Guilty as Charged

I tapped my fingers impatiently on my desk, earning a glare from the judge and the prosecutor. My client, Mr. Kantilal did not look any happier. I did not blame him, considering the fact that I looked like I would rather be somewhere else. I indeed would rather be where Ani needed me. Ani aka Aniruddh, friend, guide, co-conspirator and partner in crime. I have known Ani my whole life, we have been neighbours and friends ever since I was born, well practically since I was born.

My phone buzzed for the nth time, vibrating silently in my pocket. I knew it was him. Ani had called me about 50 times in the past hour. The especially crabby Judge Gupta had not deigned to grant us a recess. He wanted the day over with and was anxious to bring our case to a close. The prosecutor droned on with his closing argument. I hoped that the judge's bored expression meant it would end in a favorable decision for us. Harsh Uncle and Maya Aunty were like my second set of parents, I lived with them all day almost, going home only to sleep.

Ani rubbed his forehead in frustration as he glanced at the clock. It was already 6. Where was Kiran when he needed her? He sank down on the wooden bench next to him. Even if she made it on time, there was nothing more either of them could do about it today. There were going to be some serious consequences indeed. Maya was sitting hunched over in a corner of the police station, trying to disappear into the drab olive coloured wall. She looked bewildered, embarassed and hurt all at the same time. He wondered if she even understood what was happening around her.The sun was going down and no relief seemed visible on the horizon. He closed his eyes and resigned himself to a long night. How had this come to pass? He still couldn't register half of what was going on.

It was over a year ago when he met her for the first time. Kirti had flown down to Delhi that weekend, their meeting arranged by some common family friends. Harsh and Maya had already been having conversations with Raghav, Kirti's father. Kirti and Ani had been happy to oblige them with a meeting. She had charmed him at first sight. Bubbly, energetic, funny and intelligent, she seemed the perfect girl to come home to. Secure in her own skin, she was one of the most confident and beautiful people he had ever met. Kirti had grown up without her mother for most of her life and was deeply attached to her father and brother. Ani was completely bowled over by her at that first meeting.

I remember Ani raving about Kirti when he came back that night. "What do you think then?" Maya Aunty asked him. "She's perfect," he said dreamily. Maya Aunty smiled to herself. She had succeeded in her mission, to find a bride her son was completely smitten with. That night as we watched the stars lying on the moonlit terrace, all he could talk about was Kirti. Ani was at her beck and call since then, I thought showed Kirti's maturity and understanding that she did not manipulate him to suit herself. 

What followed were months of angsty phone calls, tearful flights to Mumbai and a whirlwind romance- all on Ani's part. They planned the wedding together, Ani giving precedence to her finer taste. They shopped together and organised everything together. One evening when I bounced into their house, I found Maya Aunty sitting at the dimly lit dining table flipping through bridal magazines absently. "Aunty, is something wrong? Is there anything you want to discuss with Ani and Kirti about the wedding?" "Of course not, Kiran, I was just picking out my outfits from these. Anyway, Kirti's wedding should be her own special day, I was just wishing I could have planned mine. " No matter, Aunty. You can plan mine. I am sure Mom and Dad will be more than happy to have your expert advice. I am warning you though, it'll be a long time coming."

Maya stood by Harsh at the entrance to the wedding hall. They were welcoming guests at Ani's wedding and she still couldn't believe it. Her little pudding of a child all grown up and getting married. It didn't help with the disbelief that to her it hardly looked like a wedding. Kirti's minimalist, clean cut style with muted tones and hues was so very different from her own jolly view of variegated reds and pinks. This was definitely not a Big Fat over-the-top Indian Wedding. But as Harsh reminded her, all that mattered was the smile on Ani's face.

Maya worried over what happened next. Kirti chose to stay based out of Mumbai in her consulting job, waiting for a suitable opportunity to come up in Delhi. Ani still lived at home. She had thought he might want to move to Mumbai himself. However, his new job and Kirti wanting to try and find a job in Delhi herself had kept him at home. He visited Kirti on the weekends. She was quick to defend Kirti whenever the women in the neighborhood tried to needle her into gossiping. "The poor child, she travels through the week and I can understand that she would like to stay at home. They need some time by themselves. I don't blame her for that." Ani was a great comfort to his mom when Harsh was away on his long business trips.

