This is actually the prayer of Alchoholics Anonymous and it makes a lot of sense for us sober ones too...
God, Grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
The Courage to change the things I can.
And the Wisdom to know the difference!
Amen:).
Monday, June 26, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
One sweet conversation...
Dont blame me if you dont understand the conversation...just a brainwave.
Here is a love-lorn boy proposing to his girl...
B: I want to wake up every morning and see your face next to me. I want to hold your hand and walk in the park telling you all the little stories I have stored up since childhood. I want to watch your favorite movie feeling you close to me. I want to comfort your every time you are sad and be comforted every time I am down. I want to hear to all your girlie gossip every day smiling and wincing at the same time. I want to make fun of everything that you do and still enjoy every bit of it. I want to torture you endlessly with my singing, I want to do a million things this way...I can keep listing them for the whole day.
G: hmm…you do all this…And then what?
Here is a love-lorn boy proposing to his girl...
B: I want to wake up every morning and see your face next to me. I want to hold your hand and walk in the park telling you all the little stories I have stored up since childhood. I want to watch your favorite movie feeling you close to me. I want to comfort your every time you are sad and be comforted every time I am down. I want to hear to all your girlie gossip every day smiling and wincing at the same time. I want to make fun of everything that you do and still enjoy every bit of it. I want to torture you endlessly with my singing, I want to do a million things this way...I can keep listing them for the whole day.
G: hmm…you do all this…And then what?
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
A short story
Following this post is my first serious attempt at a short story in English...whether you like it or not, whether you manage to read till the end or not, whether you are searching me to heap praise or chuck stones, please do pass on your comments (preferably through non-violent means:)..Enjoy.
Iyer's tale
Sadasiva Iyer was very proud of his name and lineage. To anyone who would care to listen, and there were many who would, given his societal status and his job, he would recite every one of his ancestors till late 16th century. It would often end with an official-priest of a king in some obscure Samasthanam in south Tamilnadu.
Iyer was a self-made man. Very early in his life understood the workings of post-independence India. He quickly perceived that the corridors of power were no longer going to be confined with the high-priests and their heirs anymore, but in the hands of a few smart and conniving babus in the government. So he spent all his energies in reaching high echelons of that very babudom which threatened his familial standing and he did exactly that.
He was the Tahsildar of Thillaiyur, a village 30km south of Madurai. A fastidious man, that Iyer was, he got up at four in the morning followed by a strict routine of Pooja, Surya-namaskaram and a series of other activities that were prescribed to be the duty of every Brahmin. He visited the Thillaiyur Siva temple every single day of his life if he was in town.
In his house, aacharam reigned supreme. Noone was allowed to enter the kitchen before taking a bath. There were a set of rules to be followed in the way cooking was done. Food was always served in plaintain leaves for the elders (children were exempted from this requirement as they ended up spilling out of the leaf as much as they ate). The clothes that were to be worn during Pooja had to be washed separately and hung on very high strings out of reach of the naughty kids in the house who enjoyed playing the game of jumping high and touching the tip of the dhoti when Iyer was not around. But when he was there in the house every rule in the rulebook was followed. Iyer lectured everyone in the house on these rules and their interpretations. However any questions from one of the kids on the reason behind a rule were met with a stern stare and a standard explanation-“You will understand when you grow older.’ Subtle nuances that a lady in the house might miss occasionally would be severely reprimanded, for instance tending to a kid after bath would often require taking bath all over again before entering the kitchen. All this aside, Iyer was indeed a good man, he attended to his family’s needs and loved his grandchildren. People in his house followed his rules more out of respect for him than anything else.
Iyer hated his routine disturbed by anything, but his work required travel to adjacent villages once in a while. On such occasions, Iyer took great precautions in arranging his food. Mostly a huge shining tiffin carrier would accompany him if it were a trip for a day. Otherwise he was accompanied by his faithful male-servant (who had joined his household as a kid), Subbu, Subbu was an expert cook and very resourceful. He always managed to find a place for his master in the town with a good kitchen, then washed the whole place to make it ready for Iyer and finally took out the utensils he carried from home and started cooking, by the time Iyer was back from work, food would be ready to be served in fresh plaintain leaves plucked from some nearby farm. Subbu was very thorough in what he did. Above all, he was well-versed in every rule that Iyer required in a cook.
