Of Ramlal, food, music, literature and celebrity spotting

It is very rare that you get to enjoy literature, good food, theatre and celebrity spotting; all at one go; under one roof. If you are wondering what place am talking about, just walk into the compound of Prithvi Theatre.
Tucked away in the calm surroundings of Janki Kutir, at a stone's throw from the hustle bustle of neighbouring Juhu beach, Prithvi is an art lover's paradise and I am in love with this beautiful place.

When at Prithvi, one has so many options to explore that time seems to fly by.

We (Me and R) went for a play "Salesman Ramlal" starring Satish Kaushik and Seema Biswas. The play has a somber story revolving around the life of a common salesman - Ramlal (played by Satish) who like many of us, dreams of making it big. Ramlal's entire life is a mirage and it comes crashing one day. Though there is absolutely no positive note in the story, it does gets us to realise that "(इंसान के ) कुछ न होने में कुछ गलत नहीं " (There is nothing wrong in being a mediocre). The problem is in not accepting the reality and chasing the mirage. Seema Biswas’ and Satish Kaushik’s performances are impeccable as the husband-wife duo.

If theatre is not your muse, the Prithvi Cafe - an open air cafe - is a great place with its reasonable prices and the modest spread of appetising preparations. And if you are looking for that "something more"; look no more. Just look around; and the flute rendition by a sexagenarian seated under a banyan tree - Suhas Joshi (an architect by profession) - is something that would definitely take you to a different world.

If you are still yearning for more, Prithvi also offers its visitors a quaint book-store which houses one of the most amazing collections of literature. I am in love with their collection of Hindi authors.

You also get to spot many celebrities enjoying a cuppa at Prithvi. Me and R were able to spot Makarand Deshpande (the Fakir in Swades), Vrajesh Hirjee (the Anthony Gonzalves in Golmal Returns) and Madhurjeet Sarghi (Santosh Bhabhi from Na aana iss des….). There were many more known faces whom you could remember but not recall where were they seen last on the silver screen.

Prithvi is untouched by time. It belongs to an era bygone!

The view from my window

I love coffee.
Though I 'm not a big fan of CCD but am loving this coffee here. What makes me love this horrendously overpriced coffee at the airport is the view from the window.

I can see the planes landing and taking off at a distance. The whole place is lit up with thousands of twinkling lights. And, I am sitting in this cozy little corner sipping my hot café latte along with some not-so-great samosas.

Ah! there comes the announcement. Flight 452 is boarding, and off I am to home for one chilly weekend in the otherwise subdued winters of Mumbai!!!

Broken Images - Indeed!!!

I was taught in my childhood that one should never scribble over books, which I was following untill I met this veteran actress - Shabana Azmi.

I am usually a no-autograph-for-me-please-type person, but I don't know why I felt like asking Shabana (sorry can't call her Shabanaji for various reasons) for one. What followed is a lesson for life.

We (Me and two other friends from XIMB days) had gone for this new play by Girish Karnad - Broken Images.

The play arose some interest in me for two reasons: 1) Shabana Azmi, the protagonist; and 2) Use of technology.

The plot of the play is simple and yet has a suspense that unfolds beautifully towards the end. Manjula Sharma (played by Shabana) is an English lecturer and a small time Hindi writer till she comes up with her magnum opus - a novel in English which becomes a worldwide bestseller. Manjula is at a TV studio launching her book in India when she gets face to face with her conscience. What follows is a dialogue between the two that takes us through Manjula's life and her eventual breakdown in front of her own self.

Shabana Azmi, as anyone would have guessed, was superb.

What added more stars to the act is that the Shabana's conscience was also played by Shabana albeit through a pre-recorded video being played on a large plasma TV. There was perfect coordination between the video and Shabana just as it would have been between two actors.

The play got over and as we were walking out, my friend started bugging me with her whimsical whim to meet Shabana in flesh and blood. I ignored it completely and soon we were standing out in the crowd doing some star gazing (the smalltime actors of tellytown were there to make their presence felt in the social circles, but no-one seemed to be noticing them except us). But this lady's urge to meet Shabana was so strong that she cajoled my other friend to get back to the green room and meet her dear actress, while I waited downstairs for both of them to be shooed away by the guard.

