food blog

You might have eaten in the best restaurants, may be the ones, with the finest ambience, even the ones with the finest menus, but i value the food that i have at small hotels, cozy ones, with a nice manager, nice people serving food and so on. Its been a while i have been to one of them. Its a small mess near our flat here, a small two room setup on the first floor of an old building, having a narrow stair case, and around 6 tables. The street that leads to the place is dirty and the mess itself cant be called the cleanest place. Buts i like the space there, most of the tables will be free , there is no rush, no noise. There is no menu, you just go in, eat what they have for you and go back. I like the combination of dhal, rice and ghee they give, and the curd, these AP fellows make the best curd. And the vegetables curry, carrots for the day, and i call it uncivilized carrots. Salt level is a tad high(nothing that u cant mask with curd), the colour of carrots is black and red, the onions even show green colour, but they are damn tasty. And also i felt this bond with my own place since there are similarities in the cusine hidden deep inside.

late night bloggin

Kinda feeling good about that, normally i would see fellow bloggers bloggin away at midnight and would think when i will get such a chance. I have to stay late tonight, typing away redundant html codes, thinking about interesting design constraints(just thoughts though) and cursing myself at being inefficient at that. But its been a while since i wanted to write a free open blog. And atleast i am drunk enough by the silence of the night that i dont care about writing the wrong stuff. I am just going to write.

And thinking of drinking, last few weeks i am being the regular non drinker at the regular drinkers club. What else to do, i dont have a decent non drinking company here. I used to enjoy it when i was in Trivandrum. I had my manager, who is a very great guy, as my company along with two great friends. My manager used to get smooth philospy out when he drinks and he will talk in english. Those were good guys, they would never ask me to join them. And i used to enjoy the ambience and the great cooking of the bars in trivandrum(precisely two, out of which one was too good). But i dont feel like that here. After being with their mature company, these fellows just bore me to death. They used to enjoy alchohol while these fellows , dont seem to do that. I dont know why they are drinking at all.

Ok then what, kinda feeling down about suppressing my own voice. I had to politely refuse when my friend offered to forward me the mms video of a delhi school having sex with her boy friend. And one comment from a woman, a teacher shook me a little, "Voice comes only when two hands meet", couldnt swallow the implicit tone, obviously she is proud of her own chastity. But its a little girl and shes a teacher. I think we should stop making big noise about these things.

Things i miss in hyderabad

When i had my job in trivandrum, the first 8 months i used to travel 15 kms a day by two buses. I used to have the company of a bus full of little school going children, all cheerful and noisy. They would be with me for half the distance. I would listen to the little boys playing silly games and little girls chatting. Then i used to walk a little every day on the same path, which runs through a residential area. The whole travel thing gives you a lot of space even if the buses are crowded and even when you are travelling the same path every day. Looking back from here they all look interesting, though i might have been a lot bored with them some times. The worst would be the wait for buses. Most of the days i used to wait for around 1 hour in the night at a bus stop which did not have even a bench to sit. I used to think of making concrete benches there. 1 hour is a lot of time to stand alone and you get the craziest thoughts in your head.

Later i moved in with my grandpa at a house closer to my office. Living with grandpa was kinda difficult and the lack of freedom hit me really hard. And then again my escape was the quite and calmful 3 km stretch from my house to the office. Many days i used to walk both ways and i had about 6 combinations of paths to take. One of these paths passed through a residential area housing most of the the state ministers. Huge, old and beautiful buildings with lot of grand trees around. And a i used to touch two schools in the way, so again the company of little children. Then there was the 7th way by getting on a bus and then i have to walk only half a km. Mostly i took that way in the night when i give company to my friends for dinner. That way had a church like thing with people doing mass prayers most of the time. And a girls hostel in a beautiful old fashioned house guarded by two ferocious dogs. Just accross you see a huge unmaintained pond which looked very inviting. A great place to commit suicide. The pentecost prayer hall also used to entice me a lot. I used to call somebody(mostly nihas) when i had a chance to walk this way.

So on a whole i miss mobility, space and those charming paths. Another thing would be people with whom i communicate via telepathy. And the children.

And the little things, like the small tea shops, fish curry meals, occassional film festivals, sea food ...

on a girl who was wronged

Shari- 18 years old, beatiful young girl, wont grow older.
Victim to sexual torture, was lured by chances to act, by many men all mother fuckers.
Pimp- a woman- way to go women.
Death came after a mysterious post pregnancy internal fungal infection. Weeks in ICU with little or no conciousness.
Young people are not to be punished for their mistakes. They are weak and unprotected. Society has to support them in case they fall down. And here one was punished that too to huge extremes.
Remainings- a broken family and her 4 month old child, a sensational case with politicians and press trying to get mileage out of it.

