Alu Gobhi...Gobhi Matar...Gobhi ka Paratha...Gobhi ki Pakodi... the list is endless...
Gobhi is a veggie which some hate and others worship. Why is it hated... or disliked?.... Could be the color, the shape.. or maybe just how it tastes. The same reasons are true for people who like it.
My point being???
It's desi guys!
We can decided whether we like it or not... why we do or don't... if we'll eat it or not... hak hai!
So. Now we come to ... a) gobhi and b) green
You know the GREEN GOBHI? The bidesi variety? broccoli yaar! Now that's HOW gobhi's gone green and WHY it's gone green.
Just like so many western traditions, products and etceteras have invaded our lives, this green gobhi has also attacked our tail-masala bhara overloaded platters.
No. No. Not at all. I'm not complaning about our Indian reciepies. They're the best, any day!
I'm just thinking, what our very own gobhi couldn't do, this green guy's done it!
Broccoli is on every menu in town... (almost).... and in the country. Diners are happily munching on it and relishing it, whereas our home grown veggie has been pushed backstage. Not many want it! It's green twin (evil or not...I'll let you decide) has stolen the show.
I'm not trying to get into a swadesi-bidesi argument, broccoli get's full marks too as far as my preferences in food are concerned, but it has shoved it's big brother over the edge.
Why is everyone... who doesn't even know what 'broccoli' is want to eat it?... Why do they claim to know it's benefits just after one meal at a resturant!... Why do they say ... "naiiii...hum to ab gobhi lena band he kar diye hain... ab hum bus bro-co-li hi lete hain"...
Such hullabaloo... Because it's western? Or it's healthy? Or it's better to taste? .... I wonder how many of us think it's American...
Now why our gobhi's going green?... Do I need to elaborate further? Out of envy ofcourse!
Green gobhi aya, to gobhi green ho gaya.
But I still vouch for the greenish white guy, who's been with us for centuries... and served us with healthy tasteful food.
And now I need to go... My absolute favourite gobhi ka paratha's waiting for me!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Ice cream!
Walking down the lanes and by-lanes of Calcutta....Yes, Calcutta... I usually happen to see a raydiwala as we locally call them, the vendors. There he is! Walking down the above mentioned lanes and by-lanes, on hot quiet afternoons. His rickety-crickety ice box-on-wheels; the rectangular board on top; and small colorless pictures of ice-creams (most of them actually not available in this precious ice box) fiercely protected by plastic sheets, dangling from the rectangular plate like shedded snake skin.
Again here, we have the fancy one and the not-so-fancy one. The former will usually be dressed upto the mark in a crisp blue or red uniform supplied by 'his' multinational comany. The breast pocket will sport an emblem which speaks of his elite association and makes him nothes higher than his local counterparts.
The later one. His appearance is not the one to impress you. You'll find him rather under-dressed. In a tattered ganji and a pair of sorry looking blue 'half-pant'. The feet, if they're lucky will have rubber chappals. And oh! I must not forget to mention his trademark gamchha. This to wipe the sweat off his face, shoulders and his armpits.
Ok. So now we have our typical raydiwala. walking down the lanes and by-lanes. The gamchha slung on his shoulder and the pictures fluttering in minimum, warm air. The sun beating down his back and drawing color form the already colorless pictures.
He's shouting "esscre..e....e...mmm" in his Bengali accent. You would wonder to whom!?!?!? There's no one on the streets on a hot sultry afternoon in Calcutta; atleast not awake, nor working, nor walking. No sign of life mister! And just when you start to feel sorry for the poor man, who should yell back? "Ice cream!"
His loyal fan! One girl. From her verandah. So tiny that neither the vendor, nor I could spot her. Her voice as loud (in it's own way) as his. Both so sure of the pleasures of the product they were selling and buying. The icecreamwala's face lit up and he turned and started puuling his box backwards. He looks at me and asks "kahan se didi?" (where's the sound coming from). And I was only to eager to help him find the spot.
Both of smiled for our own reasons. He probably because he'd found his CUSTOMER-OF-THE-DAY. I only because of the sweetness the whole event held; emotionally and literally.
Again here, we have the fancy one and the not-so-fancy one. The former will usually be dressed upto the mark in a crisp blue or red uniform supplied by 'his' multinational comany. The breast pocket will sport an emblem which speaks of his elite association and makes him nothes higher than his local counterparts.
