Awaaz Nichey, This Diwali
A recent study in New York has showed that loud noise features high in the list of ‘Everyday things that can kill you.’
The thumping, pounding, honking, wielding, cutting, jutting, digging, building, filling, constructing along with a zillion other noises that we denizens are unwillingly subjected to as part of an accepted curse of city life is partially responsible for stress, blood pressure, insomnia, hearing disorders and many other health woes that turn us into weaker humans than we are, that too without us as much as realizing the same.
With the near completion of the Parle Point flyover, as we got to print, suburban Surtis are set for peaceful slumber, or so they think. After months of cement ,dust and the most thunderous thumps entering their homes day in and night out, they are in hope of experiencing nights as they once knew them-all peace and quiet. But, are we really in for some silent bliss just yet?
Am afraid, not. Via the recent sale of vehicles worth more than Rs.6 Crores on a single day, supposedly auspicious, Tapi town will be witness to a roaring road wave as 2-3-4 wheelers rage through the already conspicuous lanes within the city. Pot holes be damned, Surtis are now used to spending anything from 20 to 45 extra minutes commuting on roads that could put dirt bike racing to shame. Accompanied by constant blowing of horns and musical tunes that go off when cars reverse, which are way above the recommended decibel level that invade the human ear. For all you know, we might even have special new classes to teach the art of delicate maneuvering the metal catacombs formed on our not so full of mettle roads.
While the honking orchestration continues at crossroads during the day, along with brain numbing mobile ring tones that blare off catching you absolutely unawares, we now have news of some super sales of firecrackers which seem to have broken recent records of recession. Now really, tell me, does this love for ‘fatakdas’ (firecrackers silly, not a slang for good looking males as in ‘fatakdi’ for girls) generate from the fact that they are known as ‘darukhana’, I mean what’s the addiction to the kind of intoxication they are known to generate-flash of light accompanied by deafening sound resulting in toxic smoke and rubbish that’s strewn upon lanes that have seen better days, ages ago.
With innumerable unlicensed kiosks of crackers having sprouted up around Tapi town, God alone knows how much risk we are subjecting our children to while officially allowing them to fire up gimmicks-most of which are prepared by lesser fortunate children. Speaking of whom, isn’t it about time we grew up from the fact that the success of your past and future business year is not all about which lala’s loom crackles the longest (no pun intended).
Just as the speeches by Shiv Sena Supremos were monitored for their decibel capacity by an NGO –Awaaz in Mumbai recently, methinks it’s about time that our ‘Lalaland’ got a dose of the same medicine. Any surveys within Tapi town would be sure to show our eardrums shouting out loud for help.Surtis-never known to be subtle in their style, need to make an effort to value the strength of silence. And a great way to begin would be precisely at this time of the year; by having a fantastic Diwali and a fabulous New Year with double the fun and half the noise. Let’s celebrate with awaaz nichey, what say?
Tapi town tattle- Bus, stop!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
New Answers To Old Questions Anyone?
No sooner has the brightest moonlit night of the year passed; with Surtis gorging out on the Sharad Poonam and Chandipadva night that the agenda for the next set of festivities during the forthcoming fortnight has been set.
Social Surtis who qualify as official tattlers around town are armed with their usual questionnaire to attack the unassuming common man /woman /child. It is not as if these questions have been inspired by the new season of” Kaun Banega Crorepati’, rather it revolves around the theme of ‘Kyaa kareyga crorepati”?
Like, no matter how high up in the social ladder you are, you will be asked,”Diwali ni safaai thay gayee?”(Have you cleaned up for Diwali?) If you are left frazzled wondering what is it about this routine of” cleanliness is next to Godliness ‘during Diwali, well, its just an age old custom practiced by our ancestors to clear away the previous year’s waste, gathered with squirrel like skill. Unused and used goods now rendered useless will be presented with philanthropic pride to staff members who eagerly help out in this tedious routine. Often things like, clothes, utensils, cosmetics, toys etc which have seen better days, come tumbling out of lofts and closets. While some find better use in a lesser home, other unfortunate stuff will be re-bundled and loaded back up there for next year’s spring cleaning season. Once you have managed to answer that your home is already clean and does not need to be de-cluttered, you will be given a dirty look with an unconvincing nod saying ,’amaarey tyaa toh karvij padey .”(We have to do it.)
Up next you will be attacked by, “Diwali maa shu karo cho?” No really, now tell me, ever since lord Rama returned to Ayodhya,Indians have been celebrating it by –lighting lamps,feasting,wearing new clothes and, after the advent of crackers ,bursting the same. The good part about this question is that you need not answer it; the person who has asked it will then immediately let you know about his/her plan on spending the festival. Be ready to be inundated with an endless shopping list which will feature nothing other than the routine, a grand announcement of how much moolah is going to be burnt up in from of ‘aatashbaaji’by children who know no better (men included), how the atrocious present market rates of all precious metals is not going to hinder the lala’s homemaker from burning a hole in his pocket –Dhanteras being the rescue excuse, how the hardworking lala is going to go in for a reincarnation in the wardrobe to replace crisp linen shirts with ,well ,more crisp linen shirts.