Sauve-moi(Save me)

I saw the movie at one international film festival in trivandrum some months back. I was attracted by the young faces in the poster and in fact took half a day leave from company to see it. And it was surely worth it.

The commentry given by imdb:
SAUVE MOI (Save Me) is a simple-but-excellent `slice-of-life' story about French-Algerians living near the Belgian border. Mehdi(Roschdy Zem), who has lived in Roubaix all his life, meets Agatha(Rona Hartner), a seemingly-carefree drifter from Romania who has wandered throughout Europe. He introduces her to his group of friends, including Cécile, his current lover, who befriends Agatha. The Algerians, living in a localized area, find difficulty finding even menial jobs. There is cooperation and moral support among Mehdi and his friends. It seems that this worthy film about an unpublicized ethnic minority in France has been ignored by the art film critics.

I read the commentry just before writing this blog. After reading that only i knew they were talking about French-Algerians. I was thinking that its the story of the simple people in a french city which was not that prosperous. Any way the movie was good. The actors were good.
The movie starts with the view from the moving cab , mehdi being the driver, a nice sequence with the cab moving close to the different groups and they staring at us with a strange looks on their face which lies between interest and disgust. And the view every time swings away from them. Then we see a building from a long view which gives the impression of a railway station or aerodrome. Intro our beautiful heroine, Agatha draped in a long frock dress and may be some funny coat. The buildings that we see around are neat and old. Mehdi picks her up in his cab and drops her off at a hospital where she wanted to go. There was a conversation and we get the idea that she has come here to visit a doctor whom she has worked with as a nurse, hoping for a job or something. And mehdi leaves her there only to pick her up later on the road when the doctor fails to remember even her name. In fact mehdi comes back to pick her up, searching the near by roads, until he finds her.
I liked the opening sequence very well, the understanding between open minds, being too touching. Agatha got accomodation at mehdi's friends attic, in a house with no electricity, and there are funny scenes with them trying to steal electricity from neighbouring old couple, then policemen gently reprimanding them. They had this small community, with one middle aged fellow looking like our raj kumar with tvs 50 like bike as a elder brotherly figure, a few young men and women and an old couple. And they were building a house for one of the fellows. Mehdi is having an affair with cecile who is mehdis brothers ex girl friend and now married to another fellow friend. Ceciles huband is really distressed because his boss is stealing half his salary(and his wife), and this leads to our rajkumars intervention resulting in the death of the boss, but that comes near the end of the movie. Agatha with her sprity nature easily gets into the group and we can see a lot of characters getting attached to her. There is this scene with her singing a local song, and that was good.
Agatha has plans for going to romania, and for that she needs money. Mehdi in the mean time tries out his hand in a new job, which involves helping a fellow, who was some kind of money collector. Soon mehdi gets angry with his way of extracting money from the hapless and ignorant people and quits that job. He was trying to get enough money so that Agatha (and himself) can get out of city. And near the climax we see Agatha getting money from an elderly fellow in the group and leaving for romania without Mehdi.
The youthful spirit of Agatha, is surely going to get any one who watches the movie. It inspires you. The same spirit helps her overcome the bonds of love. At one side we see her independence while on the other side we have this caring community of simple people. Perfect contrast except in the matter of love in their heart.

Its the ramzan season and yesterday i went to charminar with a muslim friend, just to give him company for breaking fast. The place was crowded and noisy. And i was waiting in front of a good restaurant there while my friend took off to get money from an atm. I was waiting there in middle of chaos, admiring the young energetic and well dressed muslim brothers and watching the women clad in burqa begging for zaqat and i saw this little girl with wild eyes. She was also asking for alms along with her little sister. She was cute and had a charming way of reordering her head scarf once in a while. During all these wealthy muslim men were walking in and out of the restaurant and they were either ignoring these women or giving them some small change like 50 paise. Comon yaar they are supposed to give 2.5 percent of their annual income as zakat. I made a mental calculation. Surely these fellows will be having an annual income above 3 lakh per annum. And taking into account 30 days of ramzan and if they give alms to 25 people a day they can give 10Rs to each of them. Every other word in the scriptures are followed, but not this one.
After some more time the girls duo came to me. I gave both of them little 5 rupee coins. I considered them as friends and wanted to lighten up their faces, at least for an instance. And they ran away with the coins, may be happily. And one minute later they came back. And the smallest of the girl started telling me that her sister is ill and she was asking for more alms. I know this habit very well but was not expecting it from such small children. I know that at heart they are pure. I saw a tinge of shame in the elder ones eyes. I asked her name and she told me its reshma. My first dialogue with a real eponine. But then they continued pestering me and i have to take refuge in the restaurant. At that point i treated them like beggars, instead of talking to them as friends. And i feel bad. I pray for their happiness.

