A 'Somer' movie

What does any open air event crave beside an enthusiastic crowd? Good weather would be my guess. As luck would have it we woke on Friday to downpours unexpected. The plan was to join friends for an evening on the courtyard tiles enjoying 'Flash Gordon' at Somerset House. Film Four & Somerset House organised 5 days of films under the stars and as luck would have it we chose Friday, the only rainy day.

At mid-day swimming to the venue and being completely soaked was not ruled out. Our pal was curtly informed by Somerset House that as no inclement weather was forcast teh show would indeed go on and there was no way to return our tickets. By 4pm the rain was down to a drizzle and by 8pm we congregated at Thai Square just outside Somerset House. The food was fine if a bit sour, solely due to the attitude of the terrible waitresses. Hot dinner in tums, £12.50 a pop tickets in hand, square plastic coated blankets (at £10 each - refundable on return) spread on the courtyard cobbles among 500 Flash fans and we were set.

I haven't ever seen the classic Flash Gordon movie but I do remember reading the comics as a kid. It was entertaining to say the least - and had 500 fans cheering on Brian Blessed (who introduced the screening) and Emperor Ming, and singing 'FLASSHHH' at the top of their voices while glugging down beer. I found this review online and it says it all better than I possibly could:

"There are films out there that can be described as a guilty pleasure - you know they're quite bad, but somewhere deep down in your heart you can't bring yourself to admit it. Flash Gordon is, in my opinion, the guiltiest pleasure of them all. Cardboard characters, lunatic script, embarrassing dialogue, trashy performances (apart from Max Von Sydow), and hilarious special effects... yet the one thing that comes out in the film's favour is that, despite its seemingly countless faults, it is still irresistibly entertaining.

American football legend Flash Gordon (Sam J. Jones) and sexy babe Dale Arden (Melody Anderson) are aboard a private flight when a weird red-storm forces them to perform an emergency landing. They crash into the back garden of wacky ex-NASA scientist Hans Zarkov (Topol), an eccentric madman who believes the world is under attack from alien forces and who has built his own spaceship to do battle with the enemy. Astonishingly, it turns out that Zarkov was right - and pretty soon, Flash, Dale and Zarkov find themselves on the planet Mongo, battling against its tyrannical emperor Ming the Merciless (Max Von Sydow), with a little help from Ming's treacherous daughter (Ornella Muti), her lover Barin (Timothy Dalton), and the winged warrior Vultan (Brian Blessed).

Flash Gordon is an absolutely insane film. The set design is remarkable, as is the costume design, and a pounding rock soundtrack is provided by the group Queen. Performance-wise, everyone seems to be camping it up like an end-of-term pantomime, though Von Sydow somehow seems to give his villain a deliciously sinister edge. Some of the dialogue is so awful that it becomes eminently quotable by virtue of its badness (a few samples: "This Ming is a psycho!"; "That must be some planet you come from!"; and - my favourite - "Freeze! You bloody bastards!") Flash Gordon should be a total disaster - an awful shambles of a film with no redeeming qualities. It isn't. Perhaps we'll never know how or why it works, but it does. So let the dissection of Flash Gordon the movie end here - analyze it no more, just enjoy it!"

The hard coble courtyard was well worth it, both for the movie and the stunning buildings that surround it.

Pouring out into the night at 11.15 we crossed the road, via the bust of Jawaharlal Nehru in the courtyard of the Indian Embassy (that all the firangs think is the Mahaatma!) and into the impressive bar of One Aldwych. One is a swank bar with a sophisticated mood and a matching bar list. They have some amazing high back chairs that I want in my own house and seriously large scultpures to match the height of the room that I don't. Huge floral decorations that need ladders to be set up and ambient lighting made it the perfect nightcap point.

This was my first brush with Somerset House which I am assured is a wonderful place to enjoy fountains and coffee in the courtyard during the summer and ice skate in the winter. I vow to return.

One Aldwych: London WC2B 4RH. Tel: 020 7300 1000

Spam hate

As you will see in the comments of the previous post we now have virulent spamming in the blogosphere as well. My friend shoefiend alerted me to this with her wonderful post on spas getting spammed with junk about hair oil.

Any ideas on how to get rid of these guys or do I just delete their comments and pray they stop on their own???

The India diaries VI - Monopoly nights

As a gift for V's middle brother R and his wife T, this time round we bought (what we thought was a novel idea) a Classic Monopoly set. Little did we realise how welcome a gift it would be and how much we would use it in 4 short nights! Every night after dinner, V & me, both his brothers and their significant others would settle down to a few rounds of Monopoly. This is what the UK version (which comes ina wonderful wooden box) looks like: all places now so familiar to us.

What we never bargained for is that with 6 people playing it was always a case of the property getting bought up quickly and spread out in such a way that nobody ever owned a whole suite of the same colours. So with colours/ properties divided up the strategy moved to partnerships and amidst the giggles and loyalty-wrangling houses and hotels sprouted up on around the board. Then the inevitable would happen. The game would go nowhere and the person who perceived he/she was losing would declare 'new game, new game' and mix up all the money, forcing us to begin afresh. It's more fun this way, no outcome just the pleasure of play.

As we were taught, it's not winning, it's playing that counts.....i that true!!!???

Anyway, here's a whole new take on Monopoly I stumbled upon.

Swatantrata Diwas ki shubh kamnaye...

... best wishes on Independence day

"Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we will redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance .... We end today a period of ill fortune, and India discovers herself again."
- Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru (Speech on Indian Independence Day, 1947)

Wherever on the planet you are, be proud to be Indian (if indeed you are)!

Swatantrata: independence

Diwas: day

Shubh: auspicious

Kamnaye: wishes

The India diaries V - under the sand

I have been to Mahabalipuram a zillion times (or so it seems!) but this trip was a bit different. After all the wedding reception and birthday celerations we needed a sack out day. Hired a very comfy Swaraj Mazda and packed 11 adults, 3 kids and a large bag of snacks into it for a day out.

Mahabalipuram, or Mamallapuram, was the chief seaport of the Pallavas who ruled over much of South India from as early as the first century B.C to the eighth century A.D.. It has some marvellous sculptural architecture hewn into the very tough grantie and is visted by tourists from around the world with good reason. Well, why go on about something well documented in a gazillion books and webpages. Here is why:

The Shore Temple with its lying down Vishnu has been a UN World Heritage monument for quite some time now. The legend is that Mahabalipuram is the port of the seven pagodas. The shore temple is one pagoda. As the other 6 were never found the legend grew to incorporate the 5 rathas and Arjuna's penance making up a suitable 7.

This is the Shore temple




And NOW the Tsunami has uncovered this,




the remains of another temple's walls. With a well and beautiful lamp burners built into rock sculptures



So the legend that was built to include the 5 rathas and Arjuna's penance is being revisited. Sonar readings show 5 more such sturctures bruied under the sand along the coast.

Fascinating that the dune behind which we used to hide as kids has been levelled to reveal something of such significant importance. It's all under the sand.

The India diaries IV - the walk

Forgot to talk about the walk. Sachin walked to our table. We did'nt mob him like crazed fans (not unlikely in my case!). People at every table watched Sachin walk towards us and then the gawking began. After they left we continued to be the subject of whispers. Who were we? Why us? How come he came to our table? And then when we got up to leave, our every step was watched by every table. Oh, how good that felt!

I know it sounds conceited - especially as we did nothing to merit it. But it's never going to happen again so I'm going to revel in it (while the memory stays in my sieve like brain, thank you very much!)

The India diaries III - Dinner with Sachin

We had dinner with Sachin Tendulkar while in Mumbai. Yes, yes, the very same - Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar - object of affection for all cricket loving Indians, highest run scorer in all forms of the game etc. No, this is not just my overactive imagination or the Mumbai malady stomach hallucinations.

OK, I'll admit that it's a half truth. Here's what really happened.

Saturday night. Dinner at Taj Lands End, Bandstand. V's whole family together after what seems like aeons. The in-laws: father, mother, two elder brother, respective spouses and daughter of the eldest brother. Decision is to eat 'Chinese - Chinese' (our term for 'authentic sichuan cuisine') at Ming Yang, where the Head Chef David is known to my eldest brother in-law and therefore always comes to our table to make suggestions on the food like: "I will make for you, no picy or velly 'picy'?'. (At this point my middle sis-in-law and I can only stop ourselves from giggling by sipping at our water and looking at the bonsai on our lazy susan with intense concentration).

Anyway, cut to before we are actually at the table and being picy'd by David. We are waiting in the corridor for our table to become available and who should walk up to us but Anjali Tendulkar. Now, the reason she walks up to us and not right past us is not because we are famous (quite the contrary!) but because above said middle sis-in-law is a teacher at a famous Mumbai school. And Anjali and Sachin's kid was in her class last year. So she walks up to us to say hello to the sis-in-law, is introduced to and shakes hands with my brother-in-law and me, and mentions that they too are waiting for their table at Ming (where no doubt David will suggest the level of 'picy' for their table as well). She leaves saying she will come over and say hi again before she leaves. At this point I'm already gobsmacked. I've met met and shook hands with Sachin's wife's hands. That's like shaking hands with Sachin by association!

Sitting down to dinner. The Tendulkars are with friends at a table close by - he is clearly in our view, in my direct eye line, but too far to get anything clearly on our rubbish mobile phone cameras. Atleast we have seen him up close as he passed by us to be seated at his table. Anything more would be too much to ask. Memory is imprinted on eyelids. Good enough.

