From today, the SEEPZ main-gate is off limits. It is being repaired / renovated for monsoons, and methink, also to handle 24/11 like emergencies better. Well, that's good news. This means, from now till the time the gates are back, one will need to use Gate #5.
I saw it today, open, and entered. All these years it has only been shut whenever I would pass it. What a surprise it is to see a ruined building right in the front - it seems like an imposing edifice. The official notice about the gate change talks about a 'church', maybe this is it? It does look ancient. I never knew it existed. Worse, it seems uncared for, for centuries! That is a shame.
That whole area near 'Gate # 5' is so lovely and old-world. It should be a good place for walks after lunch. Or even a stroll on a free afternoon. Let's see if we can take a shot at it with the camera - I'll post them here.
Apparently there is a lake behind the church and once upon a time there used to be a walk circling the lake for exactly the reasons above. Who says we are progressing?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Obama and us
At one of the Balls, when Barack, in a fit of sartorial rhetoric said of Michelle, 'How beautiful is my wife?' I heard myself say, ' No dude, it's you who is beautiful; she is merely plain'. There is a touch of the vain peacock in the President, but it becomes him. The slender tall figure with long and nervous fingers - the head a gallant study in ebony from a Togo figurine - all looks too good to be true. And that is only a third of the story. For, when Obama speaks, the heart listens.
I cried when I saw tears in the eyes of black men and women gathered there. It is not only an American dream to see a minority, any minority, who have for centuries been the exploited and the unempowered, in a position of leadership, to have it in his hands to carve the destiny of the planet. It was an overwhelming feeling to be moved by an event that is not 'our own'. It is hard to explain but easy to understand what Barack Obama means to me, to us, to all of us.
I do not know what kind of President he will be and what will he unleash, unbidden. As of now, Obama has brought hope in the free world, he has forced people in India to look at askance of their leaders - can we hope for someone with his vision, his articulation, his empathy and erudition, even? That speech at Philadelphia's National Constitution Center after the pastor debacle, is it possible to imagine anyone in the current crop to make such a nuanced and complex argument for hope and unity? Some of the public cogitations (can't call them speeches, really), of Pandit Nehru had that quality. None, after him. I am hopeful of Omar Abdullah, but it is too early. How bare does our cupboard of 1.2 billion look! Let us not despair, for just as Obama rose out of nowhere, we too might see a miracle.
Well, all the best to Barack Obama. May he continue to be the beacon. May cynicism stay away from his person, may luck ride with him in all his endeavours. Amen!
I cried when I saw tears in the eyes of black men and women gathered there. It is not only an American dream to see a minority, any minority, who have for centuries been the exploited and the unempowered, in a position of leadership, to have it in his hands to carve the destiny of the planet. It was an overwhelming feeling to be moved by an event that is not 'our own'. It is hard to explain but easy to understand what Barack Obama means to me, to us, to all of us.
I do not know what kind of President he will be and what will he unleash, unbidden. As of now, Obama has brought hope in the free world, he has forced people in India to look at askance of their leaders - can we hope for someone with his vision, his articulation, his empathy and erudition, even? That speech at Philadelphia's National Constitution Center after the pastor debacle, is it possible to imagine anyone in the current crop to make such a nuanced and complex argument for hope and unity? Some of the public cogitations (can't call them speeches, really), of Pandit Nehru had that quality. None, after him. I am hopeful of Omar Abdullah, but it is too early. How bare does our cupboard of 1.2 billion look! Let us not despair, for just as Obama rose out of nowhere, we too might see a miracle.
Well, all the best to Barack Obama. May he continue to be the beacon. May cynicism stay away from his person, may luck ride with him in all his endeavours. Amen!
Looking for the perfect dosa
The Dosas in Mumbai restaurants are sweet. The sambhar is also sweet, or bland. The chana-coconut chutney is tasteless and often watery. Of course, very few serve gunpowder (malagapudi) here; one has to ask.
Lets start with the dosa. Instead of letting the daal and rice batter ferment on its own, the restaurants, especially the Udupi ones, add yeast immediately after making the paste. As we all know, yeast is more the bread kind of thing, it produces glucose as an end-product of fermentation, sweetening the batter and giving it the rose-like fragrance which is wholly inappropriate for dosa. Dosa needs that tangy, sour smell of fermentation, and a sour and sharp taste.
