Why I will not stay to witness Kolkata Pujo

It is that time of the year in Kolkata when every waking moment is spent to plan the upcoming weekend. Every person I meet only has plans for the Pujo weekend-what to shop for, what to wear, where to go, what to eat blah blah blah. Every space available is covered either by a huge pandal (pronounced 'pandle' like a handle by locals) or by huge flex advertisements. Every establishment is on sale or is so good that it doesn't need to be. Every building is covered with lights. Every one is obsessed.

I have asked many of the self proclaimed Pujo lovers what this weekend means to them. They all said fun. I further asked who did the actual Pujo at the Pujo and after a small pause, I got the same answer. The purohit.

Is this devotion? I don't know. For an outsider, starkly no. I was brought up in a simple north Indian home in, duhh, north India and Navratri have been a time of prayers, smoky mornings to wake up to(thanks to the morning Puja), satvik food that more than covers the days' fasts, cheerfulness and a general devotion to the Goddess. It meant feeding 8 girls and 1 boy at the end of the Ashtmi and then having the best home made brunch of the year with aloo, chane, kheer, halwa and puri. A small hawan at home has been the symbol of the bi-annual period of our dedicated attempts of devotion. Giving up non-veg or tamasic food is also a representation of that emotion. All this make up Navratri for me.

Call me anti-commercialisation but every time I see an event that reeks of it, I get turned off. The Pujos here in my latest city of inhabitation are overflowing with it. Maybe I am an outsider and I have an outsider's view but that itself is not very inviting. I see a city obsessed with a carnival that they garb in the name of devotion. I see a city obsessed with making its citizens fight for supremacy in everything that the Goddess is supposed to destroy-greed, vanity and lust. I see a city obsessed with outdoing itself. I see a pageant where pandals, people and localities compete. If there ever was an annual event management cum street beauty pageant, this is it.

As an outsider I am surrounded by messages communicating an immense need to look good for those 4days. Slim down, get Botox shots, take a spa session, buy new clothes, get new jewellery, pick a new phone, dab some makeup, fund a wacky pandal design, buy tickets to enter a pandal from the VIP gate, get invited to parties, host a catered lunch. In short, show the world your "ideal" self-image or be left out. I've seen a few cultures in my short life but never have I witnessed an annual fiesta that forces you to conform to such a degree as this one. I always thought weddings in north India were uselessly flashy and forced conformity in dress et al but frankly the madness around me right now is over shadowing all that and more. No one dare be caught in old, repetitive clothes in that period. You just can't not be pandal hopping (move over pub hopping). You just have to have the latest look for your appearance. You just have to conform.

In this celebrations of a Goddess' homecoming, there is a menagerie competing to show-off where and how they'd keep her. Maybe the route to salvation with the Goddess does come from the opposite extreme of austerity. Kolkata seems to believe so. Has believed so and would continue to. I however choose to stay an outsider and not witness the madness.

Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?

Skin care regime in India is getting more product oriented. With insane number of products and brands available at every price range, it is only normal that they can't be told apart one from another. I have been a dedicated user of select products but I draw the line at products that attack my self esteem-fairness creams, anti-cellulite creams, acne preventing creams and their ilk.

Found a very touching post by Neelesh Mishra on the issue of fairness creams http://rovingwriter.blogspot.in/2013/03/blog-post_26.html

Food and Culture: My Jackfruit story

I love Kathal aka Jackfruit. I always have since I was a kid. Making it was a pain for my mother since raw kathal is sticky, secretes all kinds of juices, is hard to clean and cut and in short makes a mess. And the green outer skin is also deceptive-it is still green when it goes ripe and hence undeclared unusable. But once cut, cleaned and cooked, the end result-oh yum!

My mother's recipe for her signature kathal-do pyaaza had one element I loved. The amount of onions she used! It is called "do pyaaza" for a reason! And then the taste. It is said that cooked jackfruit tastes like meat and is a vegetarian's substitute for the taste. Maybe that's why Ma took the effort of cooking it like one. I still saunter in to the kitchen when it's cooking (my nose is very good at this), become the official taster and help myself to the dish. Having it with rotis for dinner is round two. Round three is gorging on the leftover masala after the meal and reaching the spicy side of food heaven!

