Author: manuscrypts

  • Memories Unlimited

    I was thinking about memories one day, and suddenly decided to figure out my earliest memory. I was dismayed to find that the earliest one I could remember was 1st Standard, the colour of the round badge I wore on my tie and the bus I went to school in.

    I looked at old photographs of mine, and tried to figure out if I could remember what was happening while the picture was being taken. I saw the badge and the uniform, and wondered if my mind was playing a trick on me by ‘creating’ a memory from the raw material available. ( since I must have seen this photo earlier many times) As the photos became more recent, I could remember more and more, and recent photos, especially the travel ones, still seem fresh. But for how long? I began to wonder if all those vacation photos and the lifestreaming is a wasted effort. Thankfully, I document a lot of things, creating as many memory aids as possible. Videos help too, and yet…

    A relative is traveling to the Czech Republic. A couple of decades ago, the currency and capital would’ve been ‘delivered’ (in my mind) without prompting, or being asked for. Now I probably have to google for that data. But I remember the prayers I used to say daily then, and from the order in which I can chant them, I can even remember the way the deity pictures were hung in the room, though I haven’t said those prayers regularly in years. Ditto for certain Carnatic music kirtanams.  Practice may or may not make perfect, but it certainly fixes it to memory, along with a ton of associated memories from another age. 🙂

    I wanted to augment this post with something Anu had shared a while ago on Twitter – a post titled ‘The unaugmented mind‘, which is on the same topic. The irony was that I remembered that she had shared it, but had no idea on the source itself. Thanks to my own twitter backup and a third party search tool, that was remedied soon. When she shared this, I remarked that I remember weird things I mostly found unnecessary and said I wished we could choose the things we wanted to store in our memory, like virtual world filing systems. Sometime soon, I hope, but I doubt whether even the perfect documentation would capture the way we felt then, because we will have changed. But maybe the augmented human will change that too.

    until next time, what’s your earliest memory? 🙂

  • Four Steps from Paradise

    Timeri N Murari

    In the years immediately following India’s independence, the Naidu family retains its glory and wealth, and the traditional joint family ways of living. The narrator is Krishna Naidu, the youngest member of the clan, eight years old and the darling of everyone in the family. Having lost his mother at an early age, his father means everything to him, though he is very loyal to his siblings and grandparents too.

    The story begins with his father introducing Krishna, his favourite, to his, and his siblings’ new governess – an Englishwoman, Victoria Greene. Krishna’s father Bharat is an Oxford returned Indian bureaucrat, whose years in England have made him more British than Indian in his lifestyle and outlook.

    The entry of Victoria into the traditional Indian family serves as an allegory on the impact of the British. Victoria’s status change from governess to stepmother, much to the disapproval of the rest of the family and even the eldest of Krishna’s siblings – Anjali, also marks the first sign of dissension in the family as it is seen as a failure on the part of the head of the family- Krishna’s maternal grandfather, to maintain control over the family’s affairs.

    What follows is a sea change in Krishna’s conditions and within a few years he is forced to leave his ancestral home, his cousins and aunts and uncles, and live in conditions totally unfamiliar and uncomfortable to him. With age also comes the understanding that not all relationships last forever, and not all perspectives last the test of time. As he watches everything that he held sacred crumble before his eyes, he realises that even his gods have clay feet. Laying more emphasis on the early part of his life, the novel ends in 1993, when Krishna is 50.

    The novel also shows us glimpses of the conditions that probably broke the fragile bonds of large families, and forced the disintegration of a traditional joint family structure, which had survived despite the jealousies and intrigues, for generations. It is an enjoyable read, especially since it captures a range of human conditions and personalities and keeps a few tiny secrets till the end.

  • Teary I

    I’ve been told that I used to bawl when I was very young. One oft told story is how I used to be especially crabby during powercuts, which, before television serials, was how Kerala got its families to sit together. But, back to my serial rage. Apparently, hand held fans were beneath me, and to shut me up, dad had to take a room in the nearby hotel, which had a generator!!

    I think I redeemed myself fairly well in later childhood by becoming non-fussy and reducing the volume (in terms of sound) of my teary escapades, until I had a silent sobbing mechanism. Pain was the only thing that overrode this, but I remember that in college, during a particularly painful accident, with a half broken jaw and a doctor literally pushing back four of my front teeth  into the gums, I figuratively gritted my teeth and didn’t cry out loud. But I think, instinctively I might still cry out if I am not prepared.

    What made me think of all this? My observations of how adults and children had different crying habits. My recent trips to Kerala mostly meant a lot of time in hospitals, which, because of an atmosphere of fear and pain, are unfortunately ‘crying catalysts’. I thought of the last time that I had cried, not counting the random poignant moments (music, movies, books, thoughts) that bring unconscious tears. It was about a year back, when one rain induced skid at night was the last straw in making me feel that the cosmos was playing out a terrible conspiracy against me. The tears would have fallen for less than a minute, mixing freely with the rain pouring down my face. Maybe I was giving myself the option of believing that I really hadn’t cried at all. Heh. 🙂

    But what actually sparked even those observations were the words I read in Neal Stephenson’s Quicksilver

    Some say that crying is childish…. Crying loudly is childish, in that it reflects a belief, on the cryer’s part, that someone is around to hear the noise, and come a-running to make it all better. Crying in absolute silence..is the mark of a mature sufferer who no longer nurses, nor is nursed by any such comfortable delusions.