Which brings us to the last and the most entertaining question of them all,”Diwali maan kyaa jao cho.” (Where are you off to, this Diwali?) .No matter what destination you say, you will be told ‘oh there! We went there 4-6-9 years ago. You will be then given an in-depth info about your destination with more zest than the travel agent. Even if the location was visited a decade ago, you will be told about what to do and where to eat and what to shop for, as if the world has come to a standstill since then and that city or country has been frozen in time. God forbid if you answer,” we are not traveling this year’, thou shall then have to lend ear to listen to extensive travel plans of the person who questioned you. Including what food they are going to carry along on the journey. Which is not a bad deal; actually, you could trot the globe with a Surti’s sense of imagination.
No sooner has the brightest moonlit night of the year passed; with Surtis gorging out on the Sharad Poonam and Chandipadva night that the agenda for the next set of festivities during the forthcoming fortnight has been set.
Social Surtis who qualify as official tattlers around town are armed with their usual questionnaire to attack the unassuming common man /woman /child. It is not as if these questions have been inspired by the new season of” Kaun Banega Crorepati’, rather it revolves around the theme of ‘Kyaa kareyga crorepati”?
Like, no matter how high up in the social ladder you are, you will be asked,”Diwali ni safaai thay gayee?”(Have you cleaned up for Diwali?) If you are left frazzled wondering what is it about this routine of” cleanliness is next to Godliness ‘during Diwali, well, its just an age old custom practiced by our ancestors to clear away the previous year’s waste, gathered with squirrel like skill. Unused and used goods now rendered useless will be presented with philanthropic pride to staff members who eagerly help out in this tedious routine. Often things like, clothes, utensils, cosmetics, toys etc which have seen better days, come tumbling out of lofts and closets. While some find better use in a lesser home, other unfortunate stuff will be re-bundled and loaded back up there for next year’s spring cleaning season. Once you have managed to answer that your home is already clean and does not need to be de-cluttered, you will be given a dirty look with an unconvincing nod saying ,’amaarey tyaa toh karvij padey .”(We have to do it.)
Up next you will be attacked by, “Diwali maa shu karo cho?” No really, now tell me, ever since lord Rama returned to Ayodhya,Indians have been celebrating it by –lighting lamps,feasting,wearing new clothes and, after the advent of crackers ,bursting the same. The good part about this question is that you need not answer it; the person who has asked it will then immediately let you know about his/her plan on spending the festival. Be ready to be inundated with an endless shopping list which will feature nothing other than the routine, a grand announcement of how much moolah is going to be burnt up in from of ‘aatashbaaji’by children who know no better (men included), how the atrocious present market rates of all precious metals is not going to hinder the lala’s homemaker from burning a hole in his pocket –Dhanteras being the rescue excuse, how the hardworking lala is going to go in for a reincarnation in the wardrobe to replace crisp linen shirts with ,well ,more crisp linen shirts.
Which brings us to the last and the most entertaining question of them all,”Diwali maan kyaa jao cho.” (Where are you off to, this Diwali?) .No matter what destination you say, you will be told ‘oh there! We went there 4-6-9 years ago. You will be then given an in-depth info about your destination with more zest than the travel agent. Even if the location was visited a decade ago, you will be told about what to do and where to eat and what to shop for, as if the world has come to a standstill since then and that city or country has been frozen in time. God forbid if you answer,” we are not traveling this year’, thou shall then have to lend ear to listen to extensive travel plans of the person who questioned you. Including what food they are going to carry along on the journey. Which is not a bad deal; actually, you could trot the globe with a Surti’s sense of imagination.
FESTIVE FINGER FOOD FARE
The spirit of festivals in countries around the earth revolves mainly around its traditions and traditional food fare. Surat being no exception enhances its sense of celebration with home made goodies that disappear as soon as they are dished out.
Migrants who have waded into the city for a better monetary future often wonder why the average Surti, however wealthy , is so proud of something as simple as ‘Diwali nastas’ and displays it with such maternal pride. Over time, these very same outsiders not only get hooked on to the tasty treats but more often than not end up imitating the trend.
Now that the marigold strewn lanes of Tapi town have been witness to the crispy fafda and crunchy jalebi fervor of Dussera, Surtis are all set to devour sinfully smooth gharis as they swoon below the Chandi padva moon. The week after which, woks and pans in domestic kitchens will be sizzling with savories.
The easy to make ready to fry last minute versions that are commercially available might give instant relief to many Surtis who are mental slaves to the festive favourites but these packed to fry versions wilt in comparison to the heavenly home made treats. The successes of these receipes lie in the purity of their ingredients as well as the exact tactfully measured amount from granny’s days, which have been rolled down the ages.
Uptill the 1960’s, Surtis often got their own custom made batch of nankhatais baked at local bakeries, by providing their own wheat flour, sugar and ghee to small time bakers who made tray full of these sweet cookies and marked them according to the orders placed by segregating them with different stones! Variations in these were the ones prepared from plain flour, sooji and milk, topped with almonds.
The original Diwali treats of Tapi town are the Ghooghras- which are basically hand made plain flour dumplings deep fried in clarified butter stuffed with minced milk mawa, embellished with dried fruit and nuts, with a hint of cardamom.
The flaky ‘cholafali’-a spiral of fried chola and udad dal twists sprinkled with a sudden burst of powdered spice are originally from Ahmedabad, where kiosks sell this preparation as a tea time snack around the year.
The ‘mathiyas’-a melt in the mouth version of fried papad made from the flour of math and udad dal are an innovation from Patels of Anand and Vadodra from where till date the best versions of these in an uncooked form are driven into town.
