Like most children who grow up on standard Enid Blyton fare, as a child I fantasised about the lifestyle of the Famous Five kiddos. Mid night feasts, the excursions in the wild, haunted castles …and above all- the food!!!. Scones, treacle, croissants, lemonade!! Names that would make me ravenous. I often wondered what the hell these were. Well , they weren’t the kind I could ever dream of eating at home where dal-curd-rice-mango pickle was the standard fare. After arriving in the United Kingdom I had my first scone. And it was reliving a childhood fantasy.

For Indian taste buds, british food including the ubiquitous Fish-n-chips can be quite bland fare. But it is the desserts that take the cake!! The cafeteria at the place I work makes some excellent ‘home made’ desserts. The puddings are yummilicious (no this ones not from Enid Blyton., rather my own enid blytonish creation) !!! The cakes are fresh from the hearth. Of course each one comes with an exotic name of its own. The English do have a penchant for names you see, some of which I simply adore. Shepherds pie for instance is a lovely name for a dish. It conjures in your mind a bucolic image of an English country side, where shepherds return home in the evenings to cook a simple meal baked in a country oven. Treacle does not have a meaning as such but has a wonderful musical lilt to it – sugary, syrupy very much like the dish itself. Of course there are exceptions. A Tongue sandwich sounds quite grotesque (unlike our very own paya) . And if you thought ‘Toad in the hole’ is a disgusting name for something that otherwise tastes quite nice read further…..

The Home made dessert section in our cafeteria today had something that looked like custard with raisins and currants strewn across. And this inviting dessert, my dear readers, goes by the name “Spotted-Dick”. Trying hard to suppress my chuckles and watching the stiff upper lipped firangs generously help themselves to the stuff, I could not help but wonder why and how the British who are otherwise very thoughtful fancied giving something as innocent and harmless as custard with currants a name that could turn away the most passionate of foodies.

I am quite curious now. While the raisins and currants certainly did look like spots , it would be interesting to know the link between the custard and a certain part of the male anatomy. Readers who chance upon this post and who are aware of the mystery behind the nomenclature could please post their comments.

Following up from the earlier post, the Ek Chidiyaa video

Kahaan gaye woh Log - The end of innocence !



One of lifes simple unadulterated pleasures is to '€˜out of the blue'€™ chance upon something that you have been searching for long and have given up of ever finding. The title tracks of Bharat Ek Khoj -€“ the landmark TV series on Doordarshan have been one such search for me. And imagine ones delight on finding them here.

A zillion thanks to Ram and whoever had the heart to record and digitise the tracks. May his tribe grow! May there be music in his life !!

Listen to the title track of the epoch serial



And the end credits



Finding the video of the absolutely endearing 'ek chidiya anek chidiyaan' video here was an added bonus.

Never thought the silly yet cloyingly sweet ‘public message’ after all these years would affect me with such a yearning for a bygone era. The channel wars that liberalisation unleashed on an unsuspecting nation signalled the end of innocence for Indian television transforming it into the cesspool that it is today. While one has never agreed with commie spoilsports on their arcane views on free markets, the outcry that liberalisation is a cultural death star partially makes sense when you consider the effect the channel wars have had on television in India.. The fact that my mother, a saas bahu serial addict vowed not to watch the regressive stuff again on realising that she is being taken for a ride should be an indicator of how bad the situation is. It was sheer disgust that prompted me to dump my 15 quid a month Star and Sony connection.

Ah those were the days… when a master film maker like Benegal would translate the likes of O Henry, Chekhov and Tolstoy in his Katha Sagar, when theatre veteran Vijaya Mehta made a series called Lifeline set in Mumbais Breach candy Hospital with stalwarts of Bombays theatre scene. (can never forget the title track...trademark Vanraj Bhatia) Those were the days when powerful images from Govind Nihalanis ‘Tamas’ seared a nation’s conscience warning us against forgetting history.
(If a kind soul has the haunting title track of tamas please please send it to me.Shall remain indebted to you all my life)

And of course the childlike warmth that Yeh Jo hai zindagi, Nukkad, Circus etc exuded. Remember the regional movie slot at 1:30 pm that exposed one to the masterpieces of Ray, Mani Ratnam, Jabbar Patel, Girish Kasaravalli,etc. And then there was that sensitively shot series on Sharat Chandras charitraheen – probably the only screen interpretation of the classic.

