The Legends Club

Somewhere, some place up above the clouds, a few strangers were meeting over a good cuppa. Strangers because all of them looked so different. One old bearded man was wearing a long robe with what looked more like a fez; there was one person who looked an Englishman was wearing a tailcoat and looked prim and proper; the third was someone from the far east with an attire fit for those lands, the fourth was a man in sherwani and the fifth was surely a sardar with his lungi and turban tied in typical rustic fashion. As the initial conversations started, no more than a few words were exchanged but in no time, the table became the epicentre of the dining hall with loud chatter and laughter bursting out, something you would see when old friends come together. On closer look, it seemed that their common love of their life was and still continues to be a city by the banks of the river Hooghly in the eastern part of a country on planet earth. Like some mortals down on the planet earth, the people up there who are part of the Legends Club are also entitled to some perks. One day in a year, they are allowed to travel down to any place of their choice by their very own space craft. With no tickets, visa or forex to worry about, all of them look forward to the day. By the way, if you thought up there in heaven everyone is an equal then I am sorry to break your heart for they do have a Legends Club for the crème de la crème who get some special privileges. All the five people on the table were part of this exclusive club even though they lived in different times and belonged to different worlds. However, they had one link and that is where they intended to spend the next twenty-four hours… yes, Calcutta, their city- the City of Joy.

James: Thank you gentlemen for agreeing to come to my place first. I am so delighted.

Ballu: Bhai James Ji, tussi ho kaun, je to batao? I know the others but not you.

Robi: Good question, Ballu. Not many people will know James. Let me tell you something about him. Have you heard about Emperor Ashoka?

Ballu: Haan ji. He was a bada emperor whose empire spread almost across the country and he took to Buddhism after the Battle of Kalinga.

Robi: Yes, indeed. The world would not have known about Emperor Ashoka but for James Prinsep. Ashoka left behind a lot of information about his reign through inscriptions carved on stones, pillars and monuments. But these inscriptions were mostly in the Brahmi script, an ancient writing system which became obsolete by the 5th century BC. It was our dear friend James who deciphered the script. He was also instrumental in decoding another language called Kharosthi. It was a language that was used in NW India, Pakistan, East Afghanistan and parts of Central Asia. James Prinsep was responsible for introduction of uniform coinage and construction of circular canal connecting the river Hooghly and the Sundarbans. The citizens of Calcutta collected the money to erect this monument in his memory!

Ballu: Wah ji wah James Bhai. Tussi great ho ji. No wonder there is a beautiful ghat on the Hooghly River built in 1841. It will be a pleasure to visit the Prinsep Ghat Monument and enjoy a boat ride on the river singing…. O maajhi re….

Ballu: Bhai now all of you please come to my place for breakfast.

Robi: Yes, we will go there but first let us also see one of the biggest flower markets in the world not far from here. It is the Raja Mallik Ghat Flower Market which is over 130 years old. People travel all over the city and suburbs to sell flowers here. It is located just below the southeast end of the Howrah bridge; the market runs along the riverside. There is no flower that you cannot get here and all so fresh and fragrant. From here the flowers are packed in special boxes and transported to other parts of India.

Ballu: Ab toh chalo ji to my place, Balwant Singh Eating House. But let me tell you a few things in advance. Tussi sab maas-macchi khane wale ho. My place is strictly vegetarian. Secondly, please do not ask for fancy things like bone china crockery, shining glasses and fine steel fork and knives and sleek tables and chairs. All you will get are wooden tables and chairs, simple steel plates which have little compartments made for dal, dahi, sabji and roti. Finally, don’t be fussy about hygiene. The boys serving here are not in the finest and cleanest attires and the kitchen may appear dirty and smoky. But one thing I can assure you that you won’t die… because you’re dead already! Ha ha…

The other four friends started laughing loud at this last comment and were almost down to tears.

Ballu: I can say, there is no better place than my place for the taste of real masala kulcha, bhature, parantha and you must have the giant size jalebis. The doodh cola is a specialty which is a mix of milk and cola and is available only here. The recipe is a secret and was passed on by me to my son and he did the same for his son. My place started off over a hundred years ago at Bhowanipore and is a favourite for both morning walkers and night strollers. It is open round the clock.

Kim: Ballu, you’re eating house is just too good. The only problem is that you end up with a lot of ghee stuff and the tummy feels too full. A short sleep on the charpoy would be welcome but since we just have one day, let us make the most of it. Let us take a walk around the Maidan. I think that is the most beautiful part of this historic city.

All the others agreed and they started their long march all around the maidan, seeing all the statues standing there, the football club houses, the green grass spread all around from one end of Victoria Memorial to BBD Bagh. Having walked for a couple of hours and enjoying the tea in a bhaad (earthen cup), the foursome felt tired.

Kim: I think, it is time for all of you to come with me to Tangra Chinatown where you can rest a while at my place and enjoy the finest and authentic Chinese food.

Sounds great… let’s go, said Robi. No more walking. Just wear your magical slippers and shout out loud the location of the place where you wish to reach and the GPS (God Positioning System) will take you in a swoosh. It is accurate to the last millimeter.

Kim: Welcome to my home, Kim Ling. Don’t bother with the bad roads and some dirt and squalor here and there in the bylanes of Tangra where my Chinese community has been treating Calcutta folks with the best Chinese food. While the old names of dishes are still printed on the menu, things have changed over time to suit the taste of the locals who are not too happy having anything bland. So now we offer the popular 'Calcutta-Tangra Style Chinese' food that will not only satiate your hunger but also your soul. You must try our chilli fish and chilli prawns as starters and some Canton style noodles with Manchurian chicken for the main course.

James: That was some meal, Kim. Can we just pack some from here and take it up there to show our chefs how good food is made.

Kim: Honestly James, I am not too impressed with the way food is being made now. Most old Chinese people have moved on and at many places here at Tangra, the cooks and the owners are other than the originals. If you really want to have some real good stuff, I will recommend a lady at Southern Avenue who prepares take-away food and caters to limited number of orders on weekends. Her USP is one specialty per week. Just see the picture below of the Pan-Asian meal one she once sent across. It was a big spread, tasted marvelous and was importantly seasoned with love. I will pass on her contact to you.

