All clear!

India visits always involve more lunch and dinner invitations from friends and family than my poor stomach can handle. Though I'd like to pretend that it's a chore to go eat all that good food, the truth is, I gladly suffer the indigestion in exchange for goodies I will never make or eat in the US.

On one such occasion, we were all over at my uncle & aunt's for lunch, and had finished packing in an ungodly spread. Post lunch - pre coma conversation was ongoing when my Grandmum announced that it was the worst Bangalore summer yet, and that she needed a drink of water.

So off she went to the table near the refrigerator where all the bottles had been placed. If it were me, I'd have just glugged from the bottle, but she did the decent thing and poured herself a glass, and remarked disappointedly that it wasn't cold since it had been out for a while. We all resumed talking, and a second later, there was an agonized squeaking, and we all turned around to see my grandmother shove the house-help away from the sink and spit a whole mouthful of water out.

Once that was done, she sagged against the counter and said..."AIYO! My mouth and throat are on fire!! What was that!?". Turned out, she'd just downed half a glass of Gin, neat.

Her first reaction when she realized what she'd done was to say.."UGH! You people drink this by choice? Mad."

Now, any time she says anything remotely conservative sounding, we let her know that she's joined the ranks of us degenerate alcoholics, so this kind of hypocritical attitude isn't going to fly. She's such a sport though..she laughs harder than the rest of us put together. :)

India's Favourite Sport

India is a cricket-crazy nation, and my family is most definitely high up there on the scale of craziness where the sport is concerned. I however am not. In fact, in the span of my life in India, I may have watched at most 2 complete games if you cobbled together the bits of the ones I caught on TV while on my way to the fridge,  stepping out the front door, or if I happened to be sitting in the living room when my sister ran in throwing a blue fit about how dare the channel be on something else other than a game that was in progress, and didn't I have a book to read or something?

Now that you have a fair idea of my deep involvement with the game, I want to share that I went to watch my first live cricket match at Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore where the Royal Challengers, Bangalore gave the Kolkata Knight Riders a fair trouncing. I shall also admit that this is 4 years after my move to the States. Better late than never, what?

My sister, seated next to me ruptured my left ear drum during the course of this outing with her incessant shrieking, so if I don't respond when you talk to me, move to my right and repeat. Also, I narrowly escaped with both eyes despite some frenzied flag waving by this very large, not young man in the row in front of us.

That I was also people watching rather than being riveted to the game is a cause of disappointment to my sister, but I have no such regrets. In fact, the guy who was dancing as though possessed - rapidly jerking his head with his tongue hanging out, which in turn caused his considerable belly to also rapidly jerk (imagine a walrus having a seizure) - more than made up for a wide ball. I had no idea that a Bollywood song could inspire such reactions.

The spouse, having had no exposure to cricket since his childhood was spent doing little league and soccer, and who this outing was really in aid of, had his first taste of India's favourite sport. He rather enjoyed it, contrary to his pre-conceived notions about the speed of the game, and the possibility of being able to pack for a trip between runs.

In any case, good times were had, much thirst was experienced (since they don't allow any bottles with liquids into the stadium, and if anyone has a strategy to get to the iced tea vendor before he is mobbed and robbed of his meagre supply, let me know) and I finally bonded with my family over that game.

Shoe Karma

The whole of last month was spent building up to my trip to the motherland, and here I am 2 weeks in, having worked remotely, started yoga classes, taken a trip and combated some crappy food poisoning. I am on the mend now, and well enough to blog. :P

My entire family is obsessed with Indian classical music, and we make it a point to go to as many live performances as possible. On one such recent occasion, the whole shebang had made its way to a concert in the city, in a relatively new auditorium within a temple complex. By shebang I mean mum, dad, 1 grandfather, 2 grandmums and a great-grandmum! My poor parents probably feel like they're kindergarten teachers taking stubborn children on an excursion, complete with bathroom visits, the inability to sit still for more than 10 minutes at a stretch, and the insane amount of resistance to anything that might make their lives (and that of my folks) a little easier. They weren't kidding when they coined the term 'second childhood'.

