• I was channel surfing this evening when I came upon the closing ceremony of the London Olympics and decided to give it a go especially since I had missed the Opening ceremony which was billed as FANTASTIC. All through the games I foolishly  thought I’d catch a re-run of the opening ceremony but why would they waste air time when major live events were going on.

    Brought up in a newly independent India suffering majorly from a hangover of the British Raj, I was always made to believe that everything best was truly British. Despite the fact that we Indians were happy to see the British go, we were secretly in awe of their systems, their disciplines and their luck that gave a tiny nation the power over half the world.

    Undoubtedly the British are great event managers and have pulled off  amazing shows with their attention to detail and precise execution. Like several people world wide, I have watched their Royal weddings and funerals goggle eyed. But I must say I was disappointed with the Diamond Jubilee Celebrations of the Queen and now even more so with the Closing Ceremony of the Olympics. More of a tribute to British Pop rather than a salute to the athletes and Britain’s great sporting tradition, I frankly got a big head ache. The show was a real mish mash of trash – a re-hash of of multiculturalism which seems to be the new anthem of modern Britain which resulted in a show that was simply awful. How starved are a country for talent that they had to bring back two stars from the dead ( John Lennon with Imagine and Freddy Mercury with a song that was totally inaudible to me on my ESPN channel), put together a one last time performance of ex-pop divas, have an out of place group of Indian drummers and  Bhangra dancers jamming with a confused  Eric Idle, a Prima Ballerina who hardly pirouetted and finally a performance by the WHO looking distinctly old and jaded. No amount of Spice, London Cabs , fire works and pyrotechnics could lift  up a ceremony that was distinctly mediocre at times and decidedly bad the most.

    Seeing this pathetic show, I was really glad that Britannia no longer rules the world.

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  • My father whose boss gave us the dog, sent me the following story . It seems that I had got the time line wrong and the Boss didn’t lose an eye in battle. 

    This is what he had to say
    “I didn’t realise you were so close to the riot area !
    My boss didn’t lose his eye in 8th Army. He got his MC. The story he related was that he injected morphia to a Brit soldier pinned under a tank. As it was not possible to reach him my boss had devised a mechanism with a bamboo at the end of which was attached a syringe with injectable Morphia. When my boss prepared to prick the unfortunate suffering Brit, the wretch had the gall to shout at my boss” Nigger don’t touch me !!” (Incidentally the practice of giving morphia to a shocked accident victim has long been given up by Military surgeons.) MC was pinned on my bosse’s tunic by “Monty” himself in the field.
    My boss lost his nose and one eye in a car accident at Chandigad. He was going to the airport to catch a flight to Delhi where he was going to meet my boss to arrange for my posting. At a road crossing his car was hit bang on throwing the boss out of the car. After the initial instant shock boss realised that he had gone blind with one eye and his nose was lying beside him. His liason officer who was travelling with him picked up the injured boss and his nose and instead of flying to Delhi he was rushed to Bangalore where they had planned to stich back his nose. This was a failure and his nose had to be restored by plastic surgery.
    During this traumatic experience boss became a pethidine addict. This led to marital discord and his wife who already was grief stricken after the tragic death of her final year medical student daughter who died of post mumps encephalitis. Boss’s wife left him to marry her son’s classmate !
    Son and boss threw out the unfortunate lady.
    Soon therafter boss retired from the service and took up an assignment at Muscat. A few years later while in Muscat in a souk he bumped into his ex and her young husband. In a fit of anger boss slapped her and got hit back by the youngster.
    Next morning the boss was found dead in his bed !!
    This is a true story.”
    Thanks Dad, for sharing this great story……..
  • Español: Cebolla siendo cortada.

    Español: Cebolla siendo cortada. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    “I hate tears Pushpa, I hate tears”

    These distinctly corny words from Rajesh Khanna‘s classic of the 70’s “Amar Prem” always come to mind when I  am chopping onions through an endless stream of tears  hoping  and praying that I do not nick off a nail or slice a bit of finger. All the while I console  myself with the old wives’ tale – that tears while chopping onions indicate good vision. ( Is it because if you don’t chop your fingers while crying, you obviously DO have good vision grandma??)

    Well, whatever be the truth of that tale, I have always tried to minimize my onion chopping by either asking someone else to do it or using a food processor or a grater. However on Saturday I was stuck inside a shop while waiting for the Govindas to bring down a Dahi Handi when I spotted a strange looking contraption in my favourite shop – Arihant a tiny little hole in the wall owned by a goblin of a man selling the most up-to-date kitchen ware at the most competitive prices in the most unlikely of lanes in the heart of Mumbai. With Pappu his  son doubling up as manager, salesman and general dogsbody, the wily old man has kept his costs to a minimum which is why he can offer his customers the best discounts in town. He also offers free advice which is most often invaluable. Whenever I want to check out a new gizmo in the kitchen, I drop by for a chat despite battling with “his fall in your face merchandise”, mainly because this old man has seen it all: from the old fashioned gadgets in my granny’s kitchen to the newest kids stepping out on the block. With all this wisdom behind him and all the time in the world to answer my inane queries, I much prefer shopping here than the glitzy new stores in ritzy new malls. Unlike the salesmen who are more interested in ringing up a sale, Mr. Arihant often advises me against several new gadgets/pots dismissing them as old wine in new bottles – ones that were likely to break faster than I kept them away.

    So when I spotted this bright object that looked distinctly like a toy, I asked for it to be brought down. Pappu  immediately brought it down and proceeded to show me with great enthusiasm how I could mince an onion in seconds and all by tugging a string. That was all it took to convince me and I quickly whipped out a thousand bucks and came home dying to chop my next onion.

    This morning I finally took down this gadget and popped in a peeled and quartered onion , added three peeled cloves of garlic, tossed in two green chillies , secured the lid and gave it four tugs. Within seconds, the onion was finely minced  so I put it in a pan where the oil was gently heating. With some extra flavouring of turmeric, freshly ground garam masala and red chilli power, I gave the onion mince a stir and allowed it to sweat while I chopped up a big tomato in my new vegetable chopper. Once again, I added the tomato and allowed the gravy to cook a bit before I put in the potato and fresh peas.

    Then, I covered the pot and allowed it to simmer before finishing it off with a dollop of fresh ghee and a packet of Hommade Coconut milk to get a rassa bhaji almost as good as my granny made it.

    I’m off now to enjoy my pea and potato curry with steaming hot white rice, watching the rain come gently down this wet and glorious Sunday.

     PRESTIGE  Veggie Cutter is imported into India by TTK Presitge and retails at MRP of Rs 995 at all kitchen ware stores  and  I can easily see it becoming a great gift item for your favourite sister -in- law this festive season!

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