The blame game

I read this at MSN India: The bitter feeling

This seems like such a harsh judgment to make on an (at best) unwilling partner in a heinous crime.
The poor woman must have been traumatized by the knowledge of everything that was happening around her. Hardly likely that she was left untouched by the criminal activity. She may well have remained depressive and ineffective therefore in doing something to thwart or hinder her husbands plans.

Glazes, aubergines and cheese

It seems like it has been a while. Other things seem to have taken precedence... and my food trails have been running cold.

This weekend has been a catching up of sorts-- breakfast was a simple upma made right with just a hint of vegetables. Lunch was rotis with the left over pandhi curry. Dinner was a long time planning. Sushi-- maki rolls with crab meat. T's white wine (Chenin Blanc) was the perfect accompaniment. Smoked salmon was the starter. The momos were a bit of an experiment (owing to some laziness) and the rice paper seemed to lose some spring in the steaming. lessons learned and stomachs full, we set out to Sunny's for a dessert. Some sinful chocolate followed. And it was time to call it a night.

Breakfast was a bull's eyes accompanied by sausages with the tomato cheese melt over fried mushrooms and onions. Delicious. And filling.

Lunch was a quick glance in the fridge and a unh huh!!!

And preparations for dinner began right after a short nap.

The evening began rather early with hastily brushed memories of baking bread and a good large ball of dough kneaded and set aside to rise. The long pending pineapple upside down cake (this was a stupendous spectacular success!) followed. It was a luscious sweet treat. The rum glaze added a triumphant twist to this sweet (and pretty) concoction! Some encouragement (lots, actually) and a quick take on the method and we flambeed the glaze. Some pictures should follow.

Chef made a pepper chicken. I insist that the onions add value. But I am vetoed out! Fairly good. Could be better (its the sweet onions hon!). The dough has been shaped into rolls and croissants and set aside. A is making a moussaka, complaining about the fullness of his stiomach the while. A fairly rich curry of lentils have also been set aside.

Preparations are on in full swing. We plan to spread out a small cheese platter with the moussaka and watch Duplicate over dinner. Let's wait and see how that turns out..

And then its time to take on the world after a quick nap again!

Dinner- Asian

Sashimi (salmon and tuna), pickled ginger and wasabi-- a lovely start to a great dining experience.

Throw in some good (foodie) company-- and you have the makings of a great evening!

That was how it started.

Warmed up quickly with a glass of the house red.

Followed it up with a couple of plates of sauteed "field" mushrooms (wood-ear and shiitake rock!), golden fried prawns rolled in sesame seeds with garlic sauce, roti telur (this was the only part that I deemed miss-able) and a sizzling barbecue of pork ribs! Delicious. Followed by two rounds of fortune cookies.

When skating on thin ice, your safety is in your speed. (Er... OK?!)
Be satisfied with what you already own. (Hmmmmmmmmmmmpfh!)

OR (depending on whose fortune you pick!)

Your sweetheart may be too beautiful for words but not for arguments.
your smile makes everyone realise that the world is a lovely beautiful place.

And topped off with coconut rolls with honey butter sauce. Yummmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

5 X 2

I watched this surreal french film by Francois Ozon. (Ironically) it left me gasping for breath.

(What is it about French movies and full frontals?!)

Valeria Bruni Tadeschi and Stephane Freiss set the mood as a middle aged couple very civilly parting ways-- signing the divorce papers after agreeing on the terms read out by a stodgy lawyer.

The (as yet) unvoiced bitterness and the anger forms a silent undercurrent.

The film moves chronologically backwards from this point to capture for us four other instances which are the "big moments" in this couple's life.

We see a patient Gilles as he handles their child and we see another darker side of him in a dinner converastion with his gay brother and his lover. Marion glitters through this scene as she entertains them after a long hard day at work.

We move backward through the agony of Marion alone in a traumatic childbirth, silently chastising the unrelenting Gilles as he passes zombie-like through the motions of a regular day.

We see Gilles and Marion united in holy matrimony as they mouth the (we already knowthis to be untrue) words-- until death do us part.

We see Gilles distracted by Marion's appearance as he cavorts on a beach with his girl friend.

The film forces us to consider these moments in reverse chronology and makes us wonder if things could have been different.

The pace remains slow and ponderous. The nudity seems excessive. All in all, it leaves one wondering why this story needed to be told this way. However, it also leaves us feeling like we have been throught the bitter parting of ways ourselves. And it feels like a series of snapshots in an everyday life...

In vino veritas

Succesion... and bequests

Life looks a little different if you are the next in line... or so I think...

C'est la vie... quest que vous faite!?

I am sitting at home wondering about one of my favorutes... who is in love with somebody I like... Easy to say it is being handled. But with a couple I know being in discussions for decades now, it has a new meaning. Shoud we decide on immediacy?

