My Friend Muchu

Muchu joined the school in class two. He was a chubby chhota sardar who wore the slightly tilted green patka over his tied hair on his head. Thanks to Bunny, a tall lanky sardar in the class who happened to be my good friend, Muchu became my friend. Both their fathers worked for Customs and Central Excise and had known each other for long. My connect with Muchu became stronger as we travelled to school each day in the same Z1 school bus. He would get off at Moti Bagh 1 while I went further down to Moti Bagh 2 which was also known as Nanak Pura because of the big Gurudwara right at the entrance of the government colony. He invited some of us for his birthday party at home and that is when I got to meet his lovely parents and his elder brother who was then studying in college. Somehow the warmth of the parents and simplicity of the boy was something that made me feel comfortable at his home. That was the beginning of a great friendship of two people who had nothing much in common and yet stuck together. Don’t ask why.

While Moti Bagh 1 and Moti Bagh 2 were both government flats, but apart from the name, the two places had little in common. He lived in a palatial house with gardens in front and at the back. It had three large bedrooms, huge living room and kitchen plus an outhouse for the couple of persons working in the house. His father was a very senior government official and they had a nice Fiat car apart from his father being driven in the office vehicle every day. My house was much smaller with no house help for my mother who actually did everything from cooking to mopping to clothes to knitting. And she also worked in a government office, in the lower cadre of course, and all of us in the family travelled only by public transport called DTC. But possibly, those were good old days when position, wealth and material things were secondary to basic human needs of friendship.

One day Muchu said that his mother had to go somewhere in the afternoon and he would be alone in the house. It would be nice if I were to join him and we could have fun together. It sounded good for at home with both my parents at work and sisters who never really bothered where I was, this was a perfect afternoon getaway. I got off the school bus at his bus stop and we walked to his home where he asked me to call my father at work to tell him about my whereabouts. I had never made a phone call ever before and he showed me a beautiful green phone in his living room. I was nervous. I picked up the receiver and put it to my right ear and flipped open my school diary where my father’s office phone number was written. But before I could put my finger in the holes made on the dial with numbers written from 0 to 9, I felt my heart go dhak dhak in the fear of unknown, I quickly dropped the receiver down and requested Muchu to make the call. He was confident as he spoke to my father and also asked him to pick me up from his house in the evening on way home. From the next visit onwards, I got over my demons and called father who would happily come to Horjib’s house (that’s how my father pronounced Harjiv) in the evening and take me home. I can say, thanks to Muchu, I felt at ease in using the phone at an early age.

Soon the post school visits became frequent and the good thing about going to his home was that on those days I would do my homework with him before we got down to playing. One of our pastimes was trying to outrun the scooters that passed his house. We were like strays that run after every new bike or scooter which makes an entry into their territory. Needless to say, I beat him in these races but he was sporting and never complained. He participated eagerly and gave his best in every race. Another of our sport was to enact the comic book heroes. In those days Indian Express used to be the usual newspaper in most homes and it contained a Tarzan comic strip every day. With no one in the house, we would strip down to our undies and play Tarzan and mimic his war cry…. Kreegaah Tarzaan Bundolo! Muchu had a good collection of DC comics and we played Batman and Robin as well. We used to cut the black sleep eye masks his parents would get in the international flights to make masks and then tie towels around our necks to look authentic.

The day-spending now gave way to night spending. My parents were reluctant but due to my tantrums agreed to let me do a sleepover at Harjiv’s house. I had till then never stayed away from home and on the first such night, while a party was going on in his house with a lot of guests, I suddenly felt home sick. Muchu saw that I was not feeling well and told his mother about it. She understood the problem and quickly drove me home even though there were guests at her house. In the next planned stay, I finally, slept well at his house in a cot that was placed next to Muchu’s. Next morning we headed to the dining table for breakfast where nice porcelain plates were laid out on pretty mats with shining knives and forks. Auntie made a nice omelette and placed two fried sausages with bread that was crisply toasted. Muchu started eating the food immediately. When auntie came to the table to ask if I needed more food, she saw that I had not touched the food. Even without my saying she scolded Muchu, You should help your friend to use the knife and fork like this… and she placed the knife in my right hand and fork in my left and showed me how to eat with these things, something I learnt from her and has stayed with me forever.