Iyer was retiring from his work in a week’s time, after thirty two years of glorious service. He was eagerly looking forward to the retirement, to be doing his own things; he had planned on spending more time with his Lord Neelakanta in the temple and also to write some books on philosophy. Now as it happened, he had to attend a meeting of Tahsildars in Madurai. Subbu was out of town for a relative’s marriage, but this didn’t matter to Iyer as the affair was going to be just for a day. The ladies in the house packed the food and then found the best plaintain leaves available tied it with the carrier and gave it to Iyer. He boarded the train for Madurai and left, slightly annoyed at this inconvenience at a time when he was just days away from retirement.
The meeting went of well and by evening, when Iyer was getting ready to leave, he noticed the small batch of conspirators speaking in hushed voices, he wouldn’t have bothered much but for the fact that some of them were looking at him as they spoke, and finally one of them, Srinivasan, the Tahsildar from Vinnanur, who was also a good friend of Iyer, went up to the dais and said-“We are all aware of what a great service our friend Tahsildar Sadasiva Iyer has rendered for the past thirty two years, he is retiring this Friday and it would be a shame if we depart without giving him a fitting farewell, and so it has been decided that all of us shall gather at the Town Hall for a grand farewell to Mr. Iyer at 10am tomorrow morning.” Everyone was applauding but noone seemed to be surprised, “Everyone knew..” thought Iyer. As he started to protest, Srinivasan came over and put a friendly hand on his shoulders and said-“Don’t worry Iyerval, everything has been arranged”. “No” protested Iyer “I don’t eat outside food”. At this Srinivasan replied- “I know, that’s why we have made special arrangement with Mani’s to cook food specially for you. You know the place don’t you? Mani Iyer is a good friend of mine. He is a bit eccentric at times, but in cooking there is noone to beat him…” and then lowering his voice to almost a whisper he continued-“All his cooks are Brahmins…”
Ofcourse he knew the place. Infact everyone in and around Madurai knew and had eaten atleast once at Mani’s. They were the reputed to be the best vegetarian restaurant in the whole of Tamilnadu, and their speciality was Mani’s sambhar, which everyone agreed had an aroma they had seldom smelt anywhere before. The smell floated in the air all over the street, many passers-by who didn’t have the faintest idea of dining at a hotel were pulled into the hotel by virtue of this and stood patiently in the queue to get their turn to attack the four-course meal they provided.
Iyer had often wondered about this hotel, especially at the high standards that they maintained in the kitchen, infact the cooks followed every rule he had laid down in his own household and more. They served on plaintain leaf and every cook was a Brahmin who maintained very high standards of personal sanitation. The owner Mani Iyer was a devout Brahmin himself, he ran the hotel with an iron fist in keeping the standards very high. Iyer had always wanted to taste the sambhar once, and when the opportunity presented itself now, he just couldn’t say no. He agreed with the condition that he would eat there only once the next morning and he would bring his own plaintain leaf. To himself, he had even planned a surprise visit to the kitchen of the hotel to see for himself the cooks’ in action before dining there.
And so it was settled that Iyer would come to the meeting after dining at Mani’s.
At the appointed hour, Iyer with Srinivasan by his side, paraded through Lakshmipura Agraharam to reach the hotel, plaintain leaf and a copper vessel filled with water, in hand. He had to agree that the aroma was intoxicating, it reminded Iyer of the sambhar rice his mother used to prepare. He and his siblings used to sit in a row around her putting out their hands when their turns came, gulping down the helping of smooth sambhar rice that tasted like heaven, all the while hearing the story she was reciting on the side. Iyer used to wish that he had lesser siblings so his turn would come quicker. And there used to be a fight almost every time to decide who will have the last helping.
Presently, Iyer came back to his senses-he was not a man to be carried away by such nostalgia, he entered the hotel and went straight to the kitchen, the cooks and helpers were startled for a moment and then they continued their work as if such interruptions were common on any work day.