Robi: Now it is time for you to enjoy my home in the city, Jorasanko Thakur Bari built in 1784. This was initially built by Nilmoni Thakur and then expanded to a palatial residential complex by Prince Dwarkanath Tagore. Both my father and I were born here and the place is now a museum where many artefacts and pictures have been preserved. The museum has a wide-ranging collection- photographs, newspaper clippings, books , personal items, letters and paintings. There are galleries devoted to the leading figures of Bengali Renaissance, like Raja Ram Mohun Roy, Maharshi Debendranath, Rabindranath, Abanindranath Thakur, and Gaganendranath. Embarrassingly there are also galleries devoted to me, showing my life, works and ideas. There are also a few foreign galleries covering my visits to Japan, China, Iran, Hungary, Siam and the USA.

James: You lived in a palace, my dear friend Robi babu, and you never told your friends about your Knighthood and its renunciation and the Nobel Prize for Literature which I understand has since been stolen from Santiniketan. You had a wonderful vision of creating a Global Indian University at Santiniketan. We will pay a visit to your dream project on another trip, dear friend. Meanwhile, is there anything that you can’t do…poetry, plays, stories, music, dance, painting, education and all of these you’ve achieved to the highest standards. If at all there will be a selection for the President of the Legends Club, I can’t think of anyone better.

Robi: No election or selection for me. Now we have to go where the most silent man in our group asks us to . He is our very own, Ahmed Hussain who is a direct descendant of the cooks of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah of Lucknow and started the Royal Indian Hotel. Nestled near Nakhodha Masjid in Chitpur, the Royal Indian Hotel has been a landmark for Mughlai food in Kolkata since 1905.

Hussain: When I set up a modest eatery, we used to serve only three dishes — Mutton Chaap, Mutton Qalia and Khushka, a variation of yellow pulao. Gradually, we added more dishes and it was my son Mehboob Ali in 1940 who added the biryani wich has since become a signature dish. Let us walk through the streets of Chitpore from Jorasanko and build up some appetite because this is the real food fit for royalty!

Hussain: Now make yourself at home here and allow me to order some of the best dishes… rumali roti with mutton chaap and kebab, special biryani and for the sweet dish there will be firni and shahi tukda. We do not add potato and egg in our biryani here as you will find in other Calcutta restaurants.

Robi: Ahmed, I have had Mughlai food at many places in Calcutta and in other parts of the country and the world but none can beat the Royal Biryani and chaap. And the shahi tukda is simply insane. It is a huge, thick piece of fried bread soaked in rabri and saffron and sprinkled with dry fruits. After such food we had in just one day, living up there will be quite a challenge. I am sure we will have Ballu, Kim and you guide our world-renowned chefs with the meals going forward.

It was dark by then and the five legends walked to a lonely lane, held each other’s hands, took one last look at their beloved city and then in a sudden whirlwind motion, they were gone. The twenty-four hours were well spent and they promised to each other that on their next vacation, they will once again return to this land that had given them name, fame and love unlimited… the City of Love, indeed.

SS

Bom Bahai Diaries 8- Inner Peace

Vicky, life is full of twists and turns. Just when you think everything is fine, a sudden change happens and the world turns upside down. Our lives are in a constant state of flux and anxiety. Peace is like an elusive bird that we all seek and hold on to but just when you think that we have it, it flies away.

Sir, there is one movie that I keep seeking often, The Kung Fu Panda. The teacher, Master Shifu, tells Po, the misfit panda, to seek inner peace in order to become the Dragon Warrior, one who will be the best martial arts fighter and who can save the world from evil forces. Peace and happiness come from two sources, having good people around you and being in good places. The major reason for people in this city of Mumbai being always worried is the huge sea of people who are always on the move from one place to another in search of food, fortune and fame. There is no place that they can find that is free where they can sit down peacefully, relax and enjoy life.

You are talking like a philosopher, Vicky. I have also seen the movie many times and now for all the wisdom you exhibit, I am anointing you Master Shifu, the one who will take me from darkness to light, from anxiety to inner peace. Please take up this role for a day and show me the way to inner peace in this mad, mad city.

Ok Sir, but this I will try and do just for a day and no more for you are and will always be my Guru.

Done, Vicky... oops... Master Shifu.

Dear Po, I can think of a few places which will bring down your BP and make you happy. These are four unique places, each will invoke in you a different feel and sensation and will soothe your disturbed nerves. Let me begin by doing the aqua-therapy by taking you around Girgaum Chowpaty. This is one place every tourist to Mumbai visits once in their lifetime and enjoys the splashing waves and the local finger food like bhel-puri and kala-khatta. This place, which is crowded all through the year, truly comes to life on the day of Ganpati Visarjan when the biggest of idols arrive here with their colourful and musical processions for the immersion.

Master Shifu, thanks for bringing me here. This is a good place especially with the cloud covering the sky, cool breeze blowing and the flowing waters of the Arabian Sea will surely have a calming effect on my mind. Unfortunately, the water here appears so dirty . All the waste and plastic stuff that Mumbaikars keep throwing into the sea is coming back ashore with the incoming waves. I am not going to even put my feet in these waters let alone take a dip. And with a hundred thousand people moving around, getting inner peace here will not be easy.

Dear Panda, forget the dirty water and the crowd. Look at the kids playing in the sand, people jumping into the same water and enjoying a cool splash, watch the lifeguards running around rescuing people, enjoy the vendors selling tea, cold drinks, colourful raw mango-kairi and candy floss. There will always be bad things around you, just focus on the good and peace shall fill you in.

You are right Master Shifu. We need to find the beauty in the madness. No place on earth is perfect.

Dear Po, after water therapy, I shall take you to a nature therapy. Mumbai now boasts of a nature trail, an elevated walk on Malabar Hill, in the midst of green trees and overlooking the sea with loads of birds merrily singing their songs that surely will give you what you dearly seek… inner peace.

Thank you Master Shifu. This is so amazing a place, wish it was a longer trail and  there were more birds to see and hear. This experience is similar to what you see when you go to Singapore. That’s pretty impressive. Plus, the greenery and the closeness to nature is so refreshing and unknowingly you smile and sing…. What a wonderful world….

