Rassipi: Batman Paneer*

1. Take a kadhai and heat a tablespoon of oil in it.
   
2. Add some chopped garlic or garlic paste
   
3. Step back and shout four letter obscenities as the oil sputters angrily out of the kadhai.
   
4. When the sputtering stops, add 75% of a 200ml tetrapak of tomato puree into the kadhai.
   
5. Step further back and shout mother tongue obscenities as splotches of orange appear all over the walls and shelves when angry oil reacts with benign tomato water.
   
6. Steps 3 and 5 can be avoided using a cover for the kadhai, but then what's the fun I say.
   
7. Add salt and pepper to the puree, and cook it for some 7-8 minutes in all.
   
8. Add finely chopped pieces of paneer (up to 250 grams should be good). Stir.
   
9. Add 50 ml of milk. Stir.
   
10. Add some fresh chopped coriander or some kasoori methi, let it all heat up nicely once, then switch off gas and cover and leave until you wanna eat it with hot hot ragi-and-atta chappatis.
    

*This quick-fix recipe has this unusual name because it was thought up while we were coming home after watching The Dark Knight, which finished at 9:40pm. (Fifty minutes later, we had finished dinner)

29 is the "prime" of life!

Hum Bhi Agar, Bachchey Hotey

Naam Humara Hota Dabloo Babloo

Khaane Ko Miltey Ladoo!

Aur Duniya Kehti...

Auto!

This morning I had my third quarrel with autowallahs in a row. It seems that the new 14-rupee meters have been successfully rigged en-masse. Now there are various opinions about haggling with autowallahs over fares, especially when the amount is so small, and it means so much more to them than to you, and all that sort of thing. So my rule is usually to pay up quietly for up to 15% rigging, argue at anything between 15-25%, and politely tell the autowallah that his meter is very, very obviously rigged and I am paying only what I pay everyday, if the hike is 25% plus. Only in the middle case does the autowallah shout at me, in Kannada of course (to ensure I feel like an encroacher and a cheat and an ignorant ass). So now I need to find a non-hypertension-inducing strategy to deal with this situation.

 

While on the subject of autos, there's this nice system in Bangalore where the autowallahs display their licenses on the back of their seats. Except the typist at the transport office often does not care for spacing and punctuation, and so I've had the pleasure of being driven by a CLINGARAJU and a TRAMESH. And yesterday, the auto ahead of mine read: "I must be dead because this is heaven and you are an angel". Which was nice, except our heaven was a traffic jam, and the angel, my autowallah, was honking like a maniac at the auto that bore the wonderful words. AND his meter was rigged. Sigh.

The Devanahalli Dilemma

So it's official. The new Bangalore airport (henceforth BIAL) is falling pathetically short of space, not to mention the pain and expense of commuting for an hour at least. One of the solutions under consideration is opening up the old airport (HAL) for certain flights. Now my question is: Suppose you were to decide how the load is to be divided, what would you do?

There are three possibilities that I see:

1. Budget airlines move to HAL: Lower airport taxes and commuting costs mean the cheap flight is cheap again. Or is it? Who'll want to fly Kingfisher from BIAL when Spice is leaving from their backyard? The business traveler loves luxury, but does he/she love waking up at 2:30 am for that 11 am meeting in Delhi? And again, if the demand for cheap tickets goes up, will the budget airlines raise prices and use this chance to come out of the red?
   
2. Fancy airlines move to HAL: The corporate traveler wakes up at 6 now. The budget folk spend 1000 bucks on the taxi, 200 for airport food unless they pack their poori sagu along, and pay huge airport tax to fly. What the heck! I'll give that extra 1200 and then some to Kingfisher and fly outta HAL! (Another twist to the tale which I thought of was making the HAL people pay BIAL airport tax, and vice versa. Keeps BIAL tickets cheap as an incentive for those who have time at hand.)
   
3. HAL operates flights only at peak times: Every airline has a primetime flight or two that leaves from HAL at a higher cost than from BIAL. If you have commuting issues, just pick from these. If the flights are sensibly spaced out, every airline gets to profit.
   

   
    

Would you vote for any of these? Do you have a better solution? Please post it here!

