Night at the Abbey

It was late in the night when the regular Londoners and revellers had hit the bed that I decided to step out of the hotel and take the night Tube. As I came out of the station, the tall, dark and imposing figure of the Big Ben caught my eye. It looked quite magnificent against the shimmering moonlight. I made my way to a wall near the Abbey which I had surveyed during the day and done a whole lot of ‘googling’ on the internet on being denied the ticket into the Westminster. I knew the exact number of Bobbies posted around the place and their shift changing times…. That’s the power of the net… it takes you inside the web and tells you where the spiders sit in prey. I jumped over the small wall and found my way to the west side door that I knew would not be locked for this is the place from where the choir would walk out after hours of practice which would induce laziness and over confidence and, more often than not, this entrance key would just lie hanging from the massive brass lock. With no one in sight I turned the key and, to my delight, it turned a couple of times silently and the door opened up. But the moment I put my first foot inside, the gong went bonkers… it was the Ben telling the world it was midnight with its twelve strokes, each of which  felt like bullets piercing my body… I knew death was near. The BB stopped and I walked into the majestic Westminster Abbey…unescorted, unannounced and unpaid, of course, for a tour that I could not miss having come here after a gap of seventeen long years.

The place looked so awe-inspiring. It was huge…bigger than anything I had seen before… it was exquisitely laid out without being loud and pompous…and it was completely lit up but silent. The foundations of the Westminster Abbey were laid in seventh century AD but it was around the turn of the millennium in the reign of King Edward that a stone church was built. Monastic Churches in those days were often called ‘minsters’. Since it was on the West side, and to distinguish it from St.Paul’s Cathedral which was further down the banks of the Thames on the east side, the place got its name. However, most of the church as we see today was built on the orders of King Henry III between 1245-72. Burial in the Abbey was initially restricted to the royalty and some of the aristocracy but by the eighteenth century it became the place for burial of the great and famous. There are about 600 tombs, memorials and monuments with over 3000 people interred or commemorated in the church and cloisters. ‘Among the kings’ was also the grave of the Unknown Soldier from the First World War and the Royal Air Force Memorial Chapel  is dedicated in memory of the men who lost their lives in the World War II. 

The Abbey has been described as a living church since God is worshipped daily through the four to five services on its precincts and has enjoyed a unique status granted to it in 1560 by a charter of Queen Elizabeth I under which the Dean and Chapter are directly answerable to the monarch. Over the centuries, the Abbey has stood witness to several coronations, royal weddings and funerals apart from services to mark significant occasions. I shall not go into further details but let you see the place with my eyes for there is too much history and too many details in every inch of this massive place. The next few days would be very busy ones at the Abbey for they planned to keep Queen Elizabeth II in state for five days and a huge crowd was expected to come and pay respects to the much loved monarch. No wonder I did not get tickets and had to find my own sly way of getting in.

All was good and as per plan till I saw a Bobby with a map in  hand who looked more like the Paddington Bear. He seemed to be following someone…did he know I was inside? Was the invisibility cloak, that my daughter had given me, giving me away? I realized that I should go elsewhere and explore the main sanctum sanctorum may be at a later time and so I walked down a staircase which was not showing on the map on my wrist…. that’s technology for you!

There was a lot of commotion down below. Who were these strange looking people here walking and talking. I took a few bold steps and went closer to see the name tag of the man with the white beard….Geoffrey Chaucer (1343-1400).Should I ask him for an autographed copy of  'The Canterbury Tales'? Better not- it my give me away. Had I come into the Poets’ Corner?  

Yes, so it seemed and all the famous poets and authors seemed to have come alive at that moment, all unaware of the presence of an intruder hidden beneath a cloak of invisibility. One gentleman called George Frideric Handel (1685-1759) got the whole lot of poets together, all standing in three tiers and as he waved his baton, the song came alive…

She’ll be coming ‘round the mountain when, she comes
She’ll be coming ‘round the mountain when, she comes

She’ll be ridin’ six white horse when, she comes
She’ll be ridin’ six white horse when, she comes

And we’ll all go out to greet her when she comes
Yeah, we’ll all go out to greet her when she comes

Then we’ll all eat purple pizza when she comes
We’ll all eat purple pizza when she comes

And we’ll all read books together when she comes
Oh, we’ll all read books together when she comes

And she’ll get to sleep with grandma when she comes
Oh, she’ll get to sleep with grandma when she comes

Stop…stop…shouted two other men. One of them, called Charles Dickens, said, This can’t be sung at all…. Firstly what’s a pizza and do you think there is something called a purple pizza? You just can’t ask the royalty to eat such horrendous stuff! Secondly, she always wanted to lie down beside her man… so no sleeping with grandma…it must be with Prince Philip, someone who’s been a part of her long journey. Of course she will have grandmas, great-grandmas and great- great -grandpas all sleeping here but she should be placed next to Philly.