Now that you have experienced two ways to achieve inner peace, let me take you to the third and most important form of seeking happiness…the spiritual way.  Having done a lot of walking, you need a cool break. A drive down Malabar Hills and Pedder Road will bring us you to a junction where we will arrive at a famous juice shop… Haji Ali Juice Centre. Let us enjoy the special mango juice at this place that was started in 1960 by Fareed Abdul Latif Noorani as a humble juice centre for the weary pilgrims and it has now transformed into a food-lover’s paradise that also serves pizzas, sandwiches and rolls apart from juices, shakes and fruit creams. This place remains open from 5am to 1am, with just four hours of sleep time.

Master Shifu, I can already hear a song playing in my head…Piya Haji Ali, Piya Haji Ali, Piya Ho...

Shah-e-samandar ebn-e-haider

Shah-e-samandar ek nazar

Piya Haji Ali, Piya Haji Ali

Piya Haji Ali, Piya Haji Ali

Ha ha!  This means, Dear Po, it is the time for your higher calling. It is low tide now and we can walk to the dargah which is at a little distance from the land. Cover your head with a handkerchief and you can buy a chaadar to put on the Baba’s shroud. This dargah was built in 1431 in memory of Pir Haji Ali Shah Bukhari who hailed from Bukhara in Uzbekistan but had settled down here. Devotees would flock to him as he was very knowledgeable in matters of faith and there are many legends associated with his miracles. Before his death he asked his followers not to bury him at any graveyard. They should drop his kafan in the ocean. His wish was obeyed by his followers and that is why the Haji Ali Dargah Sharif is built at the very site where his shroud came to rest in the middle of the sea where it perched on a small mound of rocks rising above the sea.

Master Shifu, this place is so crowded. I am sure even today people come to this shrine to seek Baba’s blessings and hope that their wishes would come true.

Yes Po. These are matters of faith and beyond the realm of science. People throng the place irrespective of age, religion, caste or creed. They all come here in search of Baba’s blessings.

How are you feeling now Po? Hopefully the inner peace in you is making its presence felt?

Yes, Master Shifu, but I am wondering what else can be the fourth path to inner peace. I cannot imagine anything beyond these three therapeutic places.

The final frontier is good food. So far, I have been taking you to places which are already well known and hence are crowded. But now, I shall take you to an old eating place which does not even have a board outside. It looks dilapidated and deserted but the food there will surely make you happy. This is the Sarvi Restaurant at Nagpada. Started by Haji Gulam Ali Sarvi in 1920, this place serves the best kebabs in town. Some say that the Irani Kainchi Kebab they make over charcoal grill is better than the famed Tundey Kebab of Lucknow. The writer Sadat Manto used to come here and often write some of his stories based on people he saw and met here. I read somewhere that the Bollywoord actor, Boman Irani, frequents this place the same way as his father would do. Come, let us go there and check if truly this place brings you the ‘inner’ joy! Let’s order for a couple of plates of kebabs because you can’t stop eating at one and have it with the special deep fried and crispy paranthas.

O My God… this place is truly the place to find ‘inner’ peace. The pieces of kebabs have reached deep inside me and every inch of my inside from gullet to stomach is feeling happy. Every cell in my brain is dancing.

Hope you’ve had enough happiness for a single day. Actually, the city has much more to offer.

Thank you, Master Shifu, for this excellent wholistic experience of water, nature, spiritual and gastronomic means of achieving complete inner peace. By the way, I want to tell you of something that happened a few days ago. A few young boys and girls, who worked with me at my last place of work before retirement a year and a half ago, invited me over for a dinner. It was great meeting them and listening to their stories. One of the boys gave me a box with the best jamuns packed. He bought them specially for me from his home town in Saphale. These were clean, hand-picked, big, juicy and the best jamuns we had ever had in all our lives.  Another girl couriered me a box of sweets that her in-laws had brought for her. The balushai and soan paapdi from Farrukhabad were out of this world. I had tears of joy in my eyes seeing the love and affection these kids still had for me.

Sir, this is wonderful. So now the search for inner peace is complete. Today you moved around the city for places associated with happiness and the love of the people is something you experienced with the youngsters who made you feel special. You are and always will be my guru, Grand Master Oogway!

Vicky & SS

  

The Trip Not Taken

I have a map 
I unfolded and folded it back
Adding a small dot on a new place 
Each time, inside a box it went.
Just like me, the attic my world
My words a whisper, behind four walls
No, I don’t want war.
 
I had the left sneaker too 
Matching the one on the right
Blue, with a yellow swoosh
Had bought them before the trip.
Now all that’s left, the left leg a stump
The new shoe- bloodied, caked in red
No, I don’t want war.
 
I had got the ring
Amidst the tulips, April it must be
She didn’t have a clue, she still won’t
Borders sealed, flights undeparted.
She stays back, but I must go
My country calls, my love can wait
No, I don’t want war. 
 
I got the tickets, passport stamped
My first paycheck, a promise I kept
My father’s first flight, sixteen hours
A foreign land, a daughter’s home.
Remained a dream, a bullet ripped
In the dead of night, the loving heart it stilled
No, I don’t want war.
 
I got my story, won the prize
Grabbed the headlines, photograph of the year
I stand inside the Accademia, addressing the elite
Gaze into David’s eyes, yet picture still
The bluest blue eyes of the child I clicked
Alone, soft amidst the rubble, a city fallen
No, I don’t want war. 
 
I have my dreams
My plans, and my work
I have my future
My love, and my fears
I have my life
My selfish, stupid, flickering hope
No, I don’t want war.

This world is big and has enough place for us all. This world is meant to be visited, admired, appreciated, protected, and above all, loved. Perhaps the greatest love is for one’s country and, rightfully so. Protecting the borders, sovereignty and its people is the duty of the state. But in a world that is often clamouring for war, asking for peace and cessation of conflict does not make you less of a patriot. In a world being torn apart by unrelenting hatred, wishing for the prevalence of humanitarian values does not make you a coward. 
“You may say I’m a dreamer,
But I’m not the only one…”

MS

Princess Sheeba

Sheeba was thirsty. She had not had a sip of water for over thirty-six hours. She kept looking at the river flowing next to her. Every time she tried getting close to the stream, she saw a host of hungry crocodiles opening their jaws in anticipation of a meal. Sheeba had a rope tied to her neck and the other end was tied to a big wooden peg. She could move five feet towards the water where the crocodiles floated and another five feet on land, beyond which were hungry hyenas on guard. She was stuck near the peg without food or water. She would survive as long as she just remained where her captors had placed her.

