The Samosa Sandwich Story

 The Samosa Sandwich Story :

Lisieux Higher Secondary School was an all boys school in Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu. This was quite a mouthful to expalin to the Delhi co-education school mates in Delhi in the bitter winter of 1979. 

I arrived in the cold winter and yet ill equipped to battle the Delhi Winter, its rough rude and abusive folks. I found warmth in the Hot Samosa Sandwich at The School Canteen during the Short Break.

It was basically a Hot Samosa dipped into a pumpkin tomato sauce and slipped between two  large slices of Modern or Brittania Bread. It was  heaven and blissful few minutes when the crunch of the samosa met the mush of the filling with the gooey sauce and the dry soft  white bread. The Duo Dayal and  his son Satish owned the Canteen and a staionery store in the school. They also ran a stationery store at The M Block Gk-1 Market after the School hours.They would do brisk busines by briskly and brusquely chirning out a few hundred in afew minutes of the break. For us the world could wait

The Canteen had Samosa Sandwich, four days a week and an option of a Bun Samosa two days a week, which was the oder cousin of the bread sandwich and was a tad more expensive. The Trendy beverage to go along was Campa- Cola, the Nerds had tea, they all became Doctors or went to IIT. We the Outlaws were happy with Samosa Sandwich and Campa Cola which in all cost a rupee and a half.

The Canteen was the Social hub where the who's who of South Delhi would meet and delicately nibble on the Samosa Sandwich and Stylishly Swig on the bottle of Campa Cola. Remniscing this on a rainy Day.

The Blue Bedspread

 The Blue Bedspread:

It was the Monsoon of 1982, it was early August in Delhi and it hadn't rained as yet. My brother got married amidst a lot of celebrations and it was a posh wedding. Then arrived,my sister-in-laws trousseau, we were awestruck and amazed at the  packing, neatness, quality, care and affection which went into everything. I was most awestruck by the enviable clothes my brother got apart from the formals, the casual wear was interesting (Wrangler, Levis, Nike the works) , it was a big deal, remember, it was India in the early 80s.

Amidst all the finery there was this blue bedspread, which found its way to me. It was my bedspread in the graduation years. I carried it along when I joined the Army and travelled with me for 6 years as part of my tour of duty, Madras, Pathankot, Ahmednagar, Amritsar, Sonmarg, Srilanka and Mhow. I adorned it on my bed in many rooms and brightened up the drab surroundings. It served the country along with me and was robust and received many compliments from fellow visitors.

A year of education, Post- graduation, the tour of duty over, I was back to my parents home and the bedspread was back with me.... slowly , life turned a new leaf and I was married and bed spread became one that many my wife brought and bought in. I met the fellow far and few times as there was a wide variety. Twenty years of marriage and togetherness and the bedspread made a guest appearance in the three homes we lived in, sorry a fourth home too (was our weekend home for a while). The came the daughter, and she played and grew from a toddler to nearly a teenager, meeting the bedspread.

Then Boomerang,nearly 10 years ago, I was back to my parents home and somehow the bedspread followed me. By now over the years, with hundreds of washes it had become so soft and smooth that I prefer it over any other. While I write this piece in the Monsoon of 2021, it's my Brothers and Sister-in- laws 39th Wedding anniversary that's coming up and that makes this bedspread that old with me. I understand it has American Origins and looks store bought, but what a bedspread it has brought joy to me in all situations and circumstances. Thank you Poonam and your parents for this lovely gift amongst others that came my way in my life.

The Tadka Story : United by a Pan

 The Tadka Story: The Tadka Gang 

The humble Tadka, tempering for any Dish , Dal, Curry, Tagine … is the final transformation to make a simple dish an extraordinary dish.. the Midas touch of the cook ,chef and master chef…But this story, is in the cold rainy winter night of Chakki river near the Mamun Cantt near Pathankot  at the foothills of Himalayas in Northern India.… night of flash floods, wet, damp, cold ..you couldn’t feel your toes. Tucked under a bivouac or tarpaulin we had made a cozy shelter between two Vijayant tanks…

That night I was introduced to The Tadka Gang ..grim gangly and now cheerful Gang of Four sometimes Five soldiers , buddies brothers in arms , would bring Dal from the cookhouse and one of them who was off duty .. during the evening  or lunch time would turn this humble Dal  to an exotic dish, Ghee brought from home  (village) onions tomatoes green chili etc. (picked up from afield, or a farmer, or previously bought and carried) made in a exotic Tadka..and mixed into and reheated on a hidden stove.. as cooking in the lines( living quarters )or operational areas wasn’t allowed.