I still feel we should have a more classical way to receive Her Majesty when she enters our chambers. I can still write a play and all of you can enact and we shall also have a few songs, if that makes you happy. I could ask the people from the Globe to bring the props and costumes and we can present a Broadway musical as they now call it. I have even thought of a name…Lizzy Dizzy and the last lines would be…Et Tu George, then fall Mama!”

There are no marks to guess who this was…William Shakespeare. A small group comprising of Jane Austen, the Bronte Sisters, Henry James and Lewis Carroll seemed to agree with the Bard.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we know she is arriving tomorrow with all the fanfare and show but it is likely that she may not reach our enclosure, said Rudyard Kipling. Seems the Masters at the entrance have  other plans.

What plans…Who are these so-called Masters?

Dr. David Livingstone is all set to welcome her with a short speech...Queen Majesty, I presume.

Charles Darwin has planned her passage on an old turtle which he had got from Galapagos. He wants her to take it easy after having played the Game of Thrones for over seventy years. It is time for Her Majesty to sit back and enjoy.

And then there is Sir Isaac Newton but there is nothing new about the gentleman. He has decided to share with Her Majesty the Fourth Law of Motion that he has just discovered. The new law states that, “For all motion, you always need a ‘Spare’". I still don’t know what he means but he’s a learned man and I am sure she will understand his words and the formula for a happy family.

Finally, there is Stephen Hawking who now wants to present her with his Not So Brief History of Time. Not to forget the Old Man Churchill who has recovered well and wants her to sit on the Coronation Chair one last time to check if it is strong enough to bear King Charles’ weight. The son has had a long wait and put on some extra pounds in the meantime.

In short, by the time she gets in here, we may be all tired and bored and may be the Bard’s musical would have taken shape by then.

Just when so much was happening right before my eyes and I had begun to enjoy the company of the greats, I made the mortal mistake of removing the invisibility cloak a bit from over my head. A strong arm gripped my neck from behind…. Got you bugger. I have been following you since you entered the Abbey on this ‘Marauder’s Map’ that catches every movement of intruders. You know what fate awaits you?

No Sir… I beg of you to let go of me.

No way… you shall meet the fate of Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658) who in the name of Reformation overthrew the monarchy and established the republican regime here for a short while. Cromwell was initially buried here but not for long. In 1661, after the Restoration of the Monarchy, his body was removed from the grave and hung from the gallows at Tyburn, London. Thou shalt meet the same fate…hung upside down from the arms of the Big Ben and made to move for hours and days together till the vultures get their feast.

Mahatma Gandhi is standing outside and I am sure he will fight my case.

Good Luck Mate…in you go…out you go! Any last wish?

A plate of the finest Fish and Chips, Sir.

Granted. Enjoy!

I woke up from my reverie on my hotel bed, sweating profusely, my blanket thrown aside and the huge pillow smothering my face. Checked the time... Oh I must have a quick breakfast and make a dash for the Westminster Abbey. The online ticket showed the guided tour started at 9.30 AM sharp.

SS

Magical Mystery Tour

Dad, you have a day in hand. Go to Liverpool and you will love it. I did the same tour in my trip and it was one of the highlights of my visit to the UK. Remember my pictures of the place? And that’s where ‘They’ started, so it has to be.

But Darling, I saw where they started it all at Hamburg… remember my visit there?

Yeah Dad, but how much more of London will you see? Move out, see the country side and enjoy the Mersey side.

So far, in life, it had always been Baby’s Day Out when I would decide where I would take my little one but now time has passed and she’s no longer little anymore. Now, she has decided on Baba’s Day Out.  So here I was searching the net for the best organized tour and booked myself on to The Magical Mystery Tour to Liverpool, the birthplace of Beatles. This music group always has had a special place in my heart… just love them. If you ask me the reason for that, then the immediate answers would be that they were easy to understand with their simple lyrics and their music just got you grooving. When I was young, possibly around 1980, the movie Birth of the Beatles was released in a cinema house called Priya in Vasant Vihar. It was still a single screen theatre before becoming PVR and it always played the English movies. I saw the movie six times in seven days…. That’s simply the most times I have seen a movie in a theatre surpassing Namak Halal which I later saw five times. 

Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
The magical mystery tour is waiting to take you away.

At first, it was a mystery that set my heart racing on the appointed day and time as the tour operator did not show up at the Euston Station with the placard as was expected. There was another lady in a similar predicament on another tour. With the e-ticket still open on the mobile screen, I frantically started calling the local tour operator and the lady at the other end matter-of-factly said she would not be able to help. Finally, she gave me a US number where the helpdesk lady sounded more like a helpless lady. The train was due to leave at 8.07. I checked with the guy at the station ticket counter and he said there was no 8.07 train Liverpool Lime Street! There never had been one for months. Yes, there was a train at 8.43 am. Mystery was deepening further. Was there another platform 9and ¾ like the train to Hogwarts? A voice in my head said- a scam?  It was already 8.30am and the train to Liverpool Lime Street was ready to leave and here I was stranded and cheated. “Cancel my tickets and refund my money”, I shouted on the cell phone loud enough for the entire station to hear. I wanted to in fact shout...