Appia- The Peace Haven

Sheeba was the little daughter of Lion King Ogoru and Queen Owaye. The king ruled over a small patch of grasslands called Appia, in the forests of Serengeti. This patch, possibly, was the happiest place in the wild Serengeti for everyone here seemed happy. The gazelles would roam freely, the giraffes walked tall and the buffaloes grazed without any fear. The reason for this reign of happiness lay in the fact that apart from the small pride of lions, none of the other animals were carnivores. Over the years, King Oguru’s great grandfather had issued a diktat which could be found on the trunks of some of the largest trees here which read…

Every day, two of a kind
Will come from the wild
To His Majesty’s side
Be food for the lion pride
None other shall be harmed
None other shall be hunted 

The other animals found this to be a good order which allowed them a life of freedom. On a rotational basis, two animals were allotted. These two would offer themselves to the King and his kind and hope for a rebirth in the same jungle. The king had an able chimp, Shenzu, would keep complete control over births and deaths for which he had created on dried barks of trees a rule book and a register which were shared with all in the jungle. Based on the rule book, every animal knew when they had to go to the King for becoming an offering. The rules were simple and acceptable to all for it excluded all children below two years and the sick animals. This meant that there was an element of peace in this jungle and those living knew that they could lead a good life and for how long. There was no fear from being hunted and with the rains being usually bountiful, food was readily available for all. The king and his pride offered them stability and protected them from intruders from outside. This arrangement had worked for many a generation and this piece of land was ranked highest in the happiness index of jungle.

Oguru and Owaye did not have a child for many years and then finally Sheeba was born. She brought immense happiness to the royal couple as well as to the jungle for she soon became the darling who would run around and play with all kids and elderly all day long. Forest elders advised the royalty to have more children in hope for a male heir but Oguru was adamant that Princess Sheeba would succeed him. This news had spread to all in their forest belt where the animals were initially shocked but later reconciled and rejoiced the decision. The news had, however, gone beyond and reached the Muwazi pride led by King Swabi which was ferociously protective of lion traditions and aggressive in the field. An emissary was sent to King Oguru’s court to dissuade him from making any change to the tradition. King Swabi had also offered to give away one of his son’s to Oguru to adopt and later anoint him the king. The offer was declined gently but made the Muwazi king furious. How dare Oguru refuse my son? He will soon face my wrath. I shall bring him to his knees and take over his land.

The Muwazi territories had fast expanded in the jungle and slowly they had taken over almost the entire jungle except small patches like the Appia who had resisted their encroachments. The strategy of Muwazis was usually direct… Swabi would go head on with the lion kings of other grasslands and defeat them in a one-to-one fight and usurp their kingdoms. King Oguru was among the few who had long ago beaten Swabi and the latter never forgot his defeat. The Muwazi controlled the land with the help of the hyena tribe who were both wily and dangerous and their crocodile friends dominated the waters. The tripartite alliance was an axis of evil. King Swabi called for an urgent meeting of his close confidants. The core confidants of this group were four huge ferocious lions who could tear an elephant apart in a minute, one hyena and a crocodile. King Swabi spoke out aloud at the war council… This time we will not get into a head on fight at Appia. We will use all our guile and strength equally to ensure King Oguru capitulates. Oguru is himself very strong but his weakness is his daughter, Sheeba. If we capture her, we can negotiate a deal which will force Oguru to relinquish his throne in my favour and once that is done, you can have freehand in exterminating the entire pride of his so that we are left with no future claimants to the throne.

All agreed and, one night, when the animals of Appia were fast asleep, a small select band of hyenas quietly slipped into the grassland and gagged the tiny Sheeba who was startled seeing the ugly hyenas while she was sleeping peacefully with Bingo, the baby elephant. Next morning when the sun came out and all the animals were basking in the sun, enjoying the fresh leaves and fruits, a hyena with a white band round his neck came and asked for King Oguru. On meeting the King, he smiled sarcastically and said…

O great Lord Oguru, I have a message from my peace-loving Lord Swabi. Princess Sheeba is now in our custody and her life depends upon your agreeing to stepping down from the throne of Appia and leaving this forest with your pride. You have the next two days to decide and let my lord know. If you agree, the Princess will be safe and return home but if you were to decide against it and try to act foolishly in doing a rescue act, then you will all meet with certain death, painful and ugly death starting with Sheeba.

Oguru was completely shaken and was about to kill the hyena with one strike but Queen Owaye held him back. O Lord, this is not the time to show your anger at this lowly animal. He is just the messenger. We have a much bigger task of taking a decision about the life of our darling Sheeba and the future of Appia. So, just calm down, think and act prudently.

As the ambassador hyena left the court, a few senior Appia animals came together and expressed their sadness at the fate of Sheeba and told the king to agree to the demands of Swabi. King Oguru put his foot down… No..no..no! We have two days to plan a rescue mission and, surely, if all of us work as a team, as a family, we can bring Sheeba back safely and turn these bloodthirsty warmongers away from our land of peace and prosperity. Collectively we have more power than the enemy. We are peace lovers but if the enemy resorts to such heinous acts, we shall payback in the same manner.

Hail the King… Long Live King Oguru… Long live Queen Owaye and Princess Sheeba…. They all shouted in unison. Down with Muwazis… down… down!

In the next couple of hours, the eagles air reconnaissance force had come back with the information about the exact location of Sheeba’s captivity and the formation laid out by the Muwazis and their allies, the hyenas and the crocodiles. The war council of King Oguru now sat together to think through the various options suggested by different leaders of animal pack who all wanted to be in the forefront of the mission. It took the King a lot of persuasion and tact to manage the council members and then the final plan was made with military precision and detail. This would be a do or die act for Appia.

Now it was time to act, said the King. The two allies of the enemy are dangerous but their loyalty is questionable. We shall in the first phase distract and distance them from the main battlefield. That will leave us with only a handful of lions of the Muwazi clan to deal with. They are both hungry at this point in time and this should not be very difficult to defeat. Shenzu, the chimp said, we shall name our plan as DDD- Distract- Divide- Destroy. We will fight to ensure minimal losses and yet hit the enemy hard.

