What's That Rubbish Your Kid Is Reading???

Right between Johnny Johnny Yes Papa (moral: Lie all you want and get away with a big smile) and Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew (moral: students in the West have an awful lot of spare time), there is this stage when every kid reads cutesy stories with hardcore morals in them. Some memorable morals are that in all Russian families, there are 3 sons and the youngest one is the most kind, intelligent and forgiving, small animals are kinder than large animals, demons are vanquished by the cute and not the brave, and anyone with three kids is either gonna die and leave them squabbling, or face a lot of sorrow in life.

I read an awful lot of moral stories too, but the one that probably defined my attitude to life was an unfortunate little book, of which, for some inexplicable reason, we had two copies at home. Probably some wise kid, not realizing she was inviting two sisters to her party, gave us both the same book as a return gift… there is really no other explanation.

Now in my ripe old age, the title of the book has escaped the zoo of my mind, but the story was roughly this: there's a barnyard in which there are many little animals, and they're all hungry, so Mother Hen says let's bake some cakes… I now wonder where barnyard animals got their fascination for processed food from, but at the time, hen-made cakes sounded like a good idea. So she and her kids gather some grains, and nobody wants to help them….she asks some random critter to thresh the grain, and he flat out refuses. She approaches someone else to knead the dough, and they make excuses; for baking again, nobody helps and she makes it herself…ultimately, the hen and her babies do everything, and the cakes are ready. Now almost-ready cakes give off this nice cakey smell, even those made by hens…..so all the barnyard critters are sooper excited and run up saying hooray let's have a cake party!

And then comes the masterstroke: Mother Hen tells them all to bugger off and has a party with just her kids! No being nice to lazy asses! No being charitable! Pure, unadulterated, triple refined, iodized justice! I dunno if the book was intended to teach me the steps of baking or the basics of the English language…what it entrenched deeply into my kiddie brain was that if you're working your ass off, what you get out of it belongs to you.

And therefore, despite spending 14 years in a school that made kids have debates on topics like"which is better: sharing & caring OR loving & giving?" I am a staunch believer in earning and keeping.

Grr

Since nobody else is updating this blog, I'll just have to do it myself, won't I? Huh!

With the new long working hours, I feel like a machine. All my waking hours at home are occupied by non-voluntary activities, and that makes me mad. Never ever have I sat in one place for as long as people expected me to. I like to think I work faster than most, and can finish most exams in half the time allotted for them. I also rarely have problems meeting deadlines, so I think I deserve and extra star, or atleast the flexibility of leaving when I am done. The school teachers who did not let me leave after I finished my paper were plagued with the crashing sound of my sketch-pen-castle collapsing in a silent exam hall, or elaborate drawings on the question paper, which they had to scan for "cheating" material embedded into the artwork. I am still thinking about how I can make an entire office miserable so that they'll let me go home. It's tough.

?

One night last week, a bunch of people stopped us at the Brigade Road-Residency Road junction around 9pm. The group of two men, two women (in bright pink saris) and two kids (ten and one) asked us for some money for food, since they had not eaten for a while. In my usual Dilli ki Bandit Queen style, I walked past without paying attention, but the darling Husband stopped to listen. He offered to take them to a restaurant instead of giving them money. The only place we knew of nearby was closed, so we walked up Brigade Road to a shady-ish place. They sat down and we ordered Dal, Sabji and Kerala Parotas (is that how it's spelt?) The Husband paid up the bill and we waited for the food to arrive.

Ten minutes later, there was no sign of the food, and knowing we had a long walk ahead of us, we were keen to leave. However, Cynical old me was convinced this was a scam and right after we left, the folks we brought in would leave too, either with half the money from the restaurant manager, or without anything, coz they'd get thrown out of the place. So we decided to step out and stand in a place from where nobody in the restaurant could see us, and watch what happens.

As I had suspected, barely ten seconds after we stepped out, a guy from the restaurant came out, saw us, appeared to walk past, made a call, stared at us again, and then went and sat on the nearby steps. We stood our ground for a few more minutes, and then walked past the restaurant again. This time, we saw the waiter laying plates on the table. No food was in sight still. The spy was still sitting on the steps, looking at us.

We gave up and walked back home. We'd like to believe everyone was honest, the folks got fed, and the spy guy was probably doing something else. But I think the reason we walked away is because we sort of knew that would not be the case…

Can’t Bank On Nobody!