The ‘chakris’ –swirls of spicy wheat flour bound with fresh butter crunchies , that are known as Murrukku down south in their rice flour versions also have a new fancy avatars in chatpata ,roasted soy and bajri versions which of course are no threat to the evergreen sesame dotted originals.
Along with these main show stoppers, palates will also be pleased with thapdas, kharkhariyas and suvalis making it a cracker of a package that tastes as terrific as it sounds.
With the changing times, Surti gals who run non commercial ventures from homes have polished up their culinary skills to present new goodies to treat the town with.Rakhi Dhamanwala the pioneer of the rich and famous cheese samosas will be conjuring up diet friendly desi dry snacks, while the naturally gifted gourmet Sonia Sahni will be belting out sensuous sinful brownies that are laced with international chocolates. The effervescent charmer Cheena Bhatia has plans to present Mint, Toffee, Truffle and other exotic chocolates in pretty packaging.
Surat sure seems set for a sugar and spice and all that’s nice season ahead.
The spirit of festivals in countries around the earth revolves mainly around its traditions and traditional food fare. Surat being no exception enhances its sense of celebration with home made goodies that disappear as soon as they are dished out.
Migrants who have waded into the city for a better monetary future often wonder why the average Surti, however wealthy , is so proud of something as simple as ‘Diwali nastas’ and displays it with such maternal pride. Over time, these very same outsiders not only get hooked on to the tasty treats but more often than not end up imitating the trend.
Now that the marigold strewn lanes of Tapi town have been witness to the crispy fafda and crunchy jalebi fervor of Dussera, Surtis are all set to devour sinfully smooth gharis as they swoon below the Chandi padva moon. The week after which, woks and pans in domestic kitchens will be sizzling with savories.
The easy to make ready to fry last minute versions that are commercially available might give instant relief to many Surtis who are mental slaves to the festive favourites but these packed to fry versions wilt in comparison to the heavenly home made treats. The successes of these receipes lie in the purity of their ingredients as well as the exact tactfully measured amount from granny’s days, which have been rolled down the ages.
Uptill the 1960’s, Surtis often got their own custom made batch of nankhatais baked at local bakeries, by providing their own wheat flour, sugar and ghee to small time bakers who made tray full of these sweet cookies and marked them according to the orders placed by segregating them with different stones! Variations in these were the ones prepared from plain flour, sooji and milk, topped with almonds.
The original Diwali treats of Tapi town are the Ghooghras- which are basically hand made plain flour dumplings deep fried in clarified butter stuffed with minced milk mawa, embellished with dried fruit and nuts, with a hint of cardamom.
The flaky ‘cholafali’-a spiral of fried chola and udad dal twists sprinkled with a sudden burst of powdered spice are originally from Ahmedabad, where kiosks sell this preparation as a tea time snack around the year.
The ‘mathiyas’-a melt in the mouth version of fried papad made from the flour of math and udad dal are an innovation from Patels of Anand and Vadodra from where till date the best versions of these in an uncooked form are driven into town.
The ‘chakris’ –swirls of spicy wheat flour bound with fresh butter crunchies , that are known as Murrukku down south in their rice flour versions also have a new fancy avatars in chatpata ,roasted soy and bajri versions which of course are no threat to the evergreen sesame dotted originals.
Along with these main show stoppers, palates will also be pleased with thapdas, kharkhariyas and suvalis making it a cracker of a package that tastes as terrific as it sounds.
With the changing times, Surti gals who run non commercial ventures from homes have polished up their culinary skills to present new goodies to treat the town with.Rakhi Dhamanwala the pioneer of the rich and famous cheese samosas will be conjuring up diet friendly desi dry snacks, while the naturally gifted gourmet Sonia Sahni will be belting out sensuous sinful brownies that are laced with international chocolates. The effervescent charmer Cheena Bhatia has plans to present Mint, Toffee, Truffle and other exotic chocolates in pretty packaging.
Surat sure seems set for a sugar and spice and all that’s nice season ahead.
Monday, September 20, 2010
EAT, PRAY, LOVE
Hollywood hottie Julia Roberts’s new flick may or may not hit bull’s eye at the box office in India, but the truth is, Surti’s have been living on this mantra, as a way of life; especially so, in these past few fortnights .
The’ Adhik maas ‘(extra month, not fat, silly) of the Hindu calendar year, insured many a festival to intermingle with the faith and festivity dates of another. And, Tapi towners have been religiously following the regime of ‘khai, pi ne jalsa karo ‘(eat, drink and make merry), even as they prayed all the way, doing so.
The Shravan month was observed with the obvious absence of foodies at all public eateries, contrary to popular belief, fasting in Surat is more like feasting. Surtis stuck to the rules of eating one meal a day which was more like an all inclusive fare from sherbet to shrikhands.Also, the Ghanchi, Rana and Khatri communities in town believe that Shravan is the month when “fartu nahi khaavanu pun tartu khavai” (don’t consume that which roams, but do consume that which swims) A special fish breed called ‘Modar’ known for its rich fillet of eggs is a pricey delicacy that’s part of Surti Shravan must haves.