Ani had been Aunty's pillar when they received the news that changed their world forever. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Harsh uncle had met with an accident on the way home from the airport. We were all shell shocked, that we would never see his smile, his ringing laugh welcoming you to his house. We all grieved, months flew by like a daze. Then one day, we woke up and moved on. Except that Maya Aunty couldn't. Ani often saw her wandering about through the house aimlessly. She served him meals at haphazard times. I found her sleeping whenever I came to visit and lost items in the house turned up at unexpected locations.

I volunteered to take her to the hospital. Ani was having a tough few weeks at work. In the end, I wished I hadn't. The prognosis wasn't something I wanted him to hear from me- early onset Alzheimers. Maya Aunty spent the day in bed, staring at the ceiling, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Sacrifices had to be made. Ani couldn't make them, so Kirti had to. 6 months into the marriage, Kirti found herself in Maya Aunty's house. I am not sure that it made her very happy.

Every evening these past few months when I returned from work, I would find her at my door, waiting for me. Now I found that a bit weird, Kirti didn't always like my company, probably because I was Ani's best friend. It wasn't jealousy or anything, just awkwardness from all our shared memories. That was the only time she could get away, aunty was usually sleeping at that time. I knew what Kirti missed, she had lived only with roommates her age or alone and living in Maya Aunty's house wasn't exactly the future she had envisioned.

Kirti sat slumped against the wall after they had left. She did not have the energy to cry. All she could remember was the look on Maya's face when she was escorted out of the house. 6 months ago, when she moved in, she did not ever anticipate that this could happen. When they first started living together, she and Ani had begun to discover things about each other that they did not like very much. She hated how he threw himself into his work, leaving her to pick up the pieces.  He hated her temper and how she held on to a grudge. Ani had known how much she resented putting her career on the backburner. Just on the cusp of a promotion and transfer to Delhi.

In the beginning, it wasn't very hard. Maya was still in possession of most of her faculties and could take care of herself. Kirti saw the glimpses of her beautiful charming mother-in-law peeking through the veils of the disorder and wished she had gotten to know her better. She worked out a routine and managed to find time to go over to Kiran's place and chat. She was glad to make a new friend in Delhi, no matter that she was her husband's bestie. Her dad managed to come over a couple of times, and though she met him outside the house for the sake of convenience she was glad to see them so often.

Then gradually, it got harder. Kirti often found Maya in tears, unable to remember how to perform a simple personal task. She pushed away her help and sat sobbing through the day in frustration. She made herself sick overeating . She woke up with no sense of her surroundings and often reacted with aggression at the people around her. This last month, Kirti had been exhausted, cleaning up after Maya, helping her with every tiny task. Sometimes, it felt like she had a newborn in the house. Lack of sleep fogged her brain and made her irritable and snappy, she could feel control and cognition eluding her grasp. She couldn't do this any longer.

Ani was wishing, he had listened to Kirti when she had tried to talk to him. Instead he had brushed her off thinking it would be another diatribe on her usual topic of quitting her job on his insistence. She had probably been trying to tell him that something was going to go wrong. He had been in the middle of a client meeting, when his secretary dashed in to inform him that there had been an accident at the house. He called Kirti only to hear a garbling at the other end. It took a neighbour and five minutes to discover that his mother had been arrested. He had driven like a mad man to the Marudnagar police station and then started calling Kiran desperately until he finally heard her reassuring voice at the other end.

Kirti called me when I was on the way to the police station. She wanted me to hear her side before I met Ani. She wanted me to help Ani understand. That afternoon, Kirti had gotten a call from Sanju, her brother. He was passing through Delhi on a school trip and wanted to see her. She was too tired and fuzz brained to imagine stepping out of the house. Sanju was looking forward to a home cooked meal after days away at NCC camp and she couldn't bear to disappoint him.

Then she said, it all happened so quickly. She was so tired from her sleepless nights that she had collapsed with a book on the bed. This instead of keeping her awake put her to sleep. Her nap was broken by a high pitched wailing followed by assorted screaming and whining. By the time, she cleared the sleep from her eyes and made her way to the living room, it was all done. She had fallen to the floor, hitting the wall on the way. Sanju stood at the door, a red slash across his white shirt. Some concerned neighbours stood clustered around him and just in front of her at the open door was Maya, a pair of scissors in her hand.

Ani was getting a headache wondering how he could have missed all the signs. Kirti's exhaustion and Maya's deterioration. Kirti hadn't heard the doorbell and Maya, who she imagined had also been sleeping, had answered the door, with a pair of scissors in her hand. None of them had had any idea of the delusions that were haunting her in those days. It had taken Sanju's accident and a trip to the police station to wake him up.

