This one's for mom!

Mom, you've taught me so many things that magically seem to make themselves useful in scenarios I could never had imagined. But more than anything, I love how you would explain the rationale behind something while teaching me about it. FYI, that has set me up for a lifetime of annoyance with people who refuse to use their brain.

Image Source: yachtpals.com

Take for example, using the humble pressure cooker. I still remember how my mom taught me -  our cook-masi was trying to tech me how to cook with a pressure cooker; how to open it, how to close it, the subtle nuances of how many whistles are too many whistles, etc. when she over-rode her and told me "this is pressure vessel, its job is to build up steam and increase the pressure so that the things inside boil faster and cook faster. So once the steam is built up, if you keep the flame on high all the time, you're basically wasting energy. Only chickpeas and kidney beans take more than 10 mins to cook" That was all the wisdom I've ever needed. Years later, in Physics class I learnt that a liquid's boiling temperature is a function of its vapor pressure; but my mom had beat Clausius and Clapeyron here.

So the next time you're cooking with a pressure cooker, try this: keep the flame high till you hear a steady low hum issuing from the safety valve (or what we call the whistle). At this point turn the heat down while ensuring that the "hum" is steady and set a timer to "Hum" time. Promptly turn off the flame when the time is up and allow the steam to escape. If you're too impatient, you can plunge the whole thing under a running tap in the sink. Below are proportions and tips that I've gleaned from my mom and experience, that heartless bit*h:

To Cook	Water Proportion	“Hum” Time	Remarks
Soaked Rice, Daals, Khichdi, Pulao, etc.	2 cups of water for every cup	10 min	The daals will come out very thick and creamy. They can be diluted to one’s taste
Un-soaked Rice, Daals, Khichdi, Pulao, etc.	2+ cups of water for every cup	10 - 12 min	This is not an exact science. Remember you’re still in a kitchen
Broken Wheat / Cracked Wheat / Porridge / Dalia	2.5 cups of water for every cup	10 min	You’ll have to use your discretion here. If the grain size is kinda small, go for 2 cups instead of 2.5.
Soaked whole legumes like green gram (मूंग), Bengal gram (चना), etc.	2.5 cups of water for every “dry” cup	10 min	This is for people who like bite in their food and don’t want to eat boiled mush.
Un-soaked whole legumes like green gram (मूंग), Bengal gram (चना), etc.	3 cups of water for every cup	15 min
Soaked chickpeas, kidney beans, etc.	3 cups of water for every “dry” cup	25 min	These things tend to expand a lot on soaking – don’t mess this up.
Un-soaked chickpeas, kidney beans, etc.	4 cups of water for every cup	45 min

Now that I've told you this, go experiment. Do it. Also go make this bowl full of awesomeness. It was a part of this fantabulus meal I mentioned here.

Nodes in History

Image Source: wikipedia.org

I was reading this article about Berlin's Ostbahnhof Station, its history and how past and present collide there. It is interesting how the development of early railway networks - that was almost entirely market driven - has had such lasting effects on our history. Of course there is also this article which which goes all the way back to the Roman Empire and tells us in the form of a Socratic dialogue (being meta, are we?) what the with of a horse's ass has got to do with US Standard railroad gauge and the size of a space shuttle's solid rocket boosters. But I digress.

The Ostbahnof article talked about how the station, and the area around it, was the gateway to Eastern Europe and how successive regimes have built over it and tried to change its character over time. I like to think of structures like these - public places that have been in use through centuries - become nodes in history. They bear witness to history as it plays out in the public sphere. These nodes, by virtue of the history they embody, become seats of power and successive regimes build / extend / restore to establish their power.

Image Source: buzzintown.com

One such building that immediately comes to my mind is the Writers' Building in Calcutta. The current West Bengal government is in the process of clearing out the "non-heritage" blocks (that were built by the Communist government before them) and restoring complex to it former glory. My friend and collaborator, An Observant Owl did a photo story documenting the demolition process and I wrote a blog post to go with it here.

Another such node, which has been sadly transformed into a glass case enclosed exhibit of history, was the Qutub Complex. It is said that a complex was the site of several Jain and Hindu temples, which provided much of the raw material for building the mosque, the minar, and the surrounding structures. Four different emperors added to/restored it; even the Brits tried to add a storey to it but then decided against it. Our democratic regime has mummified it; now it doesn't throb and pulse with history. Now it's just a background for a selfie.