By this time, Mani, the proprietor of the hotel came running down from somewhere inside greeting them-“Please do come in Sadasivam, Srinivasan has told me everything.” –very few people called Iyer as Sadasivam, but before he could react Mani added-“the hotel is blessed to have great souls like you dining here.” At this he pointed to a small wooden pedestal laid down on the ground which was not too big, but just enough for one person to sit comfortably, not too high, but just enough to sit with legs folded in front-the perfect posture prescribed for a wholesome dining experience. Iyer settled down comfortably on this and spread out his plaintain leaf-sprinkled some water on it and then wiped away leaving the leaf gleaming. The came the servers one by one, each serving one variety of food, in the order laid down in scriptures that noone had read but everyone knew. There was payasam at first, then some dal, then curd-raitha, then three varities of curry followed by rice and ghee. Iyer picked up his kettle and poured some water into his hands and sprinkled the water around the leaf reciting some Sanskrit verses, which offered the food first to God and praying to him that this food go down well with the body that He had given. All the while Mani was explaining to Iyer the origins of the restaurant how well he managed it now, his future expansion plans and what not. Iyer tried to stop him saying-“I don’t talk much when I am eating.” Mani didn’t seem to mind that since he was doing all the talking, causing Iyer to cringe.
Then came the Sambhar, Iyer touched it almost reverentially, and then set down to eating vociferously, by the time he had finished wiping out the last drop of Sambhar on the leaf, the second helping of rice was served to be followed by Rasam, Iyer refused and called for one more round of Sambhar! He was mightily impressed. By this time, he didn’t even want to stop Mani’s rampage of stories about the restaurant, anyone who serves such good food had the right to talk and demand attention too! Iyer listened to him in awe as he finished the rest of the meal.
By the time Iyer washed down the ripe banana with some water, Mani was almost done with his stories. After a very satisfactory belch, which seemed to last forever, Iyer asked-“Mani, you have to tell me how you make this wonderful sambhar! I have never had such amazing sambhar all my life!” At this Mani let out a sly smile of someone who has heard the same question a million times and said-“That is a trade secret Saar. Can’t tell.” Again the same smile, Iyer was not going to let go that easily, he tried a few more tactics, appreciating the ambience of the hotel, the cooks, this and that and again came back to the same question, but Mani just wouldn’t budge. After a lot of such persistent beating about the bush followed by the question, Mani said-“Ok Sadasivam, but not here, even walls of my hotel have ears waiting to know the secret, I will be coming to the railway station in the afternoon to receive my brother-in-law, he works in Bombay and is coming over to my house to spend the summer vacation with his kids, Srinivasan told me your train leaves at 2pm, I will meet you there.”
At this Iyer, had to understand that the conversation was over and moved on, gently patting the shoulders of Mani in respect and awe.
The Town Hall meeting went off really well, with each of the Tahsildars recollecting great moments they had with Iyer and affirming what a great loss his retirement was to the administration. Iyer listened to everything with a smile on his face, but his mind was still revolving around the sambhar he had that morning, he couldn’t wait to get the secret out of Mani, he assured himself that Subbu shall learn the new method pretty easily and he would have the same sambhar everyday of his retired life, every day!! As he was wandering among these thoughts, the meeting came to a finish and everyone bade their farewell to the beloved Tahsildar they had come to honor that day. Iyer too rushed through the goodbyes and hurriedly took the taxi to the railway station
Iyer was standing outside his compartment, just in case Mani should find some difficulty in locating him, there were just five minutes left for the train to start. He had been waiting there for almost twenty minutes, every moment losing the hope of seeing Mani, contemplating whether he should cancel the ticket and go back to the hotel to confront Mani there, Just then Mani appeared with a bright smile on his lips and as much as Iyer tried to hide his anxiety, it was just written across his face.
“Hello Sadasivam, so you have been waiting for me I guess…”
“Not exactly, but so nice of you to have come.”
“Actually the train from Bombay is delayed, so I started a bit late from-”
“So tell me about the sambhar” cut in Iyer, afraid that Mani would start his expositions about his brother-in-law’s vacation plans thus wasting minutes of the precious little time left.
´I will tell you Sadasivam, first board the train, just incase the train starts, it will be difficult for a man of your age to board a running train.”