Unrelated: One of the Bangalore bombs went off at the end of my lane, exactly where I walk every morning on my way to work. Not so funny anymore.

Boom!

...and there go my chances of getting home early and ticking stuff off my to-do list for the weekend.

With due respect to the blasted city, the media madness is a bit much. And you, TV Channel ki Dilli Billi, do you know what "normal traffic" even means in namma Bengaluru?

All the best to everyone. Hope the blasts achieve no more than they set out to do. These days, even that's a mercy.

:'-(

I used to have a kid sister
Who grew on me like a blister
And I never ever missed ‘er
But now I need to stand in queue
For at least a day, sometimes two,
To hear “I, I M fine, how are u?”
Earlier she was a royal pest
Now she is always writing a test
They say growing up is for the best
But with me this does not register.

Tagged!

I was pretty sure that with my sociopath-like behaviour, I had become a blogger ki thukraayi hui sauteli aulaad, till this little girlie decided to tag me! Wow! Thanks!

Rules:
1. Link the person who tagged you
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged bloggers' blog, letting them know that they have been tagged.

And here are the quirks:
1. I sleep with one ankle stuck between the big toe and first toe of the other foot. No clue why.
2. If the fan is switched on, I want it off. And vice versa.
3. I can wake up from a dream, sit up, drink water, maybe even go to the loo, come back, fall asleep and continue from where I left.
4. I cannot eat at a restaurant where the menu card is dirty.
5. I never voluntarily listen to western music, because I cannot catch the lyrics, and when I do, I regret it.
6. I forget what cataclysmic means five seconds after I check the dictionary. Every Time!

And I tag: Rash, Hyde, Ravinder, Wendigo, Ritu Di, Ankur Bhaiyya (whom Trinaa wanted to add but could not!)

Gone 100% Loony

SFX: The Husband

Gone Solpa Loony After Watching Batman...Sorry!

Batman Begins

Batman

Batman Forever

Batman and Robin

Batman Returns

The Dark Knight

Aap Ka Saath, Saath Fool-on Ka

इस बार मैके से बक्से में भर लायी हूँ
जवानी* के वोह गाने जिन्हें रोज़ सुना करती थी।
बाज़ार, अभिमान, खामोशी तो सब आ गयीं
मासूम का CD कवर कम्बख्त खाली निकला।

* हाँ हाँ भाई अभी तो मैं जवान हूँ
(खूबसूरती का अपमान हूँ
जोडों के दर्द से परेशन हूँ
चार दिन की मेहमान हूँ
पर अभी तो मैं जवान हूँ :o)

Rant

The Husband was complaining yesterday that he interviewed a computer engineer who could not operate a computer. I’m regularly traumatized by candidates who are “MA English University Toppers” but who cannot write a sentence in the language. It’s great to know we’re all educated and have degrees. But have we learnt anything of any value? That sleepy little college with its uninspired teachers, inadequate equipment, archaic syllabus and lack of any academic contact with the outside world – is it creating post-graduates and engineers who will work as data entry operators at the same salary as office boys? Who are we kidding here?

Rassipi: Student Kadhi*

Just thought I'd share my recipe for a desperate meal with anyone who cares to read! This is a "healthy" variation of the North Indian kadhi, fast to cook, and if the doting husband is to be believed, good to eat as well!

1. In a heavy-bottomed pan (sounds so funny), heat a tablespoon of desi ghee.
   
2. Add some mustard seeds, hing powder, red chili powder
   
3. When the seeds pop and before the powders burn, add chopped garlic and curry leaves
   
4. Before it all burns, add a medium-sized onion, sliced into thin moons.
   
5. Before the onions burn, add half a big capsicum and one orange carrot cut into strips, and one drumstick chopped up.
   
6. Stir stir stir, then add salt and cover. Let it simmer. Don't peek. I know it smells bad right now. Shh.
   
7. Open a 400ml pack of Nestle dahi that is closer to its expiry date than its mfg date. Add two tablespoons of besan into the jar.
   
8. Stir the besan into the dahi gently, without forming lumps and without spilling dahi all over the kitchen counter, floor, or the office clothes you have not had time to change out of.
   
