khubani ka meetha, but was persuaded to change my mind to a badam meetha, and it didn’t disappoint. D had a kungh sweet lassi and she’s got a new favourite drink.

All of the above cost us Rs.700. Definitely worth a visit, for a unique cuisine and some excellent service.

Kungh, #332, Castle Street, Ashok Nagar Ph: 41126043

Blogger not found

manuscrypts — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 04:24:48 +0000

until next time, island this week, i land next week

Arbor

manuscrypts — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 04:17:48 +0000

Sometime back, when I’d written the post on Onam, I’d mentioned a story that deserved to be told. About an old school pal R who has composed a wonderful soundtrack for a recently released Malayalam movie. He’s been composing for over 2 years now, probably more if you count the non-film work he’s done, but when I listened to this soundtrack, I was glad to note that I was proud of him. No, not pride by association – of knowing him, but actually proud for what he’s done for himself. I was glad for him. And so, I was glad for myself.

R and I share a history, which starts with a shared birthday, so it used to be that our ‘color dress’ days in school used to be the same. He also used to stay in the university campus, which, in case you haven’t noticed, is a constant handle for my nostalgia trips on this blog. R was obviously a very good singer, actually he was a little beyond that grade too. I still remember the time when for some class talent show, R and I were asked to teach group songs to our respective classes. R did a fantastic job, while i just taught the class the song – everyone sang everything. The difference was harmony. I didn’t know it then, I understood it later. Meanwhile, like me, R also played cricket. My tryst with that bloomed late (high school) and lasted only a few years, as far as official teams went. I wonder if he did something about it. Oh, okay, I just read through what I wrote. No, I refuse to make myself an underdog on my own blog.

The learning part of school life was obviously the most important, not by choice, but still….and as those primary/secondary class reports would show, I used to be the topper, modesty be damned. Add to that, the school junior hockey team, quiz, debate, Dumb C later, and being the quorum filler for things as varied as Malayalam recitation and News Reading (yes, we had that as a bleddy competition item, would you believe it!! Maybe I should sue that school, those certificates can be quite embarrassing) and you could imagine why my attention was spread thin. But wait, let’s not overcompensate.

Anyway, R and I parted ways when i changed schools, though we used to meet later for most of the inter school festivals, where on one hand, I’d be shouting out Dumb C guesses, and minutes later, would be desperately trying to remember the lyrics for the next few lines I had to sing for the music competition. Once I also noticed him in the Western (Group) music part of the competition, and I went WTF (the school kid equivalent actually) on why there wasn’t a Bollywood part, since the only English lyrics i knew then were …..erm, nothing. After school we completely lost touch, and a nice little music rivalry, in which he used to kick my a** regularly, except for stray upsets, ended.

A few years back, a nostalgia wave hit our batch, and a classmates e-group was created. Nice people that they are, they sent me an invite and I joined, even though I’d spent only 5 years in that school. That it remains my favourite school is a fact, though. Anyway, that’s where I heard the news that R had composed his first movie soundtrack, back in 2007. And now begins the role that R played without his knowledge – the reason for this post.

When i heard the news, a part of me was happy, but that was only a small part. The larger part was insanely jealous. This wasn’t like any of the stars/celebrities I regularly read about, I knew this guy, I had shared the stage with him and competed with him. And here he was, on the way to becoming famous, while I sat blogging about paths not taken!! That was when I looked at myself, and really bothered to take an objective look- as objective as i could be then. I realised it wasn’t the first time that this insane jealousy had happened. From wittier one liners to cooler jobs, the feeling had expressed itself many times, with different people. Sometimes fleetingly, sometimes for long stretches. Each time, it lasted till the mind gave itself a reason to stop being jealous, on why there was a flip side in their lives too. Bizarre ones sometimes, in desperation, but reasons nevertheless.

But from then on, I have been watching myself. It happens now too, in fact, on one front it is worse, because the proliferation of social networks means that there are more people I am now connected to – Twitter updates, Facebook statuses, vacation photos, all have the potential to get me launched into a ‘why is his shirt whiter than mine’ phase. All this, when on most fronts, I have nothing to complain about in my life, silly twist in my neck, notwithstanding. Initially, I tried to control the envy, give rational reasons – what I have gained and what i have missed on, and deliberately shut out things which would make me well, insanely jealous. From experience, the control is a myth, and the worst part is that it creates layers of denial. The massive risk is the day when it explodes in your face.

