Author: manuscrypts

  • Relative..reality

    For some strange reason, I’ve read Pankaj Mishra’s books in reverse order..well, almost. I read The Romantics first, a long time before, and it remains a book I’m very attached to. Its a good book, but I’ve never figured out the exact reason for this strange bond, in spite of making a rare exception and reading it a second time. Maybe it was the time I first read it (a stage of life) or its characters or its title, someday I hope to know, it will tell me a bit more about myself, perhaps. But meanwhile, from The Romantics, I was lured straight to ‘Temptations of the West‘. A few months later, I read ‘An End to Suffering‘, which served as a kind of introduction to Buddhism for me, as Mishra mapped it on to his own spiritual evolution. I finally completed his first book, ‘Butter Chicken in Ludhiana: Travels in small town India’ more recently. Though its title would indicate so, calling it a travelogue would be a gross injustice, as it also manages to recreate the India of the 90’s. So, yes, it is a travelogue, but like many of its ilk, it works in space and time. No, this is not really a review. 🙂

    I’m quite glad that I read his books in the order I did. If I read it earlier, I might have been irritated by the cynicism in the book. But having read his later books, I felt almost as though I was with him, as his thoughts and personality evolved. The book gives you loads of nostalgia triggers – from Baba Sehgal’s ‘Main bhi Madonna’ (i still remember the Magnasound casette cover :D) to mentions of Nonie and Mamta Kulkarni, it draws upon tiny incidents of those forgotten days.

    Many of you may not be able to associate at all with those three people mentioned above, for me, they bring back an era, their importance is relative. I even wondered whether, in future, we will have nostalgia townships, like we have the amusement parks now. The 70s, 80s, 90s re-created in terms of people, music, movies, fashion and all the elements of pop culture that can be attributed to an era. So, when you have those nostalgia pangs, you can call a few friends and take a vacation to bring back a period in your life. 🙂

    A common theme struck me as I ‘moved’ through the book’s pages. Mishra mentions Murshidabad looking towards Calcutta in hope, for job prospects and a better life in general. In many people’s perception, Kolkata is perhaps the worst of the metros on those terms. He writes about the ‘immense cultural vacuum of North india’, and ‘looking towards Bengal for instruction’, and the decline of Allahabad and Benaras. But I realised that for me, those two places were perhaps teeming with culture and history. Again, in Murshidabad, he talks to a person who considers the Babri Masjid as just another mosque, while a nation still burns at regular intervals – the repercussions of an act long ago. The common theme is the relative nature of these things – they means different things to different people, all relative versions of the same thing equally real, when considered from each point of view.

    I remember thinking about progress during my Andaman visit. I saw it in its current state, and can visualise it in the years to come, as tourism becomes a larger factor in the scheme of things, and the changes it will invariably bring in, into a way of life. To quote from the book we’ve been discussing

    Civilisation, however, is on the move, and as E.M.Cioran remarks, nothing more characterises the civilised man than the zeal to impose his discontents on those so far exempt from them.

    When the tourist money flows into the system, it will help the locals afford many things that they perhaps didn’t have access to. But even those who do not wish to change might be sucked into this new way of life because it would be a question of survival. Were they better off and happier before all this happens to them? I don’t know, because after all, even happiness is so relative now.

    Objectivity –  based on observable phenomena and uninfluenced by emotions or personal prejudices, and not the result of any judgments made by a conscious entity. But everything is relative. Things not seen from one’s own perspective don’t seem to matter, and objectivity’s definition would suggest “no one’s perspective”. Maybe that’s why we don’t care for it much anymore?

    until next time, time, space and relativism

  • Fire Drill

    A few years ago, 3 to be precise, I might’ve been in the thick of it. The fire at Carlton Towers. My visiting card then carried this – Mid Day, 301, Carlton Towers…. No, I wouldn’t have been tweeting, because twitter would come into my life only three months later. But perhaps this was the reason the entire scenario bothered me, even as I sat watching the Twitter stream and the reactions. At first, i thought it was some minor mishap, and even cracked a mallu pun at TGIF’s expense. (@mixdev reminded me of that yesterday) But later, of course, I realised it wasn’t.