If anyone else had committed the two cardinal sins of uttering his first name and referring to his advanced age, Iyer would have blasted him on the spot, but now he just said-“Ok, wait near the window.” And he boarded the train, hurried to his seat next to the window.
Mani was waiting outside as the announcement came for the train to depart, Iyer said-“Go on Mani before it is too late.”
Then Mani started with a preamble-“I have been running this hotel for the last 22 years, I have always maintained very high standards of hygiene and quality. For years I tried my best to make the hotel famous, but I just couldn’t raise it above the average. Then one day about ten years back I was roaming on the streets of Rameswaran, after worshipping the Lord, when I was almost pulled involuntarily towards this amazing aroma of sambhar from a small hut on the roadside, I went inside and talked with the lady who was cooking. That day I discovered this technique which I have been practicing for the last ten years, pretty successfully I should say.” At this he gave a mischievous smile which heightened Iyer’s curiosity and he gave an almost child-like gasp-“And what is that?”
Now the train started moving slowly and Mani moving alongside continued-“Well, when you are in possession something so powerful you want to share it with someone right? I have wanted to tell this to someone for a long time, but never found the right person, till today morning when you asked, I am sure you are not coming back to Madurai anymore and there is very little chance of you spoiling my business so I am going to tell you this-“
By now the train was moving at a decent speed and Mani was almost jogging to keep up and he said-“Sadasivam, there is a particular variety of fish called Neiyuru, which is available very rarely and I know the only place in Madurai which sells it. They sell it alive. Everyday I take that fish in a closed vessel and when I reach the sambhar, I take it out in a piece of cloth and dip it in sambhar, the dying fish emits some chemical, I don’t know what which makes my sambhar smell and taste the way it does. Well I do throw away the fish you know, strictly no non-vegetarian in my hotel!” At this he stopped and waved goodbye to Sadasivam.
Sadasivam started vomiting just as the train blew its horns. The horn did stop, but the retching never ceased for the whole of next week.
Iyer was a self-made man. Very early in his life understood the workings of post-independence India. He quickly perceived that the corridors of power were no longer going to be confined with the high-priests and their heirs anymore, but in the hands of a few smart and conniving babus in the government. So he spent all his energies in reaching high echelons of that very babudom which threatened his familial standing and he did exactly that.
He was the Tahsildar of Thillaiyur, a village 30km south of Madurai. A fastidious man, that Iyer was, he got up at four in the morning followed by a strict routine of Pooja, Surya-namaskaram and a series of other activities that were prescribed to be the duty of every Brahmin. He visited the Thillaiyur Siva temple every single day of his life if he was in town.
In his house, aacharam reigned supreme. Noone was allowed to enter the kitchen before taking a bath. There were a set of rules to be followed in the way cooking was done. Food was always served in plaintain leaves for the elders (children were exempted from this requirement as they ended up spilling out of the leaf as much as they ate). The clothes that were to be worn during Pooja had to be washed separately and hung on very high strings out of reach of the naughty kids in the house who enjoyed playing the game of jumping high and touching the tip of the dhoti when Iyer was not around. But when he was there in the house every rule in the rulebook was followed. Iyer lectured everyone in the house on these rules and their interpretations. However any questions from one of the kids on the reason behind a rule were met with a stern stare and a standard explanation-“You will understand when you grow older.’ Subtle nuances that a lady in the house might miss occasionally would be severely reprimanded, for instance tending to a kid after bath would often require taking bath all over again before entering the kitchen. All this aside, Iyer was indeed a good man, he attended to his family’s needs and loved his grandchildren. People in his house followed his rules more out of respect for him than anything else.
Iyer hated his routine disturbed by anything, but his work required travel to adjacent villages once in a while. On such occasions, Iyer took great precautions in arranging his food. Mostly a huge shining tiffin carrier would accompany him if it were a trip for a day. Otherwise he was accompanied by his faithful male-servant (who had joined his household as a kid), Subbu, Subbu was an expert cook and very resourceful. He always managed to find a place for his master in the town with a good kitchen, then washed the whole place to make it ready for Iyer and finally took out the utensils he carried from home and started cooking, by the time Iyer was back from work, food would be ready to be served in fresh plaintain leaves plucked from some nearby farm. Subbu was very thorough in what he did. Above all, he was well-versed in every rule that Iyer required in a cook.