The Tadka Gang usually indulged in a casual cocktail hour prior to devouring this exotic meal of tadka Dal and rotis onions and Canteen bought pickles. They chatted, reminisced about home, bitched about bosses. They were a band of brothers who bonded over tadka. They covered up for each other in peace or at war. Very close informal group which we often see in the corporate world, a bunch of guys who eat together, party together and generally hangout.This tadka gang then started tempering every dish to make it more palatable, and one would need a party ticket to join this gang or an invite.

How can a humble , modest, pan of tempering unite people from different communities and backgrounds, its an interest group. Maybe the internet needs to learn a lot more from such simple stories.

United by the Pan.

 

If life is a bowl of cherries what am i doing in the pits

Is a question I have often asked myself and have seldom got the answer or guidance

Scene 1:

When I was watering the plants this morning…

I heard the neighbour, Doctors, our age, with kids studying abroad..

I hear the lady singing and then the husband joins in the song and they enjoy the moment … ek pyaar ka naghma ..Zindagi aur kuch bhi nahin …

I cherished their moment and in a way missed a certain companionship.. They drink their rum together ( which I often give , walk together, laugh together, live and love.

It was just a song .., but the mind does tricks with you … about …what  if …

Scene 2:

Family is sitting on a patchwork quilted bedcover, on the bed of course in their large bedroom overlooking greenery and devouring an evening snack consisting  of Dahi Vadas, Chana Masala with a Focaccia bread and luscious Mango pudding (they are in season as in the mangoes, and it’s a Summer holiday) , amidst laughter and joy. They are deciding on the next background song they’d like to hear, daughter wants K- Pop, Mum wants, Mein Chali mein Chali mujhe roke na koi ( an old Hindi Pop) and the Man wants a traditional Sindhi Folk Song ( Dama Dam Mast Kalandar). Another scene of bliss, happiness harmony and love.

What do these marriages have, and let me reverse the question and ask what is the ingredient and ingredients that a bad marriage doesn’t have. Firstly it’s very hard to ascertain a bad marriage. I don’t like the term bad marriage. The often attributed culprits or villains are

Compatibility (or the Lack of of it)

Conflict (issues, even infidelity)

Communication (lack of it, break down and, misconstrued)

Competition (professional or personal)

I would like to add

Culture (dissimilar cultures)

Careers (the time we are building careers, is also the time to strengthen relationships)

It’s important to focus on these to build a marriage and relationships amongst others. However, some of us are beyond the stage of focussing, repairing, building and fixing and pine for a new life, Jahan Gham bhi na ho, aansoo bhi nah ho, bas pyaar hi pyaar pale. We all deserve that chance and deserve that shot to be happy. We keep dragging it endlessly. Like someone said, there is nothing more dead, than dead love.

We all have that chance to live our lives and give it a second chance, third chance, what the hell its one life. We need to eat the Cherries tooand leave the Pits for others.

Tea at 46 Degrees

 Tea at 46 Degrees:

We were at Mahajan field firing tank ranges, near Suratgarh deep in the Thar desert in Rajasthan .

It was an exceptionally hot summer day. It was not yet noon and I already had 32 glasses of water.. and half a bucket of highly sweetened sherbet of sugar water salt and perhaps some squash for flavor .. the black dungarees were coated with salt from my sweat . I was almost delirious and parched.

The turret of the tank was so hot you couldn’t touch the metal without getting blisters.

We often wondered can we fry eggs and crispen bacon on the metal turret .. we possibly could .. it was so hot.However, hadn’t yet tried it ever.And the heat from the main engine of the tank of 3200 horsepower transmitted an additional 5 degrees...We often laughed at people who would ask us then, aren’t your tanks air conditioned.. fat chance.

So on a day like that ..Just while I was panting under the lone acacia tree my  Squadron JCO Risaldar Major Salauddin Khan (Junior commissioned office, higher in age and experience and lower in rank to a young rookie officer like me), told me... Saab have a hot cup of tea .. it will help a lot with the heat and thirst..( in some matters I took the advice seriously, for their age and experience) 

However, my first reaction... are you kidding me hot tea brewed at noon in the desert.. did he think I was General Rommel in the Sahara. Besides, I was not much of a tea drinker even at the Glacier in sub zero temperatures.