Help! I need somebody, Help, Not just anybody.

Help! You know I need someone. Help me if you can, I’m feeling down...
Won’t you please, please help me?

I now had two choices…take a tube back to hotel and then explore London or buy a train ticket and go to Liverpool all on my own. I picked the second one and rushed to the ticket vending machine, paid by my card and started running for the 8.43am train. Having lived in Mumbai and travelled by the locals, I knew how not to miss trains and in the nick of time somehow clambered on the Avanti West Train.

Trains there are good… the WiFi works so I pulled out my iPad and started writing a stinker to the tour operator asking for a cancellation and immediate refund of money failing which I threatened to reach out to social media and give them a bad name. By the time my mail went out of my box, a mail immediately hit my inbox confirming that the tour had been cancelled due to unavoidable circumstances and that my money would be refunded in three to seven days… Thank God it wasn’t a fraud! Now magic was happening. I wrote a mail to Mike, my co-speaker at a Marine Insurance programme, who had told me that he was a Liverpool Boy and the locals pronounced it was Li’erpool. I wrote a quick mail to him to guide me through his home town and in no time he shared an itinerary which looked nice and compact. As I stepped out of the station, my heart began to flutter… I am going to get lost in Penny Lane or Strawberry Fields or least of all walk down the Abbey Road.

First stop, where else but the Beatles Museum. This was some place to read about the Fab Four, see the pictures, enjoy the memorabilia and listen to the audio detailing the fine points. For instance, did you know about Mona Best?  She owned a The Casbah Coffee Club in Liverpool which served as the venue for rock and roll music and she helped the Beatles in those initial years. Her son Pete was the first drummer in the band and was later replaced by Ringo Starr. She was given the title of Mother of Merseybeat.

Enjoy the pics, not the usual ones… The Visiting Card

The first possible selfie taken in 1965

The autograph

Ever heard of Izzie Bravo… she was a Brazilian girl who loved the Beatles so much that on her sixteenth birthday, she flew in with a friend to London to catch a glimpse of her heroes. She went to Abbey Road studios and within minutes of her reaching, the Beatles came out, stopped and chatted with her. She burst into tears. She returned a couple of times and was eventually delighted to be invited to the studio to sing the high harmonies on “Across the Universe.” So, dreams do come true. I too had dreams and I too dreamt of meeting the Awesome Foursome but never had the means of Izzie to land in London…anyway… I got to meet my idols today and stand next to their photographs, dresses and busts.

Next stop was a peep into The Cavern where the Beatles played innumerable times. Today a man sat there singing Imagine… there were still enough people there that day to create the sound of thunder when the song ended.

With joy in my heart and music in my ears, I walked to Mersey side, booked myself on the ferry ride and had an enchanting view of the city from the riverside. With loads of chubby kids on the boat, the ride seemed a lot of fun….. did I say it was only fun? I did have to respond to about fifty mails and calls from frantic office folks who were struggling with the business pressures of April 1…the All Fool’s Day for us insurers.

What’s Liverpool famous for other than the Beatles… you know who? But how could I go to the den of my arch rivals…. No no no…that’s blasphemy…can’t do it. How can a Manchester United fan walk into Anfield and that too just when they had ruthlessly beaten my team seven nil, just a week ago in the same battlefield of Mersey side? Impossible, I said to myself but then I remembered Lennon’s lines…

Imagine there are no countries (teams)
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people, living life in peace.

And I boarded the bus to Anfield, got off and took that One Small Step for Man and a Giant Leap for Mankind. Then I told myself, ok I will see the stadium but not take a tour inside for sure, John please don’t mind. Is it not good enough that I am here and now seeing the huge stadium before me? The statue of the legend Bill Shankly seemed to spread his arms wide and trying to say, Son You’ll Never Walk Alone. 

I stood before The Champions Wall and it sure looked impressive… this is a great place to be and I forgot all the rivalries in my head and began enjoying the place. 

Found myself in the gift shop and even picked a couple of stuff including refrigerator magnets and a small ball for a friend’s son who loved kicking the ball. The kids’ corner was the most fascinating and the best part was that the toddlers insisted on wearing the club clothing even before the parents had paid for them. No wonder each kid, when he or she grows up, is an absolute die-hard fan of the club…never to change colours. When it comes to colours, you need to be extra careful of what you are wearing...Red or Blue..for this is also the town that houses another famous English club, Everton who too have their fans. Since you are a tourist, my daughter had told me, do not wear either of the colours for who knows which street belongs to the Red Gang or the Blue Gang...stay safe, enjoy the trip Dad.

All check boxes ticked, I looked at my itinerary once again…oops… I had missed the Beatles statues at the Merseyside. Hopped off the bus and then took a long walk back and, finally, got my picture of the day standing beside the larger than life size statues of the Liverpool Boys who will always and always remain my idols and their songs the best ever…. No Prince or Queen matters.

