My India Diary

It’s great to be back. I have a strange biology. While everywhere everyone’s falling sick I am fit as a fiddle. No jet lag, no sore throat, no fevers. In short, I am enjoying it. life never felt so good.

Suddenly yesterday Sandeep buzzed me and asked me to write about Barack Obama in my blog and I was like huh? Imroz tells me to keep blogging.these guys bring me back to reality. My blog, Barack Obama and everything else is buried under heaps of biryanis and jugs of beers! I must admit that the hyderabadi biryani continues to be tastier year after year. The huge bottle of beer is a cultural shock at first when you are used to the pint sized ones in USA. But not for long.
Now I too effortlessly guzzle them in pairs!

I feel that George Bush can claim some credit for the Noble prize. I guess the committee thought that Bush was more dangerous for world peace than any one else. So Obama was given it just to see his ass off! I am a great admirer of Obama. But so far he has only talked the talk. If I were him, I would go and collect it only after I had walked the walk.

Incidentally if intentions were the only criterion I should be in the reckoning for the Nobel prize for literature.

I visited Kurnool just as floods were arriving. Its heart breaking to see such ravage. Once in a while nature unleashes its fury just to remind us that we cant be arrogant.

Every year when I visit India I see some great changes. The new airports are a sight for sore eyes. Both Delhi and Hyderabad can now claim to be world class. I was pleased with the foot massager at the delhi airport. I had just one suggestion for GMR, the company responsible for the operations there. While I did compliment them in their suggestions book, maybe they could next try for a complete body massager!!!!! Kidding.
But twenty hours of travel makes me a wreck. And I am not growing any younger.

Tanmay, my friend’s precocious 7 year old is growing. I find my knowledge inadequate to teach him. When he asked me what was LOGO , I tried explaining that it was the symbol by which we recognize a company like Mcdonald, only to be curtly told by him that it was the Language of graphics Oriented! I simply stared.

Later when he brought out his books of cats, I could barely recognize a few tigers, leopards and pumas. Those made for just the first few pages. The rest was simply greek and latin to me. Do children really have to grow and lose their innocence in a pile of books? But he is still the bubbly kid when we are on the ground. We have to make a few adjustments though.The cycling has included some daredevil stunts and the park doesn’t interest him much anymore. He has announced that he will visit USA with uncle. When his mom scares him that uncle cant cook, he sagely informs her, “ I can manage with bread!”

The Television was just where I left before. The news channels look menacing as each news is a breaking news and every news caster the prophet of doom! Can’t someone tell them that news is serious business. Among the shrieking and wailing I look for some sanity.
The only professional channel is the CNBC. The presenters are all elegantly dressed, know their subject and present the show in a very pleasing under stated way.

Among the various reality shows, the li’l champs is my favorite. The depth and the range of the young kids is amazing. I cried with the venerable Asha Bhonsle as a young boy from Mathura sang his own creation. What abundance of talent!

The other day , I watched mesmerized as I accidently hit a telugu channel. A physically challenged kid ,Ganesh , dazzles the judges and the audiences with his amazing dancing talent and innocent smile. I don’t think he needs the crutches of sympathy to win the show. The Jaipur foot was more in my mind! The kid is a winner all the way.

I am yet to visit Gwalior, my home. Cancelled my ticket twice. But as I told my sister, I must first find my financial footing. Festivals are a state of mind. If the pockets are full, its diwali, nahi to diwala!

Often people ask me if my cheese has moved to India and am I relocating for good. Well, we live in a global village. It took me twenty hours to reach India from the states, almost the same time it takes me to reach Gwalior from Hyderabad. USA is as much my home as India. So it takes time.

But this is a time for festivities. time for revelry.Not for deep philosophical humbug. The Obamas and other issues can wait.

As you light your homes with the traditional earthern lamps and eagerly await the arrival of Godess Lakshmi, here’s my fervent wish that your homes are filled with happiness and prosperity. May the goddess’s benign hand bless your home always. May the smiles on your faces be brighter than the brightest of the lamps and may the sound of laughter be louder than any of the crackers that you burst.

Happy Diwali.

Singh a Song of six pence!

I was wrapped in my thoughts, happy at returning home finally after a few faux pas'. I was planning to write a vivid and colorful post, embellished with some very lachrymose moments.

But all I could think of was one word – Incredible.

I always thought that one had to be incredibly stupid or incredibly patriotic to travel by Air India. I am both. I immediately realized my stupidity as I was collecting my boarding pass in Chicago. The call centre expectedly had bungled. He not only gave me a wrong advise regarding my rescheduling resulting in me paying more than necessary, but also I was informed at the Chicago airport that they couldn’t issue my connecting boarding pass from there but had to collect it from delhi airport. What that meant was that I would collect my baggage go through the customs, cross the road again stand in a queue ,get the boarding pass, clear the security and come and sit on the same seat!!