I could beat Muchu at everything from running to playing cricket to painting. But he beat me hollow where it mattered the most… academics. He would be in the top ten percent of the class in almost every subject while I was in the other end of the scale. He was among the favourites and blue-eyed boys of all the teachers while I had to find a place to hide myself somewhere in the background lest someone picked on me to showcase their fine art of using the scale and the cane. One incident stands out when we were giving our Chemistry practical exams for the class ten boards. We were standing in rows as per surnames in alphabetical order. The first person in the row was Sudhin Sarkar, next to him was Harjiv Sawhney and to his right was me. Both the Bongs were completely dependent on the intelligent sardar to bail us out with external invigilators roaming around. Whatever Harjiv would do, Sudhin and I did exactly the same like picking up a tube and then measuring some liquids, mixing the same to see what colour the combined liquid had turned into. God knows what liquids Sudhin poured into his tube, there was sudden, minor explosion and the liquid from his tube burst out and fell on Harjiv’s answer sheet. The examiner quickly rushed to the place and had the placed cleaned up.  Muchu was annoyed but he steadily completed the experiment and wrote the answer down by covering the sheet from the two idiots to his right and left. Both Sudhin and I begged him to show us the answer which he finally agreed to do and we diligently copied the same without doing our experiment any further. Chemistry for me was the weakest subject and when I took the written exams for the school boards, I had all the symbols written on the reverse of the wooden ruler. Thanks to my prized ruler and friend Muchu, I managed to pass the examination.

During our day-spends, we used to do a lot of sketching and painting with crayons. I was pretty good at it and often Muchu’s mother would come to see our pieces of art. She would admire my drawings more than her son’s who never felt bad. Whenever there was a science exhibition or drawing contest in school, some of my paintings would always find a place there. However, only once did Muchu beat me in drawing. We were in class nine and there was a poster making contest on the subject of excellence. I worked hard and made two paintings that came out beautifully. One was of a sportsman on the podium for excellence in sports and the other was of a decorated army officer for excellence in patriotism. Everyone’s entry was placed on the walls around the class room and the class teacher had to pick the three best which would then compete against the best of other sections. My paintings missed making the cut and Harjiv’s was shortlisted. He had drawn a donkey and wrote… Excellence in Foolishness. The theme caught the eye of the judge and Muchu came out trump.

Muchu had all toys and games in his house. I was amazed at his collection of Dinky cars. He had so many of them ranging from the sports models with Benson and Hedges written to Volkswagon Beetle. He had many relatives living abroad who would bring him toys and gifts. We used to play with them often. My favourite was the 007 James Bond Aston Martin car that he used in the movie Goldfinger. It has a beauty and had three levers. With the first lever, a protective shield would pop up on the dicky that was supposed to protect the spy master from the bullets fired by the gangsters from behind. A push to the second lever led to two automatic guns coming out just beneath the front headlights. Bond could drive the car in speed and yet fire relentlessly at the speeding cars ahead. The third lever was the best. The moment you pushed it, the roof top opened up and a small suited man would be thrown out with the seat springing up. This man was none other than a gangster who had a gun pointed at 007 who was at the wheel. I dreamt of the car on many a night. When we grew up and stopped playing with toy cars and got into playing table tennis and cricket, this car remained stashed in his cupboard. One day, I just could not resist taking it away and played with it at home. No toy was ever so important to me even though it was ill gotten. But somehow, I never felt any qualms about it as Muchu had so many exotic toys and games that he never missed it. For me, it was my prized possession.

After class ten in 1980, we moved apart with him joining the commerce section and me moving into humanities. There were no more days spending and night sleepovers together but I was always an invitee to his house on his next few birthdays. We then grew up and got lost in our own worlds of different colleges, new friends and thereafter to work and settling down with our families. We were then brought together twenty-five years later in 2005 when one of our old classmates settled in Australia decided that we should come together. The spirit of the boys of 10-C, now men, was simply amazing and they descended from all over the country and abroad at Delhi on the scheduled evening at a classmate’s farmhouse. And that is where Muchu and I got together once more. Thereafter, whenever I visited Delhi on work, I tried meeting him. On a couple of occasions met his mother and father, who were always very loving and talked to me for hours together. Every year in November or in December, the class reunion happened and Muchu came for most of those. His health was failing fast. He would often speak to me over phone and also do video calls whenever he felt lonely. Then one day the fateful news came. My dear friend was gone.

Seeing the advertisements and social media posts recently made me sit up and think that in our times we never had a Friendship Day. We just had friends. We never had to send messages and gifts to remind each other of our bonds. We shared what we had. We fought, we played, we laughed, we cried and we lived.