Now the sambhar. They make it mostly with tomatoes here, with tamarind making a guest appearance, or not at all. And the masala is not quite OK - too little dhania powder and hing, too much of chili powder and SUGAR!! OMG! Its terrible, the sweetness of it all!
Chutney - well! the word itself a touch of onomatopoeia about it - chhhhuttt- nee! the chhhhutt is the mouth-watery click of the tongue against the back of the teeth. And look what we get - the blandest possible paste of insipid nothingness - no tang of the green chillies, no back-of-the-throat sensation of the ginger, no roundedness of the coconut milk and the faint nuttiness of ground chana daal.
The tiny joint on Dadar TT, a few shops before Parsi Dairy makes it the way I like it. Crisp but thick dosa, made from proper sour and salt batter. The sambhar and chutney come in small bowls. The moment you finish any, the waiter will replace it with another. You suddenly feel that the sambhar and the chutney are precious - not to be lavished upon yokels. The sambhar is not the best (you can have better in Radhakrishna in Andheri West opposite Shopper's Stop); but the chutney!!! Ooooh! exquisite! The consistency is just right - a bit of the solids and enough gravy to soak your dosa into. The coconut is not ground down mercilessly into a gooey paste, but retains the granularity and hence the juices. There is ginger and green chillies - plus a hint of garlic and tiny bits of coriander stalks. Its just perfect! Try it.
Lets start with the dosa. Instead of letting the daal and rice batter ferment on its own, the restaurants, especially the Udupi ones, add yeast immediately after making the paste. As we all know, yeast is more the bread kind of thing, it produces glucose as an end-product of fermentation, sweetening the batter and giving it the rose-like fragrance which is wholly inappropriate for dosa. Dosa needs that tangy, sour smell of fermentation, and a sour and sharp taste.
Now the sambhar. They make it mostly with tomatoes here, with tamarind making a guest appearance, or not at all. And the masala is not quite OK - too little dhania powder and hing, too much of chili powder and SUGAR!! OMG! Its terrible, the sweetness of it all!
Chutney - well! the word itself a touch of onomatopoeia about it - chhhhuttt- nee! the chhhhutt is the mouth-watery click of the tongue against the back of the teeth. And look what we get - the blandest possible paste of insipid nothingness - no tang of the green chillies, no back-of-the-throat sensation of the ginger, no roundedness of the coconut milk and the faint nuttiness of ground chana daal.
The tiny joint on Dadar TT, a few shops before Parsi Dairy makes it the way I like it. Crisp but thick dosa, made from proper sour and salt batter. The sambhar and chutney come in small bowls. The moment you finish any, the waiter will replace it with another. You suddenly feel that the sambhar and the chutney are precious - not to be lavished upon yokels. The sambhar is not the best (you can have better in Radhakrishna in Andheri West opposite Shopper's Stop); but the chutney!!! Ooooh! exquisite! The consistency is just right - a bit of the solids and enough gravy to soak your dosa into. The coconut is not ground down mercilessly into a gooey paste, but retains the granularity and hence the juices. There is ginger and green chillies - plus a hint of garlic and tiny bits of coriander stalks. Its just perfect! Try it.
Dogged if I can!
I wish I had a dog. A Labrador, maybe; or even a German Shepherd again.
I wish it was possible to convince oneself that it is a workable idea. At 1,100 sqft, the flat is large enough for me, but small for a tiny bundle of restlessness. The bigger problem - who will look after the chap when I'm away at work? One does not mind giving up vacations for the pet, but work! And one can't really depend on keepers and servants - they will mistreat the li'il guy; I've seen it happen too often. Indians as a people, are not as attuned to animal happiness as, say, the English. The countless times I've caught a keeper angrily belting the dog with the leash while on a pee-break, all because the dog had woken him up during the noon siesta, or is tugging in a particular direction, or simply to practise some whacks.
