In Conversation

Late in the night in a small bar in Mumbai, there sat a man in a corner table with a bottle and a glass, both of which were nearly empty.  The lights had been put out and all the customers had left. The door was half closed as he slowly sipped the liquor, with eyes almost shut. The radio was playing some old Hindi songs when the door opened ajar. The light shone so bright that the man inside the bar covered his eyes with his hands. It was the brightest light ever he had seen and, as he lifted his hands over his eyes, he saw a man walking in. He shouted….. “The bar is closed. I will lock it up in some time. Find yourself another place.”

The intruder seemed deaf to what was being said and continued walking towards the drunken man after closing the door behind him.

I said the bar is closed. No more service for today.

The new comer just smiled and pulled up a chair and sat at the same table. Surprisingly, despite there being no illumination inside, the man’s face was glowing. He was wearing regular clothes, of average height and build, but there was something special about his looks, especially his eyes.

Bhai, if you are the police, let me tell you that sales are really down nowadays. Only a handful land up and, with no music and dance being allowed, I have nothing to give you.

I have not come to take anything from you. I was just passing by and entered your place. Every night I move around and meet people, talk to them and see if I can help them.

You help anyone? Then you must be God. And if you are God, you have come to the wrong address for this is a den of vice and is no place for you to be around. Bol Bhagwaan hai kya?

Yes, I am.

Gangu stood up, folded his hands, and bent his back…. “Bhagwaanji, I may appear to be drunk but I am not mad. Yes I have had a glass too many but I am not an idiot. But if you are really God as you claim to be, then prove it. Keep filling my glass from this empty bottle as long as you talk with me.”

Tathastu…so be it.

Gangu found the glass in his hand feel heavy and, as he looked down, he found it full to the brim. He put the glass down and rubbed his eyes hard, opened his eyes wide open and looked at the visitor in amazement.

Ok, then let me, for now, believe that you are God as you are fulfilling my deepest desire now. There is a question that has been troubling me for long and would like you to help me understand the true meaning of it. Hope you will not mind my asking you.

Yes of course.

When in school, I read a song by Kabir. I just mugged it up and reproduced it in the exam without understanding it. Then later in life, I heard the famous singer, Bhimsen Joshi sing the song at a music conference at Shivaji Park and I kept humming it for a few days. I liked his booming voice but when I tried understanding the words, I got confused. I never forgot about it and when I started my restaurant cum bar, I named it Moko TP Bar. These Mumbaikars thronged my place as they thought that TP stood for Time Pass but that was not the true meaning.  The song goes like this….

Gangu in his classical style touched  his ear lobe in respect to the Guru, possibly  Bhimsen Joshi, raised  one hand skywards and started singing aloud….

Moko kahan dhoondhere bande, main toh tere pass hoon

Na teerath mein, na moorat mein, na ekant niwas mein

Na mandir mein, na masjid mein, na Kabe Kailas mein

Main toh tere paas mein bande, main toh tere pass mein.

Gangu completed the song in one go and the visitor listened with rapt attention and clapped his hands in ovation.

So, now, you would have understood how I named my place…Moko Tere Pass Bar. If anyone else were to come to know of this secret, my business will completely wind up. So my big question to you is, if you…God… are within me always as Sant Kabir says in the song, then how come the God in me does not stop me from making mistakes, doing bad things and curb the evil in me? Maybe, you want me and my like to end up in hell.

Gangu, I am within you and within all. There is good and evil within you. Both keep fighting and one wins over the other. It is a continuous battle and if good wins once, evil fights back in the next and the cycle is endless. There is no one completely good as there is no one completely evil. There is an equal measure of both in all. I never decide who will win. I sit back inside all and see the fun. And who will go where in afterlife is the biggest uncertainty and I have no control over it. It is you who acts and chooses a path.

Ok, so you enjoy the fun as we mortals suffer…that’s not funny. Now tell me, if you were living within me, then how come you did not stop me from stealing money from my father’s wallet and sister’s piggy bank? Where were you when I was doing these bad deeds?