And for the places I wrote about in the beginning of the long walk around the famous city, here are the facts. Penny Lane happens to be in the outskirts of Liverpool. So Penny Lane where ‘all the people that come and go, stop and say Hello was out of bounds for me. Happy though that M managed to  see it on her trip five years ago. Then there was the Strawberry Fields which used to be an orphanage and is now the HQ of the Salvation Army in Liverpool. Missed that too. And, finally, Abbey Road happens to be a place in London where there is a studio and the picture of the Beatles crossing this road featured on the cover of an album released in 1969. So there are still mysteries unexplored for another tour. Will do it, maybe ‘When I’m Sixty Four!’

With a loads of happy memories of places visited, things seen and experienced, I boarded my train to ‘Get Back’ to London.  So ‘With a Little Help from My Friends’ and having enjoyed ‘Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band’, I knew for sure that I would sleep well tonight watching ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.’

SS

एक बार फिर

 माँ  तेरी  गोद में  लेट  जाऊं

भूल  गया  हूँ  उस  सुख  को 

शायद नींद  की तलाश में 

तेरी  गोद  में  सो  जाऊं  चैन से 

नींद पूरी हो जाये मेरी 

 

एक  बार  मौका  मिले  तो  

रातों  को  तुझसे बहुत  सारी  बातें  करूँगा

तेरे  संग  और  वक्त  ज़्यादा  बिताऊं 

तेरी  देख - भाल  और  सेवा  

जिसमें शायद  कुछ  कमी  रह  गयी  थी  

उसको  पूरी  करूँगा, माँ .

 

बाबा  तुझसे  मिलूं  तो  माफ़ी मांग लूँगा 

उन तानो के लिए जो तुमने मेरे लिए सुने  

आज  मैं  सुधर  गया , कुछ  बन  गया  हूँ बाबा 

बस  तेरा  मुझपे  विश्वास  था 

जब सब हाथ धो बैठे थे 

एक तुम ही थे जो अड़े रहे अटल बने 

कोई  माने या  ना माने

तू नहीं तो मैं आज कुछ भी नहीं

 

एक  बार  फिर मौका  मिले 

तो  UPSC की  तैयारी भी  और  करूँगा

अखबार  में  इस  बार  तुम  मेरा  नाम  देखोगे 

मुस्कुराओगे  और  कहोगे  सबसे , 

मैं  ना  कहता  था  एक  दिन  मेरा  बेटा  कुछ  बनेगा 

बस  इतना  तेरे   मुँह  से  सुनना   चाहता   हूँ  एक  बार

 

बहनों  से  कहूंगा  कि 

चलो  एक  बार  हम  कहीं  साथ  घूमने  जाएँ 

रक्षा  बंधन  और  भाई  दूज  के  त्यौहार  से  आगे

एक  अपनी  खुशियों  की  दुनियां  बसाएं 

 

एक  बार  मौका  मिले 

तो  कोशिश  करूँगा  की  

वक्त घर  में  तुम संग बिताऊँ

घर  घर , स्टापू  और  चोर  पुलिस

तुम्हारे  संग  ही  खेलूं 

 

पत्नी  जी  से  कहूंगा  कि  चलो 

फिर  एक  बार  शादी  कर  लेते  हैं

और  इस  बार  छुट्टी भी लूँगा और honeymoon bhi जायेंगे  

तुमसे  पूछूंगा  ख्वाइशें  तुम्हारी 

एक  दूजे  को  कुछ  और  पल दे  देते  हैं 

ज़िन्दगी की भाग दौड़ में 

जो कल ना दे सके इक दूजे को हम 

 

बीवी  जी , एक  मौका  फिर  मिले 

तोह  शायद  शादी  इतनी   जल्दी  ना  करूंगा

तुमसंग  घूमूँगा  फिरूंगा  निडर होके

मेरे  दफ्तर  के  बॉस से भी नहीं 

कभी  आराम  से  अच्छी जगह बैठके  खाएंगे  हम 

इस  बार  हर  वक्त की तरह  जल्द -बाज़ी  ना  मचाऊंगा 

कुछ  तोहफे , कुछ  फूल  भी  दूंगा  तुम्हे  प्रिये 

 

स्कूल  के  टीचरों  से 

और  कॉलेज  के  प्रोफेसरों  से  बोलूंगा 

इस  बार  आपकी  क्लास  में  हर  रोज़  आऊंगा  

जो  बोलोगे  सुनूंगा , जो  कहोगे  करूँगा

मार  पीट  से  इस  निकम्मे  को  काबिल  बनाया  आपने

एक  बार  तो  शुक्रिया  अदा  ज़रूर  करूँगा 

 

एक  बार  फिर  मौका  मिले

तो   स्कूल  फुटबॉल  में गोलकीपिंग  छोड़ 

फॉरवर्ड  बन  के  टीम  में  खेलूंगा 

कॉलेज  के  मैचों  में  

कुछ  गोल और  दाग  दूंगा  

जो  खिताब  ना  जीत  सका  तब , अबकी  बार  जीत  जाऊंगा 

 