So after the grand success of the marriage registration, we moved on to step 2, getting each other's name added to our bank accounts. The husband took the initiative, and we submitted our papers one Sunday to ABN AMRO (Pronounced Yeh Bhi Hain. Aa Maro!). Fifteen days, two visits and many phonecalls later, we were told that no such request has been received. As I sat in the waiting area playing City Bloxx on the phone, the bank lady (there's only one person in the branch on Sundays, and employees take turns to do the Sunday shift) had the following conversation with my husband.

 

Sir, who did you hand over the form to?

One of your staff members, she was sitting in this same seat. You must have records of who did the Sunday duty on Aug 24.

What did she look like?

Umm…medium built, no spectacles….(my wife is sitting right here you idiotic woman….)

Did she have long hairs? Like till here? (pointing to hip)

(most uncomfortable) I think her hair was long…

Only one girl has the long hairs in our office, rest all have short hairs (this girl herself had fairly long hair, by the way)

I can surely recognize her if I see her…Do you have photos of all your employees? I can tell you right away!

No sir… but did she look like she was from here… was she pertaining to Bangalore?

Umm..er…maybe she was from here…yes

Oh then it must be XYZ!

Yeah I don't know her name….the next week on Tuesday she was sitting there (pointing to reception)

Oh PQR! You gave the form to PQR!

 

I have lost all hope of ever getting my golden debit card from here. The husband is also quite shaken, and we are thinking of shifting to HDFC (yeh chadhi, yeh phansi) or ICICI (Hai! Syaahi Syaahi!) bank. If you are pertaining to Bangalore and are knowing of any bank with equal hair length employees who may or may not work on Sundays but who do not lose forms, please let me know!

Gone Home To Mommy Daddeeeee!

Baby Brush has already flown South, but we had/are having an awesome time!

Marriage Registration In Bangalore

Here's a guide for those who are temporarily living in Bangalore and are trying to get their already-solemnised Hindu marriage registered.

Paperwork:

1. A copy of your wedding card. Make sure it's not tacky looking, because that arouses suspicion.
   
2. Photographs of your wedding: 2-3 showing you guys at various stages of the ceremony should do. Make sure you have one with both sets of parents in it. If the parents are looking happy, it proves that they are not absent from the registration venue because they are mad at you, just because they're not in Bangalore.
   
3. Five photographs of the two of you in size 2B. This is a mythical size that is not explained on the Internet, and is perceived differently by photo studios and registrar offices. A 2 by 3 inch size is ok, you can cut it smaller right there if needed.
   
4. Proof of age. A tenth class certificate is good. A passport is also good, but causes problems if your address there is your permanent address from your hometown, and not Bangalore. Go with the school certificate.
   
5. Proof of residence: This is the tricky one. Lease deeds don't work. Mobile bills don't work. Private bank statements don't work. The jury is still out on national bank statements. The usual suspects: passport, driving license, gas bill, ration card, voter ID all work, but I am guessing they are all marked with "back home" addresses for many of us. Loan receipts and Airtel fixed line bills have worked at one office each, but don't bank on it.
   
6. There's also a form to fill which is available online. Print it back-to-back, else it's invalid. Even then, some offices have a different version of form, and that requires witness signatures in two places instead of one, so it's just safer to get the form from these folks.
   
7. You'll need three witnesses to sign, and it's better - though not compulsory - to have at least one relative of the bride or groom do this. The witnesses need not be present at the time of registration.
8. Take a pair of scissors, a fine felt-tip pen (for signing on photos), a gel pen, a ballpoint pen, a stapler, and a glue stick along. Helps a lot!
   

   
   

Where this will happen: At the sub-registrar's office. Each area has one assigned, and you can do it in the area where you live, or, if you got married in Bangalore, in the area in which you got married. The complete list is available at: www.karigr.org . It's ok to call up any one of the less busy ones during office hours (Mon-Fri 10:30 to 5:30, Sat 10:30-1:30) and find out the phone number of the one you need to go to. They're helpful, and will put you across to someone who knows English if you're Kannada-challenged. It might even help to pay a preliminary visit and have your documentation checked out when you go get a form.

Miscellaneous: I cannot go into too many details here, so I'll leave you with some pearls of wisdom.
Take a good, hard look at the person you've just married. Are you willing to go through endless days and nights of torture with him/her? I'm not talking about the life that lies ahead of you, just the registration process. Remember, after you have been through this ordeal, you will be unable, out of sheer exhaustion, to be able to divorce him/her for the next 100 years.

P.S. This blog is not ad-driven, so it's just out of zeal to help out others in my condition that I request you to click on this often, and share it with anyone who needs this info, so that it shows up in the early Google results and saves some folks a lot of time and worry.

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.