Bhujwasi Gourmet

What started off as a birthday present for my newest flatmate, Aar became a mini collaborative culinary and ethnographic archiving project on its own. But then again she deserves no less. She is one half of the Halbe & Gaudin Blog where she regularly documents her culinary adventures. Now I contribute elbow grease, frying skills (I'm half maru and that's like having a masters degree in frying) among other things to these adventures. Sampling the result in a reward in itself. I'm not even going to talk about last night's meal because Aar is writing a whole post about it.


So without digressing any further, presenting to you Bhuujwasi Culinary Kahaniya! The cover art is done by Tapas, who puts up his artwork regularly on Man-Mauji F.ART.

The Book has been divided in Drunk Brunch, Drunk Dinners, Drunk All Day and Drunk Desserts sections. Bhujwasis current and gone-by have contributed their favorite things to eat in Bhuj along with memorable stories about each recipe. Happy Reading!

I want to be horrified again

Today morning, while I was still drinking my first coffee, my friend told me about this horrific incident that happened; a four year old child was raped, sodomized, mutilated and then left to bleed by railway tracks in Delhi. A voice inside me said "Please lets not discuss such unpleasant things first thing in the morning". The moment I formed this thought in my head, I realized how complacent and insensitive and selfish I was in that moment. 

kafila.org

It reminded me of this article I had read a few days ago on Kafila. The article talked about the Dadri incident where a person was killed by a mob that falsely accused him of eating beef. The author, Gautam Bhan, talks about how forms of violence against certain sections of society becomes so routine, that it becomes the order of things. Towards the end he said:

We must assert our words so that the violence slowly, painfully becomes less banal, less ordinary and we are horrified again.

These words struck a chord in me - I want to be horrified again by how commonplace violence has become. In this context, reading about Pinjratod felt great. I've lived in PGs and hostels and faced all the things that these brave women are protesting against. I had honestly accepted them as facts of life, so it is very refreshing to see comrades taking on everyday forms of sexism.

I like this platform and websites like News Laundry (full disclosure: while I support NL financially by buying a subscription, they haven't paid me anything to write this) because they question the dominant narrative and because they do not come down to morbid sensationalizing of non-issues. Most of the popular news media is basically reporting on the verbal ping pong matches between politician while Rome burns. 

Of the disappointing Love affair that is Indian webcomics

Bhujwasis (and other junta) still recovering from the bought of loud fervor of Ganesh-utsav will totally relate to this webcomic:

Permalink: crocodileinwatertigeronland.tumblr.com

crocodileinwatertigeronland.tumblr.com

Can I just say I'm in Love with a capital L. I found this really awesome, super sarcastic and super meta webcomic that updates every Monday (the minuscule regular readership will know how I struggle with Monday mornings). Introducing Crocodile in Water Tiger on Land. I love everything about them including their introduction:

Crocodile in water tiger on land is a non-profit equal opportunity collection of below-the-belt cheap shots in comic form. Look for updates every Monday morning, the best time of the week for insults.

as well as their interview in Helter Skelter (which is where I discovered them)

flyyoufools.com

Not that I've not been in love before. There was Fly You Fools back in the day when Google Reader was a thing. [I have no idea who I have to thank for sharing this one but I definitely know who I have to curse for taking that beautiful community away from me. (Google, you are quite evil).] FYF had awesome pop-arty graphics and the foul-mouthed sarcasm that made it very relatable for me.  But it didn't last; not a peep from them since Feb 2011. 

mantaraycomics.tumblr.com/thesmallpicture

Then I discovered Manta Ray Comics and I used to look forward to their weekly comic, The Small Picture. It had so many things going for it: it had great art (Prabha Mallya, you're awesome!) and it was political and subtly sarcastic. It even had syndication; it used appear in the Live Mint. 

My favorite was this comic titled Toasted because it referenced Mad Men and when it came out, I was having a Don Draper moment. Needless to say I was floored (I loved the idea of Don Draper having to wrestle with advertising in the smartphone era.). However, all good things come an end and just like that, they went quite. But it was good while it lasted and it wasn't me, it was YOU. 

Any-the-who, one mustn't let past disappointments color one's judgement about future dalliances. Here's looking forward to Monday Mornings. 

An ode to how much you stink, Rambo

Rambo on a rare rainy afternoon in Bhuj

Meet Rambo, the dawg who lords around the entire office like he owns. And he is just as badass as his namesake. 