देखते  देखते  बहुत  दोस्त  बिखर  गए  हैं

कुछ  शहरों  के  फासले  थे

कुछ  आपस  की थी अनबन 

ढूंढ  के  उन  दोस्तों  को  फिर  एक  बार

दोस्त  बनाऊंगा , दोस्ती निभऊंगा

कभी  ने  बिछड़ने   की  कसम  खाऊंगा 

दोस्तों  को  और  वक्त  दूंगा , 

दो कश, दो जाम भी थाम लूँगा उन संग 

एक  बार फिर  मौका  तो   मिले , सब कर डालूंगा 

 

घड़ी  उलटी  फिर  ना  घूमेगी शायद 

जो  बीत  गया  पल , 

अच्छा  था , बुरा  था 

जैसा था वैसा ही रहेगा 

बहुत   कुछ  कर  सकता  था

गलतियों  को  सुधार  सकता  था

रूठों  को  मना सकता  था 

बिछड़ों  को  मिला  सकता  था

नाराज़गी  को  दूर  कर  सकता  था 

जीत  और  ख़ुशी  पा सकता  था 

जीवन  को  अपने  और  अपनों  के  लिए

और  सुधार  सकता  था 

पर  यह  अब  ना  हो  पायेगा 

चलो  जैसा था , उसको  छोड़ो 

बचे  हुए  दिन , बचे  हुए  साथी

सबको  साथ  ले  चलूँ  आज से 

खुश  रहूँगा  , खुशियां  बाटूंगा 

अपनों  के  लिए  और  अपने  आस  पास  के  लोगों  के  लिए

क्योंकि  फिर  एक  बार  यह  दिन  ना आएंगे 

फिर  एक  बार  यह  मौका  ना  आएगा

चलो  जी  लें  ज़रा , हंस  लें  ज़रा 

अपने  लिए , अपनों  के  लिए , औरों  के  लिए

फिर  एक  बार  ये   दिन ना लौटेंगे अभी 

बस आज ही आज है, कल हो ना हो.

SS

B&C of Old

We live in the times of JFM…not JFK. JFM is not the name of another US President but January, February and March. You board any flight and you are bound to find twenty to thirty insurance executives travelling zig-zag across the length and the breadth of the country. They all look alike with the laptop bag hanging from one shoulder and the phone held against one ear as the fellow keeps talking, trying to convince others why they should buy his product, why his pricing is better and what more the customer can gain by signing up. I have been doing this year after year and this is truly a ritual we perform. People at home think we are doing some great work, the staff at work think the bosses are terribly busy and yet we ourselves don’t know what good this is serving other than consoling oneself, if the results are not to the expectations, that I tried my best…I really did. And when it works, it feels good to have a bumper start to the next financial year.

Mind it, this ritual is not much fun. The alarm goes off at 4am and by 4.30am you are desperately trying to get an Uber to the airport where you find yourself facing a serpentine queue just to enter and the CISF person is taking time to look carefully at the old Aadhar card with the picture half obliterated and trying to match it with your sad and sleepy face. Reluctantly, he lets you go. Saved… no...wait . There’s a bigger queue ahead….the security check where the line, looking like the tail of the serpent, just becomes so much longer. And just when you think you have put the electronics and your over-nighter in two separate trays on the security belt and you attempt walking through the arch for the final body scan, the light blinks and the CISF man asks you to take off your shoes and put them in another tray as if you are entering the so called temple of modern India.  If you are lucky and have time at hand, it is time you want to use one of your multiple cards that entitle you to enter a lounge but bad luck seems to follow you as the card reader may not be working there. On days that it works, you promise yourself that you will only have fruits and tea but end up eating everything from humus to idli, from parantha to poha and masala chai. For the regular traveller, this is a danger zone and the first morning step to adding tyres to your belly and if you repeat the routine on your way back at the destination airport, you just might have eight pack belly which even the Pathaan on the screen does not have.

I am a pirate at heart, not because I do marine insurance, but I find some good in going from place to place and finding myself some interesting places to see and eat. While I may at times get to live in hotels that claim to be heritage and grand, to me these small old places tucked away in the old towns are the real heritages that we should preserve and visit. I start my search well in advance on Google….Best old places to eat…. and options pour out. Behind my boarding pass, I carefully start writing down a few names and as I meet my local colleagues, I throw some of these names at them just to get their reaction. In most cases, they seem to add to the wow quotient to what I had already read on the internet but are not so enthusiastic about the rest which I knock off from my ‘To Go to List’. Somehow, I even manipulate and convince the local colleagues to plan the business visit in a manner that they take me close to one of the fascinating joints where I go for my afternoon lunch…. Official Team Lunch of course. When it comes to dinner, I ward off people saying I have a lot to do and then select another good old place for making most of the night. Here I give you some such wonderful eating places in Chennai and Bangalore, two cities I recently travelled on ‘business.’