Then it's David and the 'picy' issue - we decide on a combination of not too, a bit and velly 'picy' to suit everyone's palate. The food arrives. We eat an extremely yummy meal, all the while keeping one eye on Sachin. Order dessert and while we wait it happens. They get up to leave. Their friends drift to the door and Anjali begins to walk towards us. We think aaahh, how nice of her to come and say bye. Then we think aaaahhhh, (more like yikes!) that's Sachin following her. Panic strikes and those 5 strides toward our table seem like they are from a slow motion movie. Nobody at our table can quite believe it and we remain pinned to our seats as my sis-in-law stands up, quickly followed by her (smart) hubby. Anjali introduces them to Sachin, who shakes hands with both and then turns to us. He says 'Hi' to everyone with a small wave and huge smile on his face. We all mumble back a feeble (collective) 'Hi' as best we can muster (what with our jaws actually stuck between our knees it's a challenge). Meanwhile, my sis-in-law introduces us, eldest to youngest. When it's our turn she says "this is my youngest brother in-law, V. Remember I told you he often goes to Lord's to watch you play". At this point Sachin says "England are in a very strong position" - obviously refering to the ongoing Ashes 2nd test and trying to make polite conversation. V looks completely dazed, he can't stop grinning like a cheshire cat, but gamely nods and mumbles something under his breath, not blinking once. Then they are gone, goodbyes all done. We remain in shock, convinced that this is THE ABSOLUTE COOLEST thing ever to have happened to us.

Sachin walked up to our table, was introduced, said hi, smiled and waved. He ate in the same restaurant, same 'no picy' as us, same time as us - as good as eating with us. If that is not cool, I do not know what is.

Dessert tasted all the sweeter although really, we didn't need anything sweet for that high!!!

Ming Yang: Taj Lands End, Band Stand, Bandra (W), Mumbai - 400 050. Tel: +91 22 5668 1234

The India diaries II - Swish of silk

Madras (yes, I'm old school, not used to changing names of cities with ease) - what can I say about this wonderful city? From the moment we landed at Chennai Airport I had flashbacks of my time in the city: a month each summer (home to my grandfather, two aunts/ uncles, four cousins and numerous family friends), half of class 4 & 5 at Harrington House School (when it was in a big leftover British house) and the first year of my career between 1996 and 1997. I'm no authority on Madras and although the weather puts a dampner on things, my memories are all happy ones - walks on Marina and Elliot beach, shopping for vegetables in Pondy Bazaar, eating ice cream at Chit Chat, visiting the Ayyapa temple, Anjeneyar temple, eating in Sarvana Bhavan. I won't expound on it's virtues and instead encourage you to look up some interesting blogs on Madras (OK, OK it's Chennai) to get the low down on the city, such as Under the fire star, Chennai Spot, nimbupani

These 5 days were spent celebrating my cousin A's wedding reception, my aunts 60th birthday (very big deal in the realms of the Malayalee's) and generally enjoying the company of my parents and extended families. We are 6 first cousins and this is the first time in 10 years we have all been in the same place at the same time. We spent every evening just chatting, catching up on news that telephone conversations and emails do not do justice to. For V it was his first intense interaction with my cousins and their spouses. He enjoyed it, methinks.

On the shopping front my agenda was to get some silk and this I achived by going to Sundari Silks. Unlike shops where there are massive crowds jostling for space to get a dekho, Sundari Silks is a haven where one can take time, mull over the numerous choices and make one's selection. Situated in a spacious showroom over two floors what I wanted to take home was the beautiful tiled floor! (3300 sq feet each on the ground and first floors) the range has become much wider. With that much choice it was a very difficult hour; trying to eliminate the wonderful colours, textures and huge variety and be sensible can be sooo tiring. After much contemplation I settled on a beautiful silk skirt for myself, and a saree each for my mum, nani and my mum-in-law. The swish of silk is the magic of Madras.

The India diaries I - What a journey

It took us two days to get anywhere. Every element that could conspire against us did. But we made it and once were there it was a holiday not to forget.

Instead of taking off on Thursday night and thereby reaching on Friday morning we took of on Friday morning, thereby wasting a whole day. We were travelling with friends who are moving back to India after a few years in London. As we had an early morning check-in and they had to give up the keys to their house they came home and spent their last evening in London with us. Slept fairly late, clearing up last minute things, postponing locking our suitcases till the very last. Reached the airport in London darkness at 4.45am and joined the mile long line for the Jet Airways flight, along with the hundreds of other hopefuls from the previous two days of cancelled flights. No information or sign of anyone remotely in authority till about 5.30. Then we heard that priority was being given to those on the Thursday flight (us chickens!). Finally, at 6.55am, after more than 2 hours in line we reached the counter where the very cheerful check-in chick told us that boarding was at 6.55am as printed out on our boarding cards. V had to repress his laughter as he pointed out that it was already 6.55 and there were atleast 400 people in the line behind us. Anyway, checked-in we proceeded to the security check counter. There an offical directed us to the fast security check-in counter, the sign of which claims that you must be 'invited' to join this esteemed line (read: a business/ first class passenger)

Me (with big frown): But we aren't invited...
Him (with big grin): Madam, now I am inviting you...

So into a far more crowded line where everyone seemed to have been invited. Duty free'd and at our gate and in our allocated seats by 8am. Plane fills up slowly and we finally take off at 10am. Nice clean new A340 with polite and friendly staff, good food and a wonderfully modern entertainment system gets us into Mumbai at midnight. All of Friday lost - not the best start to the holiday.

Mumbai airport is hellish. Easily THE WORST airport on earth. It's no wonder that foreign visitors to our country have such a dismal impression to our country. What do you expect if their first encounter is with Mumbai airport. A first impression is made up of bricks and mortar and no amount of friendly Mumbaikers at the airport can erase the images of a dim, worn and broken down airport. Thanks to the dearth of immigration lines, the slowest luggage belt, absence of any ventilation and archaic customs systems we staggered out of the airport at 2.15am, gasping for breath. It was a relief to breathe in the muggy air that envelopes Mumbai.

Home at last....our flight to Chennai was scheduled for 9am on Saturday, so there was just enough time to unpack, repack and catch 40 winks before heading back to the airport. With all the yacking and catching up of tales to tell, the un- and re- packing went on till around 5am. Slept for a bit, called and confirmed that our onward flight was delayed to 10.20am and left home with my middle bro-in-law (R) and his wife (T) to arrive at Chatrapati Shivaji airport at 9am. On arrival a hurridly scribbled sign greets us: All flights delayed until further notice. Passenger whisperings, the TV crews and talks with the security gaurds reveal that an Air India flight has skidded off the runway rendering the only working runway for the domestic flights completely useless. How's that for luck!

Useless Jet Airways staff did nothing to help the situation by sealing their lips and throwing away the keys. When they finally did find the keys, ambiguous answers like 'All flights are cancelled', 'All flights are delayed', 'We cannot say anything', 'Some flights will/ may go later', 'Please check in 4 hours', flew out of their mouth with no restraint leaving an airport full of irritated passengers. With my cousin A's reception scheduled for 7pm in Chennai, the whole point of this trip was fast dissolving into the material for a very funny story. In reality I was in tears, talking to my parents and cousins in Chennai, all of whom had flown many miles so we could all be there for the occasion. It was also to be V's first trip to Chennai and trying to cheer me up he kept joking about how it was a conspiracy to keep him from ever going south of Goa! At mid-day convinced that no flights would take off under the soft drizzly skies till atleast 2pm, we set off back home.

Our Mumbai-Chennai flight was a connector flight that would arrive from Ahmedabad, take us to Chennai and go on to Coimbatore. No amount of calls to Jet Airways would solicit a straight answer on when it would arrive from Ahmedabad or take off for Chennai. On T's suggestion we called Ahmedabad airport and they informed us that the flight had left an hour ago, thereby about to reach Mumbai. So we raced back to the airport and fought our way through suitcase security and the check-in counter just in the nick off time. Mad dash through security and onto the plane re-scheduled to leave at 2.15pm. Of course it only left at 4.15pm. Airborne we heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Arrived at lovely clean and very well organised Chennai airport at 6.15pm to be greeted to hugs and kisses from my brother N (whom I had not seen in two years) and my mum. Dash home to see my aunt as she left for the reception, then a dash to our hotel and quick change later we arrived at the reception at 8.30pm. Such relief to be among my family at long last, all my cousins, my nieces, grandfather, aunts and uncles. For the smiles on their faces and mine, it was a journey well worth it.

...and 10 days later

...we're back from our holiday to India.

Not much luck with trying to blog remotely. Blame it on the lack of internet connections and paucity of time.

We had a brilliant vacation - my tales will begin tomorrow!

in a few hours...

...with any luck we will be airborne, on our way to India for 10 days of well deserved rest. Our flight is at 7.55am, postponed from 9.20pm Friday.

I can't wait for the copious amounts of filter kapi and masala dosa's that await me in Chennai.

rain rain go away

Every year Mumbai welcomes the monsoon and revels in the idea of a few days of minor disruptions and rainey day holidays. Not this year.

