The Rediscovery of Magic

I was the girl who believed in Santa Claus and Harry Potter. Not just when I was little, I grew up into that girl too. I loved the excitement around festivals, loved gifting my people stuff on Christmas and loved dancing with complete abandon. 

Then I grew up. 

The thing about growing up is that you lose your rose tinted glasses. It's not a fab thing. 

But this year, something happened. Something incredible. 

Something that made me believe in magic again. 

Not the hocus pocus kind of magic. But the goodness of people, of warmth. 

I joined a chain on Facebook called #GiftaBook . The idea was simple enough - you send a book to a specific friend of a friend and get 6 more people to join the chain. The concept works such that if everyone does it right, you can get back as many as 36 books. 

Ever the skeptic, I reasoned that even if I got back 2 or 3 books, it would be fun to be a part of this. So I sent off mine, Miss Funny Bones by Twinkle Khanna, one that I loved reading recently. 

And then it happened. Books started pouring in. Literally pouring in. And it wasn't just the fact that people sent in books. It was the fact that people took time to think of what book made a difference in their lives and sent that. Some even went to the extent of finding out my wishlist and sent me books from that. One realised that he sent me a book I already had, so he sent me another! Complete strangers, whom I do not know, neither will I ever have any other interaction with them, took time out to make my day. Some wrote little handwritten notes and wished me Merry Christmas. Told me what the book meant to them and hoped I would enjoy it too. 

This is, undeniably, one of the most incredible experiences of my life. 

Santa Claus may not be an old hefty man in red. This year, my Santa or rather Santas were people like you and me. Sprinkled across the web of Facebook. Weaving magic, one book at a time. 

Don't listen to the cynics. Magic exists. I found it this Christmas.  

What is it like to be born a girl in India?

I read a very well written editorial piece yesterday in the Mint titled 'What is it like to be an Indian Muslim?'  A fairly well written piece, the writer had me do a double take when he concluded with the following:

"..It is a fine thing to be male, middle class and Hindu in India. Even in a deprived part of the world, one is privileged.."

I did not think too hard into that until last evening when I was driving back home. But to explain that, let me rewind a little.

The very fact that I am writing something titled thus, seems inappropriate to the hilt. I consider myself lucky and privileged, to have been brought up in a family that does not differentiate between boys and girls. They actually wanted two girls and we decided to fulfill their wishes. We grew up with equal opportunities, being told we must make a mark in the world and with freedom that millions don't have.

Unfortunately, this differentiation is so deeply entrenched in our belief structure that it shows up when you least expect it. When I was driving home at the extremely respectable time of 9:45pm, I found myself urging the car to go a tad faster, lest I receive an sms asking where I was and when I would get home. I usually make it a point to get home by 10pm if I am driving alone or else try to get a friend or a friend's brother/dad to follow me home.

Take a minute to think about that. I am 33 years old, yet I or my family does not have the confidence that I can spend a languid night out and come back when I want to.

I do not remember any guy I know being asked a similar question, with the same intention. If a guy is asked what time he will get home, it is either from a logistical point of view (does he have the keys to enter?) or that you'd prefer him to come earlier to spend time with you. But it's never he 'should' be home by 11.

'Should'. The connotation that I tried to understand one day.

Now that I work in an office set-up again, I get free to go out only by around 7:30-8. Take Delhi distances and traffic, which means that wherever I wish to go, I will only reach by 8:30-9. And I should be home by 10...which means I should spend only 15 minutes at the place I plan to go to?? Ridiculous much??

To understand this 'should', I sat down with my parents recently and asked them why they felt so uneasy if I were to come home late. Safety was the obvious point, which I agreed to and said I'll keep something in the car, download an app, msg them where I am, when I leave and be followed if it is beyond 10:30. After a little hesitation, my extremely-modern parents also let it slip that it doesn't seem 'nice' if girls are out in the night. Ok then. Let me reiterate. I am 33, fairly balanced a person, have friends who are equally so and whom my family 'approves' of, when I go out, if I go out, I'd probably go for dinner or to a new place opened up; yet, if someone saw me out with my friends (in an extremely respectable place) at 10pm, it would not seem 'nice. I wonder what those people would be doing there if it is not a place I should be at. I also wonder if the same point would have been put forth if it were a guy who was out for drinks with his pals. It wouldn't.