No visit to Chennai is complete without a visit to Murugan Idli. Opened in 1993, Murugan Idli Shop now has multiple outlets in the city but I love going to the original one on Usman Road, T Nagar. The website says that it “is a casual dining restaurant, offering South Indian cuisines and warm hospitality in a rustichistorically preserved places.” No dictionary will even find you such a word but surely this punched word brings out the essence of the place…rustic and historical. Rustic because you get no cutlery here. Just use your hands and slurp it in from the banana leaf placed before you! Historical for reasons I guess is that idli is the most famous breakfast food across the globe and it all started here in Chennai. Anyway, the moment you sit and order food which all seem to know what to ask for… four kinds of chutneys of coconut, coriander, tomato and mint are placed on the banana leaf. The chutneys are all made fresh, almost every hour, and the flavours are so distinct that you may end up eating them even before the meal has arrived. The idli is their signature dish and it is as soft as the baby’s bottom… soft, smooth and fluffy. The podi idli soaked with ghee is my personal favourite and the onion uthapa comes a close second. Getting a place here can be a challenge and so a little waiting time should be kept in reserve when planning a visit. I wanted to pick up a packed bottle of the spicy gunpowder (podi) but was told by the man selling that it will not be allowed in my hand luggage. I even checked with my friend in the city who happens to be the CISF Big Boss there and he promptly sent me the airlines list of things prohibited and it included this gunpowder. I did not have to ask the reason. Any idiot who wanted to create havoc in mid- air could open the seal and fling the gun powder in the eyes of passengers and crew and then take over Airforce One. The best part about Murugan is that it does not pinch your pocket one bit. Don’t waste your corporate credit card here…just pay cash and walk out or you may have to explain to your finance and personnel departments about the cheap, shady places you have been eating in.

If the day belonged to Top Gun Murugan, the night was pure masahari delight at Buhari on Mount Road. This place is a landmark in the culinary landscape of the city of Chennai for this is the place where the famous Chicken 65 originated. It was established in 1951 by A.M. Buhari who was the former Sheriff of Madras. I looked at the menu card and was inclined to reach for the famous Buhari Dum Biriyani but the waiter suggested trying something else. My next request was for the Ceylon Egg Parotta which is parantha with egg, onion and mutton pressed inside as filling. The fellow asked me to go by his choice and I agreed….iddiappam with paya and I had one of the best dinners for a long time. Even though there were five iddiappams, which are rice flour pressed into noodles and packed together, and the bowl of paya was huge, I licked the last bit of gravy and cleaned up the plate that possibly did not need a wash before being served to another customer. Next my friendly advisor asked me to top this meal with a cuppa Irani Chai…so milky, so sweet and with a distinct masala taste that made you wide awake and happy. All of this at less than five hundred bucks was a steal. Before leaving Buhari’s I insisted on seeing the Chicken 65 and Samsa (small samosa with chicken/mutton) just to see what these delicacies looked like. Chicken 65 is a deep-fried chicken dish with telltale red colouring. I was told that famous personalities like Raj Kapoor, Sivaji Ganesan and Sridevi would visit the place often.

Chicken 65

Off to Bengaluru the following week and the two afternoon lunches were at Sri Raghavendra Stores and Konark. At the Sri Raghavendra Bhavan at Chickpet, we had Rawa Idli, Dahi Vada with a sprinkling of boondi on top and Kesari Bhaat…. I just love this sweet dish which I never miss when in this city since I first visited with my family in 1996. One of my colleagues had puri-sabzi where the puri resembled bhaturas of North India. All this plus a round of wonderful filter coffee for less than four hundred rupees. This makes the food taste even better for a plate of idli ,at the hotel where I was putting up, would have cost me much more. Next afternoon, I had the best Ghee Masala Dosa ever at Konark Veg Restaurant at the stadium. I have had masala dosas at many places all over the country but this was truly special.

My other visit to an old and iconic place in Bangalore was at Koshy’s Parade Café at St. Mark’s Road. Koshy’s started in 1940 when P.Oomen Koshy opened a bakery in the Cantonment area and baked the traditional English bread for the garrisons. Later, he moved to a plot behind the cathedral and in 1952 opened Parade Café. Koshy’s became the first airconditioned restaurant in South India with a live band and dance floor. The menu is exhaustive with 968 items covering Kerala dishes to Anglo- Indian and continental fare. I enjoyed my dinner at the Jewel Box Café which I understand is pricier and is airconditioned. We had a round of sweet corn soup with pepper chicken as starters and the main course of butter chicken and tandoori roti was marvellous. The butter chicken was not the usual tomato sauce sprinkled gravy but had a distinct flavour of its own. The people serving here seem to be as old as the Café itself but they treat you well and the ambience is lovely. This is the place that has hosted Queen Elizabeth II, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru and Nikita Khushchev and many more. The place is usually frequented by the so called old timers most of whom have grown old with the restaurant. Some of these old timers are touchy about the place where they sit almost every time they come in. Read it somewhere that a politician once told the present generation owner that, “I have met your grandfather and father and seen you as a kid. I have travelled across the globe looking for peace and quiet and this is the only place I find it.”