Iyer was retiring from his work in a week’s time, after thirty two years of glorious service. He was eagerly looking forward to the retirement, to be doing his own things; he had planned on spending more time with his Lord Neelakanta in the temple and also to write some books on philosophy. Now as it happened, he had to attend a meeting of Tahsildars in Madurai. Subbu was out of town for a relative’s marriage, but this didn’t matter to Iyer as the affair was going to be just for a day. The ladies in the house packed the food and then found the best plaintain leaves available tied it with the carrier and gave it to Iyer. He boarded the train for Madurai and left, slightly annoyed at this inconvenience at a time when he was just days away from retirement.
The meeting went of well and by evening, when Iyer was getting ready to leave, he noticed the small batch of conspirators speaking in hushed voices, he wouldn’t have bothered much but for the fact that some of them were looking at him as they spoke, and finally one of them, Srinivasan, the Tahsildar from Vinnanur, who was also a good friend of Iyer, went up to the dais and said-“We are all aware of what a great service our friend Tahsildar Sadasiva Iyer has rendered for the past thirty two years, he is retiring this Friday and it would be a shame if we depart without giving him a fitting farewell, and so it has been decided that all of us shall gather at the Town Hall for a grand farewell to Mr. Iyer at 10am tomorrow morning.” Everyone was applauding but noone seemed to be surprised, “Everyone knew..” thought Iyer. As he started to protest, Srinivasan came over and put a friendly hand on his shoulders and said-“Don’t worry Iyerval, everything has been arranged”. “No” protested Iyer “I don’t eat outside food”. At this Srinivasan replied- “I know, that’s why we have made special arrangement with Mani’s to cook food specially for you. You know the place don’t you? Mani Iyer is a good friend of mine. He is a bit eccentric at times, but in cooking there is noone to beat him…” and then lowering his voice to almost a whisper he continued-“All his cooks are Brahmins…”
Ofcourse he knew the place. Infact everyone in and around Madurai knew and had eaten atleast once at Mani’s. They were the reputed to be the best vegetarian restaurant in the whole of Tamilnadu, and their speciality was Mani’s sambhar, which everyone agreed had an aroma they had seldom smelt anywhere before. The smell floated in the air all over the street, many passers-by who didn’t have the faintest idea of dining at a hotel were pulled into the hotel by virtue of this and stood patiently in the queue to get their turn to attack the four-course meal they provided.
Iyer had often wondered about this hotel, especially at the high standards that they maintained in the kitchen, infact the cooks followed every rule he had laid down in his own household and more. They served on plaintain leaf and every cook was a Brahmin who maintained very high standards of personal sanitation. The owner Mani Iyer was a devout Brahmin himself, he ran the hotel with an iron fist in keeping the standards very high. Iyer had always wanted to taste the sambhar once, and when the opportunity presented itself now, he just couldn’t say no. He agreed with the condition that he would eat there only once the next morning and he would bring his own plaintain leaf. To himself, he had even planned a surprise visit to the kitchen of the hotel to see for himself the cooks’ in action before dining there.
And so it was settled that Iyer would come to the meeting after dining at Mani’s.
At the appointed hour, Iyer with Srinivasan by his side, paraded through Lakshmipura Agraharam to reach the hotel, plaintain leaf and a copper vessel filled with water, in hand. He had to agree that the aroma was intoxicating, it reminded Iyer of the sambhar rice his mother used to prepare. He and his siblings used to sit in a row around her putting out their hands when their turns came, gulping down the helping of smooth sambhar rice that tasted like heaven, all the while hearing the story she was reciting on the side. Iyer used to wish that he had lesser siblings so his turn would come quicker. And there used to be a fight almost every time to decide who will have the last helping.
Presently, Iyer came back to his senses-he was not a man to be carried away by such nostalgia, he entered the hotel and went straight to the kitchen, the cooks and helpers were startled for a moment and then they continued their work as if such interruptions were common on any work day.