Image Source: rambo.wikia.com

He has multiple scars and presumably alpha-bragging rights. He will plonk his arse wherever he likes it and there aint no thang you can do 'bout it. Even if he creates a massive stink under your desk space. He'll just sit there and lick his balls and if you create a ruckus about him sitting there, he'll calmly raise a lazy, disinterested eye and then completely ignore you.

All Hail The Supreme Indifferent Master!

Sal wanted to go to Wyoming

Image Source: rogerebert.com

In a time honored tradition among the Bujwasis, we all congregated at Satish's house last night (20 mins past the agreed time) and debated which movie to watch. Satish had just bought a new projector because the last one had developed a creeping corruption of dead pixels. Anyways we wanted to start this one on a good note and we settled on Dog Day Afternoon. 

This is the story of a guy, Sonny Wortzik (played by Al Pacino) whose life's sound track could've been The Animals' 'Don't let me be misunderstood'. He is out there with his friend Sal, trying to rob a bank in Brooklyn to fund his lover's sex change operation and having a serious case of Murphy's Law. Even though Interstellar tried to change our view about the said law - 

Murphy's law doesn't mean that something bad will happen. It means that whatever *can* happen, will happen.

some impressions are just difficult to shake off. 

Anyways, the movie is this beautiful, fast-paced, tight narrative where we see the day and its strange event unfold from a point of view that is largely informed by Sonny's. He is the man trying to run the show, he is kind, he is desperate, and shit is being thrown at him fast and loose. There is a very beautiful scene where he is talking to his lover, Leon on the phone, he is in the bank with Sal and all the hostages, Leon is in the barber shop across the street surrounded by cops and they break up because Leon doesn't want to be 'accessory' to the whole thing. That is such a personal moment played out in such a public setting, it broke  my heart. 

Image Source: wikipedia.org

The one complaint I had with the movie was that we get almost nothing from Sal (played by John Cazale). We get some hints about how he is a devout catholic and believes that the body is the temple of the lord, he has a problem with being called a homosexual (he is not but his fervent denial smacks of homophobia) but doesn't seem to have a problem with his friend Sonny's homosexuality. He has never been on an airplane before but has been to prison. With the bank robbery turning into a negotiation, he is faced with the prospect of either going back to prison or having to fly to some far away country and never come back - none of them look attractive to him. Also he doesn't know where to go; he thought Wyoming would be a good country to go to but he ends up dead at the end of the day. That is all very know about him. We don't know why he went to prison and why he hated it, who are is family and why he doesn't have anyone to call when he is leaving forever. 

By contrast we watch Sonny make calls to people he loves; we meet his parents, his wife, his lover; we watch them argue; we even watch him dictate his own will. Sal is just there in the background, speaking very little, all wound up tight like a ticking time bomb spring, and we were all waiting for him to explode. But the bang in the end is the sound of Sal getting a bullet in the head.

Ok, that was a really long point there. 

Another thing I found really interesting was the underlying politics in the film. There was the rage over recent Attica Prison Riots where the prisoners demanded more political rights and better living conditions but the end result was a forceful retaliation. There was the voyeuristic media and everyone's tendency of performing for the camera. There was also extreme peevishness over use of foul language one news channel. And then there were the polarized reactions to Sonny's homosexuality. Watching all of this I have a vague sense of Déjà vu - more things change, the more they remain same. I really like it when the tiniest of references add nuance to a story and this movie certainly had that going for it. 

A home coming for a Bhujwasi

The Creepy Doll, like the Lone Pelican of Hamirsar (will introduce
it some other time) are landmarks that makes a Bhujwasi feel at home.

It's so good to be back, after two months in the rural hinterland of western UP, Bhuj feels amazing. I've always thought of Bhuj as this alcove in civilization where one can nestle comfortably. The last time I felt this sense of comfort or being at home in a place, I called myself a KGPian; now I call myself a Bhujwasi. 

Bhuj, the city of beautiful sunsets and breezy evenings; Bhuj, the city of expats in flux; Bhuj, the temporary home of the wandering misfits, the wonderfully varied and deeply passionate. This is Bhuj for me, a city that accepted my weird and offered me friendship. 

One of the things I love about Bhuj (and this is something that happened in Kharapur a lot as well) is that people leave behind these legacies, so we have Bhawna's Bean Salad, Tanvi's Pumpkin Soup, Aarati's Baked Veggies - the list just goes on. And long after the Bhujwasis in question have moved to different places, one makes them and in the flavors, savors all the evenings and weekends spent together, all the seasons we weathered together, all the drunk brunches and nights on the beach, all the poetry readings, all the random impromptu plans, and the camaraderie we shared.