I don't know how to answer this!!!

Wodelouse rocks!!!

On a relatively blue morning, when waking up and taking on the day seem a drag the one thing I can depend on to pick me up is a Wodehouse.

Transported as I am immediately to a world of eccentric "peers of the realm" who look like "dying ducks" and are bullied mercilessly by observant nieces hiding in the shrubbery playing not so mute witnesses to the indiscretions of older relatives; or larger than life sisters with commendable memories and "bellowing voices" who bully these same older relatives into doing their bidding, the cares of the day peel off and I find myself smiling again and ready to take on whatever the day has in store.

Bring it on!!!

Holes in the ozone layer and other things that need immediate attention

I do not read the newspaper. I do not watch television. And I do not track the news.

Dramatic as this may sound, this may be true of many more people who would be hesitant to state this.

I am a “reader” with a voracious appetite for the printed word. And I am rather indiscriminate in my reading. I do have very strong opinions about the things that matter to me. And I am willing to admit (and accept) that other people can (and usually do) have very strong opinions of their own that are divergent from mine.

I enjoy a good argument—as much as the next person who is interested in looking at things differently would. And I am willing to cry myself hoarse and lose my voice over something that I really believe in.

And I am willing to accept a different point of view, if you can convince me.

Having had a rather long day arguing over trivialities that included what actually constitutes “theft”, on what is a better operating system, on whether Microsoft is actually the evil Satan that the (leftist IMHO) open source league makes it out to be.

Does this affect my life? In reality, I think not. Do these questions really shake the world? Or are they tools in the hands of some crafty marketing guru who has plugged it into a campaign to woo the world and wag the dog?

On whether I can contribute the creating (or not therefore) the hole in the ozone layer: I believe I do not affect this.

The earth (and the other planets… as also a variety of systems that parallel our solar system) has existed for aeons. In fact I believe that we as a race have a limited understanding of what exactly constitutes these systems. We have made significant progress in understanding some aspects of our past and our evolution. However, to accept this as complete (going by the contribution to better understanding this universe by luminaries including Galileo and Newton and Einstein and Hawking) would (IMHO of course) be a disservice to the future Hawkings’, Einsteins and the rest of their ilk that are lurking in the shadows as they theorise and throw light on aspects that were less understood today (and yesterday, therefore).

To accept the body of knowledge that we have today as complete seems to me therefore to be limiting.

In view of the cycles of warmth and cold that I have read about, this planet has been moving along a course that has resulted in a species like us taking the forefront and we like the other dominant species before us, seem to be heading towards extinction. In fact we seem to be hurtling towards this at an alarming pace. Should this worry me?

As someone (marginally) interested in anthropology (and also as someone interested in examining my viewpoint on this issue yet again), I believe not.

Yes. We may be looking at a different earth in a few million years time. But, to actually attribute these changes to a species that occupies so little space is to me self aggrandizement of the worst sort. I (and I use this term loosely to represent the human race as a whole). As I have heard it said, the earth was not what it is today just that many millions ago either. And we humans were not around in these numbers to help it along its cycle. But cool it did. And then it burned. And froze over again. And entire species were wiped out each time around. And every time, the dominant species formed a large part of the species’ that was wiped out. I am sure you are literate and understand the basics of probability. What’s the chance of that happening? Huh!

I believe that this preoccupation with the self and with the idea that we matter so much in the entire scheme of things is rather dramatic. And futile. I do not believe that we can change the course of this planet. And if we do manage that—I am of the opinion that it shall not be of lasting impact. What are a few billion people going to do to something that has created and sustained them for millennia? Go ahead—convince me otherwise. I am willing to consider as many viewpoints to the contrary as you can throw up. But be warned—this is no illiterate opinion or rant. There is research material (that is rather controversial no doubt) that stands me in good stead as I take this stand. (The University of Berkeley has some information that you may find illuminating— but don’t bother if you are one of those that goes around with a pre-formed opinion that cannot be changed!)

Media circuses and India

The Lead India campaign is becoming more of a "show" and less a serious effort to create leaders ground up. The frivolity of the first episode aired on national television was astounding.

Subsequent efforts have been more substantial. However, a certain something-- je ne sais quoi-- is still missing. That critical piece which will take this out of the realm of a media circus and into that of an initiative to groom the future leaders of India.

It must be said, definitely, in its favor, this is a step in the right direction. But at this stage, what we as a country need are multiple such (baby) feet marching in tandem to propel us into the future ahead of the pack, as it were.

The utterly incredible spectacle of Shah Rukh Khan sharing centrestage with Dr. Manmohan Singh as he was feted as the "Leader of the year" with a multitude of celebrities including Rahul and Priyanka Gandhi, Rajnikant, Barkha dutt et al looking on... the nature of the questions addressed to the "Leader of the year"-- are a significant indicator of the malaise that seems poised to hit India mid stride, as she prepares to take on the world.