Tuesday evening, back from a day out in drizzly London, and the phone was ringing as I walked in the door. My father in-law calling from Calcutta to update us on what was happening in Mumbai. Many calls and web news alerts later we ascertained that both my brother in-laws were at the homes of friends, my mom in-law, niece and one sister in-law all safely home but my other sis in-law was stuck in her car with colleagues enroute home and amidst a sea of water and cars. A long night later she reached home at 7am. Safe and dry now thankfully!

Two days later - right now - V and I are packed and ready to get onto a flight to take us to Mumabi and then on to Chennai for 3 days of celebrations. My cousin's wedding reception and my aunts birthday celebrations beckon. Further to that we'll have a few days each in Chennai and then in Mumbai will complete our holiday.

Our flight from Heathrow tonight has been cancelled and is now due to take off tomorrow. Instead of a day in Mumbai before we head off to Chennai, we will arrive near midnight, and leave really early on Saturday to get to Chennai. A day of work and holiday lost due to the vagaries of weather. Extreme heat in the US, lowest rains ever in the UK and highest rains ever in India - weather changes we seem to have brought upon ourselves. However, the delight of being able to see my whole family in two days will not be made less by the difficulties in getting there. Whats life without obstacles eh? India here we come.....

In the meanwhile, electricity and bands of normalcy are brining Mumbai back to it's feet. It's a city with an indomitable spirit and the numerous tales of people helping each other during the weather crisis are not surprising only comforting. My thoughts are with you Mumbai....

sit down, sit down and stand up

A lively weekend, to match my buoyant mood and the spirit of the 30's.

A wonderful couple we have come to know in London, are heading back for India this week, after a two and half year stint in London. So we spent Friday evening with them. In an effort to enjoy the spirit of 'summer' london we watched the London Chamber Orchestra play at Canada Square Park, Canary Wharf. Sitting on the grass, chips, pimms and friends. Aaaahhh!!! Followed it up with scrumptious dinner by the river @ Chimichanga, a lovely Mexican joint that is fast becoming my favorite in the Canary Wharf area.

Saturday, we spent the morning/ afternoon at Greenwich with a friend who came to stay. The idea was to show her around, but we ended up buying loads of junk for ourselves. In the evening we went for dinner to a friends home. It was a dinner which brought together 4 couples (beside the hosts) who did'nt know each other. It was lovely to meet new desi's in London. And there can't really be 1 billion Indians because it turned out that I met a friend from school, someone I have not seen or been in touch with since I was about 12 years old. How cool is that!?? Anyway, the evening was lovely and this school friends wife and the host kept us well enetertained by singing - what beautiful voices! All well worth recording - who knows they could be famous one day and I'd have pipped the queue and heard them live first!!!!!

Sunday, I spent at home nursing a light fever while V entertained our houseguest. In the evening I was introduced to an activity which is no doubt going to become addictive - Stand-up comedy. In all the time we've been in London we've been intrigued by Comedy clubs and the idea of stand-up comedy. V had the chance to go to the Comedy Cafe as part of his office's Christmas celebrations. He hated the dinner that went with the act and as a result the whole evening seemed average instead of magical. Our guest is a stand-up addict and the act she persuaded us to go for was by a comic she saw in Melbourne a year ago.

So at 7.30 pm we arrived at the Hampstead Comedy Club which is a rather fancy name for a tiny stuffy basement below the Washington pub. We had to pre-book our £6.50 tickets by phone. 7.30 was still too late to arrive. With more than an hour to go before the show began the basement was stuffed to the gills and we got seats on tiny uncomfortable stools and seperate from our friend. Luckily the show was brilliant and the uncomfortable seats well made up for. The two acts we saw were Lucy Porter and Daniel Kitson. Both were previewing (polite-speak for 'trying out on paying suckers') abridged versions of their pieces for the upcoming Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Tiny Lucy Porter had us chortling to her seemingly unpracticed lines and self-depreciation for the first 50 mins with her show called 'Happiness'. A 20 minute break (to help the stomach pain from laughing hysterically!) later we were attacked by the utterly hilarious Daniel Kitson. He's the guy our friend had seen Down Under and came highly recommended. He has a strong stutter but overcame it beautifully and by making light of what must be so frustrating, endeared himself to his audience. His brand of humour is entertaining and as a comic he is first class. An hour and a half later we were all laughed out. A brilliant end to a marvellous weekend.

Stand-up comedy here's your new fan!

Chimichanga: 37 Westferry Circus, Canary Riverside, London E14 8RR. Tel: 020 7519 1234

Sirens of a different kind

After the blasts on the 7th of July, bringing the Tube system in London to a virtual halt, life settled back to some normality although the sirens of emergency services rung in our ears for days. After a few days that sound became comforting, knowing that they were in control of things, helping people get back to normality. Slowly this city has lifted its spirits and got back to business. We are all back to working and travelling and living our lives as best we can.

Today this has happened and the sirens are back, ringing in our ears, pointing out that this is not normality, that this city is under attack. What kind of horrible world is this?

Adventures with the in-laws # 3

Most desi's rave about Southall, the food, the ambiance, the indian-ess. So have you eaten gulab jamun's in....or aloo parathas at.....or watched so-and-so film at....

Quality Food (where all the desi's get their groceries from when in/ near Southall yaaar!!), where you can by any size pressure cooker, gazillions of agarbati's, 300 types of pickles and 20kg bags of basmati rice, all under one roof, is the busy hub of it all. And consequently it's perpetually 'jam' packed with Indian's from all over London stocking up on groceries of amounts big enough to feed whole armies. I personally prefer the Spice shop on Drummond street, which is for me more central and although on a far far smaller scale is suitable enough for my much smaller cooking operation.

Beside the grocery shops there's Himalaya Palace Cinema which claims to be 'the most luxurious 3 screen cinema in West London'. Talk about niche marketing! The sidewalks are filled with people jostling around stalls selling anything from jalebi's to glitzy sandals, all amidst blaring hindi/ punjabi music, fluttering jangly clothes, movie posters and wafts of warm spices. All in all its a pretty good replica of Delhi's Karol Bagh.

Unfortunately I'm not impressed at all. We've given Southall many many chances to be endearing, to make us feel homesick for India, to be a slice of home. In our efforts, over 3 years, we've been to atleast 15 different eateries and not one of them proved up to scratch. Parathas floating in oil, one too many red-dyed paneer tikka's and a host of other non-indian tasting dishes has completely put us off it.

Three Saturday's ago we took my in-laws to Southall; they were keen to see it as apparently many Indians back home enquire whether while in London they will went to Southall. So Southall it was. Same ol same ol, smells, sounds and crowds (I have to say though that occasional interaction with great crowds are enjoyable, the 'un-afraid-ness' of milling people, the only part that make me miss India). Lunch at an awful place called Roshni. Looked deceptively bright and cheerful. Our first clue should have been a woman yelling at the waiting staff. But we were already seated by the time we noticed her, tired from walking around, and resigned to our fate. How much I regret that meal! Aloo tikki's with a thin layer of mashed potato deep fried in a pakora batter. Bilious red paneer tikka. Food absolutely floating in oil. No words can describe the lurches in my stomach with every bite and so I will not try.

Roshni: 7-9 South Rd, Southall, Middlesex UB1 1SU. Don't try it!!!

By the by nowadays I'm Sudoku-ing in under 17mins. V is way ahead of me at well under 10 mins.....boo hoo

Back on the day

8 texts, 5 cards, 12 emails/ e-cards, numerous phone calls and one yummy Sacher Torte later, I’m here, on the other side of 30. And what can I say, the view looks great!

At midnight, I got 2 wonderful cards, 'Love' by Toni Morrison and fuzzy Alex (see below) from V, with some sort of art work promised as remainder of my gift (I want a framed photograph as I think it will mark the day, be meaningful yada yada yada – have not decided on what/ from where etc.).




Next, I woke in panic on the 15th, at 8.30am with the phone ringing and happy birthday being sung to me by a buddy, while I tried desperately to rub the sleep out of my eyes. The panic was that V who is normally in office by 7am was still fast asleep. Tried waking him up only to find out that he’d taken the day off to celebrate with me. YAY!!!!! Cunning fox had surreptitiously cancelled all the alarms.

Spent the morning on the phone/ net answering calls/ e-mails, getting more comfortable in the skin of the 30 year persona. Mid day and we set off for lunch at Nando’s and followed it up with watching ‘Madagascar’ which opened all over London to coincide with my birthday (not because of, just coincidental, new movies open every Friday…).

OK, quick review of Madagascar. But before that, just something I noticed. Millions of tiny children between the ages 2 and 7 were around with mums in tow to watch the movie. Most are just finding their legs and voices, constructing basic sentences and mis-pronouncing words. But all, and I do mean ALL, can correctly pronounce ‘Madagascar’. Go figure. Anyway, 4 Central Park zoo animals: star attraction, Alex (voiced by Ben Stiller), a happily captive lion, a zebra named Marty (voiced by Chris Rock), a hippo named Gloria (voiced by Jada Pinkett Smith), and Melman (voiced by David Schwimmer) a severely hypochondriac Giraffe. Alex loves captivity and has no curiosity about life on the outside. Marty, facing his 10th birthday and middle age, inspired by the penguins attempting their escape to Antarctica, starts thinking about life in the wild. Determined to find out what it would be like, Marty escapes the zoo to head for the widest open space he can think of: Connecticut. Shocked, his friends take off after him, planning an intervention to bring him to his senses and get him back in his pen. The good citizens of New York react poorly to hippos, monkeys, and penguins on the subway & at Grand Central station and things snowball until the whole lot of them end up in crates on a ship bound for the wild in Kenya. The wily Penguins hijack the ship and in the 4 friends land up in wild Madagascar. The second half is all about how tame animals deal with life in the wild.