I was fuming as I waited in the seating area before boarding. However my fury lessened considerably as I saw the procession of pretty air hostesses glide gracefully past me like svelte models on a ramp. I saw the appreciating looks of the American passengers. I am no sexist and respect age, but come on ,give beauty its due. I must admit that the only airlines which could give our girls a run for their money is the Thai Airways.

As I entered the plane, I simply gasped. Yes trust me. It had that effect on me.
The interiors are breath taking, the ambience is perfect. I have traveled in almost all the major airlines and I can certify that the service is top class.

I had one drunk passenger stumping me with a rather brainy question. The tipsy guy pointed at the toilet and said that its written that it is a non smoking zone. Then where is the smoking zone? It was a question from either a genius or someone itching for a smoke. A mere mortal like me was certainly not qualified to answer such a profound observation.

I simply said, “ sir I am speechless.”

Again the ground staff at the Delhi airport was incredible. They were polite , efficient and eager. I did cross the road, I did go through the customs. But they ensured to make it as comfortable as possible. They also saved me another customs at the destination.

I must say I am really impressed. What saddened me was the nonchalant attitude of an inept government hell bent on destroying a wonderful carrier.

I sat right in front of the airhostess as the plane descended. I compliment her on their service and we ended up chatting. As the air hostess explained their predicament , I saw the human face behind the glamour. Its not a pleasant feeling when you work hard and are not paid your salary. The pilots and the airhostess do a real hard work. They surely deserve to be paid.

I felt rage. JRD Tata , the father of Indian aviation and the owner of Tata airlines which was then transformed into Air India must be turning in his grave. I think its time the government returns this wonderful carrier to the Tata fold again.

The IITs are one of our venerable institutions. I was proud ,when once the immigration officer in Miami mentioned about that ‘wonderful school’. They bring out the finest brains in the country. And the people who are responsible are the professors.They must be treated with dignity and respect. If they have to come on the road, something is really wrong. Our education minister doesn’t want to increase their salary; The corporate minister wants to reduce the salary of the CEOs. I am waiting for the health minister ,not to be left behind, to majestically declare reducing the doctors' salary.

Ah the queen's men!

Austerity like charity never begins from their home!

There is just one word – Incredible!

Tail piece : During the elections , I had written an article for sify.com. An irate reader, perhaps a congress supporter, acidly wrote that these NRIs should be kicked on their butt when they visited India.
I am glad he is unaware of my itinerary!

EID happens only in India!!!!!!!!

While in school, two of my favorite stories were Somerset Maugham’s The Luncheon and Munshi Premchand’s Idgah. I can’t remember how many times I read both of them.

Munshi Premchand was the master of understatement. His signature style was his simplicity. Idgah is the sublime story of a four year old orphan’s conquering of his temptations on the Eid day and sacrificing his idi in buying a pair of tongs for his grandmother. I can only think of ‘ The gift of Magi’ which captures the sacrifice in love so brilliantly.

Sadly in our eclectic circle we didn’t have any muslim and so till I entered college, eid was something we only watched on the television. Everything changed when a muslim friend came to live in our colony and they became family friends. Eid became as much a part of our lives as Diwali. I remember the fun we had going to his dad for Idi. He would buy some gifts for us in advance.

We used to wait for the Eid ka Chand and the subsequent declaration by the Imam of Delhi.

One Eid there was some confusion. But I was a real hog and always greedy for the tempting sheer korma. So I woke up early morning switched on the radio and rushed to their house to wish. The startled family woke up to a commotion which was rare in their house. we were summoned to get milk. The milk had vanished from the market. His father went to buy meat. We scoured the whole city and brought the milk from far. I was sitting behind on the motorcycle clutching the can like a trophy and this guy zooming like a rodeo. That evening as we sat for the meals, there was a lot of laughter. It was the most satisfying we ever had.

Later when I moved to Hyderabad, Ramzan and Eid became a big part of our social calendar. A new world of mouth watering delicacies were introduced. Haleem and nihari along with the biryanis and mirchi bhajjis became synonymous with Hyderabad. ( I was notorious because I used to remove the mirchi and eat only the fritter! My hyderabadi friends hated me for that but I cant eat Mirchi to save my life!)

We were busy during the ramzan days exploring places like the Grand Kakatiya and Hotel Viceroy. Now this hotel has been taken over by the Marriot.

