The Great Indian Spirit

The monsoons are here early this year. So they're catching us unaware. And Bangalore is already notorius for its unpredicatble weather. It's one of the qualities that make this city so loveable. We might be out shopping in the sun or driving back from work on what appears to be a perfectly clear day when all of a sudden, we find ourselves in the midst of a heavy downpour.

A few days ago, I was parked at a traffic signal. As I waited for the light to change from red to green, it began to rain. I had nothing to worry about because I was in my car. My faithful, beautiful black hatchback would keep me dry as a bone. Heck, I even had the luxury of switching on the heater if the mildly chilly outside was too much for my delicate self to handle. Outside my window, I saw two girls, both of whom were around the same age as me. Only one was wearing a helmet. Both were dressed in thin synthetic salwaars - their only shield from the rain.

I felt a tiny prick inside me that reminded me that I was sitting in a warm dry car, a five-seater that accomodate four others, while these girls were getting soaked and cold. I was positive that if I had been in their position, I would have been grouchy and miserable. I hate being cold.

But when they turned their faces towards me, they were smiling! The windows of my car are tinted, so they couldn't see the look of utter disbelief on my face. It was like a one-way mirror, where they were the happy spectacle and I was the shocked spectator. I just couldn't understand how they could be caught in the rain without any warning and be so happy.

If that wasn't enough, I realised that several other motorists who were getting wet also seemed to be rather unfazed. While those who could get shelter were doing so, either by parking under a nearby bus stop or slipping into a water-proof windcheater that they had tucked into their backpack, the rest with no protection seemed just as comfortable. In fact, some of then were holding their faces up to the sky and using the raindrops to feel fresh. It was in their hair, their eyebrows and their mouths and they were enjoying every minute of it. Just then a car passed by on the other side of the road. It went through a huge muddy puddle at full speed, splashing copius amounts of unclean water on bicyclists, moped users and pedestrains, most of whom were already expecting the onslught. And even before the water could finish dripping of their moppy heads, they had all burst out into a fit of giggles. They seemed to be celebrating their circumstances.

So there I was sitting amidst an entire crowd of dripping wet individuals who thought it was hilarious that their shirts were clinging to their bodies.

That's when it occurred to me. That it's all about the Great Indian Spirit. That's what makes us different. That in no other part of the world will you find a lot quite like us. Where it isn't out of the ordinary to have leaking roofs and inundated basements, where it's possible that the beggar on the street corner makes more in one evening than the management student who's been trying to sell the face steamer/vegetable processor to passersby who shrug him off like vermin, where urchins tap the windows of bullet-proof sedans, where chawls share a wall with gated communties, where your kids go to posh private schools but your maid's go to the government one where the teachers never turn up, the bathroom doesn't function and the roof threatens to cave in. It's injustice sure. But it's also about survival.

It's about hope based on dreams that allows the urchin to believe that he'll be on the other side of the glass one day.

And that I have lots to learn from two minutes at a a traffic signal, which hasn't been covered in my posh private school.

Never before have I come across a race that has the burning instinct of survival searing through them as strongly as it exists in Indians. They find humour in tragedy and possibility despite no ready opportunity. Bill Cosby once said that if you can find humour in something unfortunate, even poverty, chances are you will survive it. That's what's been driving Indians for centuries.

Sometimes I don't know if that survival instinct stems from circumstances or whether the circumstances in this country are such because of the resilience of our people. What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Masala ka Jalsa

Dinner tonight was especially fantastic. We tried this new place that's opened off Church Street. Ada.

It's pretty inviting from the curb onwards. I though it had rooms as well but turns out that it's just an Indian and Chinese restaurant. Works just as well I guess, since food is usually always the first priority.

Tonight, we decided to go Indian.

We got a corner table. I ordered a murgh shorba to clear up my sinus. It was quite a mediocre beginning to a sumptious meal that followed. The cheese naan, again, was average. But the kheema that it went with was absolutely divine. Finely minced mutton seasoned with aromatic spices and gently garnished with almond chips was almost melt in the mouth. I've never been a big fan of fish. And the fish curry helped me maintain that stand. But the sheekh kebab compensated for it.

Service was spot on. I got the feeling that the staff was meticulously trained to play the perfect hosts (You'd be surprised how many places overlook this very important detail). They were effiicient without being over attentive. Managerial staff was especially helpful, volunteering to show us around the rest of the dining area. That's when we discovered the open air seatng area and made a mental note to ourselves to make another trip soon and take advantage of the great outdoor. That charcoaled broiled food is likely to taste particularly delicious while the cold night air kisses the tip of your nose.

Acoustics need slight improvment. But Ada definitely warrants a second visit. Check it out for yourself (Resthouse Road, Bangalore).