The Jewel Box Cafe

How can I be a pirate and not talk of ale? So this one is not from the Old B&C, I mean Bangalore and Chennai, but closer home at a suburb of Mumbai where one of my office colleagues lives with his extended close knit family. Someone on his wife’s side recently passed away… off ho gayi in Mumbaikar’s lingo- and my colleague took a few days off. Mind it, both off in the last sentences mean different things! When he returned to work he told me of a local custom which, if Kalpana Lajmi were alive, she would have turned into her second movie on the aftermath of death, the first being Rudali, where we first got to see professional mourners of Rajasthan. Here, in this hamlet near Mumbai, it seems, the close family members plan a couple of sessions of hard drinking for the immediate family folks who have lost a soul in order to lessen their grief. Sessions are held age wise and some close relatives take charge of arranging each of the grief parties to help uplift the ‘spirits’ of the sad ones. Another colleague of ours who too loves his evening drink with friends listening to this tale remarked, “Hey, I too am very sad at your loss. Please invite me to one such session”.

Remarkable India…. Truly Incredible.

SS

Water Baby

Konnagar…that’s where my home is. Literally translated, it means which town. Funny name indeed for a place and often my friends in school and college would pull my leg by asking, “Where are you from.” I would say, “Konnagar.” Promptly they would ask again,”Kon Nagar se?”.

I did my schooling from a Christian Missionary school at Kolkata and then completed my engineering degree from a private college at Sreerampur. I have been applying for jobs but in West Bengal there is nothing much happening and opportunities for the youth are almost negligible. The big factories near my home town like Hind Motors, where the famous Ambassador cars would be manufactured, and Rishra, which was booming during the hey days of jute industry, have all become dormant.  The only option for most of us here is to move out from the state. Most of my college friends have moved to places like Ahmedabad, Bangalore, Mumbai and Delhi and the rich handful have flown overseas. Thanks to WA, we keep in touch… I mean they keep in touch. I remain a silent member for I have nothing happening in my life worth sharing.

Most of the youth in my town and in this state enjoy adda or what you might say is a place where they come together to talk on every subject under the sun. They will have multiple rounds of tea without milk and sugar and smoke endlessly. If you were to listen to them, you might get confused that you’re face to face with thinkers who would be no less than Voltaire or Jean Paul Satre with ideas to change the world. Most of them also play the carrom board well. I somehow have never taken to going to these addas in the neighbouring clubs house often called byayam samitis which, in earlier days, used to be the gym for the common folks.

I prefer staying at home, listening to music and reading books which range from fiction to history, from travel to sci-fi. But the thing I enjoy most is swimming in our pond behind our house. We used to have a huge holding of land but we have now been selling small plots almost every year to keep the fire in the kitchen burning. We have, however, held on to the pond which we call pukur and keep it as clean as is possible. I go for my swim three times a day and stay in the water for long. Over time, I have now perfected the art of underwater swimming where I can hold my breath while going from one point of the pond to another. Doing this often gives me great joy.

The joy is not just of being able to accomplish the task of holding breath for long but enjoy the view beneath the surface. I often go deep below to enjoy the marine life that exists there. There are these snakes which wriggle past you. Since childhood I was told by my father that the snakes in the pond are not poisonous, so I have never felt any fear of these creatures. My cousins from Kolkata get completely paranoid when they see the water snakes whenever they come to visit us and dare to go swimming in the pond. Most of these snakes have stripes on their bodies and when they swim in a wriggly fashion with the sunlight piercing the water, there is a feel of an optical illusion of a kind difficult to pen down. Then, there are these weeds that grow beneath with flowing leaves, as if waving to me to come close to them. There are also rocks of various shapes and sizes which have algae covering them. If you were to put your foot on any of them, you would surely slip and hurt yourself.

Of all the things beneath the water the most fascinating are the fish. But if you think that I am able to see all the colourful fishes that David Attenborough shows you on Nat Geo and Animal Kingdom, then I am sorry to disappoint you. All I see are simple grey and silver fishes like rohu, katla, pabda, tangra…. almost all of which find a place on a Bengali platter. It goes without saying , we also do not have the huge whales or the deadly sharks in our ponds. These are the regular fish, not exotic, and I am comfortable in my water kingdom. These different fishes and other creatures are my adda and I can be with them for hours together without getting bored or tired. I try to explore different parts of the pond and get to see newer creatures of different shapes and sizes but my usual underwater dive always starts from where my house is to the other end.