It’s a great film, not in the league of Finding Nemo, but well worth the watch. The film’s supporting characters get the biggest laughs: commando penguins, literature loving monkeys and techno-dancing lemurs. Thankfully there are no obligatory moral lessons so often unnaturally forced into family films. The only lesson to be learned is that even the best natured lion gets hungry (not something we’d worry about in every day life). A good laugh.

Evening 30 lap swim, steam and sauna before heading off for dinner. Since we landed up early we went and had a drink in a local pub. Dinner was fantastic. We booked a table at Abeno, which claims to be London’s only Okonomi-yaki restaurant. Had never heard of this kind of cooking before and got the address out of a magazine article giving the top 5 places to eat pancakes in London. I’ve wanted to give this a whirl for some time now and this seemed a good enough occasion. Abeno is tiny, tucked away on Museum street, near the British museum – a real gem.

We preceded the main meal with ika itame, lovely fresh squid sautéed with garlic and topped with seaweed. Then the Okonomi-yaki: it’s a pancake made of a flour and egg batter, with a base of cabbage, ginger and spring onion. This base is then topped up with other ingredients (‘okonomi’ means ‘your choice’) and it’s all cooked on the hotplate which is inset into the table. We had an okonomi-yaki with corn, cheese and pork. Then we had a salmon teppenyaki, also cooked by our smiling server at the table. Fresh organic salmon and vegetables (lotus root, mushroom, bean sprouts, spring onions) cooked with an unknown but very tasty sauce. The staff was friendly, polite and helpful and we had a brilliant, relaxed evening.

Saturday evening we had a whole bunch of friends to help us demolish the Sacher Torte and indulge in lovely Caipirinha and snacks. Sunday was just sack-out and enjoy-the-wonderful-weather day! All in all, 3 wonderful birthday celebratory days. What more can I ask for!!

So now I’m 30, stronger and better for having come through my 20’s with love and joy. Thank you to the many people who read this blog and have wished me well for my birthday. It was a momentous occasion in my life and I am glad to have had the opportunity to record it (will it make an interesting read when I’m 50???!!!). This blog will go on. 30 in 2005 is just the point in time to mark what’s momentous in my life. It will continue to be where the views and news of this gal will evolve. Will you still be here???

Abeno: 47 Museum Street, London WC1A 1LY. Tel: 020 7405 3211

Today I'm 30!

Yes, it's here. Today is the first day of the third decade of my life.
Happy birthday to me!

The secret of staying young
is to live honestly,
eat slowly,
and lie about your age.
- Lucille Ball

I'm off for a day of celebration. Will report on the festivities tomorrow. Till then, ciao.

Welcome to my thirties!!!!

Of life and lilies

At noon today London came to a standstill to remember those who lost their lives in the terrible blast of last Thursday. To honour a two minute silence is the least we could do. We did it as a mark of respect and as moment of reflection. I, with many others, stood at the roadside, bowed my head and prayed. This evening thousands of people will gather in Trafalgar Square for a vigil and to thank the emergency services.

Life must go on. Inspite of all the sorrow in the world I like to think that each persons happiness is a drop making up a wondeful, clear, beautiful ocean. Beautiful things, flowers. We received a wonderful bouquet of lily buds from friends who came to dinner a few weeks ago. Bunged them in some water and didn't have very high hopes of what they would turn out to be. Well, foolish me!


One pink lily in full bloom, at its glorious best.

Tulips are my favourite flower. Lilies are catching up. A bit of research found this titbit: In many parts of South-East Asia, pink lilies are used to bring harmony and joy to the home. The sweet, gentle fragrance of this flower creates a feeling of tranquility.

I can vouch for that!

Tomorrow I'm 30.

And in 2....

I've finished two very interesting books simultaneously. I was reading a bit of each and then moving on to the other before coming back to the original one.

The first book (Book 9) was 'Beneath the Diamond Sky' by Christopher Wakling. I read the jacket cover while doing a balancing act in an overcrowded bargain bookshop. It seemed intriguing, quite a dark novel, with struggles and difficult tales to tell. I bought it. And how right I was. The story is set in Kashmir in the shadows of the mighty Himalayas and begins inconspicuously enough with a tourist couple, Kate and Ethan, arriving in New Delhi with the idea of an adventure holiday. After a few days of being brow beaten by both the Delhi heat and the numerous touts selling them tours, they settle on a holiday on a Kashmiri housebout. At first Kashmir is all as they imagined it, beautiful, cool and hospitable. Then they join a group of five other westerners on a trekking expedition. They are sold out by their guide to a militant group and taken hostage. The book stears clear of the issues of the separatist militants, only giving small hints as to their origins and mainly selling the idea that foreigners are valuable pawns in the bartering game. All seven hostages deal with their confinement differently; one tries to escape and is killed, another dies of ill health, another is maimed as punishment, Kate tries to keep a journal as a survival tactic, Ethan shifts allegiances inspite of the limited understanding of the ideology that holds them hostage.

The book moves back and forth between the hostages and those at home in Britain. Kate's sister Rachel is tormented by the memory of her cold and dishonest relationship with her sister Kate and Ethan's father remains unwilling to confront cruel family truths he has perpetrated. It ends with the collision of difficulty and loss, truth and redemption. It's a beautifully written absorbing psychological thriller exploring the effects of pressure on different characters. A terrifying but essential read.

My second, far sunnier book, was 'A Good Year' by Paul Mayle (Book 10). I have never read anything by him before but he's apparently written a load of bestsellers and I'm not surprised. 'A Good Year' is a cheerful book (just the antidote to the often dark chapters of the previous book) about Max Skinner, a failed London banker who moves to Provence after inheriting a vineyard from his Uncle Henry. The beautiful countryside is home to 'Le Griffon', a wonderful quirky country house with its own vineyards and a cellar full of terrible tasting wine. Vineyard caretaker Claude Roussel and prim housekeeper Madame Passepartout help Max settle into his new life easily. Local interest includes the attentions of local notary Nathalie Auzet and curvy cafe owner Fanny.

Into the mix arrives a young Californian, Christie Roberts, Uncle Henry's long-lost daughter and Max's best friend Charlie (something of a wine buff). Beside a wonderful new lifestyle, they soon uncover a vineyard scandal (under their noses, in their glasses) involving a delicious, high-priced, discreetly produced boutique wine called Le Coin Perdu, being traded as an investment. And it's coming from a small patch of their own vineyard. It was a quick paced story with some interesting twists and some nice tension - needed no great thought. I liked the happy ending feeling of this book. Would have read even better on a beach!!

So that's 2 new books and in 2 days I will be 30.....

Adventures with the in-laws # 2

They've gone after a month of filling our home with laughter and love. During this month we had a few brilliant outings. Adventure # 1 was in Bath.

During the working week we decided to make a day-trip to Windsor and Eton. Got my pal Abhi to tag along with us. Quick 55 minute train journey from Waterloo past some lovely greenery and we were in Windsor & Riverside, home of the 1600 room Windsor Castle. Facts: Windsor Castle is the largest inhabited castle in the world, and the oldest in continuous occupation (over 900 years). It is one of the Queen's three official residences, and is often said to be her favourite. The Royal Standard flies over the Round Tower of Windsor Castle when the Queen is in residence - at other times, the Union Jack flag flies in its place. We took a 35 minute boat trip along the Thames to Boveney after lunch and the queen was not in residence!


Back on dry land and this is the large population of very hungry and grossly overfed swans begging the tourists for nibbles. Now, here's a cool story: the ownership of swans has always been a privilege granted by the Crown. Today there are 3 owners of the Swans: the Wonderful Company of Vintners, the Monarch and the Worshipful Company of Dyers. During Swan-upping, which takes place in July the swans are marked to show ownership. Irrespective of ownership they were all greedy guts!!!

Windsor is a beautiful little town, with hanging baskets of flowers adorning the streetlamps. It was a lovely clear day. After looking at the castle we decided to cross the river and have a look at the very famous Eton. As we strolled along the the very attractive High Street towards Eton College, we saw pairs of young lads in uniform (for me reminiscent of the Mallory tower stories where the girls were only allowed into town in pairs). Eton is very impressive. It was founded in 1440 by Henry VI and counts 18 former British Prime Ministers amongst its students.

It was a long day and all the walking was capped off by cool drinks by the river at the elegant oh-so-traditional Sir Christopher Wren House hotel.

This is wonderful and leisurely day trip from London. Well worth the time and effort!

In other matters, I'll be 30 in 4 days (and I'm still not ready!) and my sudoku timing is improving steadily...

No Fear

Londoners, like New Yorkers and Madridians before them , have given the term 'No Fear' a whole new meaning.

London is a wonderful, strong, vibrant city - and my home. It is a city and mix of people I have grown to love. No amount of hardship and terror will make it's people bow. By Friday morning everyone was back, living life, working, proving that Londoners are a resilient and defiant people.

When will the human race find an alternate to violence? What will become of this world? What can one person do: Keep your head high, make your influence in the world a positive and peace loving one. Have no fear!