Even as Shravan threatened to fizzle Iftar’s sizzle, the holy month of Ramadan for our Muslim brothers at Chowk, Zhampa bazaar and Rander saw no dearth of enthusiast eaters. The bylanes beside the beautiful Chunarwaad Masjid in the city of mosques, where little boys run around after the evening Azaan, saw many a retired rayeez moonlighting annual festive Rangooni fare; but, the real treats are within the walled city homes where morning Sehris begin with fish shaped bread and nalli niharis simmered on a slow boil. The Sopariwallas at Shalimar Baug savour an exotic Kheema salan receipe, prepared exclusively for brekkar on Eid morning.
Early mornings also saw the Jains venture out to the derasars for ‘pratikaman’ and ‘parna’, during ‘Pajyushan, the,’ the eight days of abstinence that culminate into repentance for the misdeeds of the previous year. As they went off fresh greens, home made meals concocted via age old traditions found steam.Dal dhoklis, banana and dried fenugreek bhajiyas ,sweet and sour pancakes, made up for mini meals along with thick warm curd. The exquisite Chintamani Parshvnath temple, a treasure trove of intricate carvings that was built during the regime of Emporer Aurangzeb during 1699 A.D.is by far one of the most precious pulchritudinous premise of architecture from that age. Well visited during these pious days, it is surrounded by kiosks that sell dry snacks such as gathiya, paasa, fulwadi, kharkhariyas that make for yummilicious tea time serves.
The Krishna Janmashtami and dahi handi events sailed smooth, with people power fuelled enthusiasm; albeit, some unfortunate souls were caught with a full hand, so to say.
Even as the D day for all of the above was shared with the advent of the God of fun things-Ganesha, there was a harmonious, happy mood flowing around town. As versatile as the good God Ganesha himself is, is the cuisine that Surtis will be seen relishing around pandals put up in his glory. Grub streets around town buzz up like never before, doling out paani puri to nylon dosas to vada paav and more. Kabootar Khana’s age old replica idol as well as the ‘all that glitter, its gold’Daliya Sheri special, are the ones that witness most devotees.
German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche had once said that, “I would believe only in a God that knows to dance”, lets hope our dearest Ganesha keeps him busy up there, after all, Surtis are busy playing “Munni badnaam ‘numbers for him down here and loving it.
Hollywood hottie Julia Roberts’s new flick may or may not hit bull’s eye at the box office in India, but the truth is, Surti’s have been living on this mantra, as a way of life; especially so, in these past few fortnights .
The’ Adhik maas ‘(extra month, not fat, silly) of the Hindu calendar year, insured many a festival to intermingle with the faith and festivity dates of another. And, Tapi towners have been religiously following the regime of ‘khai, pi ne jalsa karo ‘(eat, drink and make merry), even as they prayed all the way, doing so.
The Shravan month was observed with the obvious absence of foodies at all public eateries, contrary to popular belief, fasting in Surat is more like feasting. Surtis stuck to the rules of eating one meal a day which was more like an all inclusive fare from sherbet to shrikhands.Also, the Ghanchi, Rana and Khatri communities in town believe that Shravan is the month when “fartu nahi khaavanu pun tartu khavai” (don’t consume that which roams, but do consume that which swims) A special fish breed called ‘Modar’ known for its rich fillet of eggs is a pricey delicacy that’s part of Surti Shravan must haves.
Even as Shravan threatened to fizzle Iftar’s sizzle, the holy month of Ramadan for our Muslim brothers at Chowk, Zhampa bazaar and Rander saw no dearth of enthusiast eaters. The bylanes beside the beautiful Chunarwaad Masjid in the city of mosques, where little boys run around after the evening Azaan, saw many a retired rayeez moonlighting annual festive Rangooni fare; but, the real treats are within the walled city homes where morning Sehris begin with fish shaped bread and nalli niharis simmered on a slow boil. The Sopariwallas at Shalimar Baug savour an exotic Kheema salan receipe, prepared exclusively for brekkar on Eid morning.
Early mornings also saw the Jains venture out to the derasars for ‘pratikaman’ and ‘parna’, during ‘Pajyushan, the,’ the eight days of abstinence that culminate into repentance for the misdeeds of the previous year. As they went off fresh greens, home made meals concocted via age old traditions found steam.Dal dhoklis, banana and dried fenugreek bhajiyas ,sweet and sour pancakes, made up for mini meals along with thick warm curd. The exquisite Chintamani Parshvnath temple, a treasure trove of intricate carvings that was built during the regime of Emporer Aurangzeb during 1699 A.D.is by far one of the most precious pulchritudinous premise of architecture from that age. Well visited during these pious days, it is surrounded by kiosks that sell dry snacks such as gathiya, paasa, fulwadi, kharkhariyas that make for yummilicious tea time serves.
The Krishna Janmashtami and dahi handi events sailed smooth, with people power fuelled enthusiasm; albeit, some unfortunate souls were caught with a full hand, so to say.
Even as the D day for all of the above was shared with the advent of the God of fun things-Ganesha, there was a harmonious, happy mood flowing around town. As versatile as the good God Ganesha himself is, is the cuisine that Surtis will be seen relishing around pandals put up in his glory. Grub streets around town buzz up like never before, doling out paani puri to nylon dosas to vada paav and more. Kabootar Khana’s age old replica idol as well as the ‘all that glitter, its gold’Daliya Sheri special, are the ones that witness most devotees.
