Posts Tagged ‘Delhi’

Eggetarian days


2010
03.27

I AM giving eggetarianism a serious shot. It’s not a health and fitness decision, but an emotional one (as my Editor pointed out); I realise that I can no longer suffer the cruel methods used to butcher animals in this country (maybe others, too).

One of the worst killing rituals I have witnessed is the excruciatingly painful and gruelingly long manner in which we butcher pigs in Goa. I was about 10 years old. Some folks cooed and whistled with rapt excitement akin to Spaniards at a bullfight. Both are equally inhumane killings, though the bullfight would figure higher up on the cruelty scale. They prepare the bull; intoxicate and agitate it sufficiently, by poking it with spears before it thunders down the rink. The matador’s job is to massacre it, and this spectacle entertains fair maidens and royalty.

I watched a documentary on a bullfight at a bullfighting rink, which is no longer functional, in Barcelona. Thank God. It made the bile rise.

Coming back to the little piggy, a slit is made in its throat, and the blood is collected, and later used to add flavour and thicken the gravy in certain dishes. For some time the poor thing scampers about, looking very alarmed. Then it bleeds and squeals itself to death, literally. The entire village knows what’s happening and so do the remaining pigs in the pen. That’s how loud the squealing gets.

Some have asked: what about plants? Yes, they suffer too. But having been born a non-vegetarian, giving up meat by itself is a tough nut to crack, but I am committed. Every now and then, I feel very tempted to bite into some salami, and then I remember the squealing piggy. So if you see me taking a bite of a chicken wing, forgive me. It’s probably during a moment of weakness, when the flesh is weak.

Baby steps.

I also come from a family, with a legacy of meat eaters. In the past, I have jokingly called myself a carnivore when people enquired if I eat meat. Turkey, sorpatel, vindaloo and tiger prawn balcao, grace the dinner table at family dos. Holidays and dinners may prove difficult if there’s only meat on the menu. How does one tackle such limitations without causing a scene, inviting difficult questions and being labeled as someone gone cuckoo? It’s something I need to figure out.

On the bright side, I am sampling a variety of vegetarian food in a city, which has some of the best food I have ever tasted in my whole life. This transition is forcing me to do it, and there were some wonderful surprises, along the way. Dal Bhatti, a crunchy Rajasthani delicacy, best consumed when warm. Paneer Tikka Masala, a spicy concoction, relished with a garlic naan. Bhatura. Paneer Chilli Fry.

A veggie friend should be thrilled about this development. Now, we can break bread together.

Update:
I was a vegetarian for around two months but ultimately I resorted back to my non-veggie ways. But I don’t feel great about it. Perhaps, in another life or even in this one, in the future…

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NEW RESOLUTIONS


2009
12.22

Every year I make New Year resolutions, and every year I break em’. But in 2009, I managed to crack one resolution that I been evading me since 2007: driving a car.

I suppose sometimes circumstance is a necessary motivator. In Mumbai I would hope into an auto, and be on my way, whether the destination was a nightclub, coffee shop or work. In Delhi, and particularly Noida, you don’t want to know the auto men. They rattle off the first figure that pops into their heads. So, I registered myself at a driving school managed by a moody, regimental ole’ ex-army man, and managed to learn how to get myself from Point A to Point B in a second-hand, Silky Silver Alto (with power steering!).

The second New Year resolution was to get fit. I have worked out, run more and eaten healthier this year, than ever before. Amending ‘losing weight’ to ‘getting fit’ did the trick. I now relish the idea of taking a power walk, running in the park and doing tummy crunches. Not to mention, other perks like getting to know the neighbourhood better and communing with nature, whatever part of it is available in this city.

For instance, I know that the street dogs on Florence Nightinglae Lane are well-fed. Every morning, the watchman at one of the bungalows, puts out a bowl of food for the little mongrels. One chilly winter morn, they were attired in the cutest little doggie sweaters (sweater-clad dogs — mostly pedigree — are a common sight in Delhi winters). The squirrels in the Rose Garden get to nibble on glucose biscuits every morning, which they do with a vengeance, before scuttling off when humans get dangerously close.

On a different note, I recently misplaced my credit card and it turns out that I left it whilst paying the bill at my fav hub, The Living Room up in Hauz Khas village. The cashier smiled a queer little smile, and pulled out a stack of credit cards, all neatly wrapped up in white serviettes. How many drunk people are there in Delhi?