P.S. I have added a link to this post today (Mon 11th July 2005 @ 21:22) - link from the words 'resilient and defiant' - I think it's brilliant and speaks volumes for the spirit of Londoners.

London at a standstill

Jubilation to tragedy - all in under 24 hours. Yesterday the only news that mattered to anyone here was how London had pipped Paris to the post and won the Olympic bid for 2012. The party had begun and was expected to go on for weeks. No more.

This morning the city's smile is gone, replaced by a grimace as emergency services spread across the city, sorting out the terror that has shut down our transport system. Scotland Yard has at this time confirmed explosions at Edgware Road, King's Cross, Liverpool Street, Russell Square, Aldgate East and Moorgate. London's much practiced major incident plan is in place. Multiple bombs, fatalaties, walking wounded, casualties, filled hospitals - nothing prepares us for it mentally.

I use Moorgate station regularly. Not today. Thank god.

V is in office, safe. I am thankful that we decided to live close enough to his office to enable him to walk back and forth, rather than brave the tube.

My friend, Shoefiend was in the thick of it all. This is her story. She sounds shaken on the phone and I hope she feels stronger as the day goes on.

I am in shock. This is my city and it's hurt.

Olympic - London.....

.....has won! Surprise surprise, London will host the 2012 Olympics. Where will I be, I wonder?

Is this really 'THE MOMENT'?

Yes, this is moment when I am at home in front of my computer and millions of people around the world are enjoying some fantastic live music puportedly in support of Africa. But it it indeed THE MOMENT in history where according to Sir Geldof "The G8 leaders have it within their power to alter history. They will only have the will to do so if tens of thousands of people show them that enough is enough.". Beleive me when I say that for most people its just a fantastic free concert - a once in a lifetime opportunity to see all the greatest names in music come together and sing their hearts out.

Ok, so I sound miffed (I'm not) that I'm not there, even though I live in London. Well, to be honest, I never texted in because much as I would like to believe in the good intentions of this concert, I can't imagine how it will truly change anything. I'd be lying if I said that if I had a ticket I would not go. I would. There is a small part of me that sincerely wants to believe in the altruism of individuals such as Bono and Sir Bob. They have dedicated a good portion of their lives on trying to bring to our notice the woes of Africa. But I'm afraid I completely disagree that this is the way to do it.

In 1985 Live Aid had the best motives. However, to pretend this emotional, ad hoc response to the complex problems in Africa made a positive difference was naive, deep set in some deluded idea that music changes the world. Money from Live Aid did save lives but there was no significant change in attitudes. With rampant corruption and the frittering away of all the money the West lent them, today Africa is hardly better off. Once again, the poor pay for the greed of the rich.

At least with Live Aid it was about the common man donating time/ money to the cause. Today it is about debt cancellation - how will holding concerts around the world influence the G8 leaders is something I cannot figure out. Of course people will want to attend. Who wouldn't with the impressive line-up Geldof has put together - contacts par excellance. What's in it for the artists beside the 'warm' feeling in their hearts - visibility on the biggest possible scale, free promos for their music albums and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to promote a charitable image. But saying that superstars of music playing and millions of people attending concerts will in anyway influence the status of debt is foolish and only the naivest people will really believe it. Do you think Blair or Chirac are watching Live 8 and thinking "Oooh, look at that, so many people supporting Africa, I think we should cancel debt because it's the will of our people". Please. If the will of people at a concert could change the mind of politician that would be more than a bit miraculous. And we'd have a lot more concerts!

My biggest problem with these grand free concerts to 'support' the African cause is how Bono and Geldof have completely disregarded 'black acts' - surprising for people who are so passionate about Africa. The argument that the dominance of white faces among the Live 8 line-up reflects the need for big names to bring change is insulting to the intelligence of audiences and completely contradicts the symbolism this is meant to exude.

And just so you know, the money raised from the text messages (to win tickets here in the UK @ £1.50 each) is going to the Prince's Trust (as compensation for Live 8 replacing their traditional fundraising concert, Party in the Park), and the rest will cover Live 8 administration costs.

I'm a believer in the power of each person making the world a better place. I work in the charitable sector and believe in the contributions of people to particular projects making a difference to African lives - water, food, shelter, education that charities bring to the man on the ground. I don't believe that cancelling this debt will make a difference to the everyday poverty that Africa faces. If the musicians were as concerned about debt as they claim to be why not give a couple of millions pounds each to a cause rather than blather on about the responsibility of givernments? Charity begins from your own pocket, your own time.

I admit that right now I'm flipping between Venus Williams winning Wimbledon on BBC2 and Travis singing on BBC1 - never say no to some great free music. I wear the 'Make poverty history' wristband because I believe that my £1 is my contribution to the cause of Africa, not a contribution to the cancellation of debt.

I insist: I'm not a sceptic, just a realist.

V sudoku'd.....

...for the first time ever and he did it in 13 minutes. What does that say about me?

Not Expendable at all

I've never been much of a short story person. I prefer full length fiction; where characters grow (more in my imagination than on the page), stories spin around one another and I'm completely engrossed in the plot. I found Antonya Nelson not through word of mouth or book reviews, but browsing in a Greenwich bookstore. I bought 'The Expendables' (Book 8) by her along with 10 other books and only because it was the only one thin enough to fit into the already bulging bag and the jacket cover looked interesting enough. 'The Expendables' is a slim volume of short stories. I figured it would be a change from the droves of novels I have piled up. Each story filling a tube journey across London.

No such luck. One lazy afternoon on the couch and book finished. Same evening I told a friend it was a huge disappointment because for every story I kind of expected there to be a twist at the end and there ended up being none. Some of the prose was brilliant, passages that seemed poignant, ethereal and relevant all the same time. I don't like feeling disappointed with books of any kind so I resolved to give it a re-read and a second chance. Almost immediately. This time the book was magical. I read the whole book in one go and found the element I was looking for - a binder instead of a twist. Each and every story reinforced how fleeting and precious relationships can be. And there were relationshsips of all kinds: blind man-his wife-neighbours; teenager-her baby-baby's father-her parents; best friends; brother-sister-parents; father-son; dog owner-dog; neighbours; strangers. Through the collection the writing is smooth and characters are presented, followed by their situations, their actions but without a final twist or solution. We've become so used to reading books with happy, sad or known endings that this was a shock. I kept holding my breath, waiting for an outcome only to find I had to supply one of my own.

Almost all the stories veered toward the depressing end of the spectrum, but never without some humour thrown in. All the stories, without exception, lent a sense of hope to her characters that often belied their situations. So clear was her writing that I could feel the vulnerability and heartache of the characters, the drive to endure and the longing for their longing.

Subsequently googling her I found that she has received great press, including being named one of the twenty young fiction writers for the new millennium by the New Yorker. I'm not surprised.

I did leave it for the last of the Greenwich pile and that is the only regret. On the brighter side now that I have been introduced to her writing I'm craving for more.

Sudoku'd!

I'm mathematically challenged, allergic to numbers. I'm so terrified of anything vaguely quantitave that I often dream of being told that the Math Board exams & finance courses in my MBA (that I barely managed to sqeeze through) have all been re-checked and I have to go back to class 6 and start all over again! As a result I'm usually the first to shy away from anything with numbers on/in/near it.

I haven't been succesful at all (even my job has always had me doing budgets and yucky number based things!). Hard as I tried to ignore all the press and public buzz about Sudoku, I've finally given in and checked it out. Everywhere I look someone seems to be talking about it or walking around with puzzle books.

Yesterday I found an online site with a new sudoku grid on it each day. I studied the rules, told myself to be fair and give it a go (knowing full well that I would not succeed and would need to be highly motivated to go back for a second go). As part of my turning wiser as I grow older (groan...in 3 weeks I'll be thirty), I decided that I would not falter but persevere, challenge the challenged, go for the game with a mind wide open etc.....Yesterday I gave up after 22 minutes. Kept to my plan though and today I stuck with it and I've completed my first ever grid in 67min 19sec. YAY!!!! Not so challenged after all!!!!

It's was pleasant (read 'frowning brow') jog for the brain and required no maths at all (double YAY) - just a smattering of common sense and logic (I am blessed with plenty, or so I like to think!).

So Sudoku or Su Doku: This translates from Japanese as meaning single numbers or numbers by themselves. The traditional Su Doku puzzle grid is made up of nine cells (or boxes), each cell containing nine squares. Players are challenged to complete the grid so that every cell, row, and column displays the digits 1 to 9, in whatever necessary order. To begin with a number of squares are filled in by the puzzle's setter. The rest is up to the players sharp eyes and logic!

Warning: It's addictive.

So I've been sudoku'd - have you?

Master of my fate

A few days ago, during the course of a chat with a dear friend from college, a discussion on past events and their co-relation to current happiness took place. Would our lives have been better/ worse/ different based on decisions we made in our college days/ early 20's? Were we too immature to know any better? Have those decisions changed the course of lives from a pre-ordained path or guided us along it without our knowledge? Are we simply accepting of our fates or perpetually struggling against them? After much discussion he came up with this:

"samay se pehle, kismat se zyaada aur mehnat se kam kabhi kisi ko kuchch nahin mila hai"

(For the non hindi speakers here's the translation: Nobody gets anything before time, beyond fate and without hard work. Hindi speakers: correct me if this translation is not accurate)

So a declaration before the big 3-0. No matter how much I grouch and declare myself the queen of tense brow-land, all things I'm grouching about are just small inconsequential chapters, material growths and life epidermis.