The gazelles took to the field and started dancing around the jungle. They played around at a place, slightly away from the hyenas but enough to be seen and to be able to entice them. The hyenas resisted making any move for a long time as the Muwazi lions kept on threatening them and asking them to hold their ranks. The gazelles, too, were beginning to feel that their plan was not going anywhere when their leader, Maya, took a decision that was not pre-planned. She went very close to the hyenas as if she was an easy kill. The few hyenas closest to her just could not resist the bait and got up to chase Maya. The hyenas did not know the fact that the leader of the gazelles was not chosen based on their age but rather on their speed or strength… the fastest in the herd was unanimously chosen as the leader of the group. Maya moved swiftly in a loop-like movement, giving the chasing hyenas little chance to hunt. Seeing the failure of their kind, the other hyenas joined the chase and started running after the easy kills that were grazing around. The birds on tree tops and giraffes of Appia saw the hyena movement and alerted the other gazelles, who started running as fast as they could. It did not take the fast gazelles much time to outrun the hungry hyenas who were exhausted and dejected. They turned around to go back to their original position of guarding Sheeba near the stream. They were stumped to see that between the stream and the runaway gazelles, stood an army of elephants, daring the scavengers to come forward and get trampled. Bingo was also standing with the huge pachyderms and seemed very annoyed at the sad loss of his dear friend Sheeba. Plan one seemed to have gone off well with the hyenas completely neutralized.

The Pachyderm Blockade

Now between Sheeba and her freedom stood five Muwazi lions on land and a huge force of deadly crocodiles in the stream who were as hungry as the hyenas since they too had not had a good meal for nearly two nights. Suddenly the crocodiles were distracted by sounds of a hundred thousand hooves… a big herd of wildebeests had come on the other side of the stream and were now jumping across the water. The crocodiles initially resisted any movement away from the point where the little lioness was being held captive but their hunger got the better of their duty. They turned around as a group and like a naval flotilla of submarines, dived into the water to reach the crossing point. No sooner had they put their snouts out of the water, the wildebeests had stopped crossing the stream which meant that there were no more preys to hunt and eat. The crocodiles did not realize that these travelling animal herd had agreed to cooperate and help the good lion king Oguru and his allies to repay for the years of kindness they had encountered, when they used to pass this area at the time of their annual migration, and had never been threatened or attacked. They found Appia, a safe haven. The crocodiles turned around to go back to their original guarding station and, suddenly, found the stream to be overcrowded. The big eyes of the crocs could not believe what they were seeing… a bloat of giant hippos had descended the waters and had blocked their passage back to where Sheeba was. Fighting a lonesome hippo is one thing but fighting a bloat of hippos is something no crocodile could even dare to imagine. They had been outfoxed and were now stranded away from the main battlefield.

The Safe Stream

The Muwazi lions and King Swabi could now see what had happened… they were now all alone and isolated. The evil king ordered his pride to go and hold the baby lioness in their jaws as a desperate move but before the lions could close in, from the tree tops fell a troop of gorillas. A lion is a ferocious animal but even they never dare fight the gorillas with their huge claws and sharp teeth that can bring down the biggest animal in no time. The leader of the gorilla troop, Hagi, went towards Sheeba, cut the rope that held her captive and took her in her arms. The Muwazi lions were shaking with fear as they knew what was coming next…. In came King Oguru and his pride….

For destroying the peace and tranquility of my forest, I can order your killing. As a king my subjects would expect me to do so and deliver justice in a manner that no one dares repeat it against us. You went to the extent of using my cub as a captive to take over my kingdom, something which cannot be pardoned but still I give you one last chance… fight me one-on-one now as lions do or accept your defeat and never set foot on Appia.

Shwabi was completely shaken and knew fighting Oguru would result in his defeat for the latter was far too strong. He accepted defeat without a fight. He quietly put his head down and with his tail between his hind legs walked away. Sheeba jumped out of the big arms of Hagi and ran towards Queen Owaye. The forest erupted in happiness and celebrations of victory happened instantly with animals of all shapes and sizes dancing wildly and singing…

She’s back, she’s back
She’s back home
Her Mama is happy
Her Pappa is happy
For she’s back, she’s back home
We will have a party
A big fat party
Animals are all happy
Birds and bees are happy
For she’s back, she’s back home…. 

Shenzu did a headcount of the forest dwellers when they came for the grand dinner and reported… Zero casualties on our side, my Lord. Hip Hip Hurray!

SS

PS. This is our blog number three hundred and fifty…Hip Hip Hurray! 

The Revenge

It was the most beautiful time of my life as I ran my hands across the hundreds and thousands of tulips of red, white and pink spread over hundreds of acres of beautiful garden surrounded by the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas. Would you believe it, I was also singing the Silsila song “dekha ek khwaab toh ye silsile huye….!” Soon I was jumping onto a flower laden shikara and singing ‘Yeh chaand sa raushan chehra’ and yes, there were a host of pretty faces all around me, each one prettier than the earlier one. Wish I could remember some of their names and get their numbers so that I could keep in touch with them post this vacation. And then, all ended in a crash …. a terror attack! The terrorist kicked me so hard that I found myself flying from the bed to the floor. As if this was not enough, the terrorist on the bed shouted… You snore like a bull and I cannot sleep for one moment. Henceforth, I refuse to share my bed with you.

This was me after thirty-six years of putting sindoor on the forehead of a pretty damsel who appeared meek and docile and to whom I promised that … for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part… How I pray that the last line happens quickly and I am relieved of this homegrown terrorist who pulverizes me every now and then. I now needed help and help not from any shrink or local person… from a professional. I now felt more than ever the need to quickly train to become a terrorist myself and fight back this constant act of terror that has been threatening my peaceful existence. I called up my friend across the border, Sharif. As the name suggests, he is Sharif. His elder brother is also Sharif. Both had great experience in the trade I wished to now learn. I kept trying his number for four days and all I got was a recorded answer… This number does not exist… I had given up hope when on the sixth day, I got a phone from an unknown number. Initially, I thought this must be a spam call from Jamtara and hence did not pick up. I then got a message from the same number… Pick up the call. This is Sharif. I then picked up the next call and shouted…

Saale, number change kar liya aur bataya nahin! Why were you not taking my calls?

Kya bataun bhai, I was hiding in a bunker for the last six days where there was no connectivity. Anyway, I don’t have much time… tell me, why were you trying to reach me?