Anyway, the concert was great, and it was time to leave, not to mention that it was pretty late in the evening. Out they walked, only to find that the men had absconded someplace with no warning. So the rest waited for about 15 minutes near the car outside, and finally spotted my dad and grandfather striding towards the car, the latter visibly upset about something. On closer observation, we noticed that my grandad was barefoot, brandishing a lone slipper in one hand, and a cup of 'prasadam' in the other. When he reached the gaggle of ladies, he began offering them the prasadam while dangerously swinging his slipper close to their faces with some wild gesticulations of his other arm. My mother, quite baffled by this point, asked him why he was holding his slipper, to which he responded - "Yaaro shaniyan yennoda oru seruppa thirudita!" meaning "Some worthless individual has made off with one of my slippers!". My mother then asked him what use one slipper was going to be. My grandad in his innate naivete, said "Will they not give me a matching one at the shop?" Everyone around him asked if he was mad, and then he said.."I don't care..I'm going to hang on to this one in case the other turns up someplace". Humouring this completely ridiculous notion, everyone got in the car and went home.

My grandmothers were having their usual morning tete-a-tete, and one says - "I cannot imagine who could have taken your husband's single slipper. Would they have had no clue that they are wearing 2 completely different things on either foot?" The response was.."I don't know, maybe it is possible to not realize such a thing at all..it is pretty stupid though." And she proceeded to go upstairs to her flat. When she stepped in the door, she saw that miraculously, both my grandad's slippers were there! She ran to ask if he had gone back to look for it, and was met with a 'Are you nuts!?' look. My grandfather then realized the import of what she was asking, and was overjoyed to discover his move of keeping the other slipper had reaped such heavy rewards. My grandmother, still very confused about what could have happened, decided to step out to get some groceries, and realized that one of her slippers was missing.

Of course, this could only mean one thing. The culprit and thief of the lone slipper had been her all along! In her haste to get my great-grandmother into the car the previous night, she had put on one slipper of hers and one of my grandfathers and had merrily returned home. My mother when told of this sudden and startling development, asked between convulsions of laughter how she could possibly not have realized this, to which she said..I was walking all awkward, but I thought it was my spondilitis acting up.

A contract for life?

With a good amount of luck,
A freelance project I'd land
To make a few bucks
Concepts I created for a new brand

"Oh! This is not what I had in mind."
said the client for the contract he signed!
"Can you work on a few more,
Only now five for the price of four?"

A few weeks later, a bit discontent,
Designed what he tweaked to a great extent
Months passed by, and all was normal
Until one fine day, he pinged acting all formal.

From topic to topic, it changed direction
Finally he asked about my ancestral connection
Oh, No! What's with all the weird questions?
Politely I logged off, as it seemed only unprofessional.

Almost a year and a few months passed by
A random email I received from the same guy
This time with very little to do with his company update
And more in line with - " How about we go on a date?"

Why oh! Why, will this never end?
It's a new sitcom for all my dear friends!
Who will it be, among these strange men?
Cos I am no Barbie to find her own Ken! 

A Galumphing We Go!

This Sunday, I got to watch the movie I've been waiting nearly a year for! It was everything I'd hoped it would be. Alice in Wonderland has always been one of my favourite books, and I spent a number of years in the fantasy that I'd one day find my own looking-glass to go through, or my own rabbit-hole to fall into. Though, in India..it would more than likely have been a manhole. Doubt anything pretty would have come out of that!

I was transported back to the time I first read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, completely mesmerized by the imagination and whimsy in something so innocuous as a book. To this day, it remains one of my favourites, and I've decided I will buy myself a copy to re-read. I wanted to share this verse from the sequel to the book. A friend of mine used the same poem for a typographic project. Sometimes, words speak a thousand pictures..

The Jabberwocky

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

*The illustration is by Sir John Tenniel and first published in 'Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There' by Lewis Carroll, 1871.
* Lewis Carroll is a Nom De Plume. The author's real name is Charles Lutwidge Dodgson.