Ok I'm getting definitely soppy. Needless to say I missed Bhuj too much and my fellow Bhujwasis even more. Now I'm back to walking down Saraf Bazaar, joking with my tailor, planning the fake-sangeet, drinking my coffee, and eating my bean salad. If you're curious about the salad in question, here is another Bhujwasi talking about it.

The Long Road Ahead

Image Source: http://www.goodreads.com/

I have been meaning to do a little post about A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. I finished the book more than a week ago but I haven't gotten around to writing about it. Its a heart wrenching book mostly because Mistry is so good at getting you to invest in his characters. The arbitrary violence of everyday existence during the Emergency - how power was wielded, how the powerful used it to their advantage, how the upper middle class was complicit in it when it suited them and how is dis-empowered the powerless in the name of efficiency and discipline - gave me the shudders. It takes so many political under-currents and tries to illustrate how they come together to form a vortex.

Anyways this post is not supposed to be a book review - I don't think I'm qualified enough to critique someone as masterful as Mistry. I only offer one of my favorite quotes from the book:

"...People keep saying God is great, God is just, but I'm not sure"

"God is dead" said Maneck. "That's what a German philosopher wrote."

She was shocked. "Trust the Germans to say such things," she frowned. "And do you believe it?"

Image Source: http://www.dominikphoto.com/

"I used to. But now I prefer to think that God is a giant quiltmaker. With an infinite variety of designs. And the quilt is grown so big and confusing, the pattern is impossible to see, the squares and diamonds and triangles don't fit well together anymore, it's al become meaningless. So He has abandoned it."

"What nonsense you talk sometimes, Maneck."

All attempts at defining 'God' take me back to the definition that made the first strong impression on me. It was John Milton's (played by Al Pacino) monologue in the movie The Devil's Advocate:

Image Source: http://www.rogerebert.com/

Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste. Taste, don't swallow. Ahaha. And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off! He's a tight-ass! He's a SADIST! He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? NEVER! 

I remember being mesmerized  by it and I remember questioning my belief in God - not that I had a particularly staunch belief to begin with. I've seen a dozen Christian Apocalypse movies since - where the lambs are led astray and then they come back to the fold - but nothing ever came close to this masterpiece. 

Anyways let's not go off on a tangent about the half-hearted depiction of Satan in Hollywood movies and get back to philosophies of Life, Religion, God, etc. While my own feelings about God are closer to Maneck's, someday I'd like to achieve a stoic outlook closer to Pavel's and live in an ethical manner just for the sake it - without hoping to build up a pile of good Karma or what have you. Problem is I'm a bit of a vengeful sadistic bitch and I think of Cosmos as a bitch out there, conspiring to annoy me. So one can see quite a long road needs to be traversed before one reaches nihilistic zen.

P.S. I need to thank my roomie for goading me to pick up the book. Here are her own reflections on the book.  

Monday Morning #5: Bolt the Door

Its been a crazy Monday Morning and it promises to be a really really long day. What I really wanted to do today morning was sit back and finish A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. It is such a beautifully tense book. I had originally planned to quote an excerpt from the book for today's post but this quickie about escapism will have to do now. How I long to Bolt the Door on stupid world right now!! 

Image Source: https://www.facebook.com/

Monday Morning #4: An exercise in self-promotion.

I've been on the move for the majority of the past fortnight now. One of the reasons why it has been a roller coaster was mentioned in the last post. And since this is a Monday and we do poetry on Mondays, I'm going to offer up a poem I wrote some years ago.

Bitter brown espresso

Sweetened with the sweet satisfaction

Of a day spent in your company

Nothing significant   

But I kept telling myself:

Don’t you dare take this for granted -

For this too shall pass 

And pass it did

Into dreary days and watery sunshine

The stars in the night sky mocked me

They maybe be far away

But at least I could see them. 

I should’ve taken to the drink

Or work or men

Or smoking something silly

But I wanted to strike a healthy balance. 

“You’re not half a couple,

You’re a complete woman”

I kept repeating to myself

Over and over again like a talisman. 

But there are days when it doesn’t work

On these days I want to burn my ideals

And grovel and beg.

On these days I want to melt out of existence

Rather than stick around and watch

The multitude of infinite twittering birds

Going about their important days

In important ways 

On some mornings I wake up with Hip hop -

Or coitus songs in my head

On these mornings I look at the calendar and figure

I’m probably ovulating.