Hotel Niagara also was one popular joint. But I never went there much.

Once one local friend derided us as elitist and snobs and offered to take us to the most happening place, the Charminar in Old Hyderabad. I must confess that if you discount the unhygienic conditions , it has the most delicious food available. So we carried our own water but at the last moment our defences crumbled and so got the whole thing packed and ate it at home. It was heavenly. I did eat there once though and it was heavenly. I remember once we were not in Hyderabad and while returning kept discussing about haleem in the car. Imagine when we reached the outskirts , our friend orders the driver to Charminar and as people were having their morning tea, this guy sat and ate haleem at 4 am much to our amusement.

Even the haleem packaged by pista house was a hit.

‘Tabla’ was the one to go for Biryani. I know the local hyderabadis will wrinkle their noses. But Hotel Niagra doesn’t serve Beer! On second thoughts , even Blue fox was good. To be fair enough there are so many wonderful joints , its impossible to really pick.

When I moved to UK, my neighbours were all Pakistanis. They used to send very aromatic and delicious sweet rice full of dry fruits. My mom always was scandalized. She used to warn me don’t eat their food. I must say , they were the finest neighbors we had. Ignorance breeds hatred. I once saw one Restaurant owner from Lahore who was fondly feeding a sikh youngster who had just arrived from India . Later he told me that he was from Amritsar before the partition and this youngster reminded him of his home in Delhi.
We must remember that the blood flowing in everyone’s veins is red.

Perhaps festivals could be a good way of reducing the animosity between two communities.

The delectable cuisine from the Muslim kitchen could easily warm the cockles of any Hindu’s heart just as which muslim could resist the aromas of a hindu rasoi.

I am blessed to be born in a rain bow country where every diversity vanishes in the cauldron of a unifying sheer korma.

Eid Mubarak.

"KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD"

I felt famished as we landed. I eyed the chipotle hungrily and ordered for one. Bread Sourdough , Chips Jalapoeno , drink – Pepsi. I couldn’t believe my ears that was me ordering. There was no way I was going to eat all that. I had never done that before.

I did. But then I could barely stand up. I wasn’t sure if I should feel happy on my achievement or feel sorry for my predicament. I had a meeting at 4.00 and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I am in Texas. Home of the lovable George Bush. You would know about him if you loved Disney.

The cab driver was a ruddy old cowboy with a hat larger than anything I had ever seen.
He tipped his hat a bit, bent his massive frame a bit more and his creased face broke into the warmest smile I had seen. He became ruddier as he smiled. I imagined a beetroot with a hat on.
I wasn’t the only one smiling though.

“ You got a strange accent there.”

“ Yes strange.”

“ strange as in?”

“ accent”

“ which country do you come from?”

“ India”

“ as in red India”

“ No as in brown India.” Fortunately the hotel wasn’t very far.

I love the hotel. Its elegant.

I showered, shaved and put on a crisp white Oxbridge shirt to go with my suit. I eyed myself critically as I knotted my tie. Must make a lasting impression.

This time Frank gave me an appreciating look.( I have my own quirks. Like to hire the same cabbie for the whole day. So Mr. Beet root has a name.)

Austin convention centre.

He looked at me incredulously. “You going there?” “yes why?” “You don’t look that type?”

“ as in?” I was learning his language fast. “Well they all are a bunch of unwashed, unkempt gangly kids there. The school going kind.”

This was weird. I thought conferences are all suit and tie affair. So what if it’s a Gaming one. Alas , Frankie was right.

They were staring at me as if I had walked into a nude beach with a tuxedo on. Wake up uncle Rip Van Rinkle. Things changed while you were sleeping.


Thank you Frankie. YOU are more my kind than THEM. so I invite him for a drink in the evening. He takes me to a charming quaint bar. More cowboy hats and ruddier faces greet me. I feel like I walked into one of my childhood favourite series Olivier Strange’s Sudden.. I am waiting for some one to pull out a revolver and shoot.
But they all are warm and boisterous. I explain to a bunch of guys my predicament since morning. Well we have an unofficial motto “ Keep Austin weird” one guy explains as they break into another round of laughter. “ welcome to Austin”. I smile. This is home territory. Anyone who drinks will understand what I mean. All the beer guzzlers are united by a common bond of brotherhood. Nothing is weird anymore. not even Big Ole frankie who gets ruddier as he drinks.

But wait. The night is not yet over. I enter the elegant hotel and meet with the charming manager. She changes my room as the internet is not working in this room. Again after another one hour I notice that the faucet is not working. She apologizes and now gives me a massive double room instead as a gesture. We can learn customer service from these guys.
This room is perfect. I set the alarm for four and go to sleep. Its been a great day.