    I don’t watch news channels, so I was spared the repeated shots (a good post by my friend Nishant) of those tragic jumps. I was watching the stream though, and kept seeing retweets of @jackerhack , who was stuck in the building. I read about people jumping from the windows, and my first reaction was what the hell was wrong with them? What did they expect, a bloody bed of roses??!! And then I realised that there was no way I could even imagine, let alone understand what they must’ve felt in those moments. The closest I could get to is perhaps when I have trouble breathing. Now these are very very minor asthmatic attacks, but even then I know the intense desire to get one lungful of air. And that’s perhaps just a decimal percentage of the trauma those poor poor souls must’ve gone through.

    Trivialisation bothers me. I still read Malayala Manorama daily, and my biggest grouse with them is the way they capture deaths. Not events like the above, but individual deaths. Though I realise its perhaps a way of communicating to those who might not have known, reducing a life (and its end) to a few column cms with a matter-of-fact headline bothers me. Perhaps its some sort of block towards mortality. When @jackerhack ‘s (okay, he has a ‘real’ name, and its easier to type – Kiran), so, when Kiran’s tweets were retweeted by everyone who had access to an enter button, it somehow reminded me of the above. After some time, when he tweeted about not panicking, I was even mildly irritated. (Sorry!) If it was meant for the twitter audience, i was wondering whether the majority of the audience cared for him enough to panic, and for those who did care for him, I wondered if the words would do any good. Was the twitter crowd mature enough not to panic, or not to see this all as a “ok, big event happening, let me part of it” thing? Are we really so different from the media we claim to hate?

    Now he bloody obviously had reasons to do what he did, which he has articulated very well on his blog. I read and re-read and even before that, could empathise. And so, this is not so much about him as it is about us. Us, the crowd which blocked the roads there to take a look, us who sat watching on the tube or the stream, us the viewers and readers, us the voyeurs, and definitely me, who writes a post. Death makes a good story. With apologies to the few who don’t look at it that way, I wonder if being part of the excitement has taken a whole new turn when we’ve become the media on Twitter. Unlike the case with other media, when the crowd creates and consumes, who can complain? Yes, there are many cases in which relief and charity work have been augmented by Twitter, but this wasn’t such a case. Hopefully, all this is just me 🙂

    until next time, false fire alarms?

  • Woodstok

    Yes, you see something missing, but no, I haven’t gotten the spelling wrong. Nor is this some wordplay stunt on any famous golfer you might have heard of recently.

    I assume that since the owners would have found it difficult to replicate the original, naming their ‘resto-cafe’ to sound like the iconic event would be their way of paying a tribute. Works for me, and if good ol’ rock’n’roll ain’t good enough for you, the fact that they have a soup laced with chocolate should get your immediate attention and affection. But we’ll come to that it in a while.

    Woosdstok serves continental food, pastries too, and is located on the road that connects the Koramangala-Indiranagar 100 ft road to CMH Road/12th Main etc. When coming from Koramangala, take a left immediately after the flyover, and you’ll find it on your right after about a 100m. You can find a map right here. Parking isn’t too difficult for 2 wheelers, and I’m sure those at a higher tier can find a way.

    We didn’t reserve in advance since we planned to reach early, but we saw that the place was beginning to get crowded by the time we left, so you might want to keep that in mind. Woodstok has seating on two floors and seemed like a house converted into its current function. So instead of coldly functional/symmetric/ordered seating, there are balconies, diner style options, some modas and so on, all lending character to the place, while retaining the functional element. Ok, enough of design, we obviously had other designs for the visit. We chose to sit on the balcony, overlooking a not-so-crowded road, and it added a lot to the the experience.