Yes- we need champions who can take the lead in saying no to the very many things that have been holding India back through the past few decades since our freedom from colonial rule. But we need some inspired people who can share the stage unobtrusively with the real leaders-- those that must make the change to make this difference.

While a Karan Thapar with his hard talking can serve to expose corruption or other ills in our society; while the media can aid the soldiers in a vigilant fight for justice as in the Jessica Lal case; there must be some checks and balances that allow for the wielding of the power without this in itself becoming an end. We are today at a frightening stage in our societal development where the media seems all set to don wig and robes and become both judge and jury. We seem to be wowing the setting up of a parallel judicial system.

While the media must indeed be watchful and flag discrepancies in the system and workings of the legislative and judicial arms of the state machinery, it is rather limiting to try and recognize the Indian media itself as a system that effectively replaces the parliament, judiciary and legislature in India.

The inefficiencies in the existing system are more about the people and less about the system. What we need is a watchful media that flags every instance of corruption (and misuse of power, of course) and decay while standing by and letting justice take its course. Of course, as responsible citizens we must all do our bit to help justice hurry along this course. But along the way, we must also recognize that the setting up of a parallel judicial system will be counterproductive (in the long run) as power does indeed corrupt— and that it would be a disservice to democracy at large and the Indian democracy in particular if we subvert justice to serve an end today—however noble the intent and however blameless the deed itself— because it will (of necessity) set a bad precedent.

This is not to doubt the earnestness of those that have jumped in and joined the fray in their eager quest to lead India into the next decade... But the hype and the hoopla from the media have served only to craete a gaudy halo around the entire exercise.

Monday morning blues

I struggle to make the time to keep this commitment. But, I fear I am fighting a losing battle. Work has taken over my life in the way no jealous lover ever could beore. I am consumed by the long hours this relationship requires. The infantile demands on my time drive me to despair. I count every moment till the weekend and then-- blissful sleep. Hours and hours of it.

But other demands clamour for my attention and shout out that they have to be met too. Relatives and friends mingle into a kaleidoscope of clashing, jangling brilliants-- as I swoop from one to the next in a blur of social activity. The whirl leaves me in a swoon on the cluttered Sunday bed. A heap of tired muscle and screaming sinew that has no choice but to ready itself for the onslaught of the ignored infant.

The rooster crows. Another day has begun.

Bleary eyed, I tear myself out of the warm cocoon, and stumble around picking up the pieces. I paint my face back on, and go through the motions of reclaiming myself from the nether realms rather nonchalantly. I bundle myself into my skin, and throw myself into the act of waiting for the monster that will tear through the foggy morning, as it trundles along inexorably closer to the hungry day.

The gears clang loudy and the horns blare as I droop on the seat in the wilting brown bus as it lurches its unsteady way in on the Monday.

Another week begins with me trying hard to quieten the fledglings' cries for attention.

TIOL and other miseries...

The Inheritance of Loss was a book that left me feeling a faint unease and left me wanting to read more… to arrive at a conclusion.

The prose itself was fluid… lyrical even, in some parts. The narrative was unsettling in parts. The uneasiness I referred to earlier was perhaps a manifestation of this character of the writing.

The “main” plot itself seems practically non-existent, where sub-plots abound. The cameos of Biju as an illegal immigrant, or Panna Lal as the thieving, scrivening cook who thinks nothing of cheating his old benefactor are poignant reminders of our legacy of colonialism. Gyan and Sai’s romance, Lola and Noni’s incessant old woman chatter, Mrs., Sen’s garrulousness—all these strike the right chord. The bitter old judge, caught up in his own miserable world—unable to embrace life, except in his devotion to Mutt, as it were—captures our attention. We laugh at their follies and smirk as they totter in their grotesqueness. This book is like a patchwork quilt—but the fabric of the quilt itself is missing. What perhaps is missing is the “fabric” of one storyline that holds all of these together.

There seems to be a self critical vein running through the entire narrative as it were, causing the post colonial Indian reader to pause and grimace as each well described barb hits home. Every nuance rings true and leaves a gash of a wound that feels too hard to fill. This seems to be the only common thread—a bitter, potent, and sometimes furious self recrimination that feeds on itself through the book.

The characters themselves inherit this limitedness from the plot. They come centre-stage and capture our attention and stop suddenly, stunted by the limitations of the story. There seems a sort of hopelessness and humiliation that are inherent in the narrative which the characters acquire and embrace.

The writing is fluid, beautiful… It flows to embrace each little crevice of emotion it portrays. It seems contemporary almost in the issues that it seeks to expose. It encapsulates and presents the dilemmas of modern day living in a painfully real way.