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Roses, deer and auntyvillle


2009
12.03
Roses, deer and old ladies
I discovered not one, but three parks in the vicinity, each frequented by folks of a different demographic.
There’s a little one (by Delhi standards ie) located a stone’s throw away from my place, mostly patronised by old ladies and middle-aged married gals living in the neighbourhood.
The peacocks in the Rose Garden are a sight to behold, when they dart across the running track, one after another. On either side of the track, you have the woods, a few stray seats and a clearing every now and then. On the other side of the park, you have a large clearing dotted rows of roses . It has the best running track of the three, and is frequented by the nouveau young (middle-aged but youthful) couples, international people and athletic-looking singles. It’s massive by any standard. This one I like best (cause of the good running track).
The Deer Park has deer, ducks and peacocks, somewhat rudimentary but workable badminton courts, and is frequented by the classes and the masses and everyone in-between. Running here is not so hot, as every now and then you need to jump over mounds of earth, being dug up for God knows what.

I discovered not one, but three parks in the vicinity, each frequented by folks of a different demographic.

There’s a little one (by Delhi standards ie) located a stone’s throw away from my place, mostly patronised by old ladies and middle-aged married gals living in the neighbourhood. Auntyville.

The peacocks in the Rose Garden are a sight to behold, as they dart across the running track, one after another. The woods sandwich the track on either side, and you have a few seats and clearings, every now and then. There’s one large clearing dotted with rose plants. This park has the best running track of the three, and is frequented by the nouveau young (middle-aged but youthful) couples, people of diverse nationalities and some very athletic-looking solo joggers. It’s massive by any standard. This one I like best; it’s pure magnificence in the midst of a chaotic Indian city.

The Deer Park has deer, ducks and peacocks and somewhat rudimentary but functional badminton courts. This one is frequented by the classes, the masses and everyone in-between. Running here is not so hot, as every now and then you need to jump over mounds of earth, being dug up for God knows what reason.

But I am not complaining. Three isn’t a crowd. It’s helping me commune with nature.

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Card party virgins


2009
10.16

In the spirit of the festive season, I lost a princely sum of Rs 140, in a “friendly” game of Teen Patti (three cards).

It was on the rooftop of a lovely Delhi bungalow, amidst diyas, scented candles, petals and potted plants. We munched on tortilla chips and cheese dip, and washed it down with white wine and rosé.

And so, for the price of seven parking parchees (receipts), I (and a couple more card party virgins) was oriented into the ‘card party’ culture, and became familiar with terms like “chaal”, “blind” and “show”.

Twas’ fun.

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Dilli Diary 2: Chivalry isn’t dead


2009
09.08

Just the other day, I suggested carpooling with a colleague, a sweet fella’, who sincerely drives three hours a day to work and back, along with some other colleagues. He nodded in agreement, but when I offered to chip in, he had a quizzical look in his eye. But it was settled, I would be carpooling.

In the next ten minutes, he walked up to another colleague (who happens to be a pal of mine) and inquired,” Whaa-t is ‘sheep ee-n’?” She in turn inquired in what context he heard the phrase. “I came across it on the Internet,” he told her, rather unconvincingly.

”It means to contribute,” she said.

The next time, I brought up the matter of chipping in, he nodded with a big smile. It’s a different matter though that he did not charge me a penny, even though I insisted. Yes, chivalry isn’t dead in Dilli, entirely.

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Dilli Diary 1: “Yes sir” & “Yes ma’am”


2009
09.07

In the past one week, I have finished reading eight essays dedicated to the capital and one book, which gave me some insight into the way of life in this city. Now, I am starting to see things in a very different light.

I remember my Class X teacher in school, balking at us if we referred to him as ‘sir’. “Have I received the knighthood?” he would demand to know. So, I sometimes addressed him as Mr so-and-so, but mostly never at all; it just seemed a little awkward. However since then, I have hardly referred to anyone as “sir”; it seems primitive, colonial, feudal.

17 years down the line, a twenty-something new recruit at work (in Delhi) recently referred to me as ‘Ma’am’, and I felt queasy.

Reminds me of the time when a twenty-something new recruit from Delhi referred to his editor and boss (in Mumbai) as “Ma’am”, and she could not stomach it. We did our best to get him to address her by her first name, but he would get very squeamish about addressing a “senior” by her first name, and could never bring himself to succumb to this casual media work culture. He got a different job, and we shall never know if this Dilli kid will shake off his feudal ways.

Reminds me of yet another instance, when a twenty-something new recruit from Delhi, referred to his boss, a very senior editor (in Mumbai) as “Sir”. Now, this senior editor’s attitude is so casual, that every now and then he poses random (sometimes scandalous) questions to his editorial staff to the effect of “If you had a chance, would you sleep with Shah Rukh Khan?”. No one would bat an eyelid, and would in fact, answer his questions in a matter-of-fact, nonchalant manner. So, when he was addressed as “Sir”, the editor scampered away in fright, and the kid did not know what hit him.

The “sir”, “ma’am” and “ma-ii-dam” culture is predominant in Delhi. In fact, once I was referred to as ‘Merrilji’! I could barely hold still, and was laughing raucously, inside.