Being around Ani's family the next few weeks, the predominant emotion I could sense and feel was guilt. Ani was guilty for being so much at work that he had ignored his sick mother and neglected his tired wife. Kirti was guilty for not taking care of and losing a mother yet again. Her injured brother only added to the burden on her shoulders. I was guilty for not noticing anything from the perspective of the outsider. I was the only one who knew and understood or claimed to understand all of them and I never saw this coming. Maya Aunty was feeling guilty too, but she felt that way without even realizing what she had done.

That was how I found myself sitting across from Maya Aunty at Sunnyside Villas, an assisted living facility for the elderly. Kirti sat next to me with a basket of Maya Aunty's childhood favourites. I had her favourite Shakespeare play in her hand. Maya Aunty, turned to us and began , " Do you remember.. "

Food Rhapsodies- All things food this week

2015 Reading Challenge: I'd Sooner Starve

I enjoy books about food, restaurants and the cooking experience. In fact one of the books I have written about at length on this blog is As Always Julia- a series of letters written by Julia Child to Avis de Voto. I read Julie and Julia at a stretch like it was an un-putdown-able mystery novel. I am not the biggest fan of Madhur Jaffrey's anglicized Indian recipes, but I love her book ' Climbing the Mango Trees'. As it promises, it conjures up those memories of childhood memories in India, of the endless summers, the long vacations and stolen fruit. But most important of all the great homemade meals that cooks, aunts, grandmothers and mothers rustled up to feed the huge hoards in the joint families of those days.

Anyway, I'm more of a personal memoir reader rather than a restaurant experience reader. Case in point, it took me some effort to get through Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain and this other book Cooking Dirty: a story of life, sex, love and death in the kitchen. They are both written in a wry dry fashion which is generally my style. But when it comes to cooking memoirs I would always pick a fat round jolly chef than a cynical one. :)  So anyway, the book that I read now was neither here nor there.

I'd Sooner Starve is a book written by a man who owns a restaurant after years of working in a PR firm. He also doubles up as one of the chefs and a "floorwalker". This is a rollicking read of all the experiences he has with his stubborn diners and crazy deli customers. He encounters people who want to get broken olive oil bottles replaced for free, pensioners who think free Wifi is a biscuit and who frustrate him with their attempts to get into fully booked restaurants with the promise of buying a lot of wine.

It is a hilarious book filled with funny incidents with the author admitting his own culpability in several of them. There are some which are downright disgusting, filled with patronizing cliches from the customer. The chronicles of the food wasters, the single coffee orders and the annoyances of scaling up your business and ending up with disillusionment finally. The book is probably a great guide as to how not to behave in a restaurant, it ends on a sober note but is chock a block with laugh out loud cases.

Starting Salads:

Armed with a packet of cherry tomatoes, that were finally stocked at the hypermart near my house, and a strong new year resolution to go on a diet and eat healthier, I started inventing and eating salads this week. I have discovered a whole new appreciation for my taste tolerance. I have managed to incorporate fruits, seeds, sour, sweet and spicy, raw and cooked all in the same salad and still end up eating it.

So my first invention went something like this:

1. 3/4 of a green apple chopped up

2. 7-8 halved cherry tomatoes sauted in olive oil and italian dried herbs

3. 2 slices of chopped bread- also sauted with 2 if u wish

4. 3-4 pieces of roast garlic

5. Fistful of sunflower seeds

6. A drizzle of olive oil 

7. Salt and pepper ground onto the mixture

8. 1/2 tbsp of apple cider vinegar

Second one involved store bought ingredients:

1. A fistful of shelled pista nuts

2. A fistful of cranberries

3. 2 Tbsp of Italian Dressing

4. A drizzle of olive oil

5. 5-6 halved cherry tomatoes 

6. one boiled egg chopped up

Tomorrow, I am thinking chickpeas. I never thought my interest in cooking would turn into mad scientististry with me grabbing random things from the refrigerator. But let us see how long this fad of mine lasts. Probably until my salads get too crazy and start tasting weird.

Battambang, Cambodia- A Pleasant Side Note

Battambang,Cambodia is a place of contrasts. It is located in the lush countryside surrounded by villages, and yet is the second largest urban center in Cambodia next to Phnom Penh.  It has been a center of trade and development for a very long while. Battambangian rice is prized all over Cambodia and locals can be found transporting sacks of it to their respective locations. This town was the cause of a great deal of strife between Thailand and Cambodia with Thailand seizing control over the territory until resolved by the Allied Forces after World War II.