I was within you, Gangu, even then. Yes, what you did was not right but do you remember how you returned a wad of cash from inside the plastic carry bag with the muffin packet which the bakery fellow handed over to you by mistake. There was more money in there than you ever stole from your people at home, so your score card stands squared on that point.

But what about those small chits I made in school and college to pass the examinations. How many times I had to forge my father’s signature on diary and report cards. If you were there within me, you should have made me study hard and give the exams fairly. How sad my father would have been had he known what his son was up to. So how do you explain this evil act which should again put me at the gateway to hell?

Ha Ha… you are a funny man Gangu. The chits you made not just helped you pass the exams unfairly, as you put it, but when you shared the same with your other friends, you saved them the ignominy of failure as well. Think how many of your friends will be blessing you today. Yes, I too feel forging signatures was not something good and your father would have surely felt sad had he known about it then. But now when he looks down today, he must be smiling at you for, despite all your financial troubles, you ensured your son got the best of education and he is a scientist at ISRO today. You also have been paying for the education of your housemaid’s daughter. So you have squared off your past with the good you have done in this life.

Dear God, you are good liar as you make me feel good with your sugar coated explanations. Anyway, as long as you keep filling my glass from the empty bottle, I am very happy. But now I will ask you a difficult one.  I did not treat my mother well in later years. There cannot be any way this evil in my life can be squared off. So my path to hell is certain and the red carpet, if there is one, awaits me.

Yes Gangu, I will not find any solace for you on this point. You should have surely taken better care of her for she was dependent on you. What is done cannot be undone. But when go over your life, I can see that you rushed to so many sick people’s assistance whenever they needed blood. You took such good care of your aunt who lived with you…maybe you felt that what you were doing for her was something you were doing for your mother as repentance. I will not say that, on this point, you are squared and absolved but it isn’t as bad as you think it is.

I will get one more negative score for running this bar where men come, throw money on the women singing and dancing here, get drunk and then go home to create ruckus and pain there. So I am responsible for their misery.

Everyone is responsible for their own deeds. What men do with their money and family is completely accounted for in their books of life. However, if I were to go by your logic, your bar gives employment to so many women and people working here. For them, you are me. You also give these people yearly bonus, allow them holidays when they need them and give them two meals every day. So you and your bar have raised the bar of humanity.

Ok Bhagwaan ji, please tell me, are there separate lanes for rich and the poor up there? I was asking as, in many places of worship, the rich get to meet you quicker and easier. Even the prasad ka laddoo is special for them.

No. Up there, we have just one lane. There is no differentiation. Everything a man does in this life is settled here. If you do good, you get back good in equal measure and the evil you do is also paid back in this life. The response may not be immediate but, certainly, all accounts are settled here. What you take up there is simply nothing. You leave behind everything, not just your family and friends but all your good and not so good deeds. Up there is just one place….you call it H when you are happy and you call it H when not so happy.  So do what you can as long as the H beats inside you, where I reside….your heart. 

You mean the AB & Co will stand with Gangu, Mangu and other folks side by side….in case you have not got what I meant by AB & Co, it is Adani Ambani Bezos Buffet Bill and their like….

You are a funny man Gangu…it is truly a Socialist Democratic Republic up there. I will take your leave now…Bye Gangu.

Bye Bye God ji.

The visitor walked out and the door closed once again. He looked up at the shop board with its flickering red and blue lights….Moko TP Bar…. smiled and walked away.

Inside, Gangu again felt the glass in hand weighed less. He looked up at the noisy old ceiling fan rotating slowing, closed his eyes when the radio began to play….

Moko kahan dhoondhere bande, main toh tere pass hoon

Na teerath mein, na moorat mein, na ekant niwas mein

Na mandir mein, na masjid mein, na Kabe Kailas mein

Main toh tere paas mein bande, main toh tere pass mein.

SS

The Philadelphia Diaries: Menu United

Dear Diary 

I have tried several times to keep you but have failed miserably. My heartfelt apologies! As a peace offering, this is going to be my most sincere effort…so let’s start over, shall we?

 

                                                                                                                        August 21, 2021

Hola!