In this long dive, lately, I have been noticing a pair of silver fishes silently following me. When I dive in deeper, the two of them in perfect sync, dive in almost to the equal depth. If I were to move to the right or left, the two expertly move in the same direction. It is quite possible these two fishes are having some fun seeing a large creature in their midst moving up and down without causing any harm to anyone. Usually, the smaller fishes avoid the larger ones and hide in the weeds and rocks but maybe these two have been watching my movement over time and have realised, he’s one of us. On days when I take another route on my underwater dives, I am beginning to miss my tiny friends. Next when I show up, the two of them rush with great speed towards me. Reminds me of the dog we had at home. When we returned from school, he would rush towards me and put his paws up on my tiny shoulders, wagging his tail and saliva drooling incessantly. It would take him quite a while to calm down and it seemed he was questioning….where were you…why did you leave me and go….I missed you very much. Now, after many years, I am getting the same old feeling of the love of pets.

Sorry, these two tiny fishes, no more than the size of my palm, are not my pets. They are just companions in my water adda. I smile seeing them come everyday and can feel them talk to me… come let’s have fun bro! Funny creatures are these two for I do not feed them, I know not where they come from and where they live and yet a bond is getting formed in a world away from the sight of the big world. Watching their smooth movements has made me copy their style and now my swimming skills too have improved. I no longer splash water as I move ahead. My hands gently caress the water top and there is now hardly a ripple. Most improvement has come to the movement of my feet which earlier would hardly flap. Now, I have seen the champions swimming and my feet steer my body effortlessly. Some of my friends who join me in the water have noticed my new good style and are all praise for it.  They ask me who taught me this fluent style. I tell them my friends who swim with me every day. I must, however, state that my friends from the water world somehow do not come close to me when the others are with me. Don’t know whether it is their fear or jealousy which keeps them away.

I gave names to my tiny duo…Bapi and Binni…a boy’s name and a girl’s… though I did not know who was who. Just assumed the two were a couple. And then, after some time, I was proven right. Along with Bapi and Binni, I soon saw a whole lot of the tiniest fish you would ever see. They had kids….loads of them. The baby fishes, no more than a few inches, would now swim with their parents and I looked more like a aircraft carrier with a flotilla of ships and aircrafts all around me. I wish I had a camera with which I could capture these beautiful moments which, possibly, would have got millions of clicks on the social media. Maybe, my other friends in the real world adda would also see me and my world and stop calling me anti-social and snob. I sure was doing good, no matter whether people saw me or not.

I am now going into the water at least five times a day to the utter surprise and anger of my mother who thinks I have completely lost it. She keeps on telling me to read the newspaper and fill up forms for vacancies in government departments and banks. I do it just to make her happy but my happiness lies in the pond now. I can now see the little fishes grow inch by inch. But as they say, everything is momentary and all good times also come to and end. One day, as I was swimming, I saw a school of large fish coming from the opposite side. My tiny friends tried turning around as if they sensed danger. I kept on moving ahead as the water had turned crowded and there seemed to be some sort of scuffle with which I had nothing to do.

Next morning, I returned to the water and dived in. the water seemed all too quiet and calm. The Bapi and Binni family was nowhere to be seen. I finished one lap and came out of the water for air.Then I dived in again and went deeper. Yet again, I saw no trace of my friends. I waited longer near the large weeds from where, I knew, they often came out of every day. There I saw Bapi stationary, afloat just above the floor of the pond. I went closer and I saw that Bapi had in his mouth a whisker and on the other end of it lay, on the floor, a head. Near the weeds, two lonely babies were swimming around oblivious of what had happened. I went away and let Bapi to his grief.

In a couple of hours, I dived into the water once again and went close to the place where I had seen the family in the morning. Bapi was still there, almost at the same place. The head beneath was now covered with mud, only a bit of it was visible. As I swam ahead, the two surviving kiddos started following me. I started keeping a close eye on any intruder. Even a faint hint of some disturbance in the water made me alert and turn around to envelop the tiny fishes.

This went on for a few days. Bapi refused to join the swim and I did not see him again. The kids were always waiting for me. Now I have stopped taking any other route for my swim. It is always the straight route where the kids know my time and speed and they were now accustomed to my being with them five times a day. I am always worried, when on land, about these tiny lives. How will they survive any attack by another fish in my absence? I became paranoid and took to the water more often but I knew very well that I just could not be there always. I had to do something.

Every fortnight the pond was given to a contractor who would lay the net at night and in the morning pull it up. The bigger fishes would be put in big tanks of water and the smaller ones set free. I knew that most of the killers had been punished but still a few remained. The danger to the babies was real.

Next morning, I went into the water and as the two tiny babies came close to me, I extended my arm. They came swimming and settled on my palm. I held them gently and put them in a polythene bag. I walked out of the pond and put the water in a big aquarium I had bought from the market. I also got some fish food for the duo. The aquarium sits nicely on my study desk and I have decorated it with some nice objects and lights. A few colourful fishes are there as well to give my babies company. I don’t go for my swims so often now, maybe twice a day at best. I don’t know how the little ones feel inside a small box but I have found my peace and am now able to help Ma with chores and also do my preparations for the multiple selection examinations.

SS

Pictures courtesy: Sagar Datta