Sharif bhai, I want you to enroll me into one of the many terrorist camps in your land and train me up. I have a fight at hand.

Arrey Bangali… forget it. All our camps are now destroyed. Don’t you read the newspapers or listen to Arnab shouting? For the last four days, your people have been bombing my peace-loving country from north to south, from the skies above and land below. Anyway, since you seem to be very disturbed, why don’t you tell me your problems.

Terrorism comes in various shapes and sizes but mine is like sarvagun sampanna. In short, she knows all the terrorist tactics and is a master of all.

First is religious terrorism. I was so eager to take a dip in Holy Ganga on the occasion of 144^th Mahakumbha. All my arrangements had been made including payment to the travel company when she put her foot down… you are not going, she declared. And that’s it, all my devotion to Ma Ganga was quashed by Ma Kali at home and I missed the auspicious snaan. She shouted… When sixty-six crores of Indians are already taking their bath there, no one will miss you there. Gods and goddesses are already confused with everyone remembering them for these two months of unending devotion that they are unable to sleep or rest in peace.

Next is economic terrorism. Every weekend, she wants to visit one mall or another and I must accompany her. She will go into almost every store there, bring out every piece of clothing and then, finally, walk out without buying anything. I feel so embarrassed that I often go outside the store and keep scrolling my phone. She shouts for me from inside as if a fire has broken out and all I will find is a silly looking dress or a utensil that I must say looks pretty on her or is a very useful thing for the house. if I protest or say something otherwise, then the home terrorist activity will happen in public in the form of a solid dressing down. Whenever she buys, she buys the most expensive stuff around. She will enter the stores where 50% discount would be boldly displayed and she will pick up the things from the fresh arrivals rack. She will then insist that my current set of socks and undergarments have holes and she buys me a couple of Jockeys…. It must be giving her some solace that the outings to the mall were for my sake and not hers. I have even told her many times that her terrorism and trade cannot go hand in hand but it has had no effect on her.

One more form of terrorism is the Kalashnikov terrorism.

That’s something… your wife uses the AK47!

No, it is her constant chattering which sounds in my head as the firing of the automatic weapon best used by people trained in your land. From the time I wake up and till the time I hit my bed, the firing continues. It can be on any subject but the firing takes a speedier turn whenever she feels I have goofed up…. bringing home a bundle of sarson instead of dhaniya… I wonder if I ever do anything right. Have lost all self-confidence and now have accepted this rat a tat a tat of the blazing gun as part of the shaadi ka laddoo that I must consume. The other day I even told her terror and talks cannot happen together, but all in vain.

Oh brother… how I wished I could help you.

This is not all. There are two more armaments in her armoury that she uses when, if at all, things are going in my favour during a discussion. One is called the Nuclear terrorism which in other words is the signal to my death by hunger… the gas stove is switched off and no food is cooked in the house. Finally, there is the Indus Water terrorism. Since she is the higher graded citizen of the house, she is granted the status of upper riparian which means she controls the waters and in critical times she releases so much tears without giving me any warning that I get submerged and beg for mercy…. Bas karo jaan… I hate tears… I tried warning her not to do nuclear blackmail but she never relents.

Bhai, you are in real deep ….!

Mian ji, I have stopped watching SRK movies since the time he made the silly comment… Chutki bhar sindoor ki kimat, tum kya jante ho…. Haan main jaanta hoon chutki bhar sindoor ki kimat and for the last 36 years have been paying the price for it every single day!

Bhaijaan, I really want to help you but you see I am a persona non grata in my own land now. My people are looking for my scalp. The destruction of the airfields and our strategic locations by the Rafales, Sukhois and Brahmos and the complete failure of our drones and air force to your country’s air defence systems by Akash and S400 have reduced my country to ruin with no water for the fields and no money to run the state. All the help that I got during this fight was a plane load of Turkish towels. But honestly, my advice to you would be that forget all this anger. It is truly your birthright to stay the way you are because the day your Begum really gets angry, you will have no place to hide. Meanwhile, you may approach the big white man who is trying to make everything great again, provided you can get the visa to meet him. 

Thanks Sharif Mian. Wish you good luck. Let us pray for a terror free world and hope we all live in peace and harmony.

SS 

Picture courtesy TOI

Breakfast at Tiffiny's

No, I am not here to write about the 1961 American romantic comedy starring Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard called Breakfast at Tiffany’s. This is about breakfasts at Chennai where small meal like breakfast is called ‘tiffin’. This is a pictorial journey of ten days of sambar, idli, vada, pongal and lots of eggs. Yes, I am not egg-xagerating one bit! 

You think you can manage ten days on your own?

Ya, of course.

Maya, the house help will come and do the main meals for you. All you have to manage is the breakfast. Hope you can do it?

Arrey darling, tu jaa na. I can cook like a pro. In case you do not know, I am planning to take part in the next season’s MasterChef Australia. So just chill and don’t worry about me.

She chuckled at my blatant lie and said… Ok then bye. Just make sure you will send me a picture of your morning meal every single day.

Yes, sure, I will do it. Just go now before you miss the flight.

As soon as she left Chennai to head back home to Mumbai, half my confidence was gone. Not one or two days when you can just go out and eat but ten full mornings. And then the last condition of sending pictures to her as proof was nerve-wracking.

I opened the refrigerator and found a dozen eggs and a tray full of mangoes. I will survive… I started singing out aloud Gloria Gaynor’s song.

I set the alarms on my phone and time-piece for 6.30am and would always get up much before, open the windows, make myself a hot cup of tea and just enjoy the morning cup sitting in the dark room with the ceiling fan turning around, planning the morning coup.

Day One: Chopped onions and beat the eggs well before putting the liquid on frying pan to make scrambled eggs. Peeled and cut the Alphonso mango and put the pieces in a small bowl. Add a couple of sausages and it becomes a Supa Breaka...

Day Two: There were a couple of chapatis left over from the previous night’s dinner. Fried the eggs like omelette, placed the chappatis on top and made nice and hot egg rolls.

Day Three: With two days of eggs being fried on oil, decided to make twin water poaches that simply melted in the mouth with buns cut into half.