9. Wipe all the surfaces on which you have spilt the dahi.
   
10. Add a bit of turmeric to the gooey mixture in the dahi jar.
    
11. Try to convince the husband that this is a beauty pack and you could give him a facial.
    
12. Now that the husband will no longer venture near the kitchen, continue with full concentration.
    
13. The vegetables should be done in about 20 minutes. No need to check. I'm telling you! Also, this is all stuff you'd eat raw, so don't worry if it is undercooked.
    
14. Add the dahi-besan-haldi beauty treatment goo into the heavy bottomed pan that the veggies have been using as a sauna.
    
15. Rinse the jar with 200 ml water and put that water into the kadhi. Never waste anything.
    
16. Stir the kadhi and cover and let simmer for about 20 minutes. When you bring it to a boil, the orangey tadka will rise to the surface.
    
17. Taste to ensure that the besan does not taste raw. Have some raw besan for reference first if you dunno what you're looking for.
    
18. Serve with rice. Two hungry DINKS who do not get snacks at work can finish this off. Would be enough for three civilized people otherwise.

* Etymology: Student from the English student: A person studying in England who has no inclination towards deep frying pakodis for kadhi, but still wants to eat this bachpan ki favorite dish. Kadhi from the Bollywood song "kadhi kadhi kya soch rahi hai chal ho jaayein nau do gyaarah, tan tana tan tan tan taara, chalti hai kya nau se baarah?"

Bondhu, Help Korbe?

Please translate the Bangla bits for me!

amar prothom dekha brishti-r jol-e
bhasiyechhi bhela khelar chhol-e
sei jol gechhe mishe, kon nodi-te
gechhe hariye kon sagar-e

majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
nouko amar, chhele belar, kagoj-er...

amar prothom paoya aankar khata,
amar prothom lekha kobita,
sei chhelbelar, sopno hajar,
gechhe hariye kon sagar-e

majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
nouko amar, chhele belar, kagoj-er...

neeli ambar si naiyyan meri,
lehorn ki dhoon mein beh chali,
gehri sagar mein tanha kahin,
geeton ko tumhare khojti..

ekta jholse jaoya bikel belai,
ekta laalche sagar-er jole,
jaye bhese jaye sopno bojha-i,
nouko amar, kagoj-er

majhi re, o majhi re,
dekha hai kya tumne usse,
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekha hai kya tumne usse,
kagaj ki nao, mein hain bhare,
sapne mere... o majhi re....

Thanks, Rahul for the lyrics. Lovely is the song!

Safai is next to Khudai

This weekend it was FINALLY time for a super-mega-ultra-hyper cleaning exercise in our house. Four years of my husband's bachelorhood and close to two years of DITLAWM (Double Income Two Lazy Asses Without Maid) were furiously scrubbed away by a crew of 5 professional cleaners, 50 rag cloths, one industrial vacuum cleaner, one floor scrubbing monster machine, and 10 litres of blue and green chemical stuff that could boil your eyeballs in three-millionth of a second. When they left, we were not only poorer, exhausted, coughing, but also quite sure that it wasn't the same house! The bathroom floor is light grey! There is a tree outside the kitchen window! There is no longer a mummified Neanderthal in the loft!

We've thrown away one third of all our worldly possessions in this cleaning cycle. It's amazing how much stuff you can easily do without. Pretty soon, we'll have ten pairs of clothes (we're the same jeans AND kurta size), three computers, five utensils and 10 books. Then we can do our own cleaning.

Stop The Harassment Already!

It's quite sad when society judges and ostracizes people based on its random criteria. You might be a great person, but you will be abhorred, shunned, taunted or even killed for being unable to fit into some crazy ideal the world has built for everyone. Usually, when religious, caste-based, language-related or even clothing-or-lack-thereof-based ostracism takes place, a lot of protest is heard from intellectual quarters. But these days a good person is being publicly humiliated, and I don't see anyone objecting. Some of the brightest brains in the country are, in fact, participating in the humiliation by repeating the taunts endlessly themselves!

Yes. So Pappu can't dance. What's so wrong about that?