My Italian epiphany

Everyone has had Masala Dosa with Sambar..but little is known of the superhero persona these 3 take on when served with some Italian flair. I give to you - DOSAGNA! Formidable though it may sound, it is really simpler than simple. I'm not going to write the recipes for Masala Dosa or Sambar here, since they are prolifically available on the internet, or on the phone with your mother/aunt/grandmother/periappa/mama/kozhandai/Kamakshi chitti's Pug. If you're not on talking terms with your relatives, no problem..just ask the Pakkathaathu Mami. She will gladly oblige, if only to prove her recipe is superior!

In a round baking dish, put a layer of foil at the bottom. Start with a layer of dosa, top with a thin layer of potato masala. (A note on the masala here..mildly chunky will work best, or it will get on too thick and overpower the dish.) Repeat this until you have about 6-7 dosas. The top most layer should be a dosa. Then, once you're ready to serve, cut a wedge down to the last layer, plate and pour a ladle (or two!) of hot, spicy sambar over it. There you have it.

You could vary this up by smearing some coconut/tomato chutney on the dosa before you put the layer of masala on, or once the whole thing is built, sprinkle some Molagapodi on top of it and skip the Sambar. Whatever your preference, Dosagna will be there to save the day! Of course, you'll be pretty much passed out from a Doma (Dosa-Coma) for the rest of the day!

Zakir who? Where are my vadais?

This has been a bloody exhilarating, but exhausting weekend. It's taught me a couple of things about life and people. One is that truly great people are never obvious about the fact that they're great and the other that it is possible to have a grossly disproportionate idea of your own importance.

Saturday saw Masters of Percussion in Austin, led by Ustad Zakir Hussain and featuring Violin maestros Ganesh and Kumaresh. By a massive stroke of good fortune, the spouse I actually had the honour of being able to spend time with all three. I cannot say that I have ever met people as nice, friendly and chilled out as them. The Ustad has had a huge fan in me ever since I heard him as a young child and watched his delivery of 'Wah Taj Boliye' on TV hundreds of times. To be able to meet and speak with him was surreal, and I was totally starstruck. To me though, the stars of the show were Vidwans G + K. I have heard them many a time, but they were shining especially bright this Saturday evening. I'm still recovering from the stellar quality of the show.

Having seen my mother coordinate music concerts for many years, I have a fair idea just how much work it involves, so I am not without appreciation for those who put out a great effort to support and propagate Indian Classical Arts in other countries. But, and this is a very heartfelt but..spending the first 15 minutes of such a show honouring yourself for doing this negates the effort a little. It could just as easily have been a private celebration or done at the end of the show. When you have artistes of that calibre waiting behind the screen to perform..you do not try to steal their thunder. I also loved the fake surprise at being lauded.."I had no idea this was coming!!"..Really? Didn't you organize this show? Also unacceptable is telling your member base one thing and doing something else entirely. If you promised them good seats at the show in exchange for signing up, do not stick them in the upper balcony. If you do, it's safe to assume that that's probably the first and last time they want to be on your mailing list.

And to come to my favourite part of that evening, How much anxiety and distress does a lost plastic box of home made vadais call for? So much so that you ask everyone, including your star line up if they saw it. Admittedly, they're home-made and hard to come by in the Yoo Ess, so I'd be first in line trying to help you find them, so I can get some of the reward..namely that whole box. BUT, when I'm in the same room as Zakir Hussain, you've got a hope if you're sending me on a vadai hunt. Made or paid for.

Just when I was getting off the high from Saturday, I floated right back up. Sunday was tremendously inspiring. I saw my guru dancing her traditional repertoire for the first time. It made me even more proud to be her student. She was far and away the star of the show - this is my sincere opinion without bias, and let me add that I found the other performers wonderful as well. In fact, one of them is close to 80! I'd give an arm and a leg...ermm..I probably won't be able to dance much without an arm and a leg, so maybe a lot of vadais to have that kind of spirit when I'm 60..let alone 80!!

Here's to many weekends in the future filled with great art, the company of living legends, indomitable spirit and vadais out of the plastic dabba and in my stomach!