Now imagine my shock when after years of living with the food wonder called kathal, I meet people who have never eaten the cooked form but eat it as a fruit, uncooked! It has taken me a while to understand the cultural difference between the north of India and the south of India and one factor in my study has been this. If I were giving an EVS exam in school and had a question, "Differentiate between north Indians and south Indians", I'd have listed this as one of the top 5! We eat is when it is hard, sticky and unripe. We cook it and serve it hot. For people below the Vindhyas, it is served as it is when ripe golden, uniquely sweet and very strongly smelling.

I finally tasted ripe kathal last week in Mumbai. I'd seen it being sold outside the local stations and every time I passed the hawker, I could smell the fruit. It was overpoweringly sweet, almost honey like. So one day I tried one piece. I liked it for a first timer. I am unsure if I'd go out of my way to eat it again sometime but I am sure I am the first one in my family to taste it. After all, ripe kathal is unusable for a north Indian.

Travelling Solo: Elephanta Caves

I have now been in Mumbai for a cumulative period of almost 8 months. Even though I have family and friends, I have had the liberty and opportunity to live alone. I admit that hasn't been very pleasant  experience all through. To stop relying on other people's times and schedules I gave up and decided to explore this city alone.

My first solo trip was to Elephanta Caves. Ancient stone carved Hindu caves, Elephanta is an hour's boat ride away from the Gateway of India, Apollo Bunder, Mumbai. The entire location of the Gateway of India is like getting transferred to the England of yore. Completely built in Gothic architecture, the south Mumbai lanes deserve a post of their own. Ride to Elephanta caves costs 150INR in a deluxe boat and covers a return trip to the island. Since time flies by at the island and I am still a Delhi girl at heart, I'd boarded an 11am ferry leaving Gateway and returned well in time by 4pm. That I'd say was very smart of me! :D

The boat ride was spent in silence admiring the open seas. Coming from the land locked part of India, the openness of the endless ocean still fascinates me. Big ships and trawlers still get curious stares from me. And both were endlessly supplied on the way to Elephanta. It was also interesting to note the riches of Mumbai parked safely in the ocean-the personal yatches of the richy rich! Ok so it may not be as classy or as jam packed as the French Riviera but it was good to see some for myself. Between the container rigs and the naval setup, the personal wealth of a few individuals gleamed like tacky baubles.

Landing at the Elephanta caves, one has to jump over, pass through and hold on to thick ropes, old tyres and previously parked boats, not in that order though. Covered with barnacles, the landing leads up to the walkway that further leads to the steps rising up to the caves. A small toy-train ride costs INR 20 and saves you the walk in the hot burning sun. Hats and caps of all kinds were available but one is obviously paying the premium for buying them there. I stuck to my scarf and sun glasses. My ever handy water bottle proved its value over and over again during the trip.

Climbing the stairs was not easy. I am not the most physically fit person around and the climb didn't help. Shops lining the side have idle shopkeepers that made me more conscious of being fat than fit people in a gym. In short, their stares kept me going. reaching the top hafting and panting, I kept going. At the entrance, a board caught my attention that advertised Government Guides that were available for free. Upon inquiring I was told that the guard inside would point me to the correct person. I couldn't be happier.

I entered the ancient temple and felt dwarfed. The skill, the imagination and the scale, it all overawes you. Most of it was destroyed and disfigured by the invading Portuguese. What remains are faceless figures and tiny details that even today help archeologists identify the carvings. My hunt for the guide didn't start very well since the private guides would not allow the guards to point out the free one. I persisted and he relented. After a small self tour and guess-who game with myself, I finally met a young lady who was my guide! A student of history at the University of Mumbai, she was a volunteer who spent 5hours a week at Elephanta giving people like me a crash course in Hindu carvings.

What she taught me was very basic but very helpful. Since most carvings have been destroyed, it is next to impossible to identify the Gods and their avatars by their faces. Instead they are identified by their vehicles and their accessories! So a God in the background with a bird underneath is Vishnu! A mouse makes it Ganesh! I don't remember much but back then it made very logical sense! She also knew the stories/myths that related to each of the carvings and the was very keen to explain the eco system of the island. Self sustaining, it has no source of fresh water except the rains! She showed us the natural filtering process of the rock cuts caves and the underground pool that keeps the entire island alive.