As for the bigger picture I have no regrets. Ever.

Whats life without a few bumps eh?

Eerily green bath

Yellow people! or should I say 'green'!

Below is a picture taken at the ancient Roman spa in Bath. Made the journey last Saturday with V and his parents. Background: V and I are perennially lazy - never trading a lazy weekend in London for the sights around the UK. There is no better incentive than visiting family to get us moving. Last year we went to Cambridge with V's brother and this year knowing we'd have his parents here we decided to make the most of it and see a few places. So to Bath!


Green green water!

Bath is an ideal day trip from London (just 1.5 hours by train from London Paddington). It's a small town named after the mineral spa baths (with supposedly 'healing' powers) that the Romans unearthed. In ancient times it was called Aquae Sulis - the waters of Sul. Apparently, the Romans had a policy of honouring and incorporating local gods and Sul was a Celtic goddess so they built a temple there in honour of Sul and their own goddess Minerva. Anyway, after a steep £9.50 entry fee each(it was teeming with 'us' tourists so they must be minting it!) they take you through a museum explaining the history of the Baths. You end up below street level at the green central pool. In ancient times this water was meant to be hot and theraputic. Now you aren't meant to touch it although plenty of people sat by the sides with their feet in it. I dipped my hand in - it's surprisingly clean and clear water, but it was luke warm (My guess - the strong sun shining above!).

The building in the background is Bath Abbey. It stands at the heart of the city on the site of an Anglo Saxon church originally built in AD757. Building started on a large Norman cathedral at the end of the 11th century but was in ruins by the 15th century as it was too expensive to maintain. The present abbey church was started in 1499 and that too fell into disrepair after the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century. However, it has been repaired and conserved and is today teeming with life.

Modern day Bath is a university town with oodles of character. The Baths, Pump House & Abbey stand firmly at the centre of the tourist circuit, surrounded by a heady mix of shops and restaurants, all sprung to serve the many tourists who arrie each day. After lunch we walked along the river Avon (along which Bath lies) to the Pulteney Bridge which is impressive from afar but far too touristy up close.

It was a lovely clear blue skies day and we ate brilliant Italian gelato's standing in the sun. The only real disappointment were the delays to the train journeys. Luckily Bath station is lined with benches and in the shade the breeze was cooling enough.

From it's hypnotic alien like water to the Georgian architecture, Bath is a wonderful slice of England, well worth a looksee!

A new journey

A month from today I will be 30 years old. I have to say that turning 30 is not my dream come true despite what people say about it being the best decade of ones life. And despite my trying to talk myself into this positive frame of mind, all I can think is: I’ll never be 20-something again. It’s somehow a far harder realisation than turning 20 when all I wanted to be was ‘more grown-up, responsible, have a life of my own etc’. All things that seemed so naively charming then, were often worrying as they happened and are so distant now.

The past few days have brought a personal wave of panic and doubt. Despite all the milestones I have accomplished or thought I was supposed to accomplish, I’m questioning prior decisions and worrying about those yet to be made. (Yes, that’s me – professional worrywart and the queen of tense brows)

With few and far exceptions I think I’ve followed the script (yes, sad boring old me still beleives there's a script!)to the letter – college, something of a career and a solid marriage. With 30 right here, right now whats the next thing - where is my copy of ‘30s for Dummies’?

There is yet more pressure to be looked forward to in my 30’s. My career path needs some polishing up (first step taken by leaving my old job and concentrating on finding my next one). I need to learn to drive and buy a cool car. Buy a house and decorate it till it feels like home. Buy lottery tickets till I strike it rich. Travel around the world some more. I know in my heart that all this ‘pressure’ will eventually dissipate and become realities that are wonderous and joyful, but till they do it’s with mild tremors of trepidation that I am looking ahead.

One of the sure pieces of knowledge I will take into my 30’s is this: I have a lot of questions and I don’t have all of the answers. I’m nowhere near any of my goals but I know that the important thing is to keep striving towards them. So I’m not where I thought I would be at 30 but I am having a wonderful journey.

Weekends = battery charging

Two things: I love Calvin & Hobbes. The second is connected via Bill Watterson (the amazing cartoonist-creator of C&V) who aptly said: Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. I also love weekends.

Battery charging - that's the plan....

Word spell

It’s been on the news and 3 people (so far) have sent me links to sites with news of young Anurag Kashyap of California winning the 78th annual National Spelling Bee in Washington last Thursday(June 2, 2005). He spelt ‘appoggiatura’ correctly to win.

So what's special this year? Isn’t he just another smart Indian kid. Look at this list of Indian kids who have won the Scripps Spelling Bee since 1985:
1985 Balu Natarajan with milieu
1988 Rageshree Ramachandran with elegiacal
1999 Nupur Lala with logorrhea
2000 George Abraham Thampy with demarche
2002 Pratyush Buddiga with prospicience
2003 Sai R. Gunturi with pococurante
Ok out with it, how many of you could spell all 7 words accurately on your first go.

The gap between years with Indian kids winning has dropped dramatically. Smarter Indian kids or pushier Indian parents? Not being a parent myself and trying desperately to become a responsible adult (from overgrown child playing house), I think that’s a debate I’ll stay well away from!!!! (Smart huh, that’s part of the desperately trying...). Either way well done desi bacchelog……yes, the desi community both in the UK and USofA are very proud of your spelling capabilities.

Apparently you can take the Indian away from India but not the Indian-ness away from an Indian...must be all that haldi flowing in our veins!!!!

Desi: From the 'Desh', countrymen, Indian

Bacchelog: Children

Haldi: The spice Tumeric

An entertaining weekend....ahem!

Two things of note from the weekend.

Watched Bunty aur Babli. Complete waste of money, time and effort (although I still think Abhishek Bacchan is very cool). The first half of the movie was funny enough, good character build-ups and the story seemed to be going somewhere. Enter Amitabh Bacchan at the halfway point – looking slovenly and anything but a police inspector – and it was all downhill from there. Felt like the first half was written by someone who gave up halfway and handed over story development to a loony. Some of the dialogue was brilliant, the songs were alright, the costumes and pictography quite interesting, but the storyline just let it all down.

For those planning to go watch, DON’T! Here’s the story: Abhishek and Rani both leave their hometowns and families to follow their dreams in big cities. They team up quite by accident, on a railway platform. Both get their dream crushed underfoot by people trying to take advantage of them. Finding this dearth of decent (!) people to help them achieve their dreams, they decide to make their way to Bombay where they hope to make it big like the industrialists. With no money to get there they begin scamming their way through north India, collecting cars, cash and even a hotel room full of stuff before landing in Mumbai. Enroute they change their names to Bunty & Babli (B&B), fall in love, get married, sing a few songs – the usual. By the time they get to Mumbai they are so used to the scams way of life that they just continue. Meanwhile intermission has brought on Amitabh whose life mission is to catch the pair and put them behind bars. And so the chase begins. B&B are now in Mumbai expecting a child and meet Amitabh at a bar of some kind. Aishwarya pops out of nowhere to sing a song with them (so bizarre!) and they all part with B&B realising who Amitabh is but him not guessing who they are. Then B&B plan one final scam to get some government gold from the airport that AMitabh is guarding. Big final chase during which Amitabh tweaks who they are, pursue’s them through the whole child being born scene and finally catches them just as they decide to become good citizens again. Amitabh let’s them go free based on some really badly played emotional technicality. Then the scene cuts to them 3 years on, living in their village bringing up their son and walking the straight and narrow path. Amitabh find them and gets them to agree to help him fight con artists and unearth scams. They walk into sunset in Men in Black suits. End of movie. YAY! I was really ready to leave by the time Ash broke into surprise song……..If you haven’t seen it don’t bother. This is a movie which needs no brains so leave ‘em behind if you must watch it. It’s a movie where the sum of the good parts adds up to one awful hindi mess!

On the brighter side, we wandered around the lovely (read big, bright and clean) town centre mall in Wandsworth before the movie and bought 7 new DVD’s to keep us occupied for the next many weeks:
1. Schindler’s List
2. Love Actually
3. Moulin Rouge
4. Something’s gotta give
5. About Schmidt
6. The Ladykillers
7. Ocean’s Twelve

Far better end to the weekend was the fact that I finished the book I was reading (Book 7 for purposes of this blog only - I've actually whizzed through about 25 books this year so far). I picked up The Collector’s Wife by Mitra Phukan the day before I was leaving Delhi to come back to London. This is the first novel I have read about contemporary life in Assam and it left me fascinated. The main protagonist is Rukmini, married to the Parbatpuri District Collector, Siddharth Bezboruah. She teaches English Literature to mostly uncomprehending students at the local college and does just about as much as is needed of her to play the role of a suitable Indian wife. Rukmini’s life is also intensly interwoven with the political situation in Assam. Being a teacher and the collector’s wife, she has a view of both sides - the administration led by her husband and the students who have begun a somewhat idealistic anti-migrant movement.

