Author: manuscrypts

  • Decision Faker

    Of all the books I’ve recently  read, one I liked immensely was Thrity Umrigar’s “First Darling of the Morning”. Some of it had to do with her wonderful articulation of the pop culture phenomena close to my generation, some of it had to do with her personal traits, which I could identify with (“The more silent and introspective I grew from the inside, the more smart-alecky and verbal I felt compelled to be“), and a lot of it had to do with her honest portrayal of human relationships – their gray areas, their changing nature with time, and many such nuances. Will put up a review here soon.

    One of the things that made me think was this

    And finally, I know that the world still belongs to the adults, and although, in their kindness and mercy they may pretend to share it with us, ultimately it is still their world. It is they who decide when we are old enough to stop playing with dolls, when we should give away toys that they’ve decided we’ve outgrown……”

    I tried to think back to the first decision I had ever gotten to make by myself, but I couldn’t think that far back.  I remembered the days in engineering college – love, politics, future plans, all of which were perhaps my decisions. I also remember getting back from GIM and feeling exactly the way the author describes her last days in college.

    I am nowhere close to being ready to be anything but a college student. The world suddenly feels too big a place for me to navigate.

    And then it dawned on me, that however much I’d like to think that decisions are my own, they perhaps aren’t. There’s always a set of people who play a role in the decisions, directly or indirectly, influencing the outcome. But the decisions are made, for better, or worse. In her acknowledgment, the author uses a phrase “Thank God we don’t get what we deserve in life”.

    When i see ‘kids’ these days, this one for example, or N, and the seeming ease with which they take decisions and handle themselves, I wonder if its a generation thing or a personality thing. Even at this age, there are days when, just before I sleep, I wish I could go back to those times, when by the time I got up, my parents/ grandmother would have fixed the mammoth problem that had seemed so future-threatening to me the night before. These days, I wonder if they ever felt all grown up and in control, or were they just pretending, like I do  many a time now.

    until next time, deservedly so.

  • Confessions of an Indian Woman Eater

    Sasthi Brata

    Amit Ray, the protagonist, starts off by leaving home and his hometown – Calcutta. In his own words, “a gesture, like goodbye notes from failed suicides”. Narrated in first person, this beginning, sets the tone of the book – a certain abruptness that pops up every now and them amidst the otherwise leisurely pace of the book.

    The book is actually more a lifestream, and is quite possibly autobiographical to a considerable extent. Justifying the title, the book chronicles his encounter with women of various kinds, across geographic locations, across relationship statuses, across situations ranging from tender to bizarre, and across time. All of this as he moves from one trade to another – shoeshine boy, reporter, lavatory attendant, engineer, and through most of this – writer.

    There is a certain study of humankind that happens throughout the novel – not just of the principal characters, but even the ones that provide the backdrop. At some points, I was reminded of Pankaj Mishra’s ‘The Romantics’, if only for the curious mix of fatalism and romanticism.

    The ending, much in character, is also abrupt, but it worked for me.

  • Putting on an act

    For a while now, Renjith has been the gold standard (for me) in Malayalam cinema. Yes, he still disappoints occasionally, but his good works more than make up for it. So I had no hesitation in booking tickets at PVR for Pranchiyettan and the Saint. In addition to writing, directing and producing the film, Renjith also lends his voice to Saint Francis’ character, who starts speaking fluent Malayalam at the end of a hilarious sequence in which Mammootty questions whether the Christians of Kerala were being idiots by praying in Malayalam to a saint who couldn’t understand it.

    If someone had shared this script with me a few years back and told me to pick a lead actor, I’d say Mohanlal. But not anymore. The two superstars of Malayalam cinema have always been contrastive, on and off screen. Mohanlal earned his chops with portrayals of characters that we could either easily identify with or be in awe of. We laughed with him, cried with him, egged him on. In the mid nineties, he moved on to roles that had more serious shades. Less than a decade later, the actor in him died, leaving fans like me fighting discussion crusades that lacked heart. His last good performance was Thanmathra. When people talk about his supposedly superlative performances in films like Bhramaram, I wonder if they have lowered the bar, as a favour to their favourite actor.  I can understand that, most of his other releases make me cringe. I also wished movies like Pakshe and Pavithram hadn’t been made earlier, so that he could’ve done them now. His interviews make me wonder how this serious person with a philosophical perspective on even mundane things could ever have done those amazingly funny characters early in his career. Its a glimpse of the abundance of acting talent he possessed. Now he is just a superstar.

    Mammootty, on the other hand, I had never considered a brilliant actor, despite films like Thaniyavarthanam. It was his screen presence and the strength of characters that carried him. Cop, lawyer, CBI sleuth, he brought a special something to the role, which made him a star. But the thought of him doing comedy was funny, despite coming across in interviews as a very witty, fun loving person. Over the years, he has slowly scaled his repertoire. Now he dazzles us with films like Kaiyoppu, Loudspeaker and Paleri Manikyam, each a different genre and style, and even in utterly nonsensical films like Pokkiri Raja (a Tamil film made in Malayalam, go figure) he displays a comic timing that makes you forgive the movie. In an equally masala commercial movie called Daddy Cool, in one scene he references a character he played 13 years back! Instant Classic. At 56, the method actor has arrived.

    Mammootty is now extremely comfortable as an actor and is not afraid of even having fun at his own expense. The things the mimicry guys used to feed on – his dancing skills (lack, that is), hand gestures are all part of his own comic repertoire now. On the other hand, Mohanlal is a shadow of his former self. One can actually see the labouring that goes into his acting now, where, once upon a time, his portrayal of characters seemed so natural that we regularly forgot it was an act.