Day Four: It was time to take a break from the kitchen and dive into a heritage Chennai eating joint called Ratna Café at Triplicane. Started by Jaggilal Gupta ji from Mathura, this café started way back in 1948 and has since been quite a favorite of the locals who keep coming here. I sat opposite a smart looking man who said he has been living in Singapore for the last fifteen years but whenever he is in town, he makes sure he has one meal at Ratna Café. They pour sambar on the idlis and vadas like waterfall and soon the round balls get submerged in the delicious liquid gold and then when you start eating, you realise why the man opposite you never misses a trip here. Just for the records, on an average 1500 to 2000 litres of sambar, the signature product of Ratna Cafe, are prepared every day in this nostalgic place!

Day Five: The mother has written a recipe and he gets down to make what is known as Gola Paratha. It is a soft roll made with atta, eggs and milk, all mixed together and then fried over gentle heat like pancake. Please do not go by the various shapes of continents I was able to make, just feel the joy of following the recipe of Her Majesty!

Day Six: Cheese, egg twin burgers for a happy meal.

Day Seven:  The next-door neighbor, seeing my plight offered to take me to a newly opened place called Sangeetha at T Nagar. With valet service and swank interiors, this place seems busy even on a weekday morning. During office days, Murugan’s Idli used to be the place to go but now, the breakfast at Sangeetha consisting of ghee podi masala dosa and filter coffee was both delicious and sumptuous. This is a smart place with the waiters having hand held devices to take orders as compared to the menu handwritten on blackboards put up in the old tiffin rooms. The size of the dosa was so big that I stopped ordering for anything more.

Day Eight: A couple of boiled eggs with a good sprinkling of salt and pepper tastes heavenly in the morning.

Day Nine: Pav, Cheese, Hummus and eggs in between. This was a special preparation where the eggs are boiled to three-fourths level and then extracted from the shells to be mashed with butter and mayonnaise.

Day Ten: Called up an old-time friend who agreed to meet me near the famous Kapaleshwar Temple at Mylapore. On his recommendations went to eat at the Karpagambal Mess. When you enter the place which again is over seventy years old, you feel as if you are entering a temple with huge pictures of gods and goddesses covering every inch of the wall. Here we had two rounds of breakfasts. Round one included vada and ghee pongal served on a banana leaf. You better dip your fingers in the sambar and chutneys if you are to enjoy the heavenly food. We then got up and took a long walk to return for round two when we had ghee plain dose and one of the finest filter coffees you will ever get to drink. Everything about the place is simple and yet tasty beyond words. After all, the owners of the place have one motto, if the customers go back dissatisfied with the food served here, the house deity, Goddess Ambal, after whom the place is named, would be unhappy. 

On day eleven, before departure to Mumbai, made a sumptuous packet of spicy Korean ramen with fried eggs to temper the taste. No picture was taken for this one as it was not part of the agreement.

Every morning after laying my tiffin, I would diligently take pictures on my iPhone and send it to her and every time she would exclaim… wah.. kya baat…

Oh, how I wished I had more days to eat tiffins at Chennai’s old and famous places tucked in some small lanes of this beautiful city and possibly stocked more eggs to make more of the eggy dishes.

SS 

feelslikeimfallinginlove

It was a Sunday evening and a number of guests had gathered at a bungalow in Lutyens Delhi. The women had come in their bright and colourful silk sarees, lehengas and designer dresses. The men were casually attired in their jeans and jackets. One thing that stood out in the crowd was the salt and pepper colour of the hair; in short, these were all people in their late fifties and early sixties. A huge three tier cake was kept ready and the hall erupted with the coming of the hosts, Mandira and Surinder. The party was thrown to celebrate their wedding. 

Surinder and Mandira had known each other since school days as neighbours. It was just another friendship and as years rolled by, they parted company and lost touch with each other. Both were busy with their careers and each was oblivious of the life of the other person somewhere on planet Earth. Then, after almost twenty-five years, they met once more at Udaipur, at the wedding of their common friend Ajay’s daughter. This was sometime in the winter of 2011.

Hi Suri… she shouted at top of her voice at the smart looking man wearing a silk bandhgala.

Oh, Hi Madi… he replied and waved back.

Where have you been… Geek, you must now be living in the Silicon Valley?

No way. I am very much here in Delhi and always have been.

What about your family…are they here? 

He smiled and then stylishly spoke…. Main aur meri tanhai, aksar yeh baatein karte hain… ha ha ha!

Kya baat hai, Handsome Prince, it is impossible that you’re a loner. You always had so many beautiful girls hanging around you during school and college days. 

He started laughing aloud and just shook his head from right to left and then left to right a number of times… Maybe I took too long to find the perfect partner and by the time I decided, it was too late. But I am having a blast alone with no one to answer to. Both mum and dad have passed away, and now I am my own master… the prince in now truly the King. What about you, Madi?

She just smiled… My story is somewhat similar. After college, I went abroad for my masters and returned, not because of the love for the country but because dad was not keeping well and there was no one else to take care of him. I took charge of his company which was in doldrums and somehow managed to keep it afloat. After prolonged illness, dad, passed away in 2000. Till then, mom had been strong and doing good but after his passing, she was completely heartbroken having lost a companion of over forty years. She lost her will to live. Now, I am taking care of her.

You are still living in the same bungalow? I will come and visit auntie. I am sure she will recognize me. After all, I never failed to give her a scare every time I came to your house, breaking some porcelain vase or shifting the old pictures on the walls from one peg to another, flicking a book… those sure were good and carefree days.

Yes, we are there in the same place and mom will be really very happy to see you. But mind it, she may be bedridden and sick but her temper is still the same. She will still warn you sternly to behave and tell all the servants to keep an eye on you to make sure there is no loss or damage to her treasured things in the house. She would often say then that Suri has ants in his pants. He just can’t sit at one place for more than sixty seconds. You were her Dennis the Menace, cute but a troublesome one.

Both sat down and shared old memories and, for the next two days at Udaipur, it seemed they were inseparable. Once they returned to Delhi, Suri went to Madi’s place and met her mother. Suri was a connoisseur of fine drinks but to auntie, he confidently said that he was a teetotaller and enjoyed Darjeeling tea. He knew very well that she was a daughter of a tea garden manager in the Dooars in North Bengal and she still got her first flush tea leaves from the same garden as a gesture of gratitude from the current garden owners. She asked Madi to bring out her fine China porcelain tea set and place the tea trolley near her bedside. Once the things were set with a floral tea-cosy covering the tea pot, a small pot of milk, sugar cubes in a small bowl, a few silver spoons, the sieve and a small plate of cookies, the lady sat up and made the tea in the finest tradition. She handed a cup and saucer each to Suri and Madi before picking up hers and gently sipping the tea. Suri admired the white cup which had blue-coloured dragons painted on the outside and when he finished drinking the tea, he saw the image of a flower at the bottom of the cup. The old lady smiled as she saw the amazement in Suri’s eyes seeing the wonderous cup and its magic. Fine tea drinking had its own moments of beauty.