I think I shall visit again. With people and food this time.

Leaving for Elephanta from the Gateway of India

Welcome to Elephanta!

Toy train at Elephanta

Rock Carvings

The iconic Mahesh Carving

Entrance to Elephanta

Sunset on my way back

Revival

It's been far too long since I wrote anything. I am going to change that. Hopefully this second shot at a blog would go much better than the first.
Fingers crossed!

Honour

My latest addiction is Grey's Anatomy. Nothing exceptional about it. Star World just airs it at a convenient time and like everyother drama series, it is addictive.

Last night's episode had something a character, Mama Burke, said. It goes like this:

Do you know when to walk away? Do you know when not to take less than you deserve, if you do, then you’re an honorable man
 

It stayed with me enought to blog about it. I don't think I qualify as honourable really most of the times according to this definition. But I also think it needs more to be added to what constitutes honourable.

So I asked a friend. He thinks you qualify as honorable if you stand tall to what you have decided or promised to achieve/do. And you achieve without compromising yourself or your values. At night wen you sleep without any guilt of having not put effort ..you're an honourable man. You sacrifice when needed and grab when desired ..honourable.

Touching really. But big holes for me to fall into. To me honour is simpler yet strikingly similar. Believe in something, stand for that, dodge the bullets, get shot, bleed a little, know something's protected, look in the mirror and be able to look yourself in your eyes.

But I like what the GA's character said about knowing what you deserve. About knowing your self-worth and knowing when to walk away. It's the hardest, this decision to live alone, to break away. But is it our upbringing that keeps us from not wanting isolation or living alone or is it something else?

Ironies that face you

Ironies often stand in front of you, facing you, taunting you. I am facing one right now. I love marketing. I love to do it. But a current marketing phenomenon is irking me to no end. Here are samples of why.

 

 

Karwa Chauth. A day that was special because mom dressed in her wedding finery and I got to play with her silks. A day that was like any other except we'd go moon hunting for ma. A day we'd get puris and kheer. Then came Karan Johar.

I hadn't seen half the fanfare shown in Bollywood happening anywhere around me. And to come to think of it, Karwa Chauth is a festival native to my homeland! It's an out and out north Indian festival holding religious significance in UP, Bihar and the ilk. Punjabis just did the pooja in a community like every other festival. Bollywood then made it a party.

Last few years I have seen this day being transformed into an Indian contribution to the gifting industry. I'd always read about what happened to Mother's Day from its humble beginnings, Valentine's Day from its clandestine marriages and creation of days left, right and centre. To see it happening to this somehow, somewhere touched an irritated nerve in me. I am supposed to marvel and learn how to create such amazing platforms for brands. I am supposed to understand consumer behaviour and how to best exploit it. But when I am a consumer, I find it intrusive, exploitive and damn right irritating. And this is irony.

The beginning and end of an age

This past Sunday had a couple of important firsts for me. My first Sunday in Mumbai as a member of the workforce. The Sunday when my mother discovered my first grey hair.
Marks a landmark of sorts for me

Living Alone

Each time I thought about it or anyone asked me about it, I was so confident I'd take to it like a fish to water. As of this moment, I am not so sure.

I left home on June 12, 2012, today is Aug 15. I live alone in a serviced apartment and I work 6days a week. The 6days I go to office, I want a day off. The day I stay back, I wish there was work I could finish. Everything I do, I want to call someone and tell them. I have never wanted to do that before. I have never wished I was not alone.

To me living alone was the ultimate sign of making it in life as a single working woman. I wanted that scene of a coffee cup, a sofa and rain pelting a french window to happen for me too. Now when it rains in Pune and I sit on the window sill to watch it clean the greenery, I wish I'd asked for something else. Asked for what though, I do not know.

I always thought since my parents had pulled it off, I would obviously adapt. I craved for it. I told myself everytime...this is what I want. As of this moment, I am not so confident.

I am now waiting for the learning curve to flatten. I am waiting for the feeling to become me. So that next time it rains and I have a hot cup of tea in my hands, I can smile and say..this is indeed life, my way.