The later one. His appearance is not the one to impress you. You'll find him rather under-dressed. In a tattered ganji and a pair of sorry looking blue 'half-pant'. The feet, if they're lucky will have rubber chappals. And oh! I must not forget to mention his trademark gamchha. This to wipe the sweat off his face, shoulders and his armpits.
Ok. So now we have our typical raydiwala. walking down the lanes and by-lanes. The gamchha slung on his shoulder and the pictures fluttering in minimum, warm air. The sun beating down his back and drawing color form the already colorless pictures.
He's shouting "esscre..e....e...mmm" in his Bengali accent. You would wonder to whom!?!?!? There's no one on the streets on a hot sultry afternoon in Calcutta; atleast not awake, nor working, nor walking. No sign of life mister! And just when you start to feel sorry for the poor man, who should yell back? "Ice cream!"
His loyal fan! One girl. From her verandah. So tiny that neither the vendor, nor I could spot her. Her voice as loud (in it's own way) as his. Both so sure of the pleasures of the product they were selling and buying. The icecreamwala's face lit up and he turned and started puuling his box backwards. He looks at me and asks "kahan se didi?" (where's the sound coming from). And I was only to eager to help him find the spot.
Both of smiled for our own reasons. He probably because he'd found his CUSTOMER-OF-THE-DAY. I only because of the sweetness the whole event held; emotionally and literally.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Once upon a rainy day...
It’s raining today. Again. I like everyone can hear the thunder. Or… can i? I guess I can. What I can’t hear are the voices in my head. I’m not surprised… there are so many voices that it is difficult to understand what each one of them is saying.
Or is it me. Not those voices. Do I not want to hear what they have to say? Probably. Why? I did ask myself that. Not once. Many times…. Over and over again. No…. I haven’t got my answer yet.
But you know something? I’m not sure if I even want the answers as yet. Won’t finding the answers be even more confusing? More disturbing than the disturbed state of mind I am in now?
Answers are never easy. Never more than the questions themselves. I know you disagree… but you see... the questions come so easily to the mind.. not the answers.. that we all look for.
Am I not right? When did you last experience a solution to your problem in the blink of an eyelid? While the questions and problems were just pouring in like water in the mouth of a thirsty man living in the desert?
When we have a problem, friends and family tell us that we ought to think of those who have more and bigger problems than us, then we would't find our problems so huge.
But tell me honestly … when you give an understanding nod to them, do you seriously think they’re making any sense anyway?
Nah! I don’t think so. How can you possibly be thinking of someone’s problem about whom you don’t even have any clue and when you have problems of your own to deal with?
It’s doesn’t make any sense. So why all the pretence of understanding the problem and realising that it’s not that big; that it happens to everyone once in a while and that it’s ok.
It’s not ok. Who decides that? You. No. you did not the people around you did. Because they cannot understand let alone feel your pain. And it will not be ok unless your heart and mind co-ordinate to tell you that.
Or is it me. Not those voices. Do I not want to hear what they have to say? Probably. Why? I did ask myself that. Not once. Many times…. Over and over again. No…. I haven’t got my answer yet.
But you know something? I’m not sure if I even want the answers as yet. Won’t finding the answers be even more confusing? More disturbing than the disturbed state of mind I am in now?
Answers are never easy. Never more than the questions themselves. I know you disagree… but you see... the questions come so easily to the mind.. not the answers.. that we all look for.
Am I not right? When did you last experience a solution to your problem in the blink of an eyelid? While the questions and problems were just pouring in like water in the mouth of a thirsty man living in the desert?
When we have a problem, friends and family tell us that we ought to think of those who have more and bigger problems than us, then we would't find our problems so huge.
But tell me honestly … when you give an understanding nod to them, do you seriously think they’re making any sense anyway?
Nah! I don’t think so. How can you possibly be thinking of someone’s problem about whom you don’t even have any clue and when you have problems of your own to deal with?
It’s doesn’t make any sense. So why all the pretence of understanding the problem and realising that it’s not that big; that it happens to everyone once in a while and that it’s ok.
It’s not ok. Who decides that? You. No. you did not the people around you did. Because they cannot understand let alone feel your pain. And it will not be ok unless your heart and mind co-ordinate to tell you that.
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