Rukmini’s personal life is also in some turmoil. Taunted by older women for her barrenness and somewhat neglected by her workaholic husband, she tries hard to find a purpose in life. Enter the alternate hero, Manoj Mahanta, salesman from a tyre company, who at one time had what could be called the benefits of a classical education and has managed to retain them through the mundaneness of his everyday job (thus making him very attractive to Rukmini). With whirlwind events, all entangled in the political strife, Rukmini’s discovers to her horror that her husband too has an adulterous reason for ignoring her. And as the political turmoil escalates, Rukmini’s story too spirals into unimaginable horror.

The backdrop of Assam (notably the change in season and the natural beauty each demonstrates), the kidnapping, extortion, killing and the fight for an independent homeland make for a gripping narrative. Mitra Phukan’s first book is a achievement in finely weaving together the issues of tolerance, hatred, loyalty, belonging and mere indifference. Much enjoyed!

With the weekend done and dusted (indluding a satisfying meal at Dalchini), I'm back to the mundane jobhunt...

There Is Absolutely No Place Like Home

Berlin was the last bit of the ride with my job. As my earlier post mentioned I am now jobless and trying hard not to be aimless as well. Tough when one can wake up at 11am without a pang of guilt, but hey, what’s a gal to do!

So India……every time I go to India, no matter what the season, I fall ill. It’s only ever fever – something to do with change in temperature from the insipid weather here. In September 2003 I had 104 deg fever for 2 days. Even then deliriously high fever did not stop me from an enjoyable evening with friends at that time. Well this time as if on cue I developed 104 degrees temperature within 4 days of joy and merriment in Delhi.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Almost every Indian (currently NRI) couple we meet come back from their holiday in India with tales of the marvellous shopping, posh places to eat in their hometown, enjoyment of being home, fights with the pollution & dust and the endless mineral water to keep away from germs. Armed with all this ‘current’ information, 1 and ½ years in which to process it and a slightly overactive imagination, I landed in Delhi with tears in my eyes (living away and growing older - the two ingredients for sentimentality). It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away or what weather you’ve got used to, home is always home – and for me DELHI spells HOME.

My 104 only lasted 2 days and neither of those did it stop me from venturing out and exploring my city. This bout of fever confirmed my suspicions – I fall ill the minute I see my mum. No, no I don’t mean that in any rude way, rather as flattering compliment. In all my time in the UK I have fallen ill very rarely, just one bout of flu last year. No colds, scrapes, muscle pulls etc. With this second set of fever, one on each trip to Delhi, it’s confirmed – my body only allows me to fall ill when it knows my mum is around to tuck me into bed, put a cold compress on my forehead, feed me soothing soup and comforting words. I know it all sounds improbable and is probably coincidental but psychologically its comforting that I need my parents and that despite my home now being in London with V, Delhi continues to be my home and not just my parents house…..

Delhi is well on its way becoming a world class city. The nanosecond of apprehension as to the germs and pollution were wiped away in a blink. I regularly define myself as someone born and brought up in Delhi and being a foodie I had a long list of things I had been warned about – don’t eat on the side of the road, chaat is made from ‘kharab’ paani, drink mineral water, eat malaria tablets, only eat home cooked food you can trust etc. I ignored every single warning. Beside 3 meals cooked by my mom I ate every single meal out – with my parents, my best buddies, my brother-in-law and his wife (who came all the way from Bombay to see me - YAY!). Delhi is fast becoming a city of flyovers each one ironing out the crinkled, crumpled mess on the roads. Construction of the Metro in congested Connaught Place has made things difficult for the moment but only a moment (yes, breathe deep and think of it as a blink in time) and when its all done they will wonder how they lived without it. Vasant Kunj and Gurgaon are no longer the ‘burbs’, instead very much part of the buzzing South Delhi area. And restaurants – where do I begin – new ones have sprouted up in every corner. Name the cuisine and there it is. I had loads of memorable meals, including chaat in Bengali market and momo’s from a childhood haunt side-of-the-road van, neither of which made me fall ill. It's confirmed: my stomach is a desi stomach, lined with iron!!!

Shopping was very much on my list but I ended up not buying too much stuff. It was not restraint in any form, just me being completely dazzled but the range of choice. There is nothing you can no longer get in India. Everywhere I went the city seemed to be buzzing, teeming with people eager to spend their moolah and time and no dearth of places to spend it on. Every brand, every product – it’s all available. At the other end there are lovely hand made things, crafts, jewellery art – all ethnic and oh so beautiful. I loved it, every minute of wandering in Delhi was like being in a new city. I saw everything with new eyes. It is true that you appreciate all the things you took for granted when you no longer have constant access to them – distance does make the heart fonder!

So here’s where I ate, with a line or two of 'opinion':
Olive Bar & Kitchen: One Style Mile, 6-8, Qutub Haveli, Sarai Kalkadass Marg
New Delhi – 110030
Lovely evening under a banyan tree in the courtyard in Olive with 3 friends and my parents. Magical with candlelight, cool breeze (yes, at the end of April!) and scrumptious food.

Bauji ka Dhaba: Metropolitan Plaza, Gurgaon
V and I were frequent visitors to original Bauji ka Dhaba in Hauz Khas. Went there to eat lunch after watching ‘Hitch’ at PVR. And although this one in Gurgaon is done as tastefully as the original, you can’t get away from the fact that it is in a very busy mall and lacks the village (albeit fake) charm and pace. The food also seemed rushed and not nearly as good. For the original stuff go to Bauji ka Dhaba, Hauz Khas Village, Near Deer Park, New Delhi 110016

Thai Wok: 1091/1 Ambavatta Complex, Mehrauli, New Delhi – 110030. Tel: (011)2664-4289
Excellent Thai food and a grand view of the Qutab from the roof terrace. Unfortunately it was two hot to sit out in the middle of the day, but since I’ve done that before I can safefly say it’s a grand experience. The food was outstanding as always.

Bengali Sweet House: 27 - 37 Bengali Market, New Delhi – 110001. Tel: (011)3311855/ 3319224
Still the best chaat in town. The only problem is the crowds. Small, cramped tables and endless people (who obviously had nowhere better to be on a weekday mid-morning) standing around your table watching your every bite as if to goad you on. The chaat is as delicious as ever, and I guess the atmosphere would be shot if it changed and became some up market boutique type thing. So I take back the problem bit; it is not to be missed.

Saravana Bhavan: 46 Janpath, New Delhi 110001. Tel: (011)2331 7755
This is new to Delhi but familiar to me from my days of living in Madras. This one lives up to its reputation and serves up world class South Indian food in a clean, air conditioned prime location. Ate the thali and loved it! Delhi has 3 now and London has 2 branches. We have yet to try it out. It’s on our list for next weekend!

We also ate a super Chinese restaurant near home but the name evades me. Needless to say I’m back in London and slowly hunting for a job. Had terrible flu all of last week – fever, sore throat, the works. That was just to prove my mom-loves-me-and-I only-have-flu-when-she’s-around! Anyway, I’m better and back and will post more often....

a road divides....

...two completely contrasting buildings....


This beautiful building is the 'Berliner Dom', a truly magnificant catherdral


The Zweifel is opposite the road from the Berliner Dom. Large, squat and very ugly.

Whoever built the Zweifel obviously never looked across the road to the centuries old Dom for inspiration!

Back and Berlin

It’s me. I’m back. And possibly with a vengeance. So many things to blog about and no computer access to vent via. All that has changed. Our laptop is back after a long and thorny battle with Sony. It seems to have been repaired this time. Touchwood.

So much stuff has happened in the past 20 days that I am almost at a loss about where to start. Almost, not absolute. So here goes….

V and I were in Berlin around the 20th of April; me to spend my last few days at my job (yes, I am now gainfully unemployed!) enjoying the end of a wonderful project and V enjoying my company. Almost everyone from the charity I worked at also made the journey to Berlin and resultantly we had some very memorable evenings. Berlin is a striking city with massive buildings and tank –width streets demarcating east from west. We didn’t sightsee in any organised manner, just taking in a few of the sights as we wandered around with friends. Will definitely have to go back and do the sightseeing thing. The highlight of the trip for me was a wonderful champagne & strawberry surprise afternoon tea party organised by my boss and colleagues. Completely unexpected and a most wonderful ending to two year’s at this organisation. My going away gift is precious, a lasting memento from my time there - it is a wonderful framed collage of pictures (of everyone I’ve worked with) with a backing of messages from each person. All my friends, my British family! Gawwwsh I so miss it!

Came back from Berlin and in a quick 2 day turn around, unpacked, re-packed and left for India. Touchdown in Delhi on the 27th of April and into the arms of my doting parents. Lovely hot sun baking the earth, bouncing the sparkling light off all the surfaces. Simply wonderful. My India trip needs a post of its own, well thought out and detailed. Till then....

Oh, and just one restaurant to recommend from our time in Berlin (It's Thai not German food, but hey the most surprising things turn up in unexpected places):

Phuket Thai Restaurant: Mehringdamm 67, 10961 Berlin. Tel: 030 69532855

So much....

Almost a month has gone by with little or no action on this blog. Not for lack of action in real life though! We've been busy as bees but time, lack of our Sony laptop (which I am begining to despair is never coming back - Grr - I hate SONY!), and a maddening schedule are all to blame in equal part.

I don't want to put down all the exciting things in one big blog so I am going to break this down over the next few days and build it up to the current time by the end of next week. So watch for more.....