It happens that i have a friend who is a war monger. He advocates for war and says that war is needed for the advancement of human civilization. And he quotes bloody examples. If there is any body who suffers the same delusions i would suggest Anne Franks diary. It doesnt have any description of war as such but i am sure it will cure those fellows.

new place

so its a new job and a new city for me. so much different from the small job and the small city i left behind. feeling a lot like an uprooted plant. formal dressing, formal people. there is not much intimacy. and its difficult to be intimate when we use alien languages.

Malena

One scene of this movie just made my blood cold. I was like shivering
even though the climate was pretty hot. The scene has a bunch of
women beating up this young widow malena (monica bellucci) who is
almost naked, dragging her down a set of step with her breasts to the
floor, kicking her, slapping her, and finally cutting her hair to
shreds. The reason for the outrage is 1) malena is georgious 2)she is
a widow on lookout for married men 3) she slept with the invading
germans (the place is italy).
The movie cannot be termed realistic and the theme is a young boy
falling madly in love with malena. The whole of the town shows their
unshameful admiration to malena who is waiting for the return of her
husband from war front. Every one in town gossips about malena and our
hero is the only fellow who knows that malena is a faithful wife
waiting for her husband. The movie starts with mussolinis call for war
and the whole of town seems to be lot supportive about it. After the
death of her husband malena looses her resolve and has some suitors
who left her with more disgrace and later she is even shown sleeping
around for food. The beautiful malena who lives in a large house
having random suitors to meet her basic needs looks unreal but we dont
have much idea what all war can bring on to a society.
After the liberation of the town from the nazis by americans the first
mentioned scene enacts and after that malena leaves the town. Out
little hero is a mute witness to all these events. All the while
except when she is beaten up malena has a cold face, we never see her
smile, cry, just one single emotion of blankness. Dont know what it
signifies. And after that malenas husband comes back from death and
what meets him in his home town is people who wont talk to him. The
film has kinda a happy ending with a strong note made by our young
hero who gives a clear perspective of the events to malenas' husband
through a letter and with their reunion in the city. I really loved
seeing malena and husband walking hand in hand in the same town(though
her expression is cold as before).
Finally we have malena being welcomed by the town women when she goes
to the market and she reciprocating in the same way. Like once she has
regained her social validity she is forgiven. Looked really sick to
me.

Irresistible

I was reading this blog on Life at tj's place and there was on article where the fellow fall in love with his barber. I remember a similar scene in Friends where chandler in in love with joey's girl friend and that girl was too good looking. And there is a point where she gives him a hair cut. God a pretty woman touching your hair. That is irresistible.

towards main stream.

What do one do when he sees something wrong.
The option that i use normally is to think. To think whether i would do that mistake myself. If the answer is yes i wont do anything. First be correct then correct. I would think.
The most generally used option is to correct it.
I used to hate a friend of mine who practices the latter method but lately i am thinking of going for the second option.
Reasons:
1) i am never going to change anything.
2) somebody who doesnt change anything (be it for the good or for the bad) is never considered significant.
3)its better to make some good changes.

A conversations with a friend(f) who is a large scale hypocrite.

Conversation (1)
f: All these soaps that are shown on the tv should be banned.
me: What happened.
f: You know they are changing the way our women behave. They are wasting their time. They are not spending time talking to neighbours, talking to family etc.
me: So.
f: We should ban them.

Conversation (2)
me: Porn movies should be banned.
f: Why.
me: Just like you said soaps are affecting women porn has the worst effect on our whole society.
f: NO. Porn doesn't do any thing.Its just fine.
me: Fuck you. Porn is one factor that is bringing so much sleaze into our minds. Its one rawest form of cultural infiltration. ( that is one point that hits him, he hates all cultural infiltrations except those done by russia)
f: May be you are correct. But dont think of banning it. They will kill you. Or may be i will kill you.
me: I know.

Conversation (3)
me: You tell me that you like seeing voyeur pictures on net. Dont you feel any guilt about it.
f: No. I believe that teenagers love to expose their body. There is no problem with us viewing them. Its in our nature.
me: Then you didnt like those fashion shows in our college. Then you said that exposing is bad.
f: hey friend that is not that. It is blatant copying of foreign culture. Its bad.
me: Lost all control and laughed for the next 5 minutes.

You know hypocrisy lot of fun.