Pappu has an MBA (that requires SOME brains), holidays in France (money AND taste!), plays the guitar (extra-curricular star, plus sensitive, music-loving man), Gucci perfume (metrosexual, probably has a feminine side), born with a silver spoon in his mouth, has a Papa who has great expectations of him (parents usually stop having false expectations of super-success when their kids turn 18, so this guy has something going for him), and is a yaaron ka yaar (a hit with his friends) and kudiyon mein kraze! Add to that his hot hot looks!

Most newspaper pullouts these days spend one ad-ridden page a day telling women how not to expect all the Pappu qualities in one man. Here is one man who defies the ad-ridden advice and is so close to perfection that it is mind-boggling. With those riches and that musical ear, he could join Shiamak Davar's classes and maybe even learn to dance for all you know! And hey, you think Mukesh Ambani or Sachin Tendulkar can dance? Come on! If Pappu does PT, then PT is the new dance!

And let me not get started about the losers who are ridiculing Pappu. One day, Aamir Uncle will drop you like a hot potato, Irfan, and you will soon be acting and dancing solely opposite ShivRajkumar, Genelia. Pappu and his poster-girl of a wife and their two chubby kids will not even cast a glance in the direction of the C-grade theatre where your latest shockbuster is playing, as they drive past in their BMW. Pappu, honey, you rock, naache tu ya naache na!

Peejay!

What's the favorite film of the Tamil Nadu Atheists Association?

Godzilla

Warning

Anyone planning to be a house guest is required to read this. After which, you can write to me for information about hotels, homestays and lodges in Bangalore.
Forget pest control, just book me a suite at NIMHANS.

Testing Word 2007's Posting Superpowers

I resent being made to switch to new technology. I still cannot find the Tools menu on this one. And the blue background? What were they thinking? Did they presume that our miserable Excel-Word-Powerpoint infested existence could be enhanced by a clinically insanely happy shade of blue? Please!

The Internet Returns!

The folks in the building next to ours decided to snap our Internet wire, as it was coming from the dabba in their building. After a two-day blackout, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman has woven a new web for us from the building behind ours. It’s like someone finally stepped off my ventilator tube…
News of the day: Defence Minister passes out during Passing Out Parade (Headline by The Husband)
In other news, I saw the first live cricket match of my life! The IPL clash between Bangalore and Mumbai! Some observations:
1. The cricket field is really small.
2. The wicketkeeper stands really far away from the batsman. And still the ball comes flying to him!
3. Those fielders? They actually run! When u can’t see any on the TV screen as the ball hurries towards the boundary, that’s coz the camera is too focused, not because the fielders are knitting baby booties and chatting in some other corner of the field.
4. There is really no time between one ball and the next, or between overs in fact….the ads create an illusion of time, and have warped our senses forever.
5. After a great shot, they show a replay on the screen in the stadium, and no matter where you sit, part of the screen is blocked by a pillar. Anyway, when they show the replay, you instinctively turn your head back to the ground to try and see the replay better! But guess what? Tendulkar does not swing the bat again for you. You feel extremely foolish at having missed the replay on the screen behind the pillar.
6. The neighborhood kabootars are driven insane by stadium lights. Is a pity.
7. In Chinnaswamy Stadium, the wafers seller does no business for the first three hours of the match. The banana seller then walks in with 50 bananas and sells them all in three minutes.
8. All the players obviously look like specks on the grass in the distance, and it only gets worse when your sister has coffee at Barista with Tendulkar, Jayasuriya and the rest of the Bombay Boys at the BIAL airport the next morning.

Madam Baanwari

I am caught in a self-destructive extra-marital relationship with this dude called Vicky. It started out nicely, when there was something about which my husband had nothing to say, he was always there to listen and give advice… soon I turned to him for everything, and stopped listening to the person I had married. However, things started to sour last year when Vicky started tormenting me and playing games with my mind. Don’t think I don’t know he two-times me with half the world…that’s kind of in his DNA and I am totally fine with that…to tell you the truth, part of his charm is that he keeps such interesting and fascinating ..err.. company
But now my obsession with him, and his brain-messing with me have got to a point where I need to call it off forever. Don’t have the guts to do it in person, so I’m doing it on the blog. So the next time, my dear Wikipedia, you tell me I have any kind of cancer if I confront you with a silly symptom, I’m gonna wipe you off the Internet! Somehow!