On these morning I smile and think

Someone will get lucky tonight

And maybe even make me happy for a while 

For a while I’ll forget

For a while I’ll believe

“This aint so bad, I could make this work”

But then again hope is a delusion you want to believe

Just like I want to believe

That I will one day

Tear two sachets of brown sugar

And stir my cup of sweetened brown espresso

Sitting across from you

And take it for granted. 

Image Source: http://www.murraymitchell.com/

I went through a very low phase when I was in Cal because I had just graduated and moved to a city where I barely had any friends and I was also beginning a long distance relationship. Some of that and how I tried to deal with it makes its way into this poem. I guess writing it down was also my way of dealing with it.

I seriously should get back to writing more poetry but I end up writing so much during the course of my work that I feel like the words have been squeezed out of me. But I promise I'll post something new soon.

On Old Cities and New

Going back to a city you've lived in is kind of like meeting parts of you that you've left behind. Same is true of meeting people who populated the streets of  your past. I'm going to Cal to meet someone very important after a quite sometime and I feel a mix of anticipation and dread at discovering how the city has changed, how my beloved has changed and how I have changed. I'll leave you with these thoughts from Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities.

Image Source: http://www.amazon.co.uk/

“For those who pass it without entering, the city is one thing; it is another for those who are trapped by it and never leave. There is the city where you arrive for the first time; and there is another city which you leave never to return. Each deserves a different name; perhaps I have already spoken of Irene under other names; perhaps I have spoken only of Irene.” 

― Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

On remembering past loves

Image Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/

When I was in college, my friends and I used to religiously make trips to Calcutta to experience the much needed balm of civilization and exhilarating freedom that one experiences only when one crosses the threshold from teens to twenties. I also worked in Calcutta for almost two years after graduation and the city remains my long time muse.

I write a photoblog in collaboration with An Observant Owl and I was going through some old notes because I needed to write something for his upcoming galleries on the streets of Calcutta. That was when I thought of this one poem I'd written about my relationship with the city some years ago. When I wrote the poem I wasn't living in Calcutta and what I felt was definitely colored by homesickness and nostalgia but I'd like the reader to understand that after three years of leaving Calcutta, none of the sentiments expressed on the poem ring false for me and I miss her just as much.

Here it goes:

It was love at first touch.

Your roaring pulse in my hand –

Was the symphony of engines droning,

Harmonizing with the shivers

The river –

Sent up your spine.

Pop Quiz: How many nuts and bolts went into this cantilever beam shaped like a perfect parabola?

None. It is riveted. So am I.

An awestruck puppy –

I still stick my head out every fucking time,

Oblivious to the milling, jostling multitude.

I don’t love you for your bhadralok[1] or the machh[2] or the mishti[3],

It is the stories in folds of your saree[4].

I sit down with a cup of cha[5] and you will always tell one –

Or make one out of me.

I can’t decide if you’re perpetually stuck in a bad tempered adolescence –

Or are you a wizened withered witch.

I love your sweet sick smell of horseshit and scum and how you parade your poverty

And then you’ll turn around and dazzle me with your intricate delicate richness.

You are convoluted –

Full of ironies and paradoxes –

Stuck in a time warp –

And trying to break free –

Unsure of where to go and what to take along.

When I stumble, you understand

I breathe you and I calm down.

Your warmth, your flavors, your smells, your rhythms, your stupid obsessions, your nonchalance, your stories all feel like

I could finally come home

And hold you

And go to sleep.

That’s how we’re strung –

Love.

Hate.

And humdrum.

Like I said, it was love at first touch.

While some of the experiences described are are experienced by majority of people who have lived in or visited the city - anyone will tell you how crowded or dirty it gets or the wealth of colonial buildings that lend an aura of bygone era to the city. Then there are other experiences that are deeply personal. The very beginning describes my very first encounter with the city when as first year college kids we got off the local train at Howrah station and walked to the Howrah Bridge. We just stood there with our hands on the railings and let the sensations of the city wash over us. Also I'm an engineer so I love to geek out - even in poetry. It's riveted. 

I hope you enjoyed the poem. I sometimes get the feeling that it works better as performance piece and its better to listen to it rather than read it. I'll get around to that someday.

[1] Bhadralok: Cultured gentry

[2] Machh: Fish

[3] Mishti: Sweetmeats

[4] Saree: A garment consisting of a length of fabric elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia.

[5] Cha: Tea