Hereafter, the meetings between Mandira and Surinder became a regular feature. Initially they would meet at each other’s place for a couple of hours, just for some chit-chat over drinks. Then they started going to social get-togethers as a pair. They were a strange duo. While one was heavily the right wing and spoke about saffron and ridiculed the country’s ruling family of the past sixty-five years, the other was more balanced and had a kinder view of the past. One was a voracious talker and could talk even to strangers on any subject for hours together, the other was the quiet one and unless poked and pushed, was happy to stay in his own world. While one was an early riser and would go to parks and monuments in Delhi, take pictures and then post them on social media immediately, the other would enjoy a good night’s sleep and get up late and had almost zero digital footprint. One loved reading history books, collecting antiques and made the room look like a cluttered and an unkept museum, the other was more interested in keeping the house clean and tidy. But two things were common, one was their genuine warmth towards all and second was their mutual love for dogs. She had a German Shepard Dog and he had a French Bull Dog. When the two people met, it was also a meeting for the doggies and they got along well with each other despite their difference in size. 

Soon the one-off short meetings gave way to weekend getaways. Suri had a home in the Dehradun hills and he would drive off with her in his SUV. They started spending weekends and holidays in the hills which had a calming effect on their lives and then of course this companionship for the duo was like manna that both longed for in life but had not experienced it for long. All the friends knew about their meetings and they did not hide it from anyone. Anyway, why should they have hidden, after all they were two mature consensual adults. Madi’s mother, too, was happy at the change in Madi’s life. Her girl looked so much more radiant and happier now. She started prodding her daughter to get married. The only answer she would always get is …But why Mumma? We are happy the way we are.

Surinder, after a while, gave up his rented accommodation to join Mandira and her mother in their palatial house. This was so much better and put all gossip and speculations to rest. Now they lived bindaas under the same roof, went on holidays together and invited people to their homes. The mother, too, was happy. Now, she not only had a good daughter, she also had a caring man in the house who cared about her and more importantly, loved her daughter. Live-in is what rest of the people may call this relationship but they never gave it a name, they just lived happily together. They never thought of marrying, for this was good enough for all. And as they say in all the fairy tales, they lived happily, till one day after almost fourteen years of their coming together, things took a turn.

Mandira was a music fanatic. The band, Coldplay, was, coming to India and she wanted to see the first show live. While millions of fans in Mumbai and elsewhere were disappointed at the way online booking fiasco happened on the day with the net crashing, Madi was able to get two tickets. She was excited and even though Suri was not a music buff, she convinced him to join her at the Mumbai concert which was still a couple of months away. She quickly booked the flight tickets which had skyrocketed. Suri was a member of Delhi Gymkhana and he confirmed to Madi that it will be far more economical and better staying in the corresponding club at Mumbai than any top hotel there. He put in his request for a double room. The gymkhana rules, however, had not changed from the times the colonial masters had framed them. They allowed only married couples to stay together and room allotment was subject to the duo being legally and officially wedded. Madi was disappointed and started scouting for hotels around the concert venue when Suri came and suddenly announced… 

Let’s get married!

Whaaat?

Yes, you heard it right, let us get married now. We will go to the court tomorrow and get the marriage registered. It should be easy. Let me talk to my lawyer now.

Madi turned red… she had not expected this reaction but was also happy and said to herself… Why not?  She went and woke up her sleeping mother and told her… Mom, we are tying the knot.

The mother started crying and hugged her daughter tight. She put her hands in the air as if her prayers had been answered.

Suri soon realized, it was one thing to say it but getting it done was not all that easy. They needed documents like age proof, identification cards and many more papers before getting the marriage registered. For date of birth, the lawyer asked for their respective mark sheets for tenth standard because no one had birth certificates issued in those days when they were born. Madi opened up the big wooden trunk of hers and soon saw that white ants had gobbled up the school documents. She picked up the paper which crumbled like dust in no time. Suri, after the multiple changes of residence, could not trace his documents. 

The lawyer said… You guys must surely be having your passports. That should suffice for date of birth, names of parents and other identification details. Madi and Suri handed their passports to the lawyer who opened both and made a dirty face… These have expired three years ago and these cannot be used as documentary proof. 

Suri said… I have my driving license. That’s an acceptable government document for my residence proof. He took out the license from his wallet and handed it to the lawyer. The man shouted… This shows your name as Surender. How quickly can you get this amended… Surender to Surinder.

This is not a Delhi license but from Dehradun RTO. I am sure I can get it done quickly. 

Go and get this done fast while I get some affidavits and get some documents made. All this will cost you extra money.

Madi said… Suri, this hassle and the amount that we are spending in getting this marriage registration done, won’t it be cheaper and easier to book a five-star hotel in Mumbai. Let’s forget this madness, this registration will not change anything for us and we are happy the way we are now.

No Madi… now that we have decided, let us get this done once and for all. Then we can travel and stay everywhere, legally and officially together. Moreover, auntie will be very disappointed if we change our plans now. She is so happy. Don’t want her to go through another heartbreak.

Finally, the documents were made ready. The date was fixed at the Patiala House court. In the company of a couple of friends and with a special permission to allow the pets for the big occasion, Suri and Madi got married. Now they were a legally wedded couple. The first thing the couple did was to go home and take blessings from Madi’s mom who gave her daughter a beautiful jewellery set and an antique silver hookah, possibly from the Mughal times, to Suri. In the evening, they had an impromptu gathering of friends and family to celebrate the joyous occasion.

Late in the night, the couple flew to Mumbai and checked into their cozy double room in the Willingdon Club booked in their names. Next evening, they both went to DY Patil Stadium and witnessed Chris Martin and his Coldplay band playing… 

Oh, it feels like

I'm fallin' in love

You're throwin' me a lifeline

And this is for a lifetime

SS