Yes, things tend to be formal, and there’s a very clear class and hierarchical distinction, in every realm of life. For instance, a driver will refer to his employee as “Sir” or “Madam”, which is okay and applies to many parts of the world and country, but he in turn will often be referred to by his employer, as “driver”, which sounds absolutely terrible.

I know of this one family who refers to their servant as “Naukar” (servant) and he has been working for them for ONLY 20 years!

On a different note, in my apartment complex, we have a separate elevator for servants and drivers, and how do we know that? The notice next to it clearly states “Lift for drivers/ servants)”, which easily could have said “Employee lift” or something more subtle. Ironically, when the lift for residents broke down, everyone — and I mean everyone — was using the lift meant for the help.

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The story of a driver


2009
09.04

Inspired by Balram Halwai, a shamefully poor village boy-turned-entrepreneur (shameful for the Indian Government ie), in The White Tiger, I must share the humble tale of a college student-turned-cab driver-turned- automobile employee, right here in Noida.

Before the days of my wee Alto, I was dependent on sub-moronic autowallahs and private cab service drivers, who charged me a mini-fortune and tested my patience, with the constant haggling, extreme rudeness and lack of punctuality. I ought to have listened to my friend, a long-time resident of Delhi, who advised way back: when in Delhi you must get a car before you start even looking for a house!

Then came along V, a cab driver who arrived on time, one fine morning to take me to Delhi and back. He came through a well-recommended cab service. Alan joined me in two hour’s time, and we had a smooth travel experience. Next time round, we skipped the cab company and called V, directly, because as Alan pointed out to me, he was punctual, polite and he had a good stereo system in his wee Alto cab.

Whilst I completed my meetings in the vicinity, Alan treated V to a cup of coffee and a sandwich at Café Coffee Day, thus getting to know that he was a 22-year old college dropout, who now drove a cab because his father, a farmer by profession and the only earning member of the family was paralysed from the waist downwards, post an accident.

He also gauged that V was a bright kid, and it was an absolute shame that he didn’t have the opportunity we had. Also, his English was poor, and according to V this stood between him and a better paying, full-time job.

Unfortunately, the cab business is unpredictable. On some days there is no business and some days there are two or three gigs, of which he can max squeeze in one or two. So now, having to support a wife, a mother, a difficult younger brother who was very angry at the prospect of not being able to attend college due to the lack of funds and bed-ridden father, whose medical bills cost a pretty penny, life was reduced to a hand-to-mouth existence.

He aspired to be a policeman, but failed the test by literally a stone’s throw due to some misinformation; the shot-put round fell short by a few feet because the minimum distance required was a little less than what he had practiced for. And there are no second chances, unless one is willing shell out some money.

He shared his disillusionment with the Indian police authorities with us, over some veg pizza and coke, and we listened, empathetically. So, he gave up his police dreams and continued to drive us around regularly. One day he confessed that we were lucky for him; on the days when he was with us, he inevitably ended up with a second gig, minutes after he dropped us off.

He and Alan became fast friends and even indulged some guy talk (of course I wasn’t around during these intimate confidences). The latter compiled a CD of English music, everything from Snap to Buddha Bar, which V could play (and impress) for international clients, and otherwise. On some levels, I think he was fascinated by Alan’s personality, his liberal thoughts and unconventional family background, himself hailing from a conservative, traditional joint family. He told me one day,” Ma’am, maine iss thurahuh ka aadmi khabhi nahi millah (I have never met anyone like Alan).”

Then it was time for Alan to leave, and as we drove him to the airport, both V and I, were consumed by sadness to see him go, yet, happy that he was finally on his way to fulfilling his destiny. On the way home, V confessed that he may never seem him again, but he would listen to the CD and reminisce about the good times.

The story doesn’t end here. In fact, it’s probably just begun. Soon after Alan’s departure, I connected V with some friends who needed a cab service to pick up and drop them to work and back home. They cut a deal, which provides him a regular income.

Lady luck shone her light on him even further; he got a job with an automobile company in the quality check department. Now, he just rents out his car to the folks concerned and still managing to keep his full-time job.

But I doubt he’ll stay in quality check long. This boy should go places…sans committing any homicides.

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Cheap books


2009
08.31

I attended the Delhi Book Fair at Pragati Maidan, and noted that the diversity of the madding crowds transcended class, community, religion and nationality, unlike the usual suspects at the Crosswords and Oxfords of the country.

One stall in particular was bursting at the seams with voracious readers.

Was it Penguin? No.
Was it Sage? No.
Was it Katha? No.

The name of the stall: ‘English Novel – Rs 25/- only’.

One man emerged triumphantly with 50 books (yes, I counted) in a plastic bag, most in mint condition, and in hardback.