Quite a few minutes passed by and there was no sign of the two of them. I was getting curious, so I also decided to join them. To my astonishment I found the duo engrossed in a blah-blah that Alyque Padmsee was delivering in some strange accent. Shabana was nowhere around till this friend of mine decided to venture in the green room. The assistant informed she would be coming out soon. Suddenly the door opened and there was a little commotion. It took us quite some time to realize we were standing next to Shabana.

My friend didn't loose a moment to "catch hold of" her dear actress and congratulate her for the lovely performance. This poor little girl had thought Shabana would be all ooh-aah at her praise. Instead she got a cold response. Shabana scribbled her illegible signature on a book that my friend was carrying without even looking up in her eyes.

It is precisely at this moment when I suddenly felt this inner urge to get rid of my habit of keeping my books clean. I dug out a copy of Pather Panchali that I had purchased barely an hour ago and slyly forwarded it. Her hands once again moved in the same mechanical movements to scribble.

Once I had the book back in my hands, I realised my mistake. I felt like tearing off the page or throwing the book away. Alas! I could not do so. I had purchased it from my own hard earned money. It would always stand as a testimony to my fallen self respect in front of a damsel from the tinsel town.

This page, dirtied by the illegible signature of Shabana, would always remind me to continue to be a no-autograph-for-me-please-type person.

I would always remember those words from Shabana, as she climbed down a flight (just one flight) of stairs - "Yahan lift nahin hai kya".

I wish Shabana would not have said this. I wish she would have at least looked up in my eyes for one moment as she scribbled on my book. I wish she would have courteously replied, or at least smiled, to my friend’s wishes.

Then, I would have never minded calling her Shabanaji.

Recipe to a perfect Rassam and Tamarind Rice

Well if you would have asked Little Johnny he would have said "isme kya naya hai babua! yeh to kisi bhi Tarla Dala cookery book mein mil jayegi" but then the Rassam that I am talking about is different.
It is different because it's not just a meal, it is an idea of enjoying your time with friends... So, this is how you go about making it.
Wake up real late in the weekend. This is a must, else the Rassam wouldn't taste yum!
Get some friends.... any number above four would do.
Get two of them to go to the market to get the ingredients.
If they forget to get some things that you had asked for.... don't worry, send them again :)
Once you have everything in place, get one of them to chop three tomatoes.... and if they seem to be taking eternity, which in all possibility they would, get the knife and do it yourself :)
Ask the guy, who was earlier making futile attempts to chop tomatoes, to wash the kadhai and put some oil to heat.
When the oil is hot ask the other guy to get some rai (mustard seeds) and when he picks up any random masala give him one of those killer single-liners... Soon he would pick up the right jar :)
By now the oil would have got hot enough for the rai.
Add some curry leaves, green chillies, turmeric and red chilly powder.
Add tomatoes and ask either of the idle fellows to stir it till the tomatoes get cooked to a paste.
Don't forget to add some hing to this. It would give that typical aroma to your recipe which you would have imagined for a perfect rassam. Your friend would definitely not know what hing is... so explain it to him again.... no need of one liners here :P
Now ask this same person to put some tamarind to boil... and get the pulp separated from the seeds thereafter.
Boil some arhar daal in the cooker and then blend it.
Add this daal to the tomato masala that you have prepared.
Add Rassam powder to taste.
Add some sugar. Very little amount.
Add water and tamarind juice and bring to a boil.
When done, add a tadka of ghee, rai and dried red chillies.
A perfect rassam should have a watery consistency with very little traces of daal and taste more or less like the sambhar.
Well Well..... if you think you are done... you are not.. The rice is yet to be prepared..
So while you are making rassam you may prepare the seasoning for the rice.
While you were preparing the rice and rassam, your other friends (who do not stay in you apartment) would have prepared a potato recipe (for which I would ask the readers to contact them).
For the rice seasoning, heat some oil in a pan. This can be done by your friend who has been standing idle for quite some time now.
Add dried red chillies, rai, curry leaves, green chillies, chana daal, udad daal, groundnuts, little bit of turmeric and red chilly .
If you see some strange crawling creatures in the packet where you had stored chana daal, probably you would have to throw away this seasoning and prepare a new one without the chana daal.
When the lentils get crisp, set it aside.
By now your rassam would have got ready and the burner can be used to put on the rice.
When the rice is ready, mix the seasoning, salt and tamarind juice for a delicious tamarind rice.
Hit the shower, get fresh and when you are ready - Bingo! - find your living room full of friends all fighting for the limited plates and bowls that you have.
Duly acknowledge any compliments that you get :)
Slip into sweet slumber induced by the rice and the rassam....
When the maid comes in the evening for cooking.... remain asleep and don't open the door for her.... to get a phone call from her later in the evening after you have made plans for gobhi paratha for the dinner :( .....
Call up your friends (who do not stay in your apartment) to appraise them of the situation only to know that an awesome dinner awaits you at their place!!
Put the recipe on your blog to make your oter friends feel J!!! :)