German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche had once said that, “I would believe only in a God that knows to dance”, lets hope our dearest Ganesha keeps him busy up there, after all, Surtis are busy playing “Munni badnaam ‘numbers for him down here and loving it.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Dilemmas of a Surti writer
The romance of Parle Point fell with the mini Eiffel that we Surtis prided ourselves in.
The Eiffel always was a soft corner for this writer who began penning’ Khoobsurat’three monsoons ago with’ if it’s Eiffel, it must be Parle Point”.
Over the weeks that have flown by, the response from fellow Surtis has been overwhelming and as entertaining as we all are notoriously famous for.
My siblings and I grew up in a home that had a vast library which ranged from Blyton to Gibran. My parents, fond readers themselves, believe in education from the quality of reads, more than institutions.Hence, learning literally began at home, even as my mother aspired aloud (as all mothers do) “paper maan aave evu naam karjo”, and well her wishes came true, in a way.
Today’s Khoobsurat is about sharing the queries that came in from all of you.
The Glamour-
Pretty Neighbor-Oh! Did YOU write on the Eiffel today? Journalists are paid very badly, you know?
At a party-Why do they only run your photograph and no other writer’s? Oh, you are a columnist? So, special treatment?
Via e-mail-Hiiiiiiii! Will you do frensip?
School senior –I also write, on how dirty and corrupt the bahumali is, they never run what I send. Whom did you send your article to?
Sister from USA over phone-Girl, you should always get your hair done before taking a photo! Change your photo please.
Via SMS-aapse bhi KHOOBSURAT aapke andaaz hai!
At a restaurant-Aren’t you the person who writes Khoobsurat? Your photo size changes with every article
Father-Your face looks like a weather balloon. Does Khoob-surat mean ‘lots of face”? Writing and all is fine but you are too intelligent to not do something about your weight.
Reader-I file all your articles, do you?
Husband-Where is your mind?
The Gumption
Friends-How much can you write about Surat?
Readers-Why do you write only about Surat?
Visitors-You write so much, about Surat?
Maternal grand mother-You haven’t written enough about Surat, have you?
Via email-Now that you have written about kitly tea, when will you cover the coffee hotspots?
Via sms –Can you write about khaman and dhokla and fafda and marcha with the recipes also?
Via –email-I went and ate all that you wrote in your column and put on 2 kilos in two weeks.
Via email-We are lucky to know about historical culture of town can you write more days of the week?
Via phone call-Can I meet you?
Via email-I also write, where did you learn to write?
At a kiosk-Have you written about these vada pavs yet?
Strangers-What are the advertising rates? Are there discounts for obituaries?
Friends-How could you write this about us?
Friends-How could you not write this about us?
Strangers-Will you write this about us?
Spouse-Which world do you live in?
The Guts-
Via email-Can you write more about alcohol and dry state.
Via SMS-Don’t you think you write too much about alcohol in a dry state?
I was born a Patel, but as the name up there suggests, have a boisterous fun loving Punjabi ma in law who has a social circle equal to the population of Australia. Ever so often whenever she drops in, she inadvertently finds me with my head huddled into the puter.
” Ki kardi pay hai? Jado dikho likhdi padhdi hai” she remarks fondly (what are you doing? always reading or writing) “Kinne paise mildey ne enni mehnat de?”(How much do they pay you for all this hard work?)
As I dig my head even lower in the lap top and mumble my meager means as a writer,she is shocked and says,”Hai! Enne paise mein ki honnda hai aaj kal, chad parey, chal bahar nikal, kitty join Karle!”(What happens with such little money these days? leave all this and come join a kitty).
Mr. Khurana-Do you have ANY clue about what’s going on in the house?????????????
The Glory-
Readers-Your column make us laugh and learn.
“Your column today, touched our hearts and we cried it out.”
The romance of Parle Point fell with the mini Eiffel that we Surtis prided ourselves in.
The Eiffel always was a soft corner for this writer who began penning’ Khoobsurat’three monsoons ago with’ if it’s Eiffel, it must be Parle Point”.
Over the weeks that have flown by, the response from fellow Surtis has been overwhelming and as entertaining as we all are notoriously famous for.
My siblings and I grew up in a home that had a vast library which ranged from Blyton to Gibran. My parents, fond readers themselves, believe in education from the quality of reads, more than institutions.Hence, learning literally began at home, even as my mother aspired aloud (as all mothers do) “paper maan aave evu naam karjo”, and well her wishes came true, in a way.
Today’s Khoobsurat is about sharing the queries that came in from all of you.
The Glamour-
Pretty Neighbor-Oh! Did YOU write on the Eiffel today? Journalists are paid very badly, you know?
At a party-Why do they only run your photograph and no other writer’s? Oh, you are a columnist? So, special treatment?
Via e-mail-Hiiiiiiii! Will you do frensip?
School senior –I also write, on how dirty and corrupt the bahumali is, they never run what I send. Whom did you send your article to?
Sister from USA over phone-Girl, you should always get your hair done before taking a photo! Change your photo please.
Via SMS-aapse bhi KHOOBSURAT aapke andaaz hai!
At a restaurant-Aren’t you the person who writes Khoobsurat? Your photo size changes with every article
Father-Your face looks like a weather balloon. Does Khoob-surat mean ‘lots of face”? Writing and all is fine but you are too intelligent to not do something about your weight.
Reader-I file all your articles, do you?
Husband-Where is your mind?
The Gumption
Friends-How much can you write about Surat?