London Paris NewYork: A Review

Theme: Romance

Treatment: Fresh, for Bollywood

Verdict: Like

Admittedly the movie in question isn't one of the latest releases of this week or even this month but I finally came around to watching the movie at leisure and with a lot of excitement. The movie in question had appealed as a cute-meet romance with a cute lead pair and hummable music.

The music gets my thumbs up. Ali Zafar did a good job with all his songs, except one insane punjabi dance track in a London pub. This movie is the first in a long long time where I did not want to forward the songs while watching the movie in a format that allows me to.

Coming to the movie, the format is greatly inspired by the two lovely movies called 'Before Sunrise' and 'Before Sunset'. I'm not even sure inspired is a word for it...it is exactly the same! You see no one else except our lead pair throughout the movie(one guest appearance not withstanding) and they talk, make faces, sing, dance, take you around pretty cities and make love.

So where does it falter exactly? I'd say it suffers from major cliches, though underplayed. The biggest drawback is that it isn't a mainstream Bollywood flick but wanted to be one. Suffering from a bad positioning and a wannabe attitude, took this film down.

Watch it not as a usual Bollywood, not as the serious art types but a sweet romance that is cliched yet true.

Make some more movies like this Anu Menon!

Breaking conventions

I was happily stumbling away this afternoon when I came across this post on the uber feminine Disney princesses which had transformed the childhood darlings into these goth punks. It made me wonder if breaking convention was a possibility at all.

The original author of that post claims to be a fierce feminist and proclaims that our perception of beauty and all related paraphernalia was distorted by convention and hence she decided to redo the Disney handiwork to create individualistic princesses. Oh really? How come they all have unnecessary piercings and similar tattoos then? One convention into another.

Isn't it true then that everything, or at least almost everything is a convention? The sophisticated socialite will always have a perfect manicure and a forced delicate demeanour. The corporate swash buckler will always have a fancy phone/car/gadget and a wardrobe full of monotones. The geeky teenager will always have big glasses and know everything about some obscure topic. God! They may be stereotypes, but look inside, look outside, somewhere some part of us, is always so typical!

Breaking away then it seems is a hard job. One risks being an outcast besides being ridiculed. No wonder they say humans are social beings. We lay too much importance on society and what it might think of us.

But one has to agree that breaking away from convention gives a sense of delight and freedom that nothing else can replace. To have not read Harry Potter just because people were breathing, sleeping and eating it. To not obey illogical diktats and do as one pleases. Just a few little rebellions that many of us have done.

Health food attempt 1: Bran cookies

Purpose: To make myself "healthy" snacking options

Proposed item: Bran cookies

Ingredients: 3tablespoons of bran
                 2-3 tablespoons of yoghurt
                 1egg
                 1teaspoon baking powder
                 1teaspoon sugar

Process: Preheat oven to 180degrees
             Mix everything together
             Pour into mould
             Bake for 15mins at 180degrees
             Flip cookies and rebake for 15mins

Recipe source: http://mydukandiet.com/recipes/oat-bran-cookies.html

Adaptations: Used wheat bran instead of oat bran as in the recipe. This is because I had wheat bran at home. Plus used curd instead of yogurt.

Observation: The batter was too little in quantity and actually made just four 3inch cookies

Verdict: The cookies didnt come out as I had hoped. Even after the flipping and browning bit, it was way too soft inside to appeal as a cookie. Might make a better cupcake/muffin. Also needed more sugar.

Way forward: Will try another recipe with all the wheat bran I have at home. This recipe didn't come out as the picture suggested and also the taste was too powdery for me. This was my first time with anything made out of wheat bran and obviously I'm not used to the taste. Maybe that and the lack of enough sweetner explains why I didn't like my creation one bit. Never happened to me before.

Funnily wheat bran is my current muse because we got a box free with the box of oats we bought for dad's breakfast. Since bran is not something an Indian would ever eat out of free will and common sense, our little box had been lying sealed. Our food has enough fibre in it to not need additional additives, especially the farm waste, as my grandma referred to bran as.

Technically it is the same thing as the fodder fed to cattle isn't it? Hmm. Food for thought. And cattle. LOL!