The phone keeps buzzing gently. Far from the shrill ones when we were young. The one which made you jump out of your skin. Surprised I pick it up. As I say a sleepy hello, choicest of abuses are hurled from the other end at me for being a two timer and a jerk and then silence and then sobs. Another round of abuses as I tell her that she is talking to the wrong person. “ you a%^*&. Why didn’t you say that before?” before I could explain that she never allowed me, she slams the phone.
Its 3 am. I try to sleep again. Before I fall into the arms of Somnos, the god of sleep, the alarm goes off. Time to shower and leave. Got to catch sleep in the flight.

As I am having coffee, frank calls from the reception. I am pleased as punch. He’s bang on time.

I shut my laptop , switch off all the light and as I am leaving on an impulse return back and switch off the ac, my groggy brain too blank to realize that they will all close automatically once I remove the card. Bingo! That triggers the fire alarm making me jump a feet. I am horrified. I jab every button inside the room. Nothing happens. I rush with my things to the ground floor wary of the guests next to my room. The sound is deafening. But the reception is locked. Recession. Cost cutting. No manager in the night shifts. They only come at 7am. No security either.

Frank roars with laughter. “ This is a big hotel. Someone will take care. Let them earn their bread.”
He says non chalantly.

As we reach the airport, I offer my hand for a shake. He brushes it aside and covers me in a massive bear hug. I feel for a few crushed bones.

Its my turn to grin. I love Weird. it’s the normal that scares me.

I love you Austin.

Austerity in Gandhi Land!

Oh!East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet.

Shashi Tharoor, our dapper Minister of state for foreign affairs is learning it the hard way. So while a President Obama can not only get away by calling Kanye West a Jackass, he is applauded for his wit, Tharoor finds himself in a hole because of his witty remark on twitter. He may be learning two things soon. That while Delhi chatterati twitters, they neither chat nor twitter! Confused? Well, life is more complex in Delhi than in the United Nations, Shashi!. What you see , you unsee and what you unsee is what you really see.

The other thing is that in Congress you do not joke about anything but it is ok if you yourself become a joke. Ask Abhishek Singhvi. He looks normal till he goes ballistic about his Madam Supremo. Take a look at his discussion on ibnlive. You would think that the next thing he would do is declare Madam Sonia as the Mother of the Nation.

Any normal being can see the frivolousness of Sonia’s Economy travel. It wasn’t economical by any stretch of imagination. But we can forgive Singhvi or Sonia. Maths is not their strong point. Imagine booking first two rows for her. Mama mia! You could have traveled first class lady. That would have been real austere. And if you had left the three SUVs which cost 3 lakhs in transportation! But oh security. Isn’t there a more austere thing to do. Down size the jumbo cabinet. You could have the whole jumbo jet.

Reminds me of the queen who was puzzled that why don’t her people eat cakes if bread was scarce. Way to go Sonia. Not to be outdone the baba traveled by train. I am not sure how many seats were reserved for him.

Looks like it requires more money to keep the Gandhis poor. Remember Sarojini Naidu’s immortal comment on Mahatma Gandhi’s austerity. She had commented that it requires more money to keep the mahatma poor. Things haven’t changed much.

But this is not about the Gandhis or the Congress. They both are incorrigible. But it is about a suave and educated Tharoor. Will he be removed for one silly joke which went horribly wrong?

Well he could be the latest Sacrifice on the altar of populism. Sometimes I confuse BJP and Congress these days. They look like the two sides of the same coin. Remember Jaswant singh?

There’s nothing much we can do. Jinnah would surely agree.

On a more somber note, it was sad that Patrick Swazye finally succumbed to cancer. he was not just a brilliant dancer. He was a wonderful human being too. He had an Indian connection too. He acted in ‘ The city of Joy’ and was a great friend of Om Puri.

May his soul rest in Peace.

Tail piece : some one wrote a comment in a leading newspaper that they should write only about the people he knows. This was against an article on Kanye West’s recent meltdown.
Brush up your knowledge mate! If the paper goes by your advise, the editor wouldn’t know what to do after the first half of the front page!

Bacchanalia!

No this is not about Amitabh Bachchan. He is a great star but still I am not going to build a temple for him. There are several reasons for that. It has nothing to do with his talent. He would certainly stand tall in front of a Khushboo ( no pun). But I am not from south. Again he isn’t half as sexy as Khusboo. And imagine the height of the temple to accommodate this towering man. Logistic nightmare really.!