Somebody needs to tell the babus at Mandi House that they are sitting on a mine house of masterpieces,that would fetch them a small fortune if released on DVD. Yes Doordarshan needs to take a clue from Channel 4 and BBC and release some of their premium stuff on DVD.(that is if the tapes haven’t been destroyed in their junk yards)

Some golden oldies I would grab on DVD are
1.Bharat Ek Khoj
2.Lifeline
3.Chanakya
4.Tamas
5.Mirza Ghalib
6.Nukkad
7.Victor Banerjees documentary on the Indian Railways

Bring back the good old days.I for one would endure any amounts of 'rukaawat ke liye khed hai' and matrons as announcers for one hour of quality television.

have you ever spoken to the tyler durden in you? I am beginning to . Listen to him. Fascinating bugger he is..makes a lot of sense.

Black Friday - True Story of the Bombay Blasts

Just finished this gem of a book, source for another Anurag Kashyap film that we shall never get to see.

03/93 – Nine years before 9/11 and twelve years before 7/7. Indias very own tryst with international terrorism when what is positively India's greatest city came under the line of fire.

Hussain Zaidis compelling account offers a disturbing insight into the genesis of the blasts, the execution and the investigations that followed. Zaidis research is impeccable. His narrative is drawn from interviews and court statements of police, investigation officials, associates of Dawood Ibrahim, motley groups that comprise Bombays underworld and most importantly perpetrators of the crime who later turned approvers.

The Bombay riots that followed the Ayodhya demolition saw large scale violence against Muslim establishments. Tiger Memon suffered major losses when rampaging mobs burnt down his business . And Tiger swore revenge. Meanwhile a large number of Muslim youth began sending SOSs to Dawood exhorting him to avenge the humiliation. Dawood was indifferent initially but when news spread of his former associates raising slogans of 'Dawood bhai murdabad' and when parcels of bangles with missives that read 'Jo bhai behen ki hifazat nahin kar sake use yeh tohfa Mubarak' began to arrive at his 'White House' in Dubai, Dawood decided the time had come for the retribution of the Babri Masjid demolitions and the deaths during the riots. It was left to Tiger Memon to plan and execute the 'jihad'. The initial plan was to seek help of terrorists from PLO or the Hamas to get Thackeray and Advani assassinated. – an idea later dropped by Memon lest the leaders should be turned into gods by the Hindus. What followed was a diabolic plan that included recruiting youth, arranging for training in Pakistan ( where else??? ), identifying targets and the execution - a process that saw small time smugglers turn into international terrorists. These were not trained al-qaeeda operatives grown on a diet of jihad. These were petty criminals who grew up playing galli cricket and watching Hindi films , brainwashed by Tiger into defending the honour of the qaum and sacrificing their lives if need be.

If the tragedy caused by the blasts when sheer panic gripped the city was of unspeakable proportion, the aftermath saw police excesses like never seen before. You just had to be a 'friend of a friend of a friend' to become a TADA detenue. Entire families of suspects ended up in police lockup . A battered suspect after being released shot his entire family and himself after the police violently manhandled a woman in the adjacent cell before him and threatened him with similar treatment to his wife if he did not speak up.

One observation drawn from the book, is that while common perception places Dawood as the mastermind behind the blasts, it is Tiger Memon who played the most significant role. Other stories that make for a very interesting read are the the police-media overenthusiasm on the Sanjay Dutt connection and the incredible breakthrough achieved when a teenaged girl from the Al-Hussaini building bumped into Inspector Rakesh Maria and provided him with crucial information on the happenings at the Memon house on that day.The revelation on how close the crooks came to bombing the BPCL Oil refinery is startling. (Badshah Khan the man responsible for it drops the idea after realising the magnitude of the havoc it would cause). Memons plan to transport the RDX from Dubai to India and how he hoodwinked the customs officials could have been straight from a Bollywood flick.