I’ve been in US of A for more than three weeks now and, honestly, I have been having a great time :D! I will be here for a year and in you I shall jot down- new things, fun things, not-so-fun things, strange things, bad things and everything that I find interesting and unique so that I never forget these 365 days. Let me forewarn you, I won’t write every day, don’t get your hopes up, you know me, and I am here to work, study and learn…but I will, from time to time.

Everyone I have met have been warm and friendly and it’s a beautiful weather here. I’ve been to New Jersey, New York and Philadelphia and each place is unique. But I shall come to that another day…today, it’s all about food! From the time that I knew I was going to come for the fellowship, I was mentally preparing myself that I will have to cook. I actually started watching people cook while at home, for the first time, with interest. I transferred all my PayTm balance to my mother. I deleted Swiggy and Zomato once I landed here. And before moving into the hostel at Philly, I bought several ingredients to cook. I arranged everything very neatly here on the kitchen shelf and my family was quite proud of me. But alas, all my good intentions are yet to be executed! 

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I personally feel that the way to any city’s heart is through its food! And I am charmed and disarmed…the food here is amazing and I will tell you about some of the best that I have had till now.

 

Ethiopian Eats

Looking for food, flavour and friends, well it’s Ethiopian food for sure. I tried it for the first time at New Jersey and absolutely loved it. At the heart of it lies the injera, a massive flat bread over which are served different curries and stews. You circle around it, eat together and use your fingers to dig in. You can imagine the injera to be like a thick fluffy dosa, laid flat on a large dish with an assortment of sides over it. Injera is made out of fermented tef, a grain indigenous to Ethiopia. Not only is it healthy but has a unique tangy flavour to it. The stews (wats) are infused with a variety of herbs and spices, a conglomeration of Middle East, Asian and Mediterranean influence. The result is…well, delicious. You can choose to eat with key wat (beef stew), doro wat (chicken stew), tibs (lamb, goat or beef cubes stir fried in niter kibbeh, a spiced infused form of ghee), kitfo (raw ground beef), misir wat and mesirkik (lentil and split pea stews), or shiro (chickpea stew), they are all different but equally delectable. The berbere is the secret ingredient, ground semi-spicy chilli peppers mixed with multiple other spices including garlic, cumin, coriander, ginger and fenugreek, that adds the unique taste to all the dishes. At the end, you are sure to end up licking your fingers to let the taste linger on.

S’mores and More

A cool night, a fireplace and old friends…what more can one ask for? Well some more…a sweet treat to add to the magic of the night! In ancient Egypt there grew a mallow plant near swamps or marshes and was simply called marshmallow, which was used as food for the Pharaohs. The roots and leaves of this plant exuded a gooey substance which was used by the Greeks for its anti-inflammatory property to soothe cough. Then came a French candy maker who added sugar and eggs to this sap and made small balls out of them to soothe the throat. Today, the sap has been replaced with gelatin, but the name has endured and endeared. Chocolate has always been the food of and for the Gods dating back to the Aztec God of Wisdom, Quetzalcoatl. Derived from cacao bean in probably 350 B.C., it has travelled the world and lived to see the rise and fall of civilisations, all enjoying it in every form. In 1893, Milton S. Hershey, an entrepreneur came in possession of a chocolate press left over from the Worlds’ Columbian Exposition in Chicago and he began using it in his factory to make simple bars of one of the most popular brands of chocolate today, the Hershey’s chocolate bars. Come the 1800s, Sylvester Graham, a minister from New Jersey, was committed to promoting healthy lifestyle including a bland diet, thus creating a cookie, the Graham crackers, made of wheat bran, wheat germ and ground flour.

It was no Willy Wonka who put these three ingredients together even though it seems straight from his chocolate factory, but a group of young girls from the Girls Scouts of America who came up with this unique recipe. It was first published in a guidebook called Tramping and Trailing with the Girl Scouts with easy recipes for food to cook in an open campfire. Toast marshmallows till you are satisfied, sandwich them between two Graham crackers and a chocolate bar and let it melt your world! I cannot thank my friends enough for introducing me to s’mores and I will always want ‘some more’!