Battambang even has a story about its name. It means "Loss of Stick". There is a statue dedicated to this story on the outskirts of the town and you encounter this smiling villain as you enter or leave the town. Yes, you read that right, there is a statue to the villain of the piece. The story goes that there was a king who ruled over this province. One day a cowherd discovered a stick which gave him superpowers and thus he was able to overthrow the king and establish himself on  the throne. It was then prophesied that a holy man on a white horse would lead to his defeat. The cowherd went about systematically destroying all such holy men and at last a holy man did arrive on a white horse and steal his stick. It was none other than the son of the deposed king. The cowherd was left to lament his loss of a kingdom due to the loss of a stick leading to the name Battambang. The whole town is dotted with such strange statues, one of which looked like a mixture of Buddha, Vishnu and Shiva.

The first thing that strikes you about Battambang is how almost every hotel is located on the river and almost every government building most definitely is. You can find the remains of French shop fronts huddled over the present day shops, most of which seem to be selling wooden shrines or complicated cross stitch templates. The cross stitch templates were put into extensive use by the shopkeepers we encountered at the Psar Nath or the Central Market. The Central Market in Battambang is definitely reminiscent of the one in Phnom Penh, both built by French, though at a smaller scale and closer to the ground. The market was different from the ones in Phnom Penh and Siem Reap that were definitely positioned towards the tourists. This one was all for the locals. Even before you walk in you are assaulted by a variety of sights and smells- some familiar and some strange. Peeled coconuts, black long fish laid out in rows, vegetable sellers, people selling seafood crispies- the list goes on and of course like any self respecting tropical market it has its share of mango, tamarind and amla vendors on the street.

 So, lot of tourists don't come to this town, but here are some reasons why you shouldn't give Battambang a miss.

1. The Norrie or the Bamboo Train- The remains of a past era when according to my tuk tuk driver and guide it took 17 hours to go from Battambang to Phnom Penh. This now runs only from Battambang to a tiny village about 20 minutes. It's a single track train which now runs on a motor but was previously operated by hand. When two trains heading in opposite directions meet, the one with the lighter load has passengers disembark and they dismantle the train to allow the other to pass. A bumpy and beautiful ride.

2. Beautiful side trips on the countryside on a tuk-tuk to Wat Ek Phnom and the Bat Caves: I didn't make it to the top of Wat Ek Phnom. But the sunset view of the bat cave and the hourly ritual of bats leaving the cave is one no one should miss. There are a lot of people who annoy the bats by whistling and clapping to disrupt their movement. But the bats inevitably find their way back to the flock. We witnessed a great purple sky sunset and the exodus of workers into packed trucks and carts from the factories around Battambang.

3. Take pictures along the river and walk. You can find a play ground for children right next to the river and benches if you want to rest your feet. Feast your eyes on French architecture which turns out to be the Electricity Board or the bank. Take squiggly light pictures of the pretty lit up hotels on the river side.

4. See how real people live. This is not a town filled with tourists. You see real people going about their lives and you will probably be one of the attractions if you are from a non-European country.

5. Last but not the least, go for the food. Jaan Bai is a restaurant run by underpriveleged children and serves yummy food even for vegetarians. It was some of the best food I have had anywhere in the world. And one should not miss trying these miniature Battambangian oranges. They are awesomely sweet and thirst quenching, perfect for the hot days in Cambodia.

The best way to get to Battambang from Siem Reap or Phnom Penh is by mini bus. I tried the bus and it was average but the mini bus was more comfy especially if you travelled up front. Hotels can help make your bookings if you call the reception in advance and most of them also pick you up from the bus stand. All in all Battambang is the perfect mix of urban and rural, tourism and life in general which makes it a great break for a couple of days.

How the Year Started or my Veg Kofta Saga

This year started quietly for me like most years. I have hardly been one for new year parties so it's not unusual for me to have a quiet start to the year. I did make a resolution which is not a resolution- to not change anything about myself which destroys the aim of a New Year resolution.

