a pinch of this and a dash of that

It was at a potluck lunch at a friend’s place that I met this lady. She is my friend’s cousin who has been in various foreign countries for a few decades now. She loved the food and periodically asked for recipes of this or that dish – particularly my rasam. Now for most South Indians this is a basic dish that doesn’t generate a lot of enthusiasm. When babies are first introduced to rice they start with bland lentils and then graduate to rasam which is their first introduction to all the spice that would follow them wherever they go for the rest of their lives. A child that starts its initiation into culinary world with the mild taste of pepper, daniya, jeera and chillies will never be satisfied with any other kind of food around the globe – his palate is ruined to the softer cuisines – all of them taste like mud after his tongue has grown to delight in the sharp taste of tamarind, chillies and pepper.
And so, when my guests ask me for a recipe of rasam I feel let down. When the menu contains dishes I have laboured over – like paruppu usili or avial or poricha kootu, they single out the easiest and simplest of them all and sing its praises. It is at these times that I wish I had just cooked rice and rasam and served it with some roasted papads – an unthinkable insult to a guest in a Tamilian household unless they are sick or something!
Anyway this story is not about Rasam. So what is it about? I am not very sure myself.

May be it is about Spoons. You must be thinking that I have kind of lost it – talking about camels first and now spoons. What is there to talk about spoons? I did not know too, until I started giving her the recipe for rasam.:
‘Soak a little tamarind in water’ I started.
She asked: ‘How much is a little?’
‘About this much’ I said making a small ball with my fingers.
‘But I will be using a paste. So how many spoons should I use?”
“ok. Perhaps two small spoons” I said
‘you mean coffee spoon or moka spoon?’ she asked.
I hadn’t even heard of these in my entire life - I use the same kind of spoon for tea, coffee, sugar and sambar powder!

In our house, we use our fingers to eat. Always have. So spoons have never been an issue. All the spoons in my mother’s kitchen were of different sizes – they had come as free gifts along with purchases of coffee powder, soap powder or even talcum powder. We never considered them as measures- my mother knew how much of the ingredients she needed for the dish and she used the spoon to scoop them out. We could use a ladle to take out salt ‘to taste’. The back of the ladle or spoon or even a spatula served fine for ‘a pinch’ of something. Your eyes knew how much you needed for the dish and the implement in hand was just a tool not a measure. Spoons of different shapes and sizes were also convenient for serving spicy stuff like pickles – so as far as our house was concerned spoons were smaller ladles that fit nicely into spice containers ; and their size also made them convenient implements to shove food into your mouth if your fingers were not available for the same; and very useful for feeding someone else – babies and sick people.

Way back in the early eighties someone gifted me with a fine cutlery set and I was rather puzzled about the assortment of spoons, forks and knives of different shapes and sizes. And a friend enlightened me on the purpose of each. Having traveled a bit since those days and dined at some fancy places, I do know a bit about the mysteries of cutlery at the dining table. But I still find it difficult to reduce my recipes to teaspoons and tablespoons.

At least I am better than my grandmother’s recipes. She and her mother filled the house with the heavenliest aromas when they cooked and their dishes tasted ‘just so’ every time. But ask them for a recipe and they would act like you asked them for the combination of the lock to the royal mint. Or they would give you a recipe that sounded like a list of ingredients printed on packaged food these days:
Add sambar powder, hing and salt to tamarind water. Add vegetables. When it has boiled enough, take it down and garnish.
‘No paati. Tell me the ingredients first’
“I already told you’
‘ok. I will figure that out. How much of each?’
‘Kannthittama podu’ ( meaning use your eyes as the guide to how much is needed for the dish)
‘That doesn’t work paati. tell me, how much?”
Then she would take the tip of her thumb up to a line on the ring finger or pinkie and say ‘this much’
‘But Paati your fingers are bigger than mine’ I’d whine
“ya so adjust accordingly”

In any case how was I to write down a measure like that!
Or she would say ‘watch me next time I make the dish and learn’ which would be an ordeal because you were not supposed to touch so many things in the kitchen or you were expected to wash your hands every time you touched something. And she would be so quick around the kitchen that if your attention wandered a bit she would have added something to the dish which you would have missed. I used to really think that she was being mean and did not want to part with her secret recipes. But only years later I understood that it is very difficult to reduce a recipe into teaspoons and tablespoons of ingredients.
That is why I have great respect for people like Tarla Dalal and food bloggers like Nandita and Vandana who give exact measurements for each ingredient in a recipe. Now when my son or daughter-in-law ask me for a recipe I simply give them the URL to these blogs. And this is where I finally directed my NRI friend - to check with one of these food bloggers for the recipe. Thank you Nandita and Vandana.

Now I understand the importance of teaspoons and tablespoons in our lives. How would we eat anything even half decent were it not for these? But I still do not understand why a teaspoon isn’t good enough for Coffee or Moka. Do you think my bottle of nescafé might explode if I used a teaspoon in it? or would my cup of Moka curdle? Or would it just be another unpardonable social faux pas? Anyone willing to enlighten this philistine?