So these days, I don’t control, I admit to myself that I’m jealous, and wherever I can, i tell the other person too. Thereafter, the interaction is a delight. I get to know the hard work they’ve put in to reach where they have, I realise I can be genuinely glad for other people, and there is a sheer joy that can be experienced. Sometimes I am rebuffed by people too. I have also realised that the more i acknowledge, the lesser I get envy attacks. I still get them sometimes, but I think the path is right. On a tangential front, I am also trying to leave expectations from myself open.

A strange thought occurred to me while I was writing this. Maybe its just me, but with this sudden outburst of sharing and connectedness, are we increasingly living out a life that we want to portray to others? A “Hey look, I am happy, everything is perfect in my world” approach. Even the sad statuses are filtered, like the ‘negative things about yourself’ in job interviews. How much of the happiness is in the sharing, in the feeling that others might be envious? Are we going that way? If I don’t share and don’t expect any returns, but I can still be happy about something I have experienced/done, would that be joy? And as a next step, if I can go through the same experience without the baggage of expectations, would that be the objectivity I seek? Each second a new life? Beyond conditioning? Possible?

R’s story loop needs to be closed, eh? On request, he has sent me a karaoke version of a song I liked in the movie. I have promised to sing the vocals… for myself. And a story that deserved a joyous ending.

until next time, R bit ends for now

PS: For those reading this on the blog, see that new thingie right below this. USE IT :p

Delicacy

manuscrypts — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 04:56:00 +0000

There’s no dearth of tiny value-for-money Chinese joints in Koramangala. But we read quite some good things about Delicacy and decided to have Chinese for Diwali, though I’m still bugged about Arunachal Pradesh. And that’s how we landed up at Delicacy. Its right opposite Kolkata, and for the lazy ones, from the Sony world on Koramangala 100 ft Road, head towards 1st Block (i.e turn left when coming from Indiranagar) At the next junction, where you have a Liberty showroom (on your left) and Tanishq /Silsila on your right, take a left, and then the first left. You’ll find Delicacy on your, yep, you guessed erm right, on your left. Chinese, remember?

As all the reviews said, this is not exactly the place you’d go for fine dining. Its a place so tiny, you wouldn’t believe it if you saw it. But having said that, its probably the best space utilisation I’ve seen, they’ve managed to fit in half a dozen tables without making it seem congested. Quite comfortable too, actually. But its the food we came for. And they welcomed us with some fried wontons, with a sweet sauce.

The place serves a bit of Thai too, in addition to the regular Chinese. There are almost 20 soups, most of which have a veg (Rs.55)/non-veg (chicken Rs.60)/sea food option (Rs.65). In addition to the regular stuff, you can also find Pepper Lemon Soup, Laksa Kai soup, and the one we ordered – Delicacy Special Soup. We checked if it was a thick soup before ordering, and were told it was, but when it did land up, it turned out to be a thin soup. The person who’d taken our order apologised and took it inside to change it. It came back in a few minutes, ever so slightly thicker. Heh. Since it was quite tasty, we didn’t feel it was necessary to complain.

We didn’t actually plan for Momos, but having seen them on the menu, it was difficult to ignore. So we ordered a plate of pan fried chicken momos, and since there were more than a dozen options each of veg (Rs.65/70), chicken(Rs.80-110), and sea food starters (fish, prawns and crab at Rs.110), we had to try at least one, and that turned out to be Spicy Fish with Red Chilly. There was a flood of momos, actually a dozen of them, and quite tasty ones, especially with the sauce given along with them. The fish was awesome, hot and sweet kind, and I’d highly recommend it. We were almost stuffed by then, and we still had the main course left.

We’d ordered a Sliced Chicken ‘N’ Pickle Chilly sauce (from a huge list of veg, chicken and sea food options at Rs.70, 90, 110 respectively) and a Butter Noodles. There are about 25 options among rice/noodles/chopsuey with all of them having a veg/chicken/sea food option. (Rs.60-100) The Butter noodles was excellent, but we could’ve chosen a better chicken dish.