    The menu can be found online, so bonus points for that!! I’m guessing the kids menu would be popular too. We started with a ‘Cream of chicken with a twist’. The twist is in the form of a chocolate sauce, just a wee bit, but hey, just for once, I’ll say its the thought that counts. The soup was very creamy, and with a little pepper, it worked out very well indeed. Though it did take a little longer than usual to get to us, they kept us occupied with a garlic bread basket. (though I found it odd that they chose to give 3 slices when there were 2 of us – wouldn’t any even number have made more sense? )

    For the main course, we asked for a London House Woodstok Grill (its a sizzler) and a Chicken Marsala. The Grill was all that its descriptor promised it to be, with grilled chicken, a mini steak, cocktail chicken sausages, bacon and ham with a pepper sauce. Yes, there were sauteed vegetables too, but they only got the attention they deserved. The mashed potatoes were good though. The steak was well done and unlike the Mallu joke, I didn’t have to kill it before I ate it. Grilled chicken, bacon, ham, bliss, enough said. The Marsala, we were told when we ordered, would be slightly sweet, but it actually had a strong oregano flavour instead. Along with the mushrooms, mashed potatoes and tender chicken, this has a unique taste worth checking out.

    The flip side is that we were too stuffed for dessert, in spite of the many tempting options. ‘Woodstok Wonder’, we’re destined to meet someday, i promise ya. Meanwhile, they also gave us a complimentary lime sorbet (completely frozen) that served as some consolation for me.

    All of the above came to just over Rs.1050, including a 10% service tax which is well deserved. There is a nice personal touch to their feedback mechanism. The sheet not only asks for feedback on the specific items you have consumed, but also has the name of the ‘crew’ who served you. Neat, and Bijoy, you did a great job, along with the wonderful lady who showed us to our seat and came back to check if everything was fine. This one goes right into my favourite list, food, ambiance and service, and is definitely worth checking out if you have a relaxed evening in mind.

    Woodstok, Near Firepro, #3777, Domlur Service Road, HAL 2nd Stage, Indiranagar, Ph: 080-42115042/+91 9686191998

    Menu and Photos at Zomato

  • Ok, its alright with me…..

    As I walked towards the parking space to get the vehicle, the lion and the clown beckoned to me. While their masks sported plastic smiles, i could sense the beseeching look their eyes would have. It was almost the end of the day, and when I peeped inside as I walked past, I could find rows and rows of empty counters and mannequins and sales people with equally blank expressions. It wasn’t the first time I had seen this  shop and wondered how they managed to stay afloat. I see it whenever traffic gets held up in the junction. At the heart of the central business district, I am sure it must have seen better times, maybe a time before the malls and the big brands… what plans they must’ve made about sales and revenues and good times…wonder if it really matters now…

    As i rode home, I got stuck in one of those endless traffic snarls that is as characteristic of this city now as a by-two coffee in darshinis. As the honks became louder and tempers got frayed, I thought the ordeal would never end. But  suddenly, the traffic began to move slowly. As I turned a corner, literally and figuratively, I could see a little distance way, a civilian directing traffic. I would’ve thanked him, but by the time I got there, the traffic was moving briskly, and he had crossed the road and disappeared into a lane. I’m sure he wasn’t getting paid, and he didn’t have any plans other than to undo a few knots…

    I make plans… and you make plans.. some plans are better than others… sometimes I have to do what I have to do.. and sometimes, like the Joker, I’m a dog chasing cars, I wouldn’t know what to do if i caught one… but yet, more often than not, Krishna’s words in the Bhagvad Gita make sense. But one is attached – for fame, money, love, combinations of the above and a myriad other reasons.. it is never easy to be detached. I feel sorry for the shop even if they were greedy, and I am envious of the man who walked away after he did what he had to do..