Stumble finds

Stumble-upon.com is seriously amazing for the kind of things it throws at me just to keep me from dying out of boredom. My latest find is worth a share here. The real link is http://img3i.www.spoki.lv/upload/articles/37/379524/images/Gifs-4.gif

The knotty knot

What is it with people around you that think life gets suddenly, overnight complete the day you marry? What's the big deal about marriage anyway? These days, sometimes in their entirety, I contemplate what is marriage all about. Why should I do this whole ritual and what will change for me? I admit I absolutely adore weddings! I mean who doesn't? But seriously, why marriage?

I am no closer to an answer. I have asked around; those who are married, bless their marriage, and those wishing they were married, but I am still not convinced on their logic. And to further derail my inclination towards it, I have a whole bunch of people asking me about it. It's not an age related landmark like puberty! But, sigh, they believe it is. And none is the wiser about why marriage.

There are certain givens about marriages. It draws on a curtain on human promiscuity and ensures children know their parentage for sure. It provides a degree of companionship, understanding and emotional support, though I seem to see the complete opposite in most marriages. It gives another person legal and medical rights to take decisions for you. The last one I read in some relationship column in Mint. So that's it. Hmm.

One thing became clear to me tonight about marriage, arranged marriage at least. It draws on a society's desire to protect itself and isolate and promote its culture. Any civilization that has evolved enough to have overcome the basics of food, shelter and clothing and has amassed wealth starts moving towards the whole arranged marriage concept. They do not want to "dilute the bloodlines". They want to "keep to their kind". In short, they're paranoid of losing their cultural identity into someone else's and giving away their wealth to the not-so-wealthy. That's why the business class will marry their children early and within their society. That is why the royal blue blood retains the genes that are killing them now! It's cultural paranoia!

It's clearly visible why an average, considered uncultured, American would always support a love match vis a vis an old moneyed European who a family lineage as long as the Mississippi! This is why a traditional Indian family would squirm at the thought of a cross cultural match as compared to the more disconnected "modern" American spin offs in the cities!

But at the end of the day, it is paranoia. If not then tell me why.

Saying goodbyes...

Past day and a half I've been more than cranky, highly sarcastic and in short having a major uncontrolled mood swing. No reason why. Atleast none I can point fingers at.
One big contributor to my self induced misery is me cleaning out my wardrobe to make way for the huge bunch I've gotten home from the hostel. No there isn't space in my cupboard to keep em all. Yes I've worn every single one of them atleast once. 

That's the thing. The atleast once bit. There are so many clothes in my cupboard I haven't worn more than once yet I couldn't throw. I'll slim down to fit in properly. There'll be an occassion to wear it again soon. It's winter fabric in a summer style. Just few of my reasons to never let go. These were the first to go today. I swooped'em clean. I still looked longingly as if I'd miraculously find a slimming potion and a social life to match. Bah!

The toughest were the ones I've worn so much they've worn thin! The pain in letting my favourite purple shirt go coz it now has little nail holes in it and my parents wouldn't let me wear it outside of this house. Not even in the hostel. The heartache of letting the favourite summer dress go because I was being cruel to me. I'm highly masochistic and I keep doing this to myself ever so often. The most worn pair of ill-fitting shorts because well, they're ill fitting! And so many more clothes I love. Loved.

So how did I do it? There's a pattern I recognised. These loved pieces of clothing hadn't been worn in the past two years I wasn't home. I'd gotten used to a new set of clothes that made my wardrobe in XL. So I could give these away with less pain. The thing is I'd be able to give away my XL clothes far more easily but that's coz I don't love any of them at all! Something about being a child and an adut.

It's not surprising I use this same philosophy everytime I have to say goodbye. I guess most people do. The longer you're out of sight, the easier you are to get out of mind. That's how I live. I never say goodbye. If you're meant to remain in my life, I'll meet you, call you, email you whatever. If you aren't, you wouldn't even remember me.

Agneepath: A review

Theme: Gore, Violence, Revenge

Treatment: Take a two cups of LOTR, mix in some Rambo as per taste, add three spoons of Harry Potter and sprinkle with KJo glamour.