By this time, Mani, the proprietor of the hotel came running down from somewhere inside greeting them-“Please do come in Sadasivam, Srinivasan has told me everything.” –very few people called Iyer as Sadasivam, but before he could react Mani added-“the hotel is blessed to have great souls like you dining here.” At this he pointed to a small wooden pedestal laid down on the ground which was not too big, but just enough for one person to sit comfortably, not too high, but just enough to sit with legs folded in front-the perfect posture prescribed for a wholesome dining experience. Iyer settled down comfortably on this and spread out his plaintain leaf-sprinkled some water on it and then wiped away leaving the leaf gleaming. The came the servers one by one, each serving one variety of food, in the order laid down in scriptures that noone had read but everyone knew. There was payasam at first, then some dal, then curd-raitha, then three varities of curry followed by rice and ghee. Iyer picked up his kettle and poured some water into his hands and sprinkled the water around the leaf reciting some Sanskrit verses, which offered the food first to God and praying to him that this food go down well with the body that He had given. All the while Mani was explaining to Iyer the origins of the restaurant how well he managed it now, his future expansion plans and what not. Iyer tried to stop him saying-“I don’t talk much when I am eating.” Mani didn’t seem to mind that since he was doing all the talking, causing Iyer to cringe.
Then came the Sambhar, Iyer touched it almost reverentially, and then set down to eating vociferously, by the time he had finished wiping out the last drop of Sambhar on the leaf, the second helping of rice was served to be followed by Rasam, Iyer refused and called for one more round of Sambhar! He was mightily impressed. By this time, he didn’t even want to stop Mani’s rampage of stories about the restaurant, anyone who serves such good food had the right to talk and demand attention too! Iyer listened to him in awe as he finished the rest of the meal.
By the time Iyer washed down the ripe banana with some water, Mani was almost done with his stories. After a very satisfactory belch, which seemed to last forever, Iyer asked-“Mani, you have to tell me how you make this wonderful sambhar! I have never had such amazing sambhar all my life!” At this Mani let out a sly smile of someone who has heard the same question a million times and said-“That is a trade secret Saar. Can’t tell.” Again the same smile, Iyer was not going to let go that easily, he tried a few more tactics, appreciating the ambience of the hotel, the cooks, this and that and again came back to the same question, but Mani just wouldn’t budge. After a lot of such persistent beating about the bush followed by the question, Mani said-“Ok Sadasivam, but not here, even walls of my hotel have ears waiting to know the secret, I will be coming to the railway station in the afternoon to receive my brother-in-law, he works in Bombay and is coming over to my house to spend the summer vacation with his kids, Srinivasan told me your train leaves at 2pm, I will meet you there.”
At this Iyer, had to understand that the conversation was over and moved on, gently patting the shoulders of Mani in respect and awe.
The Town Hall meeting went off really well, with each of the Tahsildars recollecting great moments they had with Iyer and affirming what a great loss his retirement was to the administration. Iyer listened to everything with a smile on his face, but his mind was still revolving around the sambhar he had that morning, he couldn’t wait to get the secret out of Mani, he assured himself that Subbu shall learn the new method pretty easily and he would have the same sambhar everyday of his retired life, every day!! As he was wandering among these thoughts, the meeting came to a finish and everyone bade their farewell to the beloved Tahsildar they had come to honor that day. Iyer too rushed through the goodbyes and hurriedly took the taxi to the railway station
Iyer was standing outside his compartment, just in case Mani should find some difficulty in locating him, there were just five minutes left for the train to start. He had been waiting there for almost twenty minutes, every moment losing the hope of seeing Mani, contemplating whether he should cancel the ticket and go back to the hotel to confront Mani there, Just then Mani appeared with a bright smile on his lips and as much as Iyer tried to hide his anxiety, it was just written across his face.
“Hello Sadasivam, so you have been waiting for me I guess…”
“Not exactly, but so nice of you to have come.”
“Actually the train from Bombay is delayed, so I started a bit late from-”
“So tell me about the sambhar” cut in Iyer, afraid that Mani would start his expositions about his brother-in-law’s vacation plans thus wasting minutes of the precious little time left.
´I will tell you Sadasivam, first board the train, just incase the train starts, it will be difficult for a man of your age to board a running train.”