As I tried to get a foothold into the stall, an elderly gentleman asked the man in charge of collecting the moolah, with disbelief,” Yeh zyaada sastha tho nahi ho gaya (isn’t this price a tad too less)?”

I picked up politically incorrect Bill Maher’s New Rules. I would have fished for some more, but there were two many armpits in my nose (akin to a Mumbai local), and the couple in front of me looked like they weren’t going anywhere for the next decade.

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Woman power in Delhi


2009
08.29

My first impression of woman power in Delhi is this -– it can get violent!

Whilst waiting to collect my baggage at the airport, I saw a woman sporting high-heeled shoes, fitted top, tight jeans and an urbane, upper class air. A band of uncouth-looking males hovered dangerously close to the lady, on the pretext of also waiting for baggage.

Trolley loaded, she attempted to make her way out of the swarm. But they continued to hover, whilst she proceeded to kick them in the shins with those killer heels.

Then recently, another useless creature attempting to cop a feel, brushed past by my pal, Delhi girl Beeps. Before he could sigh with pleasure, she rushed towards him and started slapping him violently. Her brother stood about 200 m away, and felt rather pleased at the spectacle of a wee girl beating the crap out of a fella’ with such fury. Little did he know hat Supergirl was in fact, elder sis. On realisation, this ginormous boy who is for most parts, a gentle giant, did some slapping of his own. It was one of those rare, sublime moments of sibling unity :)

Then, just a few days back, an unsuspecting eveteaser had the misfortune of teasing my very sweet-looking colleague S. She stood next to her friend’s car, whilst they fixed a flat tyre. “Usne mujhe aankh maraa (he winked at me),” she said.

Suddenly pretty girl metamorphosed into Catwoman. She took out the spanner from the boot, walked boldly up to the perpetrator, and started slapping him violently. Pretty soon, her male colleagues joined in the fun. The two chaps made like a tree and vanished.

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Corny answers to corny questions


2009
08.25

My barefoot ‘n’ preggers friend Maya who fancies herself as being a gypsy in her previous life, has tagged me, and now I have to take this very corny quiz. But what the hell, here goes! Corny answers for corny questions.

1. What is your current obsession?
Can’t confess in public! Let’s just say that this week, my obsession finally turned into reality. It’s now time for a new obsession.

2. What is your weirdest obsession?
When I was younger I wanted to be thin. Now, I just want to be healthy.

3. What are you wearing today?
An abstract print top from AND, denim, a silver ring in the shape of spiral, and a secret smile.

4. What are you listening to right now?
The clickety-clack of my laptop keyboard and some very distasteful music courtesy my next-door neighbour.

5. What’s for dinner?
Depends on where I am eating, tonight.

6. What’s the last thing you bought?
A mojito

7. Which language do you want to learn?
Spanish/ Portuguese

8. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
New York City

9. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
Austria

10. If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
A very luxurious spa treatment.

11. What are your must-have pieces for summer?
My mantra for summer – less is more.

12. What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own closet?
A chocolate brown pair of party shorts, with a lace trimmings.

13. What do you do when you “have nothing to wear” (even though your closet’s packed)?
Use my credit card.

14. What do you consider a fashion faux pas?
Wearing granny underpants with a slim-fit pair of trousers. The secret weapon my dears: thongs.

15. Give us three styling tips that always work for you.
Well-fitted clothes for your body type, a good haircut, smell good.

16. What’s your favorite quote?
I sleep around for pleasure. In business, I use intelligence.

17. Describe your personal style.
A mix of this ‘n’ that.

18. Who do you want to meet right now?
The Indian Government, to give them a piece of my mind!

19. What is your favorite colour?
Green ‘n’ blue, not one without the other.

20. What is your dream job?
Jazz vocalist who jetsets around the world, and hobnobs with those who play ‘n’ dig jazz.

21. What’s your favorite magazine?
Harper’s Bazaar, Business Week

22. Which TV character can you simply not tolerate?
The annoyingly anal ones in the average American sitcom ‘n’ Indian soaps centred around kitchen politics.

23. Who are your style icons?
The thirty-something magazine editor in Lipstick Jungle.

24. What are you going to do after this?
Eat lunch

25. What are your favourite movies?
Back To The Future trilogy, The Departed, Sound Of Music, Fiddler On The Roof, Guns of Navarone, The Wizard Of Oz, Gulaal, City Of God, Ocean’s 11 trilogy, Band Of Brothers,

26. What inspires you?
Nature, people, music, tragedy, cinema, poetry, global events, nothing, anything, everything.

27. Coffee or tea?
Mojito!

28. Pet peeve?
Suck-ups. Killjoys. BBBO (bad breathe, body odour)

29. What do you think about the person who tagged you?
She makes a very loyal friend, a quirky mom, a bold, compassionate woman with a child-like zest for life and all its complexities.

I tag couch potato, merril and malini to take it on!

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