Another of my friendships is falling apart and the reason is too much closeness. And i feel a lot of doubts in such situations. This habit of mine helps me in keeping only a few friends despite many warm friendships. I would like to tell him now - the closer you get to me the farrer you are going to end up.
And then what i got is an inteview this week. I am wholly excited and what do i see on sunday express weekly forecast. They say that i wont get that opportunity. For the first time i got totally sad about being superstitional. Still some optimism remains.

(fuck the damn mother fuckers who did this.)

(mother fucking)Militants cut off girl's ears

CHANDAKODE, India: Writhing in pain in the back of an ambulance in this small village in Kashmir, 22-year-old Mariam Begum yesterday told how Islamic (mother fucking) militants had hacked off her ears and nose with a "crude sharp-edged weapon".

"I begged for mercy when I lost one of my ears but they (the mother fuckers) finished the task of cutting off my nose and the other ear within five minutes," Begum told reporters. "They (the mother fuckers) used a crude sharp-edged weapon." Begum said she and her father, Mohammed Ibrahim, 52, were kidnapped from their home in Mano village, Doda district, some 200km southeast of the region's winter capital Jammu, by militants on June 16.

They were held in captivity until finally being rescued by Indian paramilitary and police personnel on July 10.

"The (mother fucking) kidnappers wanted to avenge the surrender of Mohammed Lateef (Begum's brother), an activist of the Hizbul Mujahideen (rebel group) before the Indian security forces on June 9," a police spokesman said.

Begum, bleeding from her wounds as the ambulance transported her to Jammu where she was to be admitted to a local hospital, recounted her harrowing tale.

"My father and I were dragged at gun point to a forest belt where we were kept in separate sheds.

"There were six (mother fucking) militants and two of them (the mother fuckers) would torture me turn by turn. I was beaten with rifle butts, my hands and legs were tied up and they (the mother fuckers) used to burn me with live cigarette ends."

a little dream

life of people in the novel "the good terrorist" by doris lessing

to be a squatter in a large city. living illegally in a house whose latrine holes are concreted by government to prevent easy living for squatters. shitting in plastic buckets in the top floor. paying no rent to any body. taking bath in the urban trains' latrine. doing no work. other than being radical or slightly leftist or "being nothing - living the life to the fullest with drugs with ones eccentricities".

adaptated to suit me
to be a squatter in a large city. living illegally in a house whose latrine holes are concreted by government to prevent easy living for squatters. shitting in plastic buckets in the top floor. paying no rent to any body. taking bath in the urban trains' latrine. doing some work during day. other times spent by being social worker who is slightly leftist or "being nothing - living the life to the fullest with ones friends - ones passion - with ones eccentricities".

feeling myself
i can feel every muscle in my body today. after some unexpected physical action every inch of me is in pain. and i who have long forgot them all has started to love them again. i feel like feeling them. planning to go to gym. ie it.

les miserables again

when i read the part where eponine tells marius her secrets, for a second i was inclined to think that eponine must be jealous of cosette, inorder to drive her away by giving warning to jean valjean. but then i regretted the whole thought. eponine is never capable of such a lousy emotion as jealousy. she loved marius. to such extends that she protects his love cosette who is her rival. and that too playing on her life. how noble she is like her own brother gavroche. they like gold purified in fire and for poverty took the place of fire.

happy ness of freedom

she saw the tiny glitter in the heap
and her eyes lit up
with her tiny hand she started digging
until sweat rolled on to her brows
she was alone in the junk yard
and she never knew about god

slowly she sat down in the shit
with her vacant eyes she poked the sky
she started feeling the chill of the night
and she embraced herself for some heat
she had no strings attached to her
she was free in this world

When most of us are crying about the chains that bound them i thought
of this little girl. I saw her picture in a news paper some time
before. But after writing down the lines i think that the picture
could have told a lot more.

les miserables

i am rereading the great book these days. the first time i read the book i cried with fantine, for cosette, once or twice with jean val jean and a lot for eponine. the suffering was the greatest for the first three but i loved eponine.
fantine had a very unique way of talking. like if i would meet her today i am going to recognize her from her speech. she died yesterday.

pain speaks

hear that noise
of the chains tightening
and those voice of bondage
beckoning you to the trap
why do you complain
as you chose to be trapped

the walls are getting closer
and whats lost is precious
cheer up buddy
perversive mind speak
why do you cry
as you chose these for you

you want to look good
yeah go on and do that smile
you want to help him
and get kicked later
you know its futile
but you wont stop from the try

go on buddy
you are fucked for this life

Scenario: A thickly crowded bus.
Characters: Me(me) and a young female co-passenger(yfc).
Props: Two bananas wrapped in newspaper and tied with a rubber band.
Category: Fiction.

yfc is standing in front of me and we are standing very close due to the rush.

yfc(turns around): do you have two dicks.
me: no, why?
yfc: because i think you are rubbing my ass with them.
me: oh, i am sorry, but they are two bananas. its my break fast you are talking about.
yfc: sorry.
me: why?
yfc: that you have such a terrible break fast.
me: what would you have made me.
yfc: hot doshas and chatni.
me(kneels down): will you marry me.