Anyhow, I did have a hot sweetened tea and after 10 minutes the thirst subsided.. mouth wasn’t dry.. it was almost like the tea had calibrated some kind of thermostat in my body.

So today on a June afternoon in Delhi with a heatwave having a late afternoon tea, I was reminded of that day and that lesson.. lost in the desert..

The Beggar’s Kitchen

 The Beggar’s  kitchen 

Many years ago after having a drink toobmany at a Colaba Bar, (Cafe Royal opposite Regal Cinema, where Bill Clinton on a visit to Bombay to the American centre, went to lunch, with his team and Chelsea, they even had his table marked ). I was working with Times of India , on a collaboration with BBC to launch their magazines ( Top Gear , Good Housekeeping etc) in India.Apart from managing the sales of their magazines Femina and Filmfare.

I stumbled upon , one night a push cart , street vendor selling mutton curry and rice.. thinking it’s a great option after a drinking binge .. I ordered one plate/ thali and settled with a mound of rice with generous lashings of mutton curry and onions ... I relished my meal and stood from the sidewalk stone .

I was politely asked to wash my plate at a tap nearby , awestruck .. I thought it was a strange request.. I offered to pay and the man behind the cart and smiled and said it’s a free soup kitchen for beggars. Yes a free beggars kitchen .

I was a bit taken aback , washed up and probed more. He said the traders of Crawford market offer left over grain, spices, meat and vegetables.. yes really the leftovers that can’t be sold . They give them all to this lovely kitchen, which dishes out an enjoyable meal to all and sundry ... beggars.. destitutes and forced bachelor executives after a drinking binge ...

We have Savoured them all from the best cordon bleau cooking .. to Crawford market beggar’s kitchen push cart .. all equally good .. as my Mum would often say ... hunger is the best sauce.

The Parathas Story

Cruises Antarctica Cochin London and Parathas

I often went to Cochin to rustle business for the Cruises to Antartica... yes Antarctica... 

Strangely  Kerala contributed  80 percent of the passengers.. I had painstakingly grown this business from 10 passengers from India to 900 . That’s a lot.

Considering, you couldn’t Tavel to Antartica unless one was in the defence, geography or oceanography from India  a few years ago.

Also the Travelling spirit of Keralites I realised along with Bengalis , Gujaratis , Marwari and Jains is abnormally high.

Antartica the final frontier and cannot be reached by commercial aircraft either.

So my partner travel agents whom I met over Beef Chilli and Malabari Parothas..toddy, beer and lively Kerala meals of Meen Moillee and prawns...floated packages an year in advance ...

One of them was Viceroy travels ... owned by Sindhis..

But this story is not about Kerala, Antartica or Cruises or even Sindhis.. it’s about a humble aloo paratha I had today ..

So Viceroy travels also had a food packaging division which traditionally dealt with prawns and frozen food...

When I visited them as a good friend, (I had taken them for a cruise to Europe gratis), they would invite me for food tastings to their packaged food called something else earlier now called Buffet.

I was impressed with freshness and quality and back to Delhi I hunted and found some products, like the often ordered breaded fish fingers etc.

So one day talking to my Uncle in London in our weekly calls (he is undoubtedly my favorite Uncke), he said whenever my daughters come in to look them up during the Pandemic, I offer them Aloo , Gobhi parathas with Greek yogurt, they love it, ( the Greek yoghurt I can vouch for, when daughter and I visited last we loved it, we may have had the Parathas too).

So he winked (imaginary wink) and told me, he cheated and bought the Parathas off the Indian shelf in a large store at Greenford ( it wasn’t Tescos must have been some other). I said Ahaaann.

I kept thinking about it and one day I called my neighborhood store Greenchick (weird name but that’s another story) and asked for frozen stuffed Parathas, he said yes Buffet brand, ₹110 for 4 , I called for them as part of my list of other goodies.

Tried them this morning with regular yougurt preserves and paraphernalia... they hit the spot we liked them ... decent stuffing flavoring and crispness.

So here it is from Cruises , Antartica, Travel agents , to London to Parathas... an interesting slice okay bite of my life.