RIP Muchu, my friend. Hasta Manana, till we meet again.

SS

The Constitutional Crisis

It was late in the night and most people had deserted the Bengali Market at the heart of Delhi. A few strays were around and a few night watchmen were chatting with each other. At the end of a long day, when buyers and sit-in customers never seemed to take a break, this truly was the most peaceful time in the place before the ruckus began once again in the morning. The eerie silence of the night was broken with some faint sounds of people talking inside the Shaymji Bhujiawala’s Misthaan Bhandar. Who can it be now? Was it a thief trying to take away sweets, for money he would find none? Shyamji, the owner, would always ensure the till was emptied to the last penny every hour as he did not trust his own workers. A couple of dogs went close to the drawn shutter and were barking but the night watchmen ignored them.

This is completely ridiculous! How can Shyamji do this to us?

Yes, this is unacceptable.

Think of how many customers we have got for him over the years.

He should not forget that when he did not even have this shop, he would stand in the open with a thela and all he had was us who got him means to two square meals a day. Now that he is rich and has diversified, he is putting us to shame before others. He is putting up posters in his shop telling the customers about how bad a company we are.

Forget the posters. I heard he has ordered special paper plates and paper coasters that he intends putting on top of plates before we are served…. sob sob…and the plates and coasters will not only have warnings in words but pictures of sickly intestines and hearts. Even our most loving fans will dare not enjoy our company once they see such horrific sights.

Don’t cry Jalebi Bai. I was told long ago that the world is full of ungrateful people. Just because you have been sweet to all, does not guarantee you sweet reciprocity. Does Shyamji realise what you go through when the halwai squeezes you before throwing you into a big pan of boiling oil, how you twist and turn and fry deep inside the kadhai before being thrown into another pan of hot sugar syrup.

You are a true bro, Samo-sa Bhai. I am sure you are just being brave before me and holding back your tears. You, too, have such a difficult life. They peel you, kneed you and then crush you with spices and salt before putting you inside thin dough shaped into small triangles. Finally, you are pushed into a big black pan of boiling oil and then served with a dash of sauce and chutney.

We have an existential crisis and there seem to be no solutions in sight.

I wonder why Shyamji picked on us? Why not any others in the store like Gulabo. She is a mix of you and me- she is deep fried in oil and also contains as much, if not more, of sweetness as me, yet the notice is about us.

Yes, I fully agree with you. There is nothing being written about Golu-Guppu. Have you seen how Shyamji’s trusted lieutenant, Sharma, uses his dirty hands to make the small openings and his sweat keeps dripping into the water that it poured into the fluffy balls. The same is with Chattori which is made so unhygienically.

Samo-sa Bhai, I think Shyamji likes his women customers more.

Why do you say that, Jalebo?

It is so easy to understand. Tell me who eats samosas and jalebis… yes of course it is the men. Similarly, who eats Golguppas, chaats and gulab jamuns most… yes, the women folk. And who do the women who come here detest the most… the men sitting down and eating garma-garam samosas and crispy jalebis. If the number of men folk comes down, the women will be able to occupy all the seats.

What you are saying is making sense to me but how do we make sure Shyamji is not successful in his nefarious scheme?

Cough..cough..cough…a chubby looking person came out of the dark and said… I heard the two of you talking and I know Shyamji’s next in line target will be me. He thinks I am too full of maida and absorb too much oil. It is only a matter of a few days before the list grows from two to three. Plus, I too fall in your category of male oriented food.

Bhature Sahab, please do not waste your sleep. You fight your battle when the time comes. For now, leave the fight to us.

We are but ek thaali ke chatte batte (part of the same breed).… we survive, we thrive together and we fail and exit together.

Bhature ji, fight how?

I know of a famous lawyer, Double Dibble, and he is always ready to fight for a good cause.

What sort of a name is that?

So, the story goes that when he was studying in Delhi University, he would go to Mukherjee Nagar for chhole bhature and he would always ask for double plates of chholey and bhatures. His friends started calling him Double Dibble since then. I have already spoken to him and he says we have a good case in hand.

Bhatureji, that is so kind of you. It would be nice to listen to some of the arguments in our favour.

DD has said that we shall appeal directly to the highest court in India and take up the plea of infringement of Fundamental Rights as envisaged in the Indian Constitution. I had a lengthy discussion with him and he elaborated on the points he wishes to cite to declare the new order against samosas and jalebi as ultra-virus and strike it down ab-initio.