Ok so clearly the movie didn't inspire me to sing praises. At a running time of almost 3hours, the songs are a painful addition that could've and should've been done away with.

The movie otherwise was well made, had superb cinematography and some brilliant performances!

The best was definitely Rishi Kapoor. One of his most evil roles but the emotions displayed is just marvellous. He is a doting father, a ruthless flesh trader, a shrewd drug lord and an undying old man. He speaks volumes through his kajrari eyes. Hay!

Sanjay Dutt was well menacing. And he was supposed to be. All through the movie I was only distracted by his striking similarity to Gollum!

The ladies were unnecessary. Priyanka Chopra should be adopted by Colgate. All she did in the entire movie was dance, be hyper, try and show off her cleavage and grin like an idiot. Katrina Kaif was even worse! What the hell was she thinking?! No wait, I'm sure she wasn't thinking. I was disgusted when Sheela ki Jawani hit the market and since then nothing seems to appear sleazy to me anymore. Looks like the censor board is sleeping.

Hrithik Roshan was well, ahem. LOL. The threatre I went to in Jamshedpur had men whistling and clapping at random scenes. When Hrithik took his shirt off, my girl friends and I clapped! My paisa-wasool moment. LOL. On a serious note, he's done well. His angry expressions haven't changed much from the days of "Kaho naa Pyar hai" and his dialogues were so soft it was as if he was mumbling. But otherwise,as a beef cake and an actor he was pretty impressive.

Now the classic moment of the movie: During the song "chikni chameli" Katrina Kaif lights a bidi. This scene, occuring thrice in the song, carries an english subtitle saying "Cigarette Smoking is Injurious to Health". The very next shot has Sanjay Dutt smoking up from a chillum. That's not to mention the amount of cocaine being snuffed in the entire movie. Hats off to the Censor Board of India.

My Lifelong Love....

I hereby declare my lifelong love for SHOES!

Heels, flats, pumps, peep-toes, wedges, ballets, sneakers, loafers, basketball shoes, sandals, slippers, stilettos, platforms, gladiators and Mary-Janes. I've had them all and currently have many of them. I just adore each one them and will adore the one I am yet to buy.

To put thing into perspective for me I'll borrow Mahi's statement. Just for reference Mahi was a character in a sitcom on TV. She once explained and I quote, " I love my shoes because of irrespective of how fat I become, my shoes will always fit me like a dream.". And to think all this while I thought I was the only one who thought like this!

Many people have asked me how many pair of shoes I own and each time I wonder if I really have that many. It never felt like too many to me, ever. I just clicked my 5most worn pairs at XL for perspective and there are exactly 5more sitting in the shoes rack waiting for their occasion. And these are only the ones I brought with me to the hostel. Ones at home would add some 5-6more at most. There i have some 15pairs of shoes. That's not much, is it? It barely covers enough for every type of occasion.

Looking back I think my love for collecting shoes began with having such a unique shoe size. I wear a size 42. That's big even by international standards, forget Indian. So understandably I have always had a trouble buying shoes that fit me, in designs that I like and prices I can afford. Till date everytime I go shopping I keep an eye out for a good deal in a sturdy or pretty(as my frame of mind maybe) pair of shoes. And considering my size and all, it isn't every trip that I find something I want or need.


But I still look out for them and I always have a few on my wishlist!

2011, A memoir

Another year is coming to a close. Today on Google I came across this video on the year that was and is for another 16days.



Thinking about what it did to me, I can safely say it was a year of experiences and it made a whole new dimension of me.

I finally found my feet in the b-school and made peace with my new life, interned at one of the most iconic brands of the world-Coca Cola, met a nice bunch of people there and was reassured that this was indeed what I wish to do in my life for real, traveled business class and then by unreserved in the same day to just meet my family for a day, discovered pleasure, got my first lipstick, my first Roberto Cavalli shades, adopted pets and then lost them to nature, experienced real fear while waiting outside an operation theatre and realised what it is to be strong for another.

This year has been like none other for me. Simply amazing.