Then there is the problem of walks and exercising - where are the empty spaces in Mumbai? Where I live it is impossible to see a large enough park where one can exercise a young dog. They require vigorous physical activity, else they become moody, unfit and cantankerous. Nails grow to become talons and you can know that your dog is around at the way the nails tap against the floor. The 'parks' around my place are dust bowls fringed with debris. And they are full of kids - who, no doubt, face similar dilemma - where to play? A doggie-walk in Mumbai is a visit to the neighbourhood lamp-posts and garbage dumps accompanied by frenzied barking of the galli ka alpha male or the over-friendliness of tail-in-the-legs non-alphas.
I wish it was possible to have a dog at home now. While I was growing, I can't remember a time when we did not have a dog - maybe only those short months of despair at the passing away of the pet when we would promise ourselves to never, never again, keep pets - they die. But, once hooked, it is impossible to completely forget the joy a dog can bring in the life of a person, especially a growing child. So a few months later, another puppy would be yapping to welcome us home from school, peeing over the carpet at the sheer joy of seeing us. It would start, a familiar routine by now - and a very welcome one. Preparing the food would always be 'Mum's Department', the weekly baths would be shared, and romping in the garden would be a joint affair. Yes - we had gardens then. Not Mumbai.
Coming back to this maximum city, a dog ought to be the ideal companion of the single guy - me! A metrop ought to have the facility for its citizens to keep pets. I feel envious to see people in cities like New York and Chicago, Melbourne and Brisbane, everywhere, I would see dogs of all shapes and sizes being taken out for a run at all hours of a weekend.
Maybe I should stop moaning and just go ahead and get my Labrador puppy; after all, it is not as if mumbaikars have no pets. And maybe the pets don't mind the lamp-posts and the strays. Maybe I can get a keeper who is genuinely fond of animals - after all I have really not looked hard enough for one.
This time, it will be a tan Labrador.
I wish it was possible to convince oneself that it is a workable idea. At 1,100 sqft, the flat is large enough for me, but small for a tiny bundle of restlessness. The bigger problem - who will look after the chap when I'm away at work? One does not mind giving up vacations for the pet, but work! And one can't really depend on keepers and servants - they will mistreat the li'il guy; I've seen it happen too often. Indians as a people, are not as attuned to animal happiness as, say, the English. The countless times I've caught a keeper angrily belting the dog with the leash while on a pee-break, all because the dog had woken him up during the noon siesta, or is tugging in a particular direction, or simply to practise some whacks.
Then there is the problem of walks and exercising - where are the empty spaces in Mumbai? Where I live it is impossible to see a large enough park where one can exercise a young dog. They require vigorous physical activity, else they become moody, unfit and cantankerous. Nails grow to become talons and you can know that your dog is around at the way the nails tap against the floor. The 'parks' around my place are dust bowls fringed with debris. And they are full of kids - who, no doubt, face similar dilemma - where to play? A doggie-walk in Mumbai is a visit to the neighbourhood lamp-posts and garbage dumps accompanied by frenzied barking of the galli ka alpha male or the over-friendliness of tail-in-the-legs non-alphas.
I wish it was possible to have a dog at home now. While I was growing, I can't remember a time when we did not have a dog - maybe only those short months of despair at the passing away of the pet when we would promise ourselves to never, never again, keep pets - they die. But, once hooked, it is impossible to completely forget the joy a dog can bring in the life of a person, especially a growing child. So a few months later, another puppy would be yapping to welcome us home from school, peeing over the carpet at the sheer joy of seeing us. It would start, a familiar routine by now - and a very welcome one. Preparing the food would always be 'Mum's Department', the weekly baths would be shared, and romping in the garden would be a joint affair. Yes - we had gardens then. Not Mumbai.
Coming back to this maximum city, a dog ought to be the ideal companion of the single guy - me! A metrop ought to have the facility for its citizens to keep pets. I feel envious to see people in cities like New York and Chicago, Melbourne and Brisbane, everywhere, I would see dogs of all shapes and sizes being taken out for a run at all hours of a weekend.
Maybe I should stop moaning and just go ahead and get my Labrador puppy; after all, it is not as if mumbaikars have no pets. And maybe the pets don't mind the lamp-posts and the strays. Maybe I can get a keeper who is genuinely fond of animals - after all I have really not looked hard enough for one.
This time, it will be a tan Labrador.
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