I am extremely privileged. I do believe that. However, if such an incredibly deep bias rests inside us without us even realising it, imagine the unseen shackles other girls live with, girls born into families that are not even a fraction as modern as mine is. Ponder on that as I make plans for a movie in the afternoon today...because you see, a night show is out of the question. 

Talvar, the movie

I saw the movie 'Talvar' last night. And no, this is not a movie review. It can't be, because I find it difficult to be unbiased about this one. 

I was living in the same sector (Jalvayu Vihar, Noida) when this incidence took place, merely 3 blocks away. From afar, I witnessed the media frenzy, heard gossip from anyone who knew the family and read newspapers which for the longest time were obsessed with Nithari and Aarushi.

Which is what I think the problem was. The fact that these 2 cases coincided with each other. Don't even get me started on Nithari, I have my theory on Koli merely being an accomplice. But through the years (and I just realised that it has been 8 years!!), I continued feeling strongly about the Aarushi case. A lot of people I know do too, which unfortunately amounts to nothing. 

What made me a disbeliever, is not the theory that parents allegedly killed their only child. Honour killings (unfortunately) happen all the time as does female infanticide. No, it was more than that. I think it was the way news kept pouring in about the case and how over time we realised that the findings were all contradictory in nature. One lab would find something, another would refute that altogether.

Over the years, I have also followed Nupur Talwar's cousin who has spoken in international media about the loopholes in the case. You can read some of it here.

I am not a lawyer, neither am I a forensics expert. However, as this was largely a media trial and barely a judicial one, I am allowed to raise my questions. And my questions are plenty. Why was the theory of the other 2 helpers being in the house not followed through, when there was clear evidence of their visit in Hemraj's room. Why would the fact that a parent who has just lost her child is stoic in an interview (here's the opinion piece by Sonia who interviewed her on NDTV 8 days after the murder) translate into her being un-emotional about it. Why was the main door locked from outside? The theory of Hemraj being killed in the room and then his blood being wiped away seems ridiculous considering Aarushi's blood was all there...thus parents somehow knew exactly which blood splatters were his and which were hers! Why were the narco tests overlooked, wherein the parents were proven innocent and the compounder confessed and even led them to the murder weapon. There are plenty of questions like these, many of which you can also read about here.   

But the 2 biggest questions I have are these. If the Talwars were guilty, why, why in the world would they reject the closure report of CBI that said there wasn't enough evidence to convict them. If they had accepted it, they would walk free. But they said that they believed in the judicial system of the country and got the case opened. And we all know how that turned out. 

In most countries including USA and UK, a conviction is given only when it can be 'proven beyond reasonable doubt'. The entire case (as confessed by CBI too) was based on circumstantial evidence. There are so many holes in the theory, so many botched up investigative turns, that it can not be said 'beyond reasonable doubt' that the parents killed Aarushi. Yet, they were convicted and are both currently serving life sentences.

Times of India and many other media houses are working on trying to get the case relooked at. It has happened before with Jessica Lal, and there is always a chance it can happen again. But what shook me up when I walked out of that hall last night, was how fragile our sense of security is. A well respected, educated, well-to-do family's life changed overnight and the belief they had in justice and judicial processes shattered forever. The parents died anyways, that exact moment when they saw their daughter dead (whether they are innocent or guilty). What scares me is how easy it is to get stuck in a legal vortex and how helpless that can make you. 

May the case one day be reopened. May truth be known, whatever it is. And if, by any chance, the parents are innocent, may the country hang its head in shame for allowing this to happen.    

PS- In other news, wonder why we haven't heard a word about the Sheena Bora case since Maria was transferred (such a coincidence, isn't it?). Oh well. 

SodaBottleOpenerWala: Restaurant Review

The lovely terrace of the Khan Market outlet, sans seating now. Source: Facebook/SodaBottleOpenerWala

I believe in giving second chances. I do. But when it comes to food, I am very stingy about second chances. There is so much to eat, so much to explore in one lifetime that I do not like to waste a meal on what may have already proven to be an average experience. However, when my dining experience differs drastically from that of most people, I sometimes eat humble pie and go back to the restaurant for a re-run. Sometimes I come back with my beliefs reinforced and sometimes (rarely though), my opinions are transformed. 

SodaBottleOpenerWala launched with much fanfare in Gurgaon more than a year back. In a market where diners were starved for Parsi food, the only other option being the canteen at Parsi Anjuman, it promised to recreate the legacy of Iranian cafes, so popular in Mumbai. Launched in the bustling Cyber Hub courtyard, it went on to open an outlet in Khan Market, one in Bangalore and is all set to launch in Mumbai (more about that later). 