Undulate Ungulates

Camels remind me of my friend - let’s call her Radha.. She could not decide what qualities she was looking for in her life partner. She liked different people for different reasons - their looks, intelligence, humor, reading and other qualities that she was attracted to. Her mother once told her that she was looking for a camel.
Why camel? Because viewed in parts it is endowed with so much beauty – lovely eyes, strong body, impressive height, graceful legs and above all perseverance to struggle through the toughest deserts. But overall, none too impressive unlike a horse or a tiger. We found this very interesting and mercilessly teased her with scenes of her being married to a camel.

An animal that is a melange of so many features? Sounds funny? Actually there are other people, strangely from remote Mongolia who share this thought. There is a Mongolian folktale which says that the camel wanted to be one of the Zodiac signs and since all the signs were already taken, Buddha gave it an attribute of each of the animals in the Zodiac:
The ears of the mouse, the stomach of the cow, the paws of the tiger, the nose of the hare, the body of the dragon, the eyes of the snake, the mane of the horse, the wool of the sheep, the hump of the ape, the head crest of the rooster, the crooked back legs of the dog and the tail of the pig.

So next time you see this humped and unwieldy animal, look at it again. May be you will be as impressed as I am of its beautiful eyes full of thought and its sagely air totally impervious to silly worldly things. I actually love this animal now. For a few months now I have been regularly noticing a few camels in my neighbourhood. For 5 or 10 rupees children are taken on a ride and everyone is happy. Not everyone perhaps as I am told that the hooves of camels are made for traversing sandy deserts and not city roads which are actually quite painful for their feet. I am surprised that PFA, PETA etc have not raised their voices and these camel rides are available right outside the palace in Mysore.

Not all camels are unimpressive. In fact the Bactrian camels of the Gobi desert can, in my opinion, qualify among the top ten beautiful animals if there were to be a beauty pageant for animals. With their natural furry coats, lovely eyes and undulating gait. Please watch the film “The story of the weeping camel”. In this documentary film on a nomadic shepherd family in the Gobi desert, you will see some of the most beautiful camels. And the story is very touching too.
A mother camel rejects its calf after a difficult labour. It refuses to feed its baby and kicks it away every time it approaches. The calf suffers from the neglect and the shepherd family is worried. In an effort to save the rare white calf they get a musician to play the kind of fiddle called Morinn Khurr from the nearest city to come and play his music in a kind of folk ritual. Though initially resistant, the camel mother slowly begins to respond to the music and is moved to tears and finally it accepts its baby and feeds it with tenderness.
Very charming! Very sweet!!
The life of these shepherds seems so uncluttered and uncomplicated that makes you long for a life like theirs - closer to nature guided by simple rules.
In the film, in a ritual to honour Nature and its spirits , a Buddhist Lama says:
“Nowadays, mankind plunders the earth more and more in search of her treasures. This drives the spirits away, that should protect us from bad weather and from diseases.
We have to remember that we are not the last generation on earth.”

I suppose it is never too late to remind ourselves of this and take steps to leave a better world for our children. Will we?

Hey Ram!

I received mails from some young friends urging me to join the protest against Sri Rama Sene chief Muthalik on Valentine’s day by sending him pink underwear.
Before people begin to paint me with the same brush as Muthalik let me openly declare that Muthalik and his ilk irritate me. If there was a campaign to tie him to a tree and throw pink marbles at him I’d be happy to participate with gusto. Or participate in a march to have him declared a known goonda and disturber of peace and have him arrested under some act similar to the TADA.
But send him my precious lingerie? No way. Actually I do not own any in pink but if I did I assume they’d be lovely with laces and all, and why on earth would I send it to Muthalik? Even the thought makes me sick.What is the point anyway?

I have a better idea. He calls himself the leader of the Shri Ram Sene and as far as I remember the most famous Sene of Shri Ram, the one that he led to defeat Ravana, consisted entirely of Vanaras or monkeys. Now that explains it all, doesn’t it? So let us send them pink ribbons for their tails or lots of bananas. Peanuts? Pink Monkey caps may be? Send him pink dupattas with detailed notes on how he can use them to hang himself.

Why isn’t that guy being taken into preventive custody after he has public announced his intentions to disrupt peace on Valentine’s day?
How come our police and administration become so meticulous about observance of rules when it comes to such people who have backings of political parties. My maid’s son is routinely taken for investigation and kept in the police station for a few days whenever there is a theft in their area. Reason: he has a previous record of petty theft. There are times when he is kept there for days and beaten up for no crime of his. The police inspector does not seem to remember the rules in these cases but with people like Muthalik, law is followed to the last letter.
WHY? Here is a guy who beats up women, makes threatening noises about causing trouble to private celebrations, pokes his nose into people’s private affairs and he is not considered a candidate for a few days of lock up and some police hospitality? WHY?
If nothing he should be locked up for defaming Rama’s name – what gives him the right to indulge in his goondagiri and use Rama’s name to justify it all. Valmiki’s Rama was a hero who hesitated to use force even against evil demons like Tataka because she was a woman and a true warrior was not supposed to use his force against a woman. And here in his name this joker goes and beats up women. Where are the other custodians of Rama now – the Dals, Parishads and Hindutva champions-? And why aren’t they raising their voice against this defamation of their God?