If anyone else had committed the two cardinal sins of uttering his first name and referring to his advanced age, Iyer would have blasted him on the spot, but now he just said-“Ok, wait near the window.” And he boarded the train, hurried to his seat next to the window.
Mani was waiting outside as the announcement came for the train to depart, Iyer said-“Go on Mani before it is too late.”
Then Mani started with a preamble-“I have been running this hotel for the last 22 years, I have always maintained very high standards of hygiene and quality. For years I tried my best to make the hotel famous, but I just couldn’t raise it above the average. Then one day about ten years back I was roaming on the streets of Rameswaran, after worshipping the Lord, when I was almost pulled involuntarily towards this amazing aroma of sambhar from a small hut on the roadside, I went inside and talked with the lady who was cooking. That day I discovered this technique which I have been practicing for the last ten years, pretty successfully I should say.” At this he gave a mischievous smile which heightened Iyer’s curiosity and he gave an almost child-like gasp-“And what is that?”
Now the train started moving slowly and Mani moving alongside continued-“Well, when you are in possession something so powerful you want to share it with someone right? I have wanted to tell this to someone for a long time, but never found the right person, till today morning when you asked, I am sure you are not coming back to Madurai anymore and there is very little chance of you spoiling my business so I am going to tell you this-“
By now the train was moving at a decent speed and Mani was almost jogging to keep up and he said-“Sadasivam, there is a particular variety of fish called Neiyuru, which is available very rarely and I know the only place in Madurai which sells it. They sell it alive. Everyday I take that fish in a closed vessel and when I reach the sambhar, I take it out in a piece of cloth and dip it in sambhar, the dying fish emits some chemical, I don’t know what which makes my sambhar smell and taste the way it does. Well I do throw away the fish you know, strictly no non-vegetarian in my hotel!” At this he stopped and waved goodbye to Sadasivam.
Sadasivam started vomiting just as the train blew its horns. The horn did stop, but the retching never ceased for the whole of next week.
Friday, June 2, 2006
On Reservations...
I once saw a Tantra T-shirt in a showroom whose caption read-"I love India as long as I dont have to live in it". At first I was revolted...but now I think I will go and buy it.
Disgusted.
Disgusted.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Birthday!!!
I completed one more year on this lovely planet and as usual had to pay a price for it...bumps were very severe this time-lot of pent-up emotions I guess:)..
However one conv I had with a friend immediately after the "celebrations" at office was interesting:
P: Arvind, after seeing that, I am thankful that "I am not a guy".
Me: This was just nothing, my worst nightmare would have been having a person like me in the crowd:).
P: Ungalukku poi pavappattene, enna sollanum!!
Sharing my birthday with Bhoopesh is such an honor and having him with me on the day made it more special than ever before!! More on Boo in another post...
Then there were the gifts-an ornamental Krishna painting, a Godfather collector's edition VCD pack(btw, if you didn't guess already, am a mad mad fan of the Big G:)), a box of chocolates(yummy!!!full box'um enakke enakku!!).
Then four days after my birthday was the real fun...I had sent out an invite for dinner at our house, to all my batchmates at Hyd (23 of them) and all of them accepted the invite!!! Wow, we had to cook for 20 people and I tell you there no other experience in the past two years has been more satisfying and enjoyable than this-everything was on large-scale, we finally had a plaintain-leaf dinner under the moonlight (with some candle-light to bolster it;))...it was fun till the end. Janani sang a beautiful song, other enthu narrated his life-story..and after all this we (a core group of die-hard Gf fans watched the Godfather till 4.30 in the morning:)..
Sunday, April 2, 2006
Barber's shop
I remember a story from school in which a man visits a photographer and ends up in a lot of misery. In my case it has always been the barber who is on the wrong side of all my fashion statements. Exactly how often (or seldom) does a person need a haircut? This is a question that has probably been hanging around ever since the chicken-egg paradox was discovered. I would say the answer has more to do with fate than anything else. The day invariably comes when I look at the mirror and the feverishness arises-"Arvind, you just have way too much hair...it doesn't fit your persona!!" and this feeling never subsides until you have the cut(Patta pin unarum manamae)!!