My first experience with SBOW in Cyber Hub was underwhelming at best. The decor is quirky and recreates nostalgia with the checkered table cloths and the Irani bakery counter. However, as interesting as the menu is, the food failed to impress. My palate, nascent to Parsi food, did not complain too much though.

And then I moved to Bombay. The naysayers may dis Britannia or Ideal...but I personally fell in love with them. The fact that all 3 generations of the family are always there to greet you or serve you at Britannia, the cat which owns the cash counter and claims it as its own, the buzz and the nostalgia, it is all real, acquired and not something that can be recreated. And don't even get me started on the Berry Pulav, the Cutlets or my favourite, the Sali Keema.

Sali Keema at Britannia, Fort, Mumbai

But I digress, which is what food memories make me do. In the recent months, I have had the pleasure of interacting with many ingenious people who have been involved in building SOBC, like Chef Saby who's recently opened the gorgeous Lavaash or Mohit Balachandran (known better as ChowderSingh, his pseudonym) who runs the entire SOBC franchise nationally and ofcourse AD Singh himself. And the fact that such great chefs and restaurateurs diligently backed this franchise, urged me to go back and give it another go. 

Alas, the second visit was equally disappointing. The Khan Market outlet is smaller but cozier with a nice balcony (which now doesn't have seating due to the MCD sealing). I tried the Chicken Farcha and the Komli Fry with my drinks. A word about the drinks first. Though the cocktails here are named creatively, they sit on the edge when it comes to delivering flavours. The Masala Vodka had way too much masala and one couldn't even taste the vodka or lime in it. The Banta drink tried to be quirky and was mango based but was a far cry of the perfection that Monkey Bar's (from the same restaurant owners) Mangaa has been able to achieve. Their version of the Whiskey Sour, thankfully, is a winner and the one I recommend you order here. 

Chicken Farcha and Komli Fry at SBOW

The Chicken Farcha came accompanied by a delicious and fresh coriander chutney, onion and lemon. As seemed to be the theme of the evening, the chicken was underwhelming. The meat was a tad bit too dry and even fared worse than the passable farcha (where passable is being generous) one gets at Ashmick's Snack Shack on Pali Hill.

Ashmick's Chicken Farcha, Pali Hill, Mumbai

The Komli Fry, thankfully, single-handedly saved the day. Delicious and moist jumbo prawns wrapped in onion strings and deep fried, it was akin to having onion rings and a spicy prawn starter, all in one. Absolutely scrumptious and a must try.

I also tried the Tamota Papeta Par Eeda, which I remembered as being the only thing I liked the last time I ate here. A skillet with tomato-onion chutney, sliced potatoes and 2 fried eggs, this goes well with Maska Pav. The latter is something which you can order by itself too, freshly baked inhouse and loaded with melting butter, the pav reminds me of the fabulous bhajia pavs sold by the guy who would sit outside my complex in Bombay. 

With hits and misses, unfortunately SBOW remains on my list of places that I may not recommend or return to. However, you should try it to have an opinion of your own. And if you do, make sure you try the Mutton Berry Pulav, Prawn Patio, Veg Cutlet and Goan Sausage Pav, recommendations by Mohit that I wish I had received before I ordered my meal.

With their doors opening in Mumbai soon, I stand as a third person to witness how the city reacts to their food. Will the 'trendiness' be able to help them carve a niche or will the average Bombayite realise how blessed they are to have the age-old Irani Cafes that still hold their own in the city.   

Smart Tricks to Stay Fit While at Work

Yes yes, we all know how tough life is. Office hours are long and you just don't get the time to go exercise. 

A word of advice? Stop making excuses. If fitness is important to you, this may help. My latest on NDTV talks about 5 smart tricks to stay fit while at work. 

Read the article here. 

The Red Sari - Book Review

Written by Javier Moro, The Red Sari tries to recreate the life of Sonia Gandhi. A public figure open to scrutiny, she has often been judged, sometimes justifiable so but more often than not, as a consequence of her surname. But let's backtrack a little.

Let me mention as a disclaimer that I am not a fan. I do not have any political alignments, though I wish feverishly for a leader that I can believe in. Thus, for the most part, this review is from the eyes of a curious reader.