All of the above cost us just over Rs.400. Great food, excellent service, and absolute value for money. Even if you don’t want to do a sit-down meal, you should at least try the take away/ home delivery.

Delicacy, #971/C, Ground Floor, ST Bed, Koramangala, 4th Block. Ph: 41753636/7/25502233

A lot can happen over coffee

manuscrypts — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 04:23:04 +0000

Part 2 of last week’s post. Contrary to what the title might suggest, this has nothing to do with Coffee Day. Well, almost.

I waited outside Fresco’s for the next meeting and this caught my eye. Coffee, destinations and experiences.

And just as I finish erm, shooting the above, she zooms in and after parking the car, chides me for not responding to her first wave from inside the car, until I point out to her that from where I stood, I could barely make out that its her inside the car. I also tell her that it might be unwise to wave at people of the opposite gender when one’s unsure… I was meeting her after a few months, and was yet again, struck by the precociousness. She’d called me to discuss a website idea of hers. She is all of 22, and has a knack of making me feel ancient, though unwittingly. We agree that the place demands that we concentrate solely on the chocolate desserts, but then we compensate by (me) arguing that the Oreo’s cream in her pastry was just wasting space that should’ve been taken by more chocolate. I pointed out my unadulterated ‘Chocolate Demise’.

I ask her about her new idea, and out comes the story that its happening thanks to the money made from another business of hers, that’s apparently quite a success. She informs me that the idea for the first business came about from an earlier meeting we’d had. She explained, and when I heard it, I felt like a favourite character of mine -- Forrest Gump!! Meanwhile, her book is already with the agent, she tells me its been 5 months, and maybe its time to check out another agent. I tell her that’s a hell of a lot of things to be doing at 22. She finds it worrisome that she might be trying out too many avenues, too many side lanes, which might take her focus off the main road, and i tell her about the number of posts I have written about the paths not taken. After we’re through with our chat, I tell her that I’m very happy for her, the way she’s handling her life, and not to stop.

I wondered about the stuff I’d been doing when I was 22. One week later, I watch ‘Wake Up Sid’. (I Saw, Puked, in case you like anagrams) After the movie I tweet,

Dil Chahta Hai was released in 2001. I was 23 then, close enough to 22 when one looks back now. Not then, of course. Business management and beach bumming. There’s no comparison.

A thought on WUS vs Lakshya before we move on. Both are ‘coming of age’ movies, and that’s where the comparison ends, for me. Lakshya had an individual who got himself something to focus on, Sid just becomes relatively more mature. Movies work differently for different people, in fact I identified more with Lakshya than Sid, but to me, the comparison itself is perhaps unfair, because it means equating coming of age to focus. In my book, they are not the same.

Though WUS did remind me of DCH, it was another comparison that gave me food for thought. Konkona plays someone who’s older than Ranbir, by about 5 years. She comes to Mumbai, focused about what she wants to do. Ranbir is barely trying to figure out what he wants to do. Two different approaches to life.

I wondered if the age difference explained it, or was it the individual character, or their different circumstances. In many posts, I have explored each of the three separately. I have wondered whether today’s generation has many more choices than I had, and whether that’s the reason why I am constantly thinking about roads not traveled. I have wondered whether people are just made differently, in terms of aggression, risk taking mentality etc. I have wondered about how one’s circumstances, and the people one is surrounded with, influence one’s destiny. I have even wondered about the combination -- whether society has changed and has helped the young of today by giving them freedom to experiment, to make their own responses to choices, and thus made them smarter along the way, and helped them build confidence.

And then i remember the coffee choices I’d seen as I stood in front of Fresco’s. Choices have always been there, maybe lesser, but there. I could have the coffee on the roadside or inside the CCD. They’re completely different experiences, and any judgment of one being better or worse than the other is simply a matter of perspective, based on time, person, place and so on. It perhaps isn’t even about the journey, its about how one sees the journey, and what one wants to make out of it.

until next time, ennui anyone?