Anyway, that aside, I started this year with some cooking. That basically ensured that I did not even chop up an onion for the rest of the week. Cooking is either appetite based or mood based for me. I would never cook for the rest of my life if food was put in front of me everyday and if it was interesting food. It is always the latter that inspires me to cook and bake, to make food interesting.I started off with an old recipe with a new twist. Vegetable Koftas were something I tried about a year ago when my mother was out of town. I made a huge box of Vegetable Kofta Curry which was promptly devoured at lunch by the rest of my team. I have been subjected to empty flattery ever since requesting a repeat of the dish. I being lazy me did not want to make it. But finally the other day, I bought a packet of paneer and decided to try making deep fried koftas. Yes, I was a wuss last time and did not dare to deep fry anything. So anyway, with a great deal of help from my mother and my refrigerator I ended up with great looking koftas ( mostly) and mom even recycled the leftovers as vegetable cutlets the next day.

On my kitchen counter:

Handful of peas

7-8 cauliflower florets- par boiled and grated

One carrot- grated

About 100g of paneer grated

2 potatoes boiled

Bread crumbs

Salt

Green Chillies- 2 chopped

Red Chilli Powder

Turmeric

Jeera Powder

Amchur

Coriander Powder

Kitchen King Masala

2 Onions

3 Tomatoes 

Ginger Garlic Paste

Garam Masala

Corn Flour

Bread Crumbs

Coriander leaves- chopped

1-2 Cloves

A small piece of cinnamon

A small piece of bayleaf

Jeera

How to make this curry:

1. Start with some oil in a pan, add green chillies and saute them for couple of minutes. Add peas and some water and cook until the peas are boiled.

2. Grate the parboiled cauliflower and add to the pan along with the grated carrots. Add turmeric powder, salt, chilly powder, jeera powder, coriander powder, amchur  and a pinch of garam masala and mix well.

3.  Saute until all the vegetables are cooked and do not retain too much water. This is to make the forming of the koftas easier.

4. Combine the grated paneer, mash of the boiled potatoes and the bread crumbs and corn flour along with coriander leaves. Take the mixture in step 3 and allow it to cool before kneading it together with the above mixture.

5. Shape into small spheres between your hands and deep fry the Koftas in oil and drain excess oil on a tissue and allow to rest.

If koftas begin to break when you are frying them, give them an additional coating of bread crumbs and place in fridge to set before frying again. If your oil has crumbly bits, filter it before continuing with your frying. Try to make it homogenous on the outer layer by mashing up the peas or pushing them to the center of the kofta, else you might have a case of exploding peas.

6. The curry is quite straight forward. Add jeera and allow it to splutter. Add cloves, bayleaf and cinnamon.

7. Add ginger garlic paste and chopped/pureed onions and fry until it is well cooked.

8. Place tomatoes in boiling water and allow them to cook. Remove the skin and puree.

9. Add puree to step 7. Add turmeric, jeera powder, coriander powder, kitchen king masala, chilli powder and salt. Mix well.

10. When the tomato starts to exude oil, add water and oil to bubble and boil.

11. When the curry boils and reduces add a dollop of cream and mix well.

Just about 1/2 hr before you eat, remember to add the koftas to the curry and mix carefully without mashing them. Also avoid soaking them for too long as they will break apart and make a mess of your gravy.

This hot dish can be enjoyed with steaming phulkas or rice, whichever way you like it.

The 2015 Book Challenge- My Year with Eleanor

The Good-reads beginning of the year book challenge is my perpetually broken new year resolution. Every year I start with an ambitious number of books that I want to read. Inevitably I start and never finish on time. My book reading habit falls along the side when I watch random series and don't take up any books. Months go by before I read a book. This year hopefully, Scribd will keep me on the straight and narrow with a book on my phone, anywhere anytime. But I decided just like many others taking up this challenge this year, that I would not challenge myself to read a large number of books, but just 75 books from which I am able to at least take away one thing, which makes me laugh, cry or inspires me. I am not going to aim to read a large number of pages like some have chosen to do- say with War and Peace or Crime and Punishment. One of the most intriguing books of all times is Antoine De Expury's Little Prince which is not longer than fifty odd pages if I am right.

So I guess, if I have 75 "Aha" moments in some way, those 75 books will make the list and I will meet my goal. I found my first 'interesting idea' book . It's a book called 'My Year with Eleanor '. The author embarks on a journey of fighting her fears inspired by a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt. She goes on to read about Eleanor Roosevelt and agree and disagree with her, be inspired by her. Most of what she does is confront her anxieties and worries and discovers ways to combat them. She chooses to do this on her year transitioning from 29-30. The reading does get a bit whiny at bits, but she draws you in, makes you relate to her and you almost wish you were skydiving with her or climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. It was a good beginning to the year, helped me resolve to breathe and relax when I find myself worrying about anything. It reminded me to challenge myself to do something I have never done before, each and every day of my life.