A must read.

Musafir

Dr Jabbar Patel of Ambedkar fame (I have vague memories of watching his Umbartha on the regional film slot of DD many moons ago) made a film called Musafir in 1982. The film had Naseer Shah in the role of a killer who is on the run after accidentally killing his wife played by Moon Moon Sen. His run takes him to a village in Tamil Nadu where he starts anew – a foreign life in a foreign land. Rekha plays a tamil belle from the village. A make-up less Rekhas performance in this film that never hit the theatres is said to be her best. As per this piece 'If you do get to see Musafir, you'd know why Rekha is Rekha. She makes a beauty statement out of a painfully ordinary character’.


Now the main reason I was after the film was because the solitary song in the film that RD composed isn’t part of any cd /cassette release. The song that comes on screen when naseer is on the run (Doesn’t the story and song situation remind of recent films) is a gem and I am glad Ive finally found it here

Listen to it at






Musafir was apparently released on VHS after the makers couldn’t manage a theatrical release. The VHS is not easily available. If you are lucky to lay your hands on it, don’t give it a miss.

The Switzerland Diaries....(concluding post)

Some tips for doing an 'off the beaten track' Switzerland:

1. Don't stay at Interlaken. Do not let the presence of Indian restaurants trap you into staying in this tacky town. The place has got a ' mela' feel to it. And the crowds!!! They are all over the place. Stay at villages like Grindelwald, Lauterbrunnen, Gimmelwald etc. Away from the hordes of tourists. Nestled in the Alps where you can wake up to the music of the cow bells. Indian food is not too far with Interlaken being just a half an hour train ride away.

2. Skip the touristy train trip to Jungraubahn.Its like going to Agra and not seeing the Taj you might say. While one does appreciate the engineering marvel in constructing a train station at 10,000 feet, the crowds, the screaming kids do not give the 200 Swiss franc journey value for money. Instead hit the hiking trails through the hills, woods and tiny glacier villages. We took the cable from Grindelwald to First and then hiked to Bachalpsee. On our way back we took the cable till Bort and then hit the trail all the way back to Grindelwald. It is this hike that made up for all the time wasted the previous two days. Away from the crowds, away from noisy Gujjus whose idea of a holiday is screaming over a game of cards (concern for fellow human beings, now whats that???), this is that part of Switzerland untouched by Bollywood . It is during this hike that the alpine beauty seduces you. During the two hour hike Switzerland reveals itself layer by layer, first the snowy peaks of the Alps, then the greenest of green meadows, then the thick conifers of alpine forests. It is a strip tease that plays on both your sensory and spiritual levels. And the orgasmic end when you arrive at the Bachalpsee – the quiet pristine lake hidden between the snowy hills, is an intensely humbling experience,,, never before has the beauty of a place made me feel so small. What makes this so special is that it can be an exclusive show for you. For you have long stretches where you are alone with your very own 'thoda sa aasman'. More importantly it is only during these walks that you come across the swiss way of life - a life hidden under a mammoth tourism machinery..- a life comprising of cheerful swiss natives, of beautiful chalet style wooden houses.
The Bachalpsee Lake :



Note: Don’t forget to buy good walking sticks. They are a must to traverse the steep slopes and hilly terrain. Available at Intersport.