Readers-Why do you write only about Surat?
Visitors-You write so much, about Surat?
Maternal grand mother-You haven’t written enough about Surat, have you?
Via email-Now that you have written about kitly tea, when will you cover the coffee hotspots?
Via sms –Can you write about khaman and dhokla and fafda and marcha with the recipes also?
Via –email-I went and ate all that you wrote in your column and put on 2 kilos in two weeks.
Via email-We are lucky to know about historical culture of town can you write more days of the week?
Via phone call-Can I meet you?
Via email-I also write, where did you learn to write?
At a kiosk-Have you written about these vada pavs yet?
Strangers-What are the advertising rates? Are there discounts for obituaries?
Friends-How could you write this about us?
Friends-How could you not write this about us?
Strangers-Will you write this about us?
Spouse-Which world do you live in?
The Guts-
Via email-Can you write more about alcohol and dry state.
Via SMS-Don’t you think you write too much about alcohol in a dry state?
I was born a Patel, but as the name up there suggests, have a boisterous fun loving Punjabi ma in law who has a social circle equal to the population of Australia. Ever so often whenever she drops in, she inadvertently finds me with my head huddled into the puter.
” Ki kardi pay hai? Jado dikho likhdi padhdi hai” she remarks fondly (what are you doing? always reading or writing) “Kinne paise mildey ne enni mehnat de?”(How much do they pay you for all this hard work?)
As I dig my head even lower in the lap top and mumble my meager means as a writer,she is shocked and says,”Hai! Enne paise mein ki honnda hai aaj kal, chad parey, chal bahar nikal, kitty join Karle!”(What happens with such little money these days? leave all this and come join a kitty).
Mr. Khurana-Do you have ANY clue about what’s going on in the house?????????????
The Glory-
Readers-Your column make us laugh and learn.
“Your column today, touched our hearts and we cried it out.”
Monday, August 9, 2010
Dalda 13 in focus
In ten days from now, in order to commemorate 50 golden years of the photo division, a Media unit of the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, we shall witness India’s first National Photo awards.
Amongst the four prestigious recipients for the,’ Lifetime achievement award’is India’s first lady photojournalist, Homai Vyarawalla – aka Dalda 13,a nickname that came from her year of birth, the age at which she met her husband and the number plate of her vehicle in Delhi-DLD 13.
Vyarawalla was born in Navsari on the 9th of December,1913.Her father was a Parsi stage artist with a traveling theatre company ;at a very young age her siblings and she were packed off to Mumbai for higher education.
There have been many moments in this eminent and photogenic photographer’s life, which would tell a story of their own, had she been photographed then, one wonders –
Like how it felt to be the only girl in her class and one who went on to pass matriculation.
Like what was the scene like when she first met Maneckshaw –her husband to be at a railway station?
Like what did she paint during her course at the Sir J J School of Arts?
Like what was the experience like while learning photography and processing the pictures in the dark room.
Like how did she look when she took her first pictures independently, those of the women’s club of Sir J J School of Arts, at a picnic party to the Amarnath temple?
Like what was the look on her face, when she looked at those pictures published full page, in the Bombay Chronicles.
Like how it felt to be the only woman in her field and being paid Re.1 (a big thing) in those days.
Like how she felt sharing the Rolliflex camera with her husband, as they together covered the Mumbai of the 30’s, Hospitals, festivals, beggars, cottage industries, et al.
Like how she looked ,with her practical saree and becoming hair-do, while shooting pictures as a free lancer for The Illustrated Weekly of India, when the war came on.
Like how she was perceived in Lutyen’s Delhi of the 1940’s and 50’s as she bicycled around the town which was then safe for women even at 1 a.m.
Like how she sounded when she instructed all her colleague gentlemen to behave and have ‘no hanky-panky or unnecessary smiling that could be misconstrued.’
Like what was the look on her face when she taught fellow photographers to be ‘propah’, dressed in closed collar shirts and trousers and shoes because theirs was then a respectable profession.
Like how did she react, when they nicknamed her ‘Mummy ‘; out of love and respect.
Like how she and Maneckshaw looked while sharing their plate of food (lifelong) and other responsibilities in life as a 50-50 partnership.
Like the eager expression on her face as awaited her mother in law’s signal, from the terrace across her place of work, when it was time to feed her infant.
Like how it felt to spend a night at the Kurukshetra mela,a petite Parsi armed with a large format speed graphic camera that had a composite wood ,steel and aluminum chassis and weighed more than 6 pounds.
Like how she moved around with joy and child like simplicity in the innermost core of political circles.
Like what was she looking for when she always waited even after events for an out of the ordinary shot, at times perched on a table or stack of crates?
Like how she could behave like a thorough professional and not get carried away in spite of clicking the top politicians and India’s most important historical moments.
Like how she gave up clicking after being disillusioned at the sights that changed with the times after a career that spanned from the 1930’s to the 1970’s.
Like how she looks in her new roles as those of being a carpenter, gardener, tailor, plumber, cobbler, barber, gourmet cook in order to lead the independent lifestyle she has always led.
Yes, there have been many moments so far, in the life of Homai Vyarawalla, which would have made fabulous, precious photographs. One such moment will be on the 19th of August.
Though she hates being in front of the camera, this young lady will be bringing as much as dignity to the front of lens focus, as she brought from behind it.