How I made it ..... Almost

14th August 2008 was the Independence Day of Pakistan and, the entire Mumbai was on roads. Not that they were celebrating Pakistan’s independence or staging a dharna against it, but they were all rushing to their nests in their hometowns. It was that long weekend, which each employee longs for…. And the preparations had begun almost a month back. All the trains were running high on waitlist and the travel agents were minting money with people ready to dole out huge sums for that tatkal ticket… All thanks to Lalooji for the 60 day window for booking tickets and inflation for the soaring flight fares…. And in the midst of all this brouhaha was a confused me still planning the trip home forr this extended weekend which coincided with Rakshabandhan.
After not much of a jaddo-jahad I booked a supposedly low cost air carrier for 14th August and a train ticket at a whopping W/L 91 for the return journey.
The moment I clicked the “OK” button on the payment gateway of the air carrier I took a deep breath of relief – ab jana to pucca ho gaya. How I ever got inspired to book at wait-list 91 cleared was another story and I wouldn’t delve into that for now.

Let me take you through a flashback of what I went through.

The day started early and around 9.30 I was at office. There were some mails from the client. By the lunch time I was through with all the mails and the deliverables for the day. I had called on the client and told him that there was a colleague who would be working for him in my absence. Post lunch I had done all the KT to this colleague of mine and had just packed my bags for the day when the an “URGENT” request came from the client. My watch showed it was already 4.00 pm and I had the flight at 7.45. Quite a margin, I thought, and I lingered on with the mail trying to figure out the solution. Soon I was at my wit’s end and I called up the client who was considerate enough to not to have held me back. It was not before 5.30 that I reached home. By the time I got ready and was done with the final packing the clock struck 5.45.

It was at this moment that I realised I had misplaced my flight ticket. And while I was searching for this, I happened to stumble across the train ticket and pocketed it, else even that I would have left back. After a phone call to the air carrier’s call centre and being assured of a duplicate copy at the ticketing counter I left and took an auto. Ah! I forgot to mention that I had no money in my wallet and had to stop by at the nearest ATM to get some cash. And then began the journey. Half an hour passed and I was still pretty close to my house. Another half and hour gone and still the airport was not to be seen. The suto-wallah took a “short-cut” to cut on time and traffic which was now proving costly to me. All calls to the call centre to get the ticket cancelled or postponed were futile. They wanted me to have done that 2 hours ago…. NOW, HOW DO THEY EXPECT SOMEONE TO ANTICIPATE A LAST MINUTE TRAFFIC JAM in those 2 hours !!! The best they could help me was to refund me Rs 225 in case I missed my flight!! Done with all this, my watch told me it was 7.15 and I should press the Panic button.
So off I was from the rick and was running like a mad man on the Western Express Highway. To describe my situation in a poets word would be

“Auto Auto everywhere, but none is able to move;
Auto Auto everywhere and am sure the flight am gonna loose”

And when my legs gave up and I could see the turn for the airport, there came another gentleman, dressed in White, in a rick and stopped at the wave of my hand. So in I went and was sson at the airport Terminal 1B. That day I didn’t have to stand in any queue. I was late and I got the full VIP treatment. And the moment I was done with the security check, I heaved a sigh of relief. The Muimbai Delhi flight 186 was boarding. And I was there at the fag end of the queue, calling up my folks at Delhi that I have finally made it…. Almost :)