Technologically challenged

The title is the reason for my long silence on this blog (not that anyone has really been checking up all these days, but it's an illusion I am happy to nurture!). After hmm-ing and ahhh-ing other people’s laptops we bought a top-of-the-line Sony Vaio laptop at the end of December and that was our absolute pride and joy - until V noticed a change in contrast on the screen bothering his eyes. I could not see this small and apparently irritating flicker and kept poohpooh-ing it. It became worse and worse and finally when we came back from Hong Kong we called Sony and asked them to pick it up for repair under its warranty. Now if this was the US or any other service-centric economy we would have had the laptop collected and replaced like a shot. But being England where nobody cares, Sony and their courier agents DHL took 7 working days to pick the laptop up from us. 15 days later its back and apparently the screen has been replaced. The problem continues and although they claim they checked it the flicker and change of contrast is more dramatic than ever. They made us run a zillion test and recover the machine etc – all things I think they should have done. So now we are on a priority list for it to be picked back up again. Why they can’t just replace it god alone knows! Cheap cheap Sony. That’s the last time I buy any Sony gadgetry in the UK. We could have gone for something more inexpensive and probably sounder but with the quality assurance that Sony promise and we have experienced we thought this was a good choice. I take it all back. Sony is rubbish and I regret the day we bought this Vaio!

Needless to say its all still pear-shaped – no computer to blog from – so will continue being infrequent. Que sera sera…..

Wish I May

Browsing in big fancy bookshops, as bright beautiful and mentally stimulating as it can be, is just not my thing. I find it almost heartbreaking to go into a bookshop and buy just one book. And books, as in multiples of them, being costly as they are, burn big sing-ed holes in my wallet.

As an alternate to the big bright lights, I have found trawling for books at bargain bookstores in Greenwich very rewarding. All these bookstores are small and cramped (mainly full of tourists) but their shelves often turn up treasures. I go to Greenwich quite regularly and very often find books that have been recommended this way or that.

As I don’t go to the big bright chain bookstores I rely in part on the wonderful Guardian Review and in part on word-of-mouth recommendations from family, friends, co-workers to keep a sharp-ish eye for what’s new, readable and in my sphere of interest.

So it was no surprise that I found ‘Wish I May’ by Justine Picardie tucked among the higher reaches of the bookshelves in Greenwich one Sunday afternoon last year. Fnished it and her is my take on it:

Book 6: Wish I May by Justine Picardie. In it, Kate Linden is a 35 year old single mother dreaming of a rosy future with an ideal man who will love both her and her son Sam. While she waits for the arrival of just such an accepting man she gets drawn back into the life of her handsome, domineering cousin Julian (son of her mother's twin sister). Examining her relationship with him, she returns to Julian’s childhood home and is forced to question the mysteries that have bothered her about the relationship between her mother and Julian's father and who was responsible for her mother's death in a car crash.

Kate struggles to make sense of her life and the shadows cast by the past. Fighting her way out of the murky details of the past, she finds herself spiralling towards the future and wishing for love to be the catalyst for the rest of her life.

This novel is mainly about the secrets of the past, and the search for living in the present is written. Justine Picardie lays down a woven yet clear pattern, setting out the intrigues and intricacies of families entwined by events affecting them all.

Another gem!

an extraordinary day....

I have not been a contientious blogger, ignoring my blog for well over a week now. I've had plenty to blog about but not nearly enough time, energy or coherence of thought to effectively post. I have books to blog about but thats for another day and another time. Today has (or rather yesterday, now that its nearly 1am) been an extraordinary day in so many ways that even at this unearthly hour I am compelled to quickly type in a bit.

First and foremost today (12th) was the birthday of some exceedingly special people -my mum and my brother (as my dad says, he's been my mum's birthday gift for the past 23 years) for their birthday. I've had long and brilliant conversations with both and missed them oh-so much today. So YAY my birthday people - I'm loving you every minute and missing you even more......

The day has turned out brilliantly - somewhat by design but mainly by good luck, the meeting of chance and timing I think. As you know we've had some friends with us for the last few weeks. It's made mealtimes and evenings more interesting having 4 people around a dinner table discuss everything from food habits to politics and back. V was away on work for more than half the week and returned only on Friday evening. So the weekend lay ahead of us ripe and ready to be enjoyed.

We started the day with breakfast at the little cafe where we've become regulars on Saturdays. Lovely sun poured through the windows warming us while we ate omlettes and sipped lattes. Then, deciding that the reviews of the Sanjay Leela Bhansali movie 'Black' piqued our curiosity enough, found out where it was playing and booked some tickets. Went to the Cineworld in Ilford to watch 'Black' and can now say without reservation that it is one of the BEST hindi movies I have ever seen. Even V (who is very disicerning!) loved it. 'Black' tells the story of an alcoholic teacher introducing a deaf & blind anglo-indian girl to the world of words, their meanings and communication with the world. Subsequently, she gets the opportunity to reciprocate the teaching when he loses his words to Alzheimers. Amitabh Bacchan is the teacher, Debraj Sahai and Rani Mukherji is the deaf & blind woman, Michelle McNally.

I cannot tell you enough and more strongly what a wondeful movie this is. From the storyline to the cinematography, from the lessons to the realities, this movie has stepped a whole level higher than any other hindi movie before it. Tinged with sadness, it shows a world filled with the dreams of a challenged young child and her odessey finding her place in it. This movie deserves an Oscar. Amitabh truly rocks!!!!!!!!!!!!If you haven't seen it GO NOW!

Back home and all dressed up the four of us took loads of pictures with our relatively new digital camera. We're still learning to navigate it - both the tripod and timer are now familiar.

Our extraordinary day became so largely due to the sparkling meal that followed at Ubon by Nobu. Very fancy locale, riverside Canary Wharf, this intimate restaurant offers fantastic views of the Thames. The decor is quite simple and nothing to write home about but the view made up for it amply. The meal was highlighted by very simple ingredients - each one very carefully prepared and beautifully presented. We had a selection of yellow tail, white fish, black cod, tuna, salmon - seared, skewered, sushi-ed - each one cajoled into wonderful wonderful bites. I have not had a meal this elegant and tasty in very long. Ubon is not inexpensive by any means and is mainly geared for the non-vegetarian seafood lover. For me it was a real treat; the Chocolate Bento box with Green Tea Ice cream and Banana Taitain with Chestnut Ice Cream were superlative to most desserts I have ever tasted. If I were a rich girl I would go often!

We are home now - the tail end of an extraordinary day. Wine and music await me, so I'll sign off. This day will remain in my memory for a long while to come - the combination of great movie, wine, food and company make me feel extraordinary!

Ubon by Nobu: 34 Westferry Circus, London E14 8RR. Tel: 020 7719 7800

any dream will do

With March one would expect spring to be rearing its wonderful head. Instead the Siberian winds that the newscasters forcasted are whirling around the house sounding like lost ghosts. Snow has closed schools around South-east England (mainly Kent) and although there hasn't been more than a few flurries and a light dusting of snow in London, its been raining and windbeaten for about 10 days now. To lift our spirits and bring a little cheer to our cold bones we did what was desperately needed - we watched Jospeph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat at the New London Theatre in Drury Lane.

The combination of live orchestra and theatre can be magical. This was a wonderful musical and all the elements played together effortlessly and melded perfectly. Credit to finding out details, a source of cheap tickets and inspiring us to be more London tourist-y goes to my cousin A; credit to buying the tickets goes to V; and credit for watching and enjoying goes to all 5 of us (V, A, me and our friends, the globe-trotting couple).

An internet search told me that Joseph was originally presented in London's West End at the Albery Theatre in 1973 for a seven month run. Since then this Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice collaboration has been revived in the West End a number of times -including a major revival at the London Palladium in June 1991 starring Jason Donovan and which ran for over two years being seen by over two million people (missed that by 15 years then!). Apparently Joseph has been toured in the in the UK extensively since 1979 (even entering The Guinness Book of Records as the longest running touring stage musical of all time!).

The musical is based on the Biblical story of Joseph and his coat of many colors; Joseph was the favorite son of Jacob, but his eleven siblings resent the attention Jacob showers upon him and conspire to kill him. At the last moment they decide to sell him into slavery, and eventually Joseph finds himself in jail in Egypt. However, his favorable interpretation of the dreams of the Pharaoh win him freedom and using his powers of interpretation he forcasts the 7 year famine and implements rationing to make sure that all in the land are fed. He wins the admiration of the Pharoah and soon Joseph is one of the most powerful men in Egypt. In the meanwhile Jacob and the eleven sons fall on hard times and come to Egypt in search of food. Long story short, they all reconcile and live happily ever after!

An ancient tale has been most succesfully turned into a rollicking mixture of vaudevillian turns, country & western, calypso, 50's rock & roll. Joseph was played by Darren Day and the story was narrated by Suzanne Shaw. Both had sparkling voices and great stage presence. The set was fabulous and the musical fast paced (90 minutes just whizzed by). I was mesmerised and enjoyed singing along when there was a song I knew. The Benjamin Calypso and the Pharoah of Egypt depicted as Elvis Presley were inpired. The chorus was made up of about 30 school kids with pure innocent voices and was supported by an excellent orchestra. The repetoire of songs included some truly unforgettable numbers including Any Dream Will Do (my all time favorite buzzing endlessly in my head ever since), Close Every Door to Me and One More Angel. What I loved the most was that the cast was super-charged and quite apparently having a ball.

A delightful evening by any standards......and I'm dreaming of spring now!