My favourite moments:

Mumbai Trip, June 2011; @bandra bandstand

My 23rd, Feb 16; @jsr

My 23rd, Feb 16; @jsr

My 23rd, Feb 16; @jsr

@chandil dam

feb; @bhopal

ladies; feb; @bhopal

Layla and Raphael...my angel fish. RIP

Akshita, twisha, I, shweta, shriya; day of batch photo

Areshdeep, I, aditya, twisha

Teej@XL

scary me @maxi junior's treat; august 11

OOH advertising for MAXI Mindscapes:dimensions of sports marketing

Return to Dasam falls, diwali day, 26 oct 11

mela@jsr, oct 16, 2011

bike trip to ghatshila

Tinkerbell&I

Glutton Discovery

For a random errand, SN and I went to the market pretty late today. I had a class till 5:30 so it wasn't until 6:15 that we finally left for Sakchi. Give or take 30-40minutes that we took to find the required shop and buy the things needed, we were leaving the market from the exit closer to Tata Steel when a strong smell caught our attention. Now we being foodies immediately recognised this aroma as that of fresh roasted chicken and after nothing in sight, we gave up on what promised to be a delectable suprise.

But suprise it turned out to be! Right behind the auto stand was a thela surrounded by people and no prizes for guessing where the aroma was coming from. Couldn't stop ourselves from exploring and we actually found a decent crowd, well behaved and the shop owner treated us like premium princesses(which effectively we probably were). I still don't know if it was cheap or expensive, but sounded attractive to me and his turnover speed suggested that the food was definitely fresh and add to that, the barbeque was right there for all to see!

He picked out fresh pieces of marinated breast pieces in front of us and started to slowly let it char on the smoldering charcoals. Definitely not just another roasted chicken.

Being a Delhi dame, roasted chicken is same as tandoori chicken to me. Not anymore. This was real barbequed chicken and because of certain unavoidable circumstances, it was consumed almost 4hours after purchase and I must say this...it was still soft, juicy and delectible!

I'm so going to recommend it to anyone who had no qualms of admitting that street food can indeed be delicious and hygienic(as much as possible)!

Finally Jamshedpur is playing its magic on me!

ps: check location of this post for exact place!

Oh India!

I for one fell in love when I was very young. Given the environment at home with a very religious nani, an unquestioning devotee as mommy, a rational believer as a father and encyclopedias as companions, I fell in love with the whole world of powerful characters that some dismiss as mythology and some revere as religion. My love was fed from all quarters and all regions of the world. My mother gave me stories of my land, my books gave me stories of Greece and Rome and my dad gave me the platform to rationalise, debate and admire. Till date I love to hear new perspectives on the same characters, new insights on what possibly drove them and discovering subtle implications of all this in our lives. More so in the life of a modern open source believer-a practicing Hindu.

The Navaratras have just gone by. Durga Puja pandals are still being dismantled across the city here in Jamshedpur. Festivities have only just begun, as Diwali is less than 20days away. I couldn't go witness the grandeur of a pandal this year and I shall regret that. But to compensate it all, I went to the next best thing-a Ravan Dahan Mahotsav.

Ironic how the most pious days of any religion come in the historical period of blood shed and death. It may be the 'evil' blood being spilled, but it is blood nonetheless. Muslims have the Ramadan, Hindus have the Navaratras! Both had their God/Goddess fight evil and conquer it. Both have their holy days. But I'm digressing.

Coming back to what I was hoping to write on was that the Ravan dahan mahotsav got me thinking. It was only my second time at the event and the last time I went there it was with my parents and I was hardly 8 or 9 years old. This time I was with my classmates and the whole environment though festive did not seep in. But it was fun and it was a much needed outing. And it got me intersted in what my father had told me about the whole Ravan burning exercise. As it happens, in some part of the country, there are tribes who do not believe in celebrating this victory of good over evil and do not burn Ravan's effigies. Why? Well, because Mandodri belonged to their tribe! Interesting implications to life, no?

Today a newspaper on the newstand outside the mess caught my eye simoly because it spoke of something similar. There happens to be a tribe in the Chota Nagpur plateau region that does not believe in festivities of the Navratras but instead treats it as a period of mourning! They consider themselves decendants of Mahishasur who was the chief demon to be slayed by Devi in this nine day period and they think the mythology is unfairly skewed against them. Here's the news item: http://business-standard.com/india/news/the-demons-brood/451796/