    Do you still cry, silently, when no one’s watching? What’s your delusion? 🙂

    until next time, the blog’s name has a ‘cry’ in it. sigh.

  • Mazeej

    (first published in Bangalore Mirror. In my defense, the title I had given was ‘No great sheikhs’, since the plural is what delivers the intended wordplay. Sigh)

    Considering the Malayali population in the Middle East, in a not too distant future, Arabic cuisine might be relegated to being just a part of Kerala cuisine. So it’s probably not a coincidence that Mazeej, with its ‘Flavours of Arabia’ tagline, has chosen to start operations in Koramangala, another area that is also likely to become an honorary part of Kerala.

    Mazeej is located almost opposite India Heritage Academy and near Boca Grande. (map)  In addition to Mazeej, the premises also host Blackboard Cafe and Gakko, a Chinese restaurant. Two wheelers will not have too much of a parking problem, the extra wheels will have to find a side lane nearby. On a broad level, the premises has been categorised to match the three kinds of cuisine being served. There is an outdoor area for the cafe, a slightly more formal dining area for the Chinese restaurant and a semi-covered terrace with loads of oversized cushions that corresponds to Mazeej. However, this is not strictly followed. So you could sit anywhere and order your preference of eats. Here’s the menu before we go further. (click for larger image)

    We started with the Shourabat el Qeema. It was mildly spicy and the meatball’s texture complemented the soup well. The Chicken Manakeesh, an Arabic version of the pizza, was the pick of the dishes, with minced and flavoured chicken on flat dough. Much was expected of the Chicken Shawarma, but it completely disappointed with its blandness. The hummus was a similar tale with not even a trace of olive oil coming through. The Calamari Fry, though crisp, lacked any flavour whatsoever, and the sauce provided with it did nothing to help.

    In the main course, the Shish Tawook, made of marinated chicken cubes was appreciated for the subtle yoghurt and lemon flavours. The Dajaj Alabama was not spectacular, but the tomato-based gravy just about passed muster. The Rubiyan Alabama (prawn) did not even get to the level of its chicken counterpart. The Mutton Nashif was supposed to have tender mutton but that must have been some time back since the consensus was that it was stale.

    Among the desserts, the chocolate walnut brownie was quite good with an excellent chewy texture. The biggest disappointment was that many dishes were unavailable. This included the Cajun fish, most rice dishes, Umm Ali and other desserts like the Caramel Coffee Bavarian, and its vanilla version.

    Helpful staff, who also educate you on the day’s special. But they did decide to bring a couple of the starters after the main course had arrived, and had to be reminded twice to refill our glasses. Considering the portion sizes and the relative scarcity of options for the cuisine, the pricing is just about right. Unlike the region’s more famous export, the prices of these dishes won’t make you recoil.

    Mazeej, No: 816, 20th Main, 8th Block, (opposite Indian Heritage Academy) Koramangala, Bangalore 560095. Ph: 8792143224

  • Onashamsakalmadi

    Considering that Kannada is to be made compulsory in Bangalore, this is how Bangalore Malayalis will wish each other henceforth. For those unaware of the Onam backstory, check out my reasonably legit version or the RGV rendition.

    After a search across media platforms for sadya options, and basis last year’s not-so-great experience at Little Home (which has gone down drastically these days) it was a toss between Ente Keralam and the new kid on the 5th Block, Koramangala – Cafe Malabari. Since I read on the FB group that getting reservations at Ente Keralam would be difficult, the choice became easy. As per the information given, the sadya would start at 11.45-12 and cost Rs.225.

    We landed there just after 12, and on hindsight, just in time. A Yakshagana – Mahabali mashup was on hand to welcome everyone. The umbrella is definitely this season’s collection!  🙂 After we got the coupons and barely got the seats – the ones facing the road, the rush started and pretty soon, they even took off the banner advertising the sadya.

    We had to sit for a while watching others polish off their sadya, and Maveli inspecting the arboreal ‘pookkalam’. Finally we were set to begin, as we got the sadya infrastructure in place.

    After a smaller wait, all the pieces began falling into place. Out of the twenty three listed items, we only missed two, and that’s not a bad deal at all, considering the massive rush.

    The one big snag was that because of a tissues distribution failure, I had to keep my clicking finger away from sampling any of this, until I could get a final shot and could then concentrate solely on eating. I gave up after the sambar made its entry. After three rice rounds, and two payasams, there seemed to be only a couple of survivors. The banana peel doesn’t count!

    In a coconutshell, Cafe Malabari did a good job. If they survive the Koramangala restaurant wars, I’ll do a repeat next year. The funniest part of the entire experience was Mahabali shouting out ‘Sold Out’ to the crowd outside. 🙂

    I wish we could add an ഓണകോഴി (chicken) to the mix. Meanwhile, I do have a concept for next year, based on the beer lunch. Will need to talk to the Kerala Beverages Corporation for this though –  ഓണാശംസകളള് 🙂

    until next time, as a fellow mallu said, Mahabelly 🙂