Moro traces the life of Sonia from her childhood and doesn't glorify her growing-up days. The daughter of a hard-working mason, Stephano Maino, her initial years centered around her family. Growing up in the small town of Orbassano, she and her sisters studied in a convent school 15 km away. The first time she spread her wings was when she requested to go to Cambridge and learn English. This is where she met Rajiv Gandhi, and her life changed forever.

The author may have interviewed many credible sources but a large part of the book is fictional and the authenticity of it is debatable. The facts are all correct, it is the emotions and the internal turmoil that fall in the grey area.

The book travels with Sonia as she and Rajiv fall in love, convincing her conservative father and his politically-bound mother to get them married. Perhaps as a consequence of one of the sources being Indira Gandhi's personal assistant, a large part of the book focuses on Indira herself. She is portrayed in all her shades, the obedient daughter, the confused wife, the love-blind mother, the iron lady, the strategist, the dictator and a tired woman at the end of the day. The home-dynamics of the Gandhi household are interesting, especially when Menaka enters Sanjay Gandhi's life.

What captivated me was the struggle of a woman, so far from anything familiar. How she witnessed the political climate change and realised the burden of the surname that she had married into. She has often been shamed as a gold-digger and unless you know her personally, it is all up for speculation. But Moro pens a credible tale of how she fought against fate and finally succumbed to it. Staying on in a country which had not only shot her mother-in-law at point blank range but also blown up her husband to bits, and where her children were under constant threat, must have taken a lot of courage. Whether she did so to keep the Gandhi name alive or to safeguard the future of her children can be argued. But it remains an undeniable truth that Sonia Gandhi was dealt her fair share of trials and she managed to walk through them without breaking.

The book was condemned by the Congress party and an unofficial ban was issued for seven years. It has only recently been released here, though the Spanish edition was published seven years ago. This in itself nudges me to believe a part of the story, as it humanizes this woman who hides behind an inscrutable mask and a name that weighs more than what one can imagine. A riveting read, both for the followers and the naysayers.

Pangat - The Maharashtrian Food Festival at House of Asia

This month I complete one year in the Maximum City. I came here with the prime motivation of exploring the food scene and seeing how it compared to cities like Bangalore and Delhi. 12 months down and I still hadn't tried an authentic Maharashtrian meal. Thankfully, Hotel Mirador's House of Asia decided to host a Maharashtrian Feast Fest titled Pangat. Invited as part of the FBAI team to share a glimpse of this state's food culture and thereby share my thoughts on the same, it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

Located on the lobby level of the hotel, House of Asia a cozy little space with live music and table-seating. Traditionally, meals like these are served as you sit on cushions on the floor. This set-up is called Pangat, after which the festival has been named.

The meal started with beverages. We tried the Aam Panna and the Solkadi. The Aam Panna was a disappointment with not even a fraction of the punch that it should have. The coconut milk and kokum based Solkadi was a step up. Traditionally, the Sol Kadhi is served after the meal as it serves to soothe the spices and cool down the digestive system.

Crab Soup

The Crab Soup (Khekdyche Saar) was full of masalas and not very palatable. Surprisingly, the tomato soup scored over this one with its tangy zest. 

Steamed Coriander Cake

The appetizers were a mixed bunch. Though I liked the Jeerameerichi Kombdi (chicken with roast jeera and black pepper) it could very well have been any grilled chicken in a European eaterie. Nothing authentic about this one. The Kothmir chi Vadi (steamed coriander cakes) were delicious and fresh. 

These came accompanied by a range of delicious chutneys, my favourite being the black sesame chutney and the khatta raw mango chutney. 

Banana Flower Fritters

Dalimb Batate (tangy potato patty with pomegranate seeds) were nice but nothing to write home about and the Kelfulache Vade (banana flower fritters) had a bitter aftertaste. A fan of squid, I was a tad disappointed with the Makli masala (squids masala) which was coated too thick and fried till rubbery. 

Grilled Bombil

The savior of the appetizers was an excellent Tawache Bombil (grilled Bombay Duck). 

If you do visit, the mains are what you should head straight for. The Maharashtrian thaali not only made a pretty picture but it also included dishes representing the various parts of the state. From the Konkan region to Kohlapur, each dish complemented the other and yet held it's own. A huge portion to satisfy even the most voracious eaters, this thaali comes highly recommended. Desserts included soft Puran Polis and Olya Naral chi Karanji. 

The festival is currently running and is on till the 16th of April 2015.