Waiting at the shop is an experience in itself-more so in Hyderabad for there are no Tamil newspapers to browse through (not even English!) and I have to settle for picture-browsing in Telugu papers-and quite uncharacteristically these Telugu reporters seem to have little spice in their lives-for all I get is a gleaming YSR or an agitating Chandrababu Naidu or worse still, an old dilapidated photograph of an actress who just decided that life was too much and took a plunge from the top of the staircase!! Where are all the Shreyas and Genelias!! Dont these guys find them photogenic??!
Then comes the big moment, when you get your turn to sit on that Aasana. How much ever you adjust your head the guy never seems satisfied-"aur thoda aage jaana saab!" (go a little forward Sir) and when you are forward enough to see two images of yourself in the mirror and are not sure which one is getting the haircut, he starts. Now he throws the mythological question the answer to which has caused more misery to me than all the geography exams in school put together! "Short or Medium Saar?"-I find that a lot of people are very well equipped and prepared to answer this question-but yours truly almost never is! Medium means another visit to this wretched place real soon and short means...well we will see that later. This time I said-"Short" and definitely it was Lord Shani Himself seated there on tip of my toungue at that mythical moment when I said that...so short it was going to be...
Normal people usually have the option of stopping the destruction mid-way..on "seeing" what is being done to them they generally say-"Ok that should do." But for a sweet gullible boy like me with an eye-power of -6, well I have very few options other than to wait till the razor decides to stop and I scramble for my glasses to see what a work of art my head of hair has become at the moment. Now this is the point of no return, a sort of a emotional peak-when you want to scream at the top of your voice, but when the guy asks-"Ok hai Saar??" (Is it ok sir?) 'Oh sure it is ok to have a bulldozer run over my head when I am blind..thanks buddy' and I say-"Han ok hai, kitna?" With a proud smirk that might have put Bachanji to shame, he says-"Twenty Five rupees Saar." I pay and walk out, and he is not done yet..."Yehin phir aanaa saar..."(please come again)...Sure my friend-that will happen...but atleast, let me rest in peace until we meet again...
Waiting at the shop is an experience in itself-more so in Hyderabad for there are no Tamil newspapers to browse through (not even English!) and I have to settle for picture-browsing in Telugu papers-and quite uncharacteristically these Telugu reporters seem to have little spice in their lives-for all I get is a gleaming YSR or an agitating Chandrababu Naidu or worse still, an old dilapidated photograph of an actress who just decided that life was too much and took a plunge from the top of the staircase!! Where are all the Shreyas and Genelias!! Dont these guys find them photogenic??!
Then comes the big moment, when you get your turn to sit on that Aasana. How much ever you adjust your head the guy never seems satisfied-"aur thoda aage jaana saab!" (go a little forward Sir) and when you are forward enough to see two images of yourself in the mirror and are not sure which one is getting the haircut, he starts. Now he throws the mythological question the answer to which has caused more misery to me than all the geography exams in school put together! "Short or Medium Saar?"-I find that a lot of people are very well equipped and prepared to answer this question-but yours truly almost never is! Medium means another visit to this wretched place real soon and short means...well we will see that later. This time I said-"Short" and definitely it was Lord Shani Himself seated there on tip of my toungue at that mythical moment when I said that...so short it was going to be...
Normal people usually have the option of stopping the destruction mid-way..on "seeing" what is being done to them they generally say-"Ok that should do." But for a sweet gullible boy like me with an eye-power of -6, well I have very few options other than to wait till the razor decides to stop and I scramble for my glasses to see what a work of art my head of hair has become at the moment. Now this is the point of no return, a sort of a emotional peak-when you want to scream at the top of your voice, but when the guy asks-"Ok hai Saar??" (Is it ok sir?) 'Oh sure it is ok to have a bulldozer run over my head when I am blind..thanks buddy' and I say-"Han ok hai, kitna?" With a proud smirk that might have put Bachanji to shame, he says-"Twenty Five rupees Saar." I pay and walk out, and he is not done yet..."Yehin phir aanaa saar..."(please come again)...Sure my friend-that will happen...but atleast, let me rest in peace until we meet again...
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