In ten days from now, in order to commemorate 50 golden years of the photo division, a Media unit of the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, we shall witness India’s first National Photo awards.
Amongst the four prestigious recipients for the,’ Lifetime achievement award’is India’s first lady photojournalist, Homai Vyarawalla – aka Dalda 13,a nickname that came from her year of birth, the age at which she met her husband and the number plate of her vehicle in Delhi-DLD 13.
Vyarawalla was born in Navsari on the 9th of December,1913.Her father was a Parsi stage artist with a traveling theatre company ;at a very young age her siblings and she were packed off to Mumbai for higher education.
There have been many moments in this eminent and photogenic photographer’s life, which would tell a story of their own, had she been photographed then, one wonders –
Like how it felt to be the only girl in her class and one who went on to pass matriculation.
Like what was the scene like when she first met Maneckshaw –her husband to be at a railway station?
Like what did she paint during her course at the Sir J J School of Arts?
Like what was the experience like while learning photography and processing the pictures in the dark room.
Like how did she look when she took her first pictures independently, those of the women’s club of Sir J J School of Arts, at a picnic party to the Amarnath temple?
Like what was the look on her face, when she looked at those pictures published full page, in the Bombay Chronicles.
Like how it felt to be the only woman in her field and being paid Re.1 (a big thing) in those days.
Like how she felt sharing the Rolliflex camera with her husband, as they together covered the Mumbai of the 30’s, Hospitals, festivals, beggars, cottage industries, et al.
Like how she looked ,with her practical saree and becoming hair-do, while shooting pictures as a free lancer for The Illustrated Weekly of India, when the war came on.
Like how she was perceived in Lutyen’s Delhi of the 1940’s and 50’s as she bicycled around the town which was then safe for women even at 1 a.m.
Like how she sounded when she instructed all her colleague gentlemen to behave and have ‘no hanky-panky or unnecessary smiling that could be misconstrued.’
Like what was the look on her face when she taught fellow photographers to be ‘propah’, dressed in closed collar shirts and trousers and shoes because theirs was then a respectable profession.
Like how did she react, when they nicknamed her ‘Mummy ‘; out of love and respect.
Like how she and Maneckshaw looked while sharing their plate of food (lifelong) and other responsibilities in life as a 50-50 partnership.
Like the eager expression on her face as awaited her mother in law’s signal, from the terrace across her place of work, when it was time to feed her infant.
Like how it felt to spend a night at the Kurukshetra mela,a petite Parsi armed with a large format speed graphic camera that had a composite wood ,steel and aluminum chassis and weighed more than 6 pounds.
Like how she moved around with joy and child like simplicity in the innermost core of political circles.
Like what was she looking for when she always waited even after events for an out of the ordinary shot, at times perched on a table or stack of crates?
Like how she could behave like a thorough professional and not get carried away in spite of clicking the top politicians and India’s most important historical moments.
Like how she gave up clicking after being disillusioned at the sights that changed with the times after a career that spanned from the 1930’s to the 1970’s.
Like how she looks in her new roles as those of being a carpenter, gardener, tailor, plumber, cobbler, barber, gourmet cook in order to lead the independent lifestyle she has always led.
Yes, there have been many moments so far, in the life of Homai Vyarawalla, which would have made fabulous, precious photographs. One such moment will be on the 19th of August.
Though she hates being in front of the camera, this young lady will be bringing as much as dignity to the front of lens focus, as she brought from behind it.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
TAPI TOWN'S TRIANGULAR TUBER TREATS
‘Samosa kyun na khaya? Joota kyoon na pehna?
Tala na tha.’-Khusrau,circa 1300.
Why wasn’t the samosa eaten? Why wasn’t the shoe worn?
Wasn’t fried (the samosa); didn’t have a sole (the shoe).
As if being featured in Amir Khusrau’s ‘Dosukhnay’, renditions in Delhi during the 13th century, participating in Ibn Batuta’s travelogues of 1334 and holding a permanent place in the royal daawat’s,’ Ain –i-Akbari’- Emporer Akbar’s gourmet spread, wasn’t enough;the 'sambusak'is still that one delicacy around which conversations revolve.
‘Samosa’ a central Asian invention - the patty notorious for prolific fillings, continues to be India’s favourite tea time treat and, Tapi town is no exception.
Since we have already done a delicious thesis on our famous ‘Mad man’s triangles ‘(gandabhai na samosa )and other such Surti treats where gram dal,yam,cheese etc make the main matter, fried within thin crispy shells; lets now take a peek within the suburban tuber treats in town.
Popularity of suburban Surat’s samosas is segregated according to the phase of a student’s life.
Kindly note that nostalgia might hit you while reading the lines henceforth.
If you were educated in institutions around Timalyawaad, Nanpura or Dutch Garden, Samosas from Kailash sweets, those spicy parcels of chopped potatoes, dotted with green peas, seasoned with cumin and spiked with garam masala must surely mean a melancholic mouthful.Kailash samosas were the brain child of the late Kishinchand Ahuja who pioneered Punjabi samosas in Surat, way back in 1966.The receipe remains an exclusive hot seller till date. Seeped in drippy, dense tamarind chutney, that makes a fine accompaniment to this crusty crudity.