There are two reasons why such people get away with their interference with the liberties of other people. They are backed by powerful lobbies whom the party in power is scared to antagonise. And their victims’ cause is not considered important enough, worthy of protection. Women’s freedom and rights have never been considered serious enough by people entrusted with enforcing law.. Complaints of eve-teasing , molestation, sexual abuse, wife-beating are low priority – not worth the same kind of attention as political crimes, dacoities, murders and now terrorism. How many women even know that they have legal rights? And if you do try taking such a case to the police station, most of the time the woman is told to go home and behave herself and not infuriate the men of the house. Or tempt them. When the perpetrators know that their victims enjoy such low levels of protection, naturally they indulge in these acts with impunity.

When people talk of women's rights in this country, it is more in the tone of trying to assimilate the weaker sections in the mainstream rather than with the kind of outrage that a human rights issue is accorded. There is that patronising attitude as if concessions are being granted, as if it is an act of generosity. That people like Muthalik walk free on the other side of prison bars and enjoy media limelight is a manifestation of a larger problem with our society and governance. Unless we have laws that deal with those elements firmly and the law enforcers exhibit a willingness to enforce our constitutional rights in spirit and in letter, these problems will exist even after we run out of pink chaddis in the world.

Moment of Truth

There is this TV show called 'Moment of Truth' on Star world. Apparently it hit the Indian airwaves some time in Nov 1997. It takes a while for such news to reach my little corner in the world and even when it does it takes some more for me to react to it. So it is only natural that I started watching the show only this Monday. It has got to be hugely popular, I am assuming, judging by its nature. Here's a show where people are asked scandalous questions about their private lives, where they bare the dark secrets they hold behind their public image, their extra-marital affairs, felonies and their inner insecurities. There is a polygraph monitoring if their responses or true or false. They have to be truthful if they want the prize money - half a mio if you answer 21 questions truthfully.
Every time the question gets too personal or too embarrassing you can hear a loud collective gasp from the audience but you can also feel the excitement building up about what the answer might be. Questions like:
'Have you cheated on your wife/husband?'
'Do you think you should actually be married to your ex and not to your husband?'
'Have you ever done anything with a co-worker that your husband would not approve of?'
And there are other kind of incriminatory questions like:
'have you stolen anything from your workplace?'
'have you ever flirted with your boss in order to advance your career?
'Have you consumed alcohol when you were pregnant?'
There are seemingly funny but pretty embarrassing questions like:
'have you ever fantasized about sex with a colleague' or 'would you act in an adult film to earn money for college?'
There are no simple questions on this show - at least none without consequences for you unless you have led an exceptionally principled life. As the show host often says the show is trying to see if there is a single honest person left in America.

It is pretty shocking to see the kind of things people are willing to reveal about their personal lives on national television but it is even worse because these are things that the affected people themselves- who are usually their close family and friends- have no inkling about. But isn't this how our lives and relationships are turning out in modern city life? We do not like it if our neighbour wants to know about our personal details but we do not seem to have a problem about sharing the same on a chat show on television or a blog. This is a generation of people who have all been oprahfied that way.

If it is all for the 500,000 dollars, is that the price at which they value their relationships with their family, best friends and their partners that they are willing to accept their darkest secrets that could ruin their relationships with them forever? I am not being judgemental as I am aware that it is a different culture and their relationships are founded on different kinds of arrangements and expectations than the one I am familiar with. And in any case it is their lives. But I talk about the damage to the relationships because one can see the damage right there on their shocked expressions, their stunned head-shakes, their tears of hurt. And oh, how the camera loves it all, lingering on their faces, focusing on their pain! And then the host does the inevitable 'How does that make you feel?' just in case the affected husband/ wife/ mother didn't catch the full import of the damning confession.
TV hosts are the same the world over.*

But the unkindest cut of it all comes when the participant has had a sort of public confession of all their misadventures and finally fails the polygraph test on a simple question like:
'Do you think you are a good person?'
And then she loses the 100 k she has so far won by facing some of the most difficult questions any person has to answer about his/her life.
Or perhaps these are indeed the real moments of truth on the program when a person comes face to face with their own conscience and its muffled voice.

I wish we could have our desi version of the same. While I am not too keen on the dirty linen of private individuals, it would be great if we could make it mandatory for all the candidates contesting the elections for our various legislative assemblies and parliament. Now wouldn't that be fun?



* -(Disclaimer: this statement has nothing to do with any Indian TV host- real or imaginary)