    Plans.. there were things I thought I couldn’t do without, a few years back, a lifestyle which I didn’t want to alter,  I thought a way of living could be kept constant across time, but things change, for a few days I may have mourned, and then I moved on.. they make good nostalgia frames – time,  places, things, people.. they all have a role to play..if you told me then that I would be living without them at a later date, I’d have smiled at you, a knowing smile acknowledging your silliness. But yet, here I am, with a new set that I don’t think I can live without…

    Ok it’s alright with me some things are just meant to be
    it never comes easily and when it does i’m already gone
    i’m practically never still more likely to move until i end up alone at will
    my life continues inching along

    [Eric Hutchinson – Ok it’s alright with me]

    So i move along, and I reach a place and I wonder how it all started… And I realise that even the attachment I claim is such a flimsy piece of string, it unravels for a while, and then at some point, the memory gets cut off, and then perhaps I make up the rest in the image of how it should have started…

    I promise you, I have not changed the beginning of this post, this was an experiment of a thought stream, of giving up control, of not being a hostage to plans, but I  have to wonder, if I knew this was the way it would end, would I have started differently?

    until next time, post….life

    Note: I’d written this post a while back, and it was almost forgotten in ‘drafts’. Chanced upon it, and realised it made sense to publish it on the day before I leave this workplace. 8 years after i started working, I’m finally going to work… for me 🙂

  • Tunday Kababi

    The reviews that I had read in the last couple of weeks had ensured that before this Sunday I’d have a go at Tunday. 🙂 It helped that the place is in Koramangala, on the same road as Ping, Empire, Paramount etc, in the same building as Lazeez. (map) Parking is not very easy for four wheelers, but you should just about manage. Tunday is spread across two floors, and at about 9.30 pm on Saturday was quite crowded. Thankfully, we found a place on the first floor.

    Tunday is a famous import from Lucknow, and apparently is the first franchise outside of the place, though it seems the cooks and spices have been brought down. According to Amit Akali’s review in Bangalore Mirror (disclosure: yep, I work in the Times Group 🙂 ), legend has it that the mutton kabab was created specially for a Lucknowi nobleman who had lost his teeth but not his appetite for kababs. Also Tunday gets its name from tunda,a slang for a one armed man. You can read more here. So, keep that in mind and when you’re here, and so pehle aap ek plate Mutton Tunday kabab order karo please. 🙂

    We did, and though we had no train to catch, it was brought in a few minutes. A plate has 4 pieces and from what we ate, I’m convinced that the toothless nobleman would’ve had no trouble at all with the kabab. The phrase ‘melt in the mouth’ is a cliche for kababs, but I’m guessing this one  is a good candidate to have started it. Its awesome and I insist you try it. (a good time to mention that if you’re a veggie,you’ll perhaps feel as much a sense of belonging here as Sarah Palin in a geography quiz) Meanwhile, the menu is as simple as it can get, as you can see here

    tunday

    (click for a larger image)

    After the splendid kabab, we moved on to a Shahi Murg Masala and a couple of Tunday’s parathas. The paratha is perhaps the most unique one I’ve had. It is crispy yet soft. Do give it a try. The Shahi Murg Masala was another good choice, and though the portion was not really that large (had only one chicken piece, though a large one at that) it was delicious. Spicy too, and there was some flavour that I couldn’t quite place, though it did remind me of saffron. (but it wasn’t saffron)

    The next round consisted of a mutton biriyani and a chicken korma. The mutton biriyani was fantastic, and unlike the ones we regularly have, it was not very oily. Of the whole lot, the korma was perhaps the only one that wasn’t really stellar. But it was in the company of legends, so one can’t really blame it. By the time we finished all this, we were stuffed, and so the Awadhi kheer had to be left for another day.

    Now, this is by no stretch of imagination, a fine dining place. No A/c, the tables are just about clean, the chairs aren’t so lucky, and they won’t bring the handwash apparatus to your table. 🙂 The service is chaotic, we even contemplated joining our table with the adjacent couple, since there were at least a couple of mixed up orders. But you really wouldn’t pay attention because of the speed at which the food arrives and of course, the food itself. Besides the guys are really pleasant in spite of the furious pace, and the earnestness wins you over. So, think of it as though you’re at home, roll up your sleeves, and get to work on the part that matters – the food. 🙂

    All of the above cost us just less than Rs.450, that was after reminding them that they hadn’t billed one item. 🙂 The portions are not large, but the good part, therefore, is that you can try different dishes. 🙂 You should definitely try the place out.

    Tunday Kababi, KHB Colony, 5th Block, Koramangala Ph: 9448083030

    Menu at Zomato