The proposed new order violates:

a.    Right to Equality- The State shall not discriminate against any citizen on grounds of …. birth or any of them. It goes on to say that there will be no restrictions with regard to access of shops, public places, restaurants …In short, if access of shops is not allowed, access to food is a natural corollary to the fundamental right.

b.    Right to Freedom- All citizens shall have the right to practice any profession, or carry on any occupation, trade or business… all the shopkeepers in India have to right to make samosas and jalebis and serve them in paper plates, leaves of plants or plates with no discriminatory literature printed.

c.     Cultural and Educational Rights

The first two are good points but the last point seems contentious. Why is DD dribbling into that territory?

I, too, had the same question but DD explained that the birth place for both of you is not India and so you need special protection.

What… we always thought that for centuries we have been entertaining Indians and today you are telling us of our foreign origin? Sadly, we have not been given identity cards so far.

Don’t feel sad, your origin may be overseas but you are more Indian than most Indians. You, Dear Samo-sa ji, originated in the Middle East and were originally called ‘sambosa’ and you came to India in the 13^th and 14^th centuries. Same is the case with you, Dear Jalebi Bai. Your origin can also be traced back to the Middle East where you were called Zilbiya or Zalabiya. Good thing for both of you is that you came with the traders and artisans from that part and will not be categorized as invaders who are not liked. In short, you have been here in India for over eight centuries and you are a part of our cultural and culinary heritage. We do have a very strong case and we shall lodge a public interest litigation.

But who will pay for Double’s Whooper-sized legal bill?

I have reached out to the shopkeepers across the country through FB, X, WA and Insta. Even if each of the members were to give a rupee each for the cause, we will have enough money to pay DD for years because such is our legal system.

What a relief and am happy to know we have such support across the country!

Bhatureji, thank you so much for helping us survive but in case the legal action fails, I think we need a Plan B or till the time the case is settled, we will be adversely affected.

Jelebi Bai shot out immediately… I know what we can do- just in case… The new order is against Samosas and Jalebis. What if we go into hiding as many did during the freedom movement.

What do you mean, Jalebo? A new identity is what you have in mind?

Yes. You see there are many varieties of jalebis…Jaleba (a large jalebi), Rabdi Jalebi (we can cover ourselves with rabdi and no one will know), Khoya Jalebi (the one you get in Burhanpur and Jabalpur), imarti (with more decorative circles than me), aloo ki jalebi, urad ki jalebi and the Bengali chhanar jilapi. Same can be said about you, Samosa ji. What if you called yourself shinghara, as the Bongs call you, or Maggi samosa, chilli cheese and paneer samosa or just the English way of identifying you as Patty? We can beat the law by just going into hiding by changing our names till we win the legal battle and then we will come back bigger and bolder.

This sounds really good. Let us put both the plans into action immediately.

Two months later, while Jalebi Bai and Samo-sa ji are in hiding, the case comes up in the afternoon at the country’s highest court before the Chief Justice himself. The two legal counsels are ready with their arguments when the CJI says… Gentlemen, it has been a long day. Can we take a small break now and reconvene after thirty minutes? Meanwhile, why don’t the two counsels come to my chamber.

The stage is set in the CJI’s chamber. The three honourable men troop in and take their seats round the table when the CJI calls… Abdul, please get kulhad wali chai and some snacks for us.

Abdul shakes his head and in no time brings a big tray and lays it on the table. Apart from the two kulhads filled with hot tea, there are two big plates with samosas and jalebis. The CJI gives a signal with his hand and a smile on his face to the two counsels to help themselves.

A sip of tea followed by a bite of samosa and jalebi … the atmosphere in the room had changed from being charged to one of serenity and joy.

You can’t beat a well-made samosa and jalebi with cakes and pastries. Eating our snacks is incomparable…said DD.

It is an emotion… it is a feeling… said the Attorney General, representing the Health Ministry.

CJI says, I think we need not go into the arguments in the court over these national treasures. We do not want any more controversy. Let us agree to drop the case with immediate effect and allow Samosaji and Jalebi Bai to flourish in the right spirit of the constitution. There is enough tension in the world today and these are two things that spread happiness wherever they go.  Let us finish all the samosas and jalebis on the table and then shake hands and live in mutual harmony. I am giving a decree now that the name of the proposed SaJa (Sa-mosa Ja-lebi) Law which also means punishment should be changed to JalSa (Jal-ebi Sa-mosa) Law which aptly means celebration!

Abdul… do-do plate jalebi aur samose aur laana…

JalSa

SS 

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!