My Big Fat Gyro Wrapping

New York + Food truck= Gyro

Greek version of shawarma of the Arabs and doner kebab of the Turks, bread rolled with chicken or lamb chunks in Mediterranean milieu is as satiating to the taste buds as the country is to the eyes. Gyro, derived from the Greek word ‘gheereezo’ means ‘to turn’. It is essentially a stacked pile of meat, being roasted upright on a rotating grill. It is cut off in slices and wrapped within a pita roll with tomatoes, lettuce, onions, parsley, Tzatziki (Greek yogurt), fried potatoes with a hint of paprika or cayenne pepper. Its origin can be traced to the Armenian refugees in Greece in the early 1920s. A second theory is that it originated at the time of Alexander the Great. The soldiers in his army would skewer cut meat on long, sword like blades, rotating them over fire. But it was only after World War II that gyro came to the west of the Atlantic. It soon became one of the most popular global fast food. In New York, it became popular in the 1970s with the New York Times declaring, “The Gyro, a Greek Sandwich, Selling like Hot Dogs.” But as easy as it is to eat, it’s equally difficult to get the pronunciation right! While Americans call it “jai-roh”, the Greek pronunciation is “yee-roh” with a characteristic twist of tongue and roll of ‘r’. But I got the best advice from a Greek friend, “It’s better to just say ‘jairoh’ correctly than ‘yeeroh’ incorrectly!”

This is the only image taken from the world wide web because I was too busy gobbling the gyro to take a picture. With a National Gyro Day coming up on September 1st, I cannot wait to try one at Philadelphia.

The Cheesesteak Mistake

To be honest, I had been looking forward to this more than my fellowship in Philadelphia. And it did not disappoint. Philadelphia has two famous, must-try rival joints, Pat’s and Geno’s, both across the street from each other. The day I reached Philly, I went to Pat’s King of Steaks. I was greeted with a sign instructing how to eat a Philly Cheesesteak. It is exactly how it is described in ‘visitphilly’, “a long, crusty roll filled with thinly sliced sautéed ribeye beef and melted cheese”. Cheesesteak is more of a misnomer; it is a sandwich. Fried caramelized onions, sautéed mushrooms, ketchup and pepper can be added as toppings. 

Pat Olivieri, the son of an Abruzzi government worker who migrated to America with the rise of Mussolini, was a hot dog vendor. In 1930, Pat’s brother brought thinly-sliced ribeye and Pat frizzled it with onions, putting it in a bun and creating the original version of cheesesteak. A regular cabbie happened to try it and suggested Pat to start selling these instead of hot dogs. The aroma drew in taxi drivers for the new ‘steak sandwiches’. Later, he opened his shop and went around local theatres bringing his sandwich-with-a-twist to the stars and then luring them back to his shop. The pictures of the celebrities enjoying the cheesesteaks adorn the shop wall that overall has a very ordinary look to it. His creation on the other hand is simple yet extraordinary. “Cocky” Joe Lorenzo, an employee at Pat’s is believed to have added provolone cheese to his own sandwich and inventing the present version of the cheesesteak, although Joey Vento, the owner of Geno’s, claims to have added the cheese to his sandwiches. Whatever the case may be, ‘it’s wit cheese’ for sure! Cheesesteak has now become synonymous with Philadelphia, an icon of the city, an integral part of its culture. People from the city, however, do not add the prefix Philly, it has always been theirs. Just keep plenty of napkins, let the fat drip, forget about the health and calories and slip into food coma!

I Love Cheesecakes and I Cannot Lie

New York Style Cheesecake is believed to be the true, unadulterated cheesecake. But here’s the truth, this sinful dessert was created in Greece with excavated moulds dating back to 2000 B.C.! Cheesecakes were in fact served to Olympic athletes as a good source of energy. It’s hard to imagine cheesecake being in the menu of Olympic Village today! But originally it was made simply from flour, wheat, honey and cheese. The oldest recipe is attributed to Athenaeus of Greece, in 230 A.D. With the Roman conquest, the recipe passed on and crushed cheese and eggs were included in the recipe. The baked pastry was served warm on special occasions. Great Britain and Eastern Europe also modified the recipe in the years to come. It was only in the 18^th century that cheesecake arrived in America. Cream cheese is an American addition to the original cheesecake. Cream cheese was accidentally made when a New York Dairy farmer was attempting to make the French cheese Neufchatel. The classic New York Cheesecake is just the cake with no fruit or flavour added to it. 