Silence is Golden

 I learnt this later in my career about a decade and half ago .. by default.. I learnt it was very useful, I was more respected and taken more seriously.. I actually did it as I was disenchanted with the corporate world .. was shirking.. but it had a counter indicative effect.

Earlier when I was knowledgeable hands on and vocal .. I felt victorious and appreciated within my inner circle and coterie.. the larger group or people resented it.

Inaction sometimes is also an action. I learnt, atleast in meetings...especially in the Corporate world ..

https://www.linkedin.com/feed/news/its-okay-to-be-quiet-in-meetings-5057956

Veranda Vantage

 Sitting in the Veranda 

The rain came but the water at home didn’t 

The gardener came and dropped a vine of Giloy herb

The newspaper brought more news of mismanagement, dismay and  grief

The aircrafts sound like a thunderstorm and brake as they get to their destination sooner

The crows coo caw and rattle with different sounds

No need to water the plants as it has rained

A skinny young delivery boy rides a bycycle with  a deflated tyre

Amidst sips of ginger tea I glint at the floor to make sense of things I see hear and feel

Things have to be bought, menus have to be planned, problems have to be solved.

Souls have to be assuaged including mine 

Morales have to be built but first  mine...

Till then I enjoy the pre pre monsoon breeze and coolness on the skin...

Coleslaw Connection

 Coleslaw Connection:Story of the Coleslaw Sandwich...

For a few days Coleslaw has been in the back of my mind .. 

A few days ago made Cabbage an I saved a portion of raw cabbage for later.. so today the craving came back and I crept into the kitchen in afternoon and started to prepare from scratch .. grated the cabbage finely... added mayonnaise ( thought of getting Hellman’s ) added salt, pepper, mustard .. was ready .. let it rest.

Later in Afternoon My Brother Sanjiv called from Dubai and talking of Kings and Cabbages... I told him , I have been craving for a coleslaw sandwich, yes a lowly coleslaw sandwich.

Memories went went back to Clubs, Cinemas and Coffee-shops back in the yonder where we had eaten them many many moons ago..

And I had as a travelling salesman grabbed at many a ready grab and go places .. also many years ago.. masquerading as veg sandwich or even a chicken sandwich with a hint of chicken in them 

He said it’s uncanny I just bought Coleslaw from Spinneys yesterday and was planning on one myself.. talk about telepathy and combined cravings across countries..

So here I am settling to my Sandwich and he was heading to have his and I am posting my pictures and hope to have his pictures soon for the Coleslaw Connection to be Completed..

Summer of 72

 Once during the summer holidays.. visiting Delhi as a young boy .. visited my Paternal Aunt .. in Pratap Bagh near Delhi University..

Her son who later was ordained to become a granthi (priest) in a gurudwara .

He was then an unemployed youth and he had set up an ice cream stall/ shop in the market .

So all afternoon on a summer day we toiled in churning ice cream out of fresh cream,  milk, fresh fruit, tutti-frutti and cherries to make this wonderful ice cream ..

Then loaded it to to the market and vended them all evening and late into the night ... with nothing to eat or drink and counting our earnings and feeling good about it ..

Many  lessons learnt in enterprise, hard labor, rewards in selling the fruits of your labor at a very young age .. besides memories are invaluable..

Boys to Men

 My First Flight Day : Boys to Men

Coimbatore... to Bangalore in a Dakota... felt like a grown up all of 13... accompanying my mother ... we made friends with other passengers at the lounge in Bangalore..

I got them snacks and and drinks in the lounge..

We were then routed to Hyderabad in a Fokker-Friendship.. oh I saw the billowing cotton fields of clouds .. felt like a dream...

Reached Hyderabad.. parted with our new friends...

Left from Hyderabad to Delhi in a massive Airbus ... remember the full elegant service .. soup , salad main course.. and coffee.. and yes sweets and most importantly collecting eau de cologne laden hand and face freshners..

With that one day , escorting my mom and new experiences made me grow up in a day ..

Landed at the airfield of Palam airport of Delhi .. at midnight on one of the coldest nights of 13 January 1979 ..wearing beige denim flares and a single front buttoned rust colored cardigan ... it was the coldest night ever.

Cheerfully received by my father .. who was  warm and friendly and very smartly announced .. WBG 8920 driver Kanhaiyalal ..on the PA system to call his driver ... I was so impressed with the moment and the day ... 

That day and the bunch of flights on a first flight day will forever be etched in my mind ...as an everlasting memory