3. Sleep in a barn: Now this has to be the most interesting bit about Switzerland. Remember SRK and Kajol in a hay stack barn in DDLJ. The pair has no place to stay and Kajol finds a barn of hay for the night. I think this was just before a drunk Kajol bursts into an Asha Bhonsle number. That I realise now was not a filmy thing after all but one of Switzerlands best kept secrets. Farms in the hills let out their barns to tourists during the summer months. For a meagre 10 swiss franc you get to sleep on the hay stacks in a farmers barn. The farmers provide you with blankets, shower facilities and even a basic breakfast of eggs, bread and potatoes. I had spoken to a farmer Mr Esther Von Allmen from Gimmelwald village for a night in his barn, but could not make it as the last cable to Gimmelwald had left by the time we returned from our hike. For those of you on a back packing trip, sleeping in a barn could be a cheap and healthy (medical experts vouch for the health benefits of sleeping on hay) way to cut costs.
Esther can be contacted on phone at 8555488. (From Switzerland dial area code 033 before the number)

4. Shopping: My 'to buy' list included a swiss cow bell and a swiss amy knife. Don’t buy your cow bells from the tourist souvenir shops. Your hotel owner should know a farmer who will get the real stuff for you and not the 'made for tourists' kind. Else pop into a farm during your hikes through the hills and villages and strike a bargain for some old cowbells. These are genuine cow bells…pure antique stuff, made by the farmers themselves and could make for a unique calling bell for your homes in India. Since I was flying back I was asked to forget the swiss army knife.

5. Try the Fondue – Warm liquid cheese in white wine. Served with bread. Eaten with metallic tongs. (You pierce the bread with the tongs and then swirl it in the warm cheese before eating it. The waiter suggested that I have it with tea..

6. Don’t waste time in Geneva – Other than the Saturday flea market in Plain de Plainpalais where you can hunt for that rare music record there is nothing to do in this small city. The United Nations building that neighbours other international organisations like ILO, WTO, and UNHCR is a desolate structure. Other than the sound of the flags of the nations fluttering in the air the place is spookily silent. (I hope this is no sign of the significance of the organisation today). Was very dissapointed to find absolutely no activity - not even a protest that one could have joined.



Takeaways from the trip:

1. The Swiss trains are not as punctual as they are made out to be. All the talk of adjusting your watches by the train’s time is hogwash. Trains do run late. Sometimes by a minute and sometimes even by two.

2. Whatever one has heard about the Swiss tourism dept is true. Full marks to them. Whether it is patiently explaining the various Swiss train passes, a passer by offering you her mobile phone to make a call on noticing that you are struggling with the telephone at a PCO, or the hotel owner calling a farmer friend for you to buy an authentic cow-bell, hospitality is ingrained in the Swiss system.

3. Aishwarya Rai is truly an international face: Irrespective of the fate of her Hollywood exploits, Ash's face has literally taken her places.At the tiny and picturesque Kleine Schedegg station, nestled in the Jungfrau range of the alps, where you take the train that chugs you to Jungfraubahn - The Top of Europe, the only hoarding is that of Ms Rai peddling her wares. Way to go girl!



4. And of course the last of the takeaway list has to be two of Switzerland’s most enduring symbols that I brought along with me.

The Switzerland Diaries

Of missed flights, visa hassles, missed trains and a pakistani bakery.


One of the two recurring dreams that I always have is looking at my ticket and discovering that my flight which I thought was a good 10 days away,leaves in 20 mins.(The other being ..well thats another story!!).The dream especially recurs after Ive booked tickets for my annual India trip. And On August 16th last week it was not deja vu ..deja vu after all is merely an illusion..this was a nightmare turning real ..eeriely real !!!

Took the 4:58 to Liverpool Street. Hopped on to the tube to Kings Cross. Walked over to St Pancras. The train to Luton was at 6:36 AM.That would take me to the airport at 7 giving me half an hour to check in for my flight that I knew departs at 7:30 AM.
For a veteran at being the last person to check in, sprinting on railway platforms to catch a moving train, forcing closing train doors apart to get in, half an hour to check in and board should be an easy walk across the park, I thought.
I take out my tickets and let out a volley of expletives (aimed at whom, I have no idea) that draws the attention of passers by.