Well this is about an unsung god. Lord Bacchus and his celebration. Why hasn’t anyone thought about it yet?

Lord Bacchus is the god of wine. I can say with confidence that he has more followers in India than any part of the world. Show me an adult who doesn’t drink and you have shown me the eight wonder of the world ( ok that’s an exaggeration).

We have often come closer to giving him the respect due. I can see bacchanalia during every procession starting from as sacred as the Ganesh immersion or as mundane as a municipality ward winners.

Think about it. What will our politicians bribe with if there is no booze. Rooh afza?

What about corporate meetings?
We tried one meeting with a client over a plate of idli and coffee. As expected the meeting finished in twenty minutes and the client insisted that he forgot his visiting card at home and that he lost his mobile in the morning. When his mobile suddenly rang, he cheerily replied, “ wow I must rush to the temple and pray. I have just seen a miracle.”

Sarat Chandra would have sold his idea of Devdas to some Punjabi writer if he had a devdas who drank lassi in the memory of his paro.
Dilip Kumar would have become Adnan Sami, before completing that movie.

Can you imagine Harivansh Rai Bachchan, that talented poet who wrote the immortal
‘ Madushala’. Would he have been able to bring out all the philosophies of life so beautifully if he had written ‘a ganne ka ras bar’ instead ?

I propose that we have something like the famous beer festival in India too.

Here's my hic hic love story. Thank you Lord Bacchus for being there whenever i need you.

Sunday Morning
Saw her at the mall.
Thousand stars sparkled even in the hot stall.

We met she smiled.
She said you are fine.
I gave her flowers; we had wine.

Tuesday evening discotheque.
Funky music but me two feet
The strobe lights on she Pranced like a deer.
I watched hypnotized and guzzled some beer.

Wednesday evening dialogues corny.
She was coy I was horny.
As night wore , we were frisky.
What better drink than a peg of whisky.

Thursday come.
All passions gone.
All serene.
We wrapped each other in our arms
And drank some gin.

Friday night.
Fcking night!
She broke my head I broke her heart.
She was teary I all pain.
The whole bar shouted champagne champagne

All alone Sunday noon. Swatting flies nothing to do.
Thinking of the past. Bloody whole week.
I wanted to cry, gimme my fun.
Drowning sorrows, coke and rum.

Go Harbhajan Go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Picture this guys. There are no Harbhajans or no Shoaib Akhtars or Symonds. The teams all comprise of the Sachins and Dravids. I would rather read my moral science lesson.

Ask any kid. They love the lions and tigers in a circus. But it’s the joker who steals the show.

To be fair enough, these guys are never given their dues. They are what I would call full whole some family entertainers. Don't for a moment mistake them for ordinary cricket players!

Think about Shane Warne and his colorful antics. He was the perfect balance to the gentlemanly Kumble. What an entertaining duel!

I know a lot many will be scandalized. Cricket is a gentleman’s sport. They are role models. They should conduct themselves with dignity.

Well life is a rainbow. Imagine what would happen if you were to eat healthy organic food all your life. No chaat, no spicy pav bhaaji. Naah you say. Not possible.

So you don’t want to sacrifice your mirchi Bhajji but don’t mind crucifying our dear bhajji with a temper like a real mirchi!

Accept it guys! The most endearing image of Sourav Ganguly at the Lords was his baring his chest and spinning his shirt. But for that, I would have forgotten that match by now.

Can you ever forget Sreesant doing the Jig after hitting six against his tormentor Andre Nel.

Don’t feel sorry for the camera man. He will have his ass whooped any way. Hasn’t he heard of something called a zoom. If it is not Bhajji , there would be someone else.

Also, I have one advise to all those screaming, hysterical out of breath reporters who pretend like they have just walked out of a convent and are seeing such bad behavior for the first time. They should pay 20% of their earnings to the bad boys and girls. They would be jobless otherwise.

Imagine if there was no Rakhi Sawant.? They would have to conduct their own swayamvars and go and cook for their 9/5 working hubby.

Finally my advise to Harbhajan. You were just ok. A push is not enough.
You need some real professional help.
There’s a guy who was one up on you. Don’t go on his mad ass laughing on the Laughter Challenge show. He could kick some real ass with his bat. He answers to the name of Navjot Singh Sidhu.

And to all the detractors. Yes I adore Sachin and Dravid. But then I want Harbhajan too.

If we liked Amir Khan did we stop loving a Mogambo or a aahoooooo Shakti Kapur!
Grow up guys. These tabloids too have to make a living. So they will keep fingering all the bad boys.!

Loosen your belt, remove your shows, get out your popcorns and watch the fun. The sky isn’t falling.