Consummate a fine evening with pan from the guy at the corner of Residency Road. Bring India home to your tastebuds!

Venus doesn't need a Penis

The Weaker Sex.

The Fairer Sex.

Stronger.

Think with their heart.

The Nurturers.

Bitch.

Whore.

Slut.



...And other annoying titles. Women have been called every name in the book and described in every imaginable way, good and bad. And it seems that over time, they have begun to believe the names which others assigned to them. For example, there are scores of women out there who believe that they are a notch lower than men, in most aspects, because some chauvenistic bastard* would have got them to believe that, and hence they behave that way. They will consider themselves to be stupid (to put it mildly) and thus behave like they really are. That in turns causes others (read: men) to treat them similarly. So who's to blame?

It's a vicious cycle.

*As for the chauvenistic bastard, let's say that it's him more often than not. Let's give the men the benefit of doubt. Sometimes it can be plain old social conditioning as well. Whatever the case, it's not possible to blame others because you choose to behave like a dimwit.

Whether you choose to accept it or not, we still live in a male-dominated society. Women need to realise that it isn't necessary to prove their superiority against men. However, it is essential to acknowledge them as equals and strive towards asserting their own stand.

It's so rare you find this healthy move being achieved because very often you come across only one kind of extreme - the bra-burning feminist or the pathetic wimp. Where's the balance necessary to restore balance?

This post is a shout out to women to begin to take themselves seriously. It's only when they do that others will do so in return. Women need to believe that they are just as capable as anyone else and start living their lives that way. I'm tired of seeing women behave like they don't possess a brain or the mental faculties to think. Women drivers are still a standing joke. Have you ever noticed how blonde women are the butt of jokes but not much gets said about beach bum men, however furiuosly their hair might be bleached?

You may wonder why I'm writing this now - at a time when it seems as though gender equality has been restored to the civilised world and the Feminist movement was over years ago. But if you read betwen the lines, you'll see that women have a long way to go. They've come a long way. But they still have a long way to go.

Women are powerful. Period. It's just that so many of them out there don't know it yet.

And for all those women who indulge in male bashing, please take a minute to think what the world would be like with no men...

P.S. A comforting statistic that I came across the other day is that women constitute 49% of the world's population. Despite female infantoecide and skewed sex ratios in several parts of the world, there are still a substantial number of us out there. So let's get working!

P.P.S. Dont ever let anyone make you feel like you have to feel sorry for being born a girl. Embrace your sexuality and never think of breasts, glutes or your uterus as something you have to apologise for. Don't stand for unneccasary attention being paid to them either. A strong, confident woman can take on the world. So tell 'em to bring it on!

Disclaimer: This post is not meant to offend anyone, men or women. I am a woman who is very proud of her race. I've also had the good fortune of having some brlliant men in my life. So I'm a firm believer in the goodness of men. This post is just an earnest wish of a blogger for people to take charge of their own lives. No one is going to hand you the life that you want to live or the way on which you want to live it. It's up to you to build that for yourself. Learning to take control of your life is the first step.

Hanging on firmly...by a thread

Vulnerability is a funny thing. Knowing that there are several forces out there, both physical and otherwise, that can affect you is both nerve rattling and humbling.

Nothing is constant. Change is one of the biggest factors that can make you feel vulnerable. There are several more.

Everyone loves to feel protected. To know that no matter what, they will be shielded from life's wrath. But that's a luxury no one has the joy of enjoying. And somehow, as cynical as that thought may seem, it is that element of vulnerability that is necessary to help you find your place under the sun.

The Wonder Years

There are so many things that make so much sense to me now muhc more than they did when I was a kid. I recall that while being a kid was undoubtedly hassle free most of the time (if you didn't count school politics, wardrobe concerns and most importantly - playtime dynamics), it was a rather blissful time period. However, it was a confusing time...

For example, I could never figure out how people could drive with the music playing. It seemed so complicated. Having been a driver on the road for the past four years, I've come to understand that it really isn't rocket science. In fact, I find myself being able to do it all the time.

It seemed bizarre that adults think it was downright gross to kiss. Wasn't it universally accepted that having another person's saliva in your mouth was not normal...? Twenty odd years down the line, the concept much makes much more sense.

Childhood was also punctuated with sudden burts of fear, the onset of which was particlularly pronounced. I was petrified of crime, of being separated from loved ones, of not waking up in the same place that I fellasleep. I often felt terribly helpless. It was a crippling feeling. Figuratively speaking, once I realised that there were no monsters under my bed, in my closet or behind the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, it wasn't long before the adrenaline that kept by body on guard converted itself into this liquid balm and washed over my insides before the feeling disppeared completely.

I won't negate that childhood is a great time period. But honestly, i'm happier to have grown up and be more in control of my life and suroundings as compared to back then. Sometimes, just sometimes, childhood can be mildly overrated.