Being in the city centre and a walker makes everything close enough including The Cheesecake Factory. It was not long before that my solitary walks traced their way to The Cheesecake Factory! Here, it’s a massive restaurant with more than just cheesecakes. I would have had the original one, but I gave into temptation and ordered the one with fresh strawberries. I had the most enjoyable time instigating my tastebuds and all I remember was going ‘mmmmm’ with every mouthful of the dessert!

While I would also like to write about Western Chinese, Mexican and Turkish cuisine in America, I have started feeling hungry with so much of food for thought and I shall continue later.

 

Signing off for tonight…

 

Philo in Philly

MS

 

Into the Wild

It was sometime in early October of 1993, a man sitting on the window seat of Rajdhani Express Chair Car compartment was busy with a set of simple felt pens and scribbling and drawing something on what looked like a drawing book you would find in any stationery store. While the other passengers were busy chatting and enjoying the food that was getting served at intervals, the man seemed to be in a world of his own, looking out of the window, putting the pen to his head and tapping and smiling as he carried on with his work, filling up the pages. After getting off at New Delhi Station, he headed home to meet his parents and the very next day he was off to work. In between work, he stepped out to go to the main post office at Parliament Street where he handed the drawing book which was neatly wrapped in a brown envelope to the window where registered posts were being accepted. This was the first of the three handmade story books the man made in a period of two months for his little daughter who loved listening to his unending tales and was still at Kolkata while the father had been posted to his home town in Delhi. No prizes for guessing the father and the daughter duo but today, after almost twenty eight years, when I find that the reverse has happened….she has flown away to a new and beautiful world  across the oceans and the continents ….here I am sharing a freshly baked kiddo story for her….with the hope that she likes it.

They were the best of friends

Poopie, Shubham, Piyu and Archish

Always to be found together

Seemed friends forever.

Off they went on an excursion

To explore the forests and the wild

Landed in the Tigerland of Ranthambhore

With school friends, teachers and more.

 

Met by a friendly forest guide

Who promised to always be on their side

He said his name was Salman

Promised to show the kids tigers and bison.

 

The kids sat in a mini bus

That drove them round the forest as in a circus

In search of wild animals

But found none and saddened were the pals.

 

Determined to see the real wildlife

With little munchies in backpacks, torches and water

The foursome slipped out of the lodge at night

Out went the brave hearts into the moonlight.

 

Holding hands they moved ahead

Saw some animals in the forest bed

The elephant herd lay quietly on the ground

Clicking pictures without a sound.

 

So many animals they saw that night

But the tiger was nowhere in sight

Wanting to see the King of Ranthambhore

Deeper into the forest went the fearless four.

 

Suddenly they heard a blood curling howl

Surely the pack of hyenas were on the prowl

The kids for once showed fear on their face

And ran faster than in an Olympic race.

 

They found the entrance to a cave

Entered the place that looked so safe

As they heard the howling hyenas at the gate

Soon to enter and mayhem they would create.

 

With nowhere to run and hide

And no guns and sticks on their side

The end at the hands of hyenas seemed imminent

When they got from behind a whiff of a dirty scent.

 

Turned around to see His Majesty

The big stripped tiger, high and mighty

Looking at the frozen to death children

Walked towards the front of his den.

 

The hyenas saw the entrance blocked

By the biggest tiger who roared

They were ten and the tiger was alone

But still they fled as the tiger’s eyes shone.

 

The tiger sat at the entrance in guard

As the kids now waited to be devoured

They heard strange noises as if the tiger was in pain

Noises subsided as the sun came.

 

The kids with their heads turned down

Suddenly felt some soft furry brown

Opened their eyes to see before

Tiger cubs one two three and four.