The rain continues and i am having clear dreams these days. I just thought of recording one here.
I am walking through a regular lane and lot of intuitions hit me. I have this strong conviction that they are going to be true. Later i see these two little girls playing with their toys and then they get critically injured just from those simple toys. The next scene i see these three women( i remember them as movie stars) using these girls as oracles. Their hands are terribly wounded and these women press those tiny hands to inflict more pain so that these girls tells them their future.
I know it is a bit horrible thing to dream. Dont think that i am having such thoughts on my own. I think these images are inspired by the precogs in minority report. When i saw the movie some time before the idea of trapping three women into a comatose state for predicting crime stirred me.
And the second thing is about women being portrayed as doing this cruelty. I always have this prejudice that women could be more cruel than men. My own teachers instill such a feeling in me. They used to beat us brutally while the men folk were always gentler. On second thoughts male teachers also used to beat us brutally but only after we were old enough to take it. While the female teachers were indiscriminate.

A few days before i was thinking how it would be like to live without electricity these days and when i go home i see that the power line to our lane is broken, thanks to the good rain and weak trees. For the last two nights we are out of power and i tell you its not that bad. The rain ensures that you wont suffer the heat and a candle ensures your daily quota of reading.
The most creepy thing is to go out in total darkness to get water out of the well. The mixture of rain and darkness is truly enticing as well as terrifying. I thank the rain gods for all these experiences and for giving us enough water to cover the rest of summer.

bhopal hunger strike

Yesterday night i saw agnus' home. I got the glimpse of inside through the window and i knew it was close to my imagination of agnus' home. The house has got protruding bedrooms and is tiled. The room that i saw was lit with warm yellow light and it was definitely cozy. Coming back to reality the house belong to a couple whom i supect to be software engineers. The night was a little chilly and that may have tickled my head because i started talking to myself animatedly and stopped only until i saw a family staring at me from their porch.

Low flying has its disadvantages. Like hitting the ground accidentally. There is nothing like that at a higher level. In fact i hit the ground too hard one of these days. Still kinda recovering.

i need to talk and there is no one around.
it looks like i am the last man in the world.
where are you my friend.

pain
deep pain and my mind was sobbing
until i saw the happy people
and then i was happy once again

Lethargy is still my favourite mood. But priorities has changed from having good books to having feel good tv programs as company. I am thinking of writing a story. The central character is a woman whom i will call Agnus and the locality is a christian colony in my own town about which i dont have actual information but only feelings. I have never been to that location but have walked a lot very close to it that I felt it. Same thing about the woman also. She is a spinster and I dont know about her. So it should be hard. I want it to be boring but consistent or consistently boring.

Back from a four day vacation at home. Feeling a little lethargic. Had talks about our existence with a friend which shook me a little. Read a little from vivekanandas writings. Rest of the time it was talking to mama and grandma and lying down with pulp magazines. Its was fun.

For the last two weeks i have been trying to build a wall between me and the world. I tried to look away from every thing around. To run away from things that could catch my fancy. To be unromantic. To be an egotist. It was going good but wall is broken today. And all it took was a beautiful woman and fate or the rush in the bus putting me close to her.

Took a small journey to my uncle's home. Felt the warm bondage of love and relation. Actually i was missing it. Had a chance to act a small role. A single frame which i thought i did good. But i failed because i got carried away and played beyond my character. Did some minor damage to my friends. But i dont think i will regret it. I went with the flow. I dont think i will ever be able to play such characters.

I am being pulled back to routines. I do feel it but i am tired to fight. Yesterday afternoon while having lunch with my colleagues i just blurted out that order is boring. I talked about the monotone feeling of things in order. After saying all that i thought deeper. I tried to figure out whether i live my life in order. And damn i do. I talk something and i do something else. I thought of breaking them. But i dont think i can do it. I cant argue with myself for disorder. or should i.
And on more thought i think order is middle class. And then i should be middle class.

Yester day i took two cds but ended up watching life is beautiful on tv. Movies like those inspires us to be cheerful. The hero is stuck in a concentration camp with his child and wife but keeps a totally happy face and a lot of us who are relatively unchained andd well off are finding it hard to keep up a smile.