Ahoj!

That's hello in Czech! Yes, V & I are off for a 4 day adventure to the beautiful capital of the Czech Republic, Prague.

We are at the Club Lounge at Heathrow Terminal 1, V breakfasting on a croissant while I sip orange juice and use the free internet to post this.

Will post from sunny climes if I can or else be back with pictures and holiday tales in 4 days.

Meanwhile, Nashledanou (goodbye, if you had not guessed) and have a good weekend.

Experiments with the truth

It's the absolute truth. I have struggled with my weight since my teens. Always been overweight, a fatty, rolypoly, cuddly, 'healthy'. Tried 548 diets between ages 14 and 19. Gave up at age 20. Decided that it was not to be. The aim shifted from thin to healthy instead. Ok, to a thinnie that sounds like a crock, an excuse from the fattie next door. But to this rolypoly it's a realistic goal.

Anyway, long story short, I'm a healthy fatty (or so I like to believe). I can cycle 45 minutes and cover 13 kms in that time without collapsing in a heap. London has taught me to walk (what seem like) endless stretches and my stamina has gone from strength to strength. I eat/drink a good balance of fresh fruit and veg, pulses and lentils, meat and soya, milk and juices. I swim 30 laps of a fairly large pool once a week. Blah blah blah. I'm still no thinner today than when I began this regimen. I'm still a fatty. Albeit a healthier one.

So what's this post about, really. I got handed a flier boasting a 5 day membership to a fairly fancy gym in my area with no strings (like a photocopy of my credit card) attached. Decided to take the chance and move a step up from standstill cycling in front of our TV each evening (or 3 evenings a week, realistically). The decision was threefold:
a. to see if this place was worth it's money and it IS ridiculously expensive
b. to see if I could exercise 5 days in a row, without losing steam, enthusiasm or a body part (trust me, in some of these complicated treadmill/climb/cycle machine morphs it's not hard to imagine)
c. to see if I could fit planned exercise (classes) into my daily regimen of volunteering, job and house hunting

So starting this past Monday I became the proud owner of a 5 day gym pass. Monday (Day 1) I got myself into a 1 hr Pilates class and then swam 30 laps of the pool. Tuesday (Day 2) I just swam 30 laps and gave up. Today (Day 3, Wednesday) I treadmilled at a fair incline for 40 minutes (it took me 20 minutes before that just to figure out how to get the damn machine to work), attended 'express' Pilates (30 minutes) and did beginners yoga (1 hr). The beginners yoga was anything but. The class immediately launched itself into shoulderstands while I huffed and puffed my way into the most basic poses. Luckily there was one other 'newbie', so we looked equally foolish together. I feel healthy because I'm keeping up with most things, not making a complete idiot of myself in a gym of green beans. The yoga class was just unfair...

So far so good, in terms of value for money (although it has been fairly inconvenient to lug myself to the classes during office lunch hours, especially since I'm not working) and available facilities. With two days to go (and I intend to do a whole host of classes and use the machines) I know for certain that this is not for me. My large shadow needs a slower and cheaper alternate, something less bruising to my ego. My ego can't handle the number of thinnies in the gym. Positively anorexic women who have come to be that way from exessive exercise (or have been planted there by the Thin Peeps Association to make me look bad) . Or maybe it's not they who are anorexic but merely thin by comparison (what all I see through my fat eyes!) to us fatty's.

But hey, what can I say, the thin people need us fatty's, to have something to compare their thinness against. We are the benchmark of what not to be. The holy grail of figures is in the opposite direction. I am the potato amongst the green beans as it were.

The experiment: A play with body image among the legions of thinnies
The absolute truth: I will never be thin. I will always aim to be healthy.

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.