 

They looked so cute and loving

Kids could not hold back their patting

The cubs started loving and licking

The fear of the night gave way to gentle giggling.

 

Then they saw the tiger…nay the tigress… come their way

The cubs left the kids, went Mama’s way

The tigress lay down flat

The cubs sucked milk from Mama cat.

 

By now Salman reached the cave

Saw the sight and was amazed

He knew Rani the tigress well

He too fearless entered her dwell.

 

The cubs and the kids played again awhile

They gave the cubs names before bidding bye

The chubby was named Cheeku

The toothless one was called Tootsie

The lazy was named Sloppy

And the fastest was called Footsie.

The friends returned home happy and safe

With endless stories of their adventures

Salman Bhai kept in constant touch

Sharing pictures of Rani and her cubs

 

When one day he mailed

Tootsie had gone missing

Rani was out searching

Failing to find her cub

She would just sit and sob

She was becoming sick

Ignoring the other three who were growing big

Salmaan’s last mail said

I want the Famous Four

To return to Ranthambhore

And help me search Tootsie

The loving brother to Cheeku, Sloppy and Footsie.

Will the Awesome Foursome go?

Darling Poopie, I cannot draw on the machine, so have added pictures. So finally, I must say, no matter how many years you add to your age, no matter how many degrees you add to your right and left, your Daddy will still remain your story teller Number One….kal bhi..aaj bhi…kal bhi.

 

SS

War & Peace

How long must a man go on

Till he finds some time to rest

Must he go on and on and on

Till he’s fully put to rest.

 

How long must a man run

From early morning till late at night

Must he go on and on and on

Till his body’s put alight.

 

How long must a man run

To reach from poverty to richness

Must he go on and on and on

In the endless pursuit of happiness.

 

How long must a man run

To escape from all his fears

Must he go on and on and on

Till the eyes go dry of tears.

 

How long must a man run

To be a man for the world to see

Must he go on and on and on

Till you realize what you wanted to be.

 

Stop!

Enough!!

No more!!!

So I want to wave the flag today

The white flag of surrender

Let the victors take the spoils

For I wish to end my war

Put an end to this endless, mindless running.

 

I no longer want to be a winner

For I have realized this is a never ending race

Endless running takes its toll

Physical and mental

And I no longer wish to be drawn

Into this battlefield anymore

There are runners more able and fitter than me

It is okay for me to just walk along a bit slower

Let glory be to those who deserve more

The daily grind of numbers

The constant ups and downs of graphs

Often in sync with your troubled ECG

Losing of a good night’s sleep

No, not any more

For I wish to be at peace with myself

For now I wish to take it easy

Take it slow, take it one step at a time.

 

I no longer want to change the world

Let those who eat green eat more greens

Let those who go to this temple or the other

Let the right be right and left be left

For I have realized

I just cannot change the world

I just cannot stop the world

Let it go round and round

All by itself, in its own motion

For I am just a speck of dust in the universe

For I am just a drop in the ocean

And I refuse to fight another man

Get drawn into endless debates

Lose my calm, lose my health

Turn into a demon now and then

Stalk, troll, blame, shame…

No, not any more

For I wish to be at peace with myself

For now I wish to take it easy

Take it slow, take one step at a time.

 

I no longer wish to have more and more

For how much is enough

Is a question that remains unanswered

When I see a man in tatters

Why do I feel guilty

When I see a boy selling pens on the road

Why do I feel guilty

When I see a hungry girl outside the eatery

Why do I feel guilty

And why do I just turn my eyes away

Avoid looking at these souls

Living in hunger, pain and poverty

Their state is not my doing

My enough is enough

Their enough is not enough

So I must accept today

That I cannot change this all

My war of guilt within must end

But not the desire to do my part

To sprinkle a little happiness

To spark a little hope

For those who cross my path

For now I am at peace with myself

For now I wish to take it easy

Take it slow, take one step at a time.

 

"You may say, I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

We hope someday you’ll join us

And the world will live as one.”

 

SS

PS. This piece is inspired by the songs of my all time favourites, Bob Dylan and John Lennon