    I thought about both of them in the context of talent and passion – last week’s post. Having seen the above two, I have to wonder again whether passion commands more perseverance than talent.

    until next time, cut.

  • O! Ustaad

    This review was first published in Bangalore Mirror. This is a much modified account.

    Thanks to the Gateway Hotel, you could end your gastronomic journey on Residency Road with ‘Arre huzoor, wah Taj boliye’. But in case you were wondering how to begin, you now have hope, in the form of O! Ustaad, at the other end. This is right after the St.Marks Road/Residency Road junction and placed under a certain Purple Haze, literally. Here’s a map. (the arrow mark is the right location) Parking should not be too difficult, since you have Hayes Road/ Convent Road also nearby.

    O! Ustaad claims to be an ‘asli Indian restaurant’, serving you the best fare from Lucknow to Mumbai and Delhi to Konkan with nazakat and nafasat, but we journeyed from the delight of Wah! Ustaad to the despair of Waah! Ustaad.

    This is one of the places where you shouldn’t go by outside appearances, because though the frontage might seem a tad dingy, the interior is bright and peppy. O! Ustaad definitely serves up an attitude and has a penchant for wordplay, judging from ‘Facebhook’ and ‘LaLoo’. The photographs of street food, and an eclectic mix of music from Junoon to classic rock, all add up to a unique character. So much for the mahaaul, now for the real haul.

    The menu may not be spread over a lot of pages, but it covers much ground in terms of geography. Kebabs from Lucknow, fish dishes from Goa and Bengal, vegetarian fare from Himachal and Punjab, and Old Delhi specialities, together ensure that both vegetarians and meat eaters are kept happy. Add to this the uniqueness of many of the items and the day’s special dishes and you’ll find that there’s no dearth of choice. Take a look. (click for larger image)

    From the 3 starters we tried, the Mutton Kulfi (one of the Day’s specials) was easily the best. The combination of melt-in-the-mouth mutton and a green chilly laden coating made it a unanimous favourite. The two starters we ordered from the regular menu were disappointing. The Pondicherry Bullet Paneer had no proof about the bullet or Pondicherry, and one of my friends had to be pacified as she felt she’d been conned into buying a Paneer Pakoda! The accompanying honey-lime dip didn’t make a good combination either. The ‘famous’ Chicken Salli Kebab was more potato than chicken.

    Himachali Dhingri Dhulma Lucknowi Gosht Korma Prawn Malai curry Bengali style Anda Paratha

    In the main course, the ones that impressed were the Murgh Khatte Pyaaz, with its unique gravy of vinegar soaked onions, pepper and yogurt, and the Himachali Dhingri Dhulma, with mushroom, capsicum and paneer in a slightly spicy gravy. The Lucknowi Gosht Korma, though decent, was lost in the bargain. The Anda Paratha is definitely worth a try too, and though the Gobi Paratha had an extra helping of chillies, it was still reasonably good, as was the Aloo Paratha. The Prawn Malai curry Bengali style had an excellent creamy gravy which was ruined by the overcooked, rubbery prawns. The Chicken Nasi biriyani, which was another Day’s special, was, as one of my friends put it, Tomato rice with chicken. Somewhere in the kitchen, a cooking oil well has been discovered, judging by the liberal usage. Though the menu lists 4 desserts, which we were eager to try, we were told that they weren’t available. The apple and chocolate pies we were offered instead were both quite avoidable.

    The service was quite prompt, and Jitesh, who looks after the Bangalore outlet, did a good job of helping us choose the dishes, especially since the day’s specials didn’t have explanations. O!Ustaad is worth a visit when you’re in that part of town.  A meal for two would cost about Rs.800. Though some of the dishes fell short of expectations, the uniqueness of the menu and a cheerful ambiance should make up for the shortfall. They also have lunch buffets which seemed reasonably priced.

    O! Ustaad, Below Purple Haze, 17/1, Residency Road, Bangalore – 560025 Ph: 080 41518147

  • Food notes

    For the last few weeks, I’ve been hooked on to MasterChef Australia. (the show’s site reveals the winner, this is the wiki entry) For those unfamiliar with it, its a cooking competition-show that airs on Star World.

    I’ve always liked the idea of food – more the consumption than the creation, of course, as you probably know. While I’ve begun to appreciate nuances these days, instead of focusing on solely gobbling up the food, cooking is still far away. My most famous exploit (and that’s only reheating) thus far has been the aluminum-foil-packed-food-inside-the-pressure-cooker-incident. I have a restraining order from D – I am not allowed to handle steel vessels and the microwave, when they exist in close proximity. D, as you probably know, has to show a lot of restraint anyway.

    But we digress. The show has interested me even beyond the awesome cooking that happens on it daily. I’ve never really been a fan of the music and dance reality shows, and after I began watching this show, I wondered about it.

    I enjoy music, but have always flipped, channels that is, when i watched those shows. Maybe its the one-upmanship games of the judges, or the showboating, or the SMS driven degradation of a god given gift, but they have never worked for me, though i have noticed some supremely talented performers.

    There is a passion in the cooking contestants, all of them – maybe they’ve managed to capture it well – a will to win, and they work hard for it. We can see the efforts, and the judges’ appreciation and backing – a sense of fairness. Perhaps I haven’t watched enough of the song and dance shows to notice any of this.

    Though both require honing, music (vocal) is perhaps a talent and cooking, a skill, to which creativity adds layers. So the latter, I thought, would require more of an interest, and more hard work. Does that mean the passion for it would be more than that for a talent, which might be ignored, because it has been given without asking. I guess either would be okay, if you had the passion and perseverance  to get it to its logical conclusion. Interest without talent, and talent without interest, both are sad states to be in.

    until next time, fortune cookie 🙂