Students of colleges in and around Athwalines swear by bonding over the South Indian samosa avatars dished out by perennially popular Mysore Café, privacy provider-Priya cafe and of course, the king of kiosks-Shetty who ventured into partnership with ‘Atithya.’ The deep fried filos from here consist of minced mashed tubers that have been boiled beyond limits; a slight dash of ginger -chilli, a sparse sprinkle of coriander leaves, lemon drops and sugar is what all three are commonly laced with. Served with refreshing coconut chutney (the only authentic South Indian detail in the deal), these flaky crusts disappear as soon as they are served, over chatter and chai.
Convent girls and boys who were educated at the institution of Our Lady of Lourdes, know for a fact that just as their school which was always considered ‘different’, so also, their canteen samosa - that still makes them shamelessly salivate, tastes like none other.
Samosas for Lourdes are actually made in a teenie weenie room, in a strip of a lane, exactly opposite to the Muslim Yatimkhana, that leads into the back area of what used once be Dhiraj Sons Fashion Shoppe, Athwagate. Fried in a huge wok over a kerosene stove, there is no fancy board outside to advertise these knock out morning cholesterol crunchies that are sold out by 10 a.m, max.
Here is the catch, the elderly Maharashtrian gentleman who invented these took a promise from the gen nexters of the family,”never sell these without frying, lest the secret ingredients be known.”. Hence, even people who order over a hundred pieces of these precious parcels ,have to make do with a pre fried version of pasty poha worked with potato, enmeshed with minimal ginger chilli paste and wrapped in plain flour dough.
With multiplexes on Bhatar and Dumas road, which make for college bunking hours and tuition classes on Ghodod road and Citylight area, student special samosas now have many new avatars and addresses like Agra and Shiv Shakti sweets from where they are sold out.
In Surat, it is impossible to bite into a samosa without bringing up masti filled memories of those yaari-dosti years. Friendships here have thrived on sharing these.
‘Samosa kyun na khaya? Joota kyoon na pehna?
Tala na tha.’-Khusrau,circa 1300.
Why wasn’t the samosa eaten? Why wasn’t the shoe worn?
Wasn’t fried (the samosa); didn’t have a sole (the shoe).
As if being featured in Amir Khusrau’s ‘Dosukhnay’, renditions in Delhi during the 13th century, participating in Ibn Batuta’s travelogues of 1334 and holding a permanent place in the royal daawat’s,’ Ain –i-Akbari’- Emporer Akbar’s gourmet spread, wasn’t enough;the 'sambusak'is still that one delicacy around which conversations revolve.
‘Samosa’ a central Asian invention - the patty notorious for prolific fillings, continues to be India’s favourite tea time treat and, Tapi town is no exception.
Since we have already done a delicious thesis on our famous ‘Mad man’s triangles ‘(gandabhai na samosa )and other such Surti treats where gram dal,yam,cheese etc make the main matter, fried within thin crispy shells; lets now take a peek within the suburban tuber treats in town.
Popularity of suburban Surat’s samosas is segregated according to the phase of a student’s life.
Kindly note that nostalgia might hit you while reading the lines henceforth.
If you were educated in institutions around Timalyawaad, Nanpura or Dutch Garden, Samosas from Kailash sweets, those spicy parcels of chopped potatoes, dotted with green peas, seasoned with cumin and spiked with garam masala must surely mean a melancholic mouthful.Kailash samosas were the brain child of the late Kishinchand Ahuja who pioneered Punjabi samosas in Surat, way back in 1966.The receipe remains an exclusive hot seller till date. Seeped in drippy, dense tamarind chutney, that makes a fine accompaniment to this crusty crudity.
Students of colleges in and around Athwalines swear by bonding over the South Indian samosa avatars dished out by perennially popular Mysore Café, privacy provider-Priya cafe and of course, the king of kiosks-Shetty who ventured into partnership with ‘Atithya.’ The deep fried filos from here consist of minced mashed tubers that have been boiled beyond limits; a slight dash of ginger -chilli, a sparse sprinkle of coriander leaves, lemon drops and sugar is what all three are commonly laced with. Served with refreshing coconut chutney (the only authentic South Indian detail in the deal), these flaky crusts disappear as soon as they are served, over chatter and chai.
Convent girls and boys who were educated at the institution of Our Lady of Lourdes, know for a fact that just as their school which was always considered ‘different’, so also, their canteen samosa - that still makes them shamelessly salivate, tastes like none other.
Samosas for Lourdes are actually made in a teenie weenie room, in a strip of a lane, exactly opposite to the Muslim Yatimkhana, that leads into the back area of what used once be Dhiraj Sons Fashion Shoppe, Athwagate. Fried in a huge wok over a kerosene stove, there is no fancy board outside to advertise these knock out morning cholesterol crunchies that are sold out by 10 a.m, max.
Here is the catch, the elderly Maharashtrian gentleman who invented these took a promise from the gen nexters of the family,”never sell these without frying, lest the secret ingredients be known.”. Hence, even people who order over a hundred pieces of these precious parcels ,have to make do with a pre fried version of pasty poha worked with potato, enmeshed with minimal ginger chilli paste and wrapped in plain flour dough.
With multiplexes on Bhatar and Dumas road, which make for college bunking hours and tuition classes on Ghodod road and Citylight area, student special samosas now have many new avatars and addresses like Agra and Shiv Shakti sweets from where they are sold out.
In Surat, it is impossible to bite into a samosa without bringing up masti filled memories of those yaari-dosti years. Friendships here have thrived on sharing these.
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