My Compliments to the Chef

I just had to put down that Mainland China is by far one of the best Chinese restaurants in the city.

I went back after a while and the food was still as good as I remebered it. The noodles were soft and tossed to perfection with an eclectic blend of Chinese and Indian herbs; the fried rice was fluffy and pristine white with the faintest hint of chicken; the black sauce chicken was crisp and the ginger chicken outdid all others with its mild taste that somehow still lingered on your tastebuds after you had swallowed, but then quickly disappeared leaving you craving for more.

At the end of the meal, my appetite was satiated yet I didn't feel stuffed. The evening was made better with just the right lighting, courteous and prompt service and great conversation with family and friends.

All in all - an exquisite experience.

The Green Monster that lurks...Everywhere!

I thought space needed to be dedicated to something that pervades our lives so incessantly and intensely.

Abba sang about it. So did Petey Pablo and several others. Oprah Winfrey, The Rolling Stones and Bill Gates have plenty. The Forbes List regularly updates its list about who does.

It's taboo, in the sense that you never speak about salaries, inheritence or even penury for that matter. If you do, it always happens behind closed doors, if you've noticed. Business meetings, for example.

Many of us would recall gangster movies (Bollywood for us back home) where underhanded financial transactions were always conduted through black, ominous looking briefcases stacked with piles of cash. It was a tacit rule to merely flash the moolah over the table very quickly. Again, an example of a financial transaction carried out in utmost secrecy.

It's an art to know how to tip waiters and valet attendants - a quick handshake during which a crisp bill is exchanged. The world is oblivious. Only the two of you know.

Whether you choose to be a slave to money or not, you make a statement. A very strong one at that.

The Sensex is closely monitored. The words 'Sale', 'Free' and the like hold special meaning and importance in our society.

Money talks. No. correction. It's a blabbermouth. It has verbal diarrhea. Nothing can mke it shut up.

Money spells power, fame and quite often disaster. It's really about managing it right. The key funda being making it work for you rather than the other way around. Invest smartly people!

Anyone who says they don't need money is lying. Most of all to themselves.

It's a fact. It's best to admit it.

The world is officially money crazy.

Nose pressed up against the glass pane

It seems to be in my face. It's everywhere I turn. And I don't understand why.

Try this little experiment. When waiting at a traffic signal, try peeping into the vehicle next to you. More often than not, you'll see either a piece of orange cloth with gold tinsel around the edges tied up somewhere inside, a small Ganesha statue placed perfectly up front, a large silver sticker with Bismillah written on it in green or black or perhaps a Cross dangling from the rearview mirror.

Maybe I'm reading too much into it or reading between the lines more than I need to. Perhaps it's a harmless gesture to keep the Almighty in mind. However, I can't ignore that it's as though everyone seems eager to make their faith public.

I've grown up in this city and it's home to me. I've strolled it's strets, watched the city's landscape change, people evolve. The changes so far have been good. Flyovers, underpasses, malls and now the Metro under construction. But faith has never entered the public sphere.

It's always been your own business whether you chose to read namaz at home or do pooja, visit the Gurudwara or the Church. My friends have always been from varied backgrounds, the least coming from the background to which I belong. So these subtle displays that make very strong statements creating an obvious difference between my car and the one next to me, concerns me.

Communal chasms are widening in this country. My city is a stark indicator having been one to whom such matters never mattered.

The statistics are disturbing.

Dining delight by candlelight

So there is hope. I don't need to rant about the lack of interesting places to dine in the city. They seem to be cropping up - slowly and in the most unexpected places.

The other ight I ate at Serengiti, which surpassed expectation. A highly creative interior and sumptious food made the evening perfect. Take a walk on the wild side and embrace the carnivore within you to make the most of a visit here.

Oh, and I tried Orange Peel as well which was nothing short of an experience. In buzzing Bangalore, it's now possible to lose yorself in a quiet lounge, complete with soft lighting and frosted glass. We tried the salmon salad, Dukkah lamb, Chicken La Plancha, Tempinyaki Prawns, Duck Confit and glazed zucchini.

We like very much...

To be free

You can choose to wear red, pink or green. Have your eggs scrambled, poached or boiled. You can put your hair in a bun or let it hang loose around your shoulders or shave it all off if you please. You can have one child or none or an entire batallion, eat after sunset or stroll in a park. Stay single, get married, learn to drive or be an astronaut...it's really your call.

Ever wondered how fortunate we are to be part of a free society? The choices are ours. Most of them at least. Of course, there are battles to be won against free speech and expression, free thinking and opportunities. Bigger battles, as some call them. But some are fighting for the basics. For now, savour your physical freedom. It's more than many can ask for.