The ticket reads
Easyjet Flight EZ2055
Departure Luton : 7 am.
Arrival Geneva : 9:40 am

We decide to go ahead to Luton to see if Easyjet puts us on the next flight at an affordable price. The chap at the information desk says he is happy to put us on the next flight (at 25 quid per ticket). The next flight he very politely tells us is a good 7 and half hours away at 2:30 PM.Luton isnt a very exciting place to get stuck for 7 and half hours. So coffee and half an hour of sudoku later we decide to go to Luton town. (Boring English town with a charming paved town centre.)
We return to the airport by 12 and check in at 12:30(that is when check-in opens)... the lady at the check-in very politely tells us that while I can go ahead, T can not as she does not have 'residence permit' on her visa but an 'entry clearance' that just gives her permission to enter the UK and nothing more than that. I try to reason it with her, but she tells me that she is pretty sure of the rules and had to turn back an indian couple for the morning flight for precisely the same reason.
She directs me to the easyjet information desk for details on the location of the swiss embassy and for changing my itinerary.But Ive had enough. Switzerland was never a place I had wanted to go anyway I tell myself (The place is picture post card pretty but lacks the character of a paris or a ladakh..And havent we seen it all in every second hindi film...A holiday calls for the wildness of cuba or trekking the amazonian rain forests or the ruggedness of ladakh or the energy of a Paris/NYC I had argued with pals doing the mandatory swiss trip.. But that was a different age..those were different times!!!!).

I decide to join the queue at the information desk when I spot a tv crew recording the goings on there.(could be from that channel 4 series 'Airport'). Wearing the best crestfallen look that I can muster , I explain the situation at the counter.The cameras that till then are concentrating on the neighbouring counter turn towards me.(Brown skin,visa issue - an opportunity to show case multicultural Britain..makes for excellent television you see !!!) For the next 10 mins the Easyjet information desk is my stage. I insist that easyjet talk to geneva and when that is of no help I ask them to talk to the swiss embassy. The swiss embassy takes details of the case with a promise to call back.The cameras continue to devour our agony filled wait and later our exaggerated ecstasy when the swiss embassy calls back to inform that we can proceed with boarding.

(Note to readers: Watch out for two indians in one of the forthcoming episodes of Airport for a terrific insight into how great actors are born)

17:30 Swiss time we are in geneva. The last golden pass train to interlaken has left . We now have an ordinary train that does not go through all the breathtaking swiss canvas that the golden pass train has to offer. At "geneve aeroport" I notice a
very north indian appearing family looking lost. The man approaches me with a 'excuse me u r indian?' 'Oh phir to aap hindi samajhte honge'. He introduces us to his wife and kid . He explains that they are from pakistan on a tour of London and switzerland.He asks if he can tag along with us if we have no problem that is. I tell him thats not a problem although my mind thinks otherwise.I inform him that I am buying a 4 day swiss train pass as we intend to do a lot of travelling and suggest that he too buy the same.The bloke isnt too impressed. I then suggest that he book a hotel by the lake in geneva and stay there which he does.
During our chat , the lady in an attempt to showcase the large heartedness of Pakistan mentions about a bakery in Lahore that goes by the name 'Bombay Bakery'. T immediately jumps in and enlightens her about Karachi Bakery in Hyderabad.
After an invitation to visit Pakistan, we go our separate ways - they to the hotel and we to the train station.

Its already dark when we board the 7 pm train at geneve aeroport. A jet black switzerland speeds past as I begin to have regrets for this vacation - a vacation where all that seems to happen is dissapointment after dissapointment. 10.44 pm we reach Grindelwald the village where I have my hotel reservation.The place is so bloody dark that I wonder if the marvels of electricity have not yet touched this part of the planet. The owner of the hotel, a very affable german gentleman meets me at the station and takes us to the lovely chalet style Hotel caprice.We crash into bed..Sleep gradually takes over my brain giving it a break from all the hassles meted out by life that day. I wake up after a sound 9 hour sleep , look out of the window from my bed and this is what I see....




Wasnt it on seeing the other Switzerland (our very own Switzerland with its chinaars, jheels and shikaras) that Shah Jahan had exclaimed

"gar firdaus bar ru-e zameen ast, hameen ast, hameen ast, hameen ast"