Friday, October 3, 2014
Balmohan Vidyamandir (My Alma Mater!) - Dasara 2014
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| Saraswati Pujan in the ground floor classroom |
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| Hats off to the person(s) who created this |
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| I used to know this by heart once upon a time :-( |
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| Blackboard in a classroom |
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| Our Library |
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| Wish I could draw like this :-) |
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| Wonder if this clock was there during my time in school |
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| Kindergarten Classroom |
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| Rangoli at the entrance |
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| Yippee!!!!! |
Thursday, October 2, 2014
The posters adorning the walls of Mumbai local trains' coaches are always a source of amusement. Today I came across one that had the following line at the beginning:
Make your dream of a car (4 wheeler) true.
Yeah, yeah, I know, it should have read '....dream of a car come true' instead. But I cannot, for the life of me, fathom why they needed to mention (4 wheeler)? I am yet to see or read about a car on 2 wheels ;-)
Make your dream of a car (4 wheeler) true.
Yeah, yeah, I know, it should have read '....dream of a car come true' instead. But I cannot, for the life of me, fathom why they needed to mention (4 wheeler)? I am yet to see or read about a car on 2 wheels ;-)
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Ek Tha Rusty III
I must confess that I must have seen only an episode or so of either the first or second part of this show. I remember hearing good things about it but the show's timing was never right for me. Even yesterday evening I came across it purely by chance. And didn't leave till the end of the episode.
Rusty was in some small hillside town - I didn't quite catch the name of the place. He had just arrived at a lodge that was built by an English couple to get people acquainted with bears. There wasn't anything fancy about the lodge, given the fact that it was depicted to be from an era that's long gone. But the simple rustic charm of it was mesmerizing. There was an usher-cum-cook-come-waiter who in a matter-of-fact way informed Rusty that the ghost of the English lady used to haunt the lodge until a few years ago. When he was getting ready for a breakfast he overheard a girl of school-going age and a man talking and singing. When Rusty went downstairs he found that the girl was alone and chatted with her - simple direct questions and simple direct answers. No beating about the bush. Then he realized that the man who had earlier been talking to the girl was playing the piano and so went to talk to him. And of course, there was a breakfast table where all current occupants of the lodge gathered to have their first morning meal.
I cannot exactly pinpoint why I remained rooted to the channel (DD National, 7pm) till the credits rolled by. Maybe it was the absence of annoying saas-bahu duos, loud music or equally loud chanting of 'Om' and multiple shots of same person taken from different angles. But I suspect it was more about my desire to one day land up at such a charming mountain place and never to leave. To have the luxury to decide at leisure what I wanted to do on a particular day. To meet different people and listen to their life's story. To tell and to hear without looking at the clock every few minutes. To have miles to walk and roads to explore. To breath in pure fresh air. To see the sun rise and set on a mountain village. And to have time to wonder about life and death.
I envy Rusty for that.
Rusty was in some small hillside town - I didn't quite catch the name of the place. He had just arrived at a lodge that was built by an English couple to get people acquainted with bears. There wasn't anything fancy about the lodge, given the fact that it was depicted to be from an era that's long gone. But the simple rustic charm of it was mesmerizing. There was an usher-cum-cook-come-waiter who in a matter-of-fact way informed Rusty that the ghost of the English lady used to haunt the lodge until a few years ago. When he was getting ready for a breakfast he overheard a girl of school-going age and a man talking and singing. When Rusty went downstairs he found that the girl was alone and chatted with her - simple direct questions and simple direct answers. No beating about the bush. Then he realized that the man who had earlier been talking to the girl was playing the piano and so went to talk to him. And of course, there was a breakfast table where all current occupants of the lodge gathered to have their first morning meal.
I cannot exactly pinpoint why I remained rooted to the channel (DD National, 7pm) till the credits rolled by. Maybe it was the absence of annoying saas-bahu duos, loud music or equally loud chanting of 'Om' and multiple shots of same person taken from different angles. But I suspect it was more about my desire to one day land up at such a charming mountain place and never to leave. To have the luxury to decide at leisure what I wanted to do on a particular day. To meet different people and listen to their life's story. To tell and to hear without looking at the clock every few minutes. To have miles to walk and roads to explore. To breath in pure fresh air. To see the sun rise and set on a mountain village. And to have time to wonder about life and death.
I envy Rusty for that.
I felt sorry for the group cleaning the platform today morning. There were a few senior citizens. Some of them were carrying boards urging people to keep the surroundings clean. It didn't look like they had been forced to be there. They were there because they genuinely believed that they were making a difference and that's precisely why I felt sorry for them.
You might think I am being cynical. But anyone who day after day sees her fellow commuters litter, sneeze and cough practically in other people's faces is sooner or later bound to be so. What difference is one day's cleaning going to do? People seem shocked when educated people litter. And I am surprised at that. In this country being educated means learning science, maths, history and geography by heart. Civics is just one of the subjects where you learn by rote the boring details about the responsibilities of the members of the houses of parliament and yet, years later, cannot figure out what exactly an MLA is supposed to do. Being educated has absolutely, I repeat, absolutely, nothing to do with having a civic sense. What's worse is that some of these so-called educated people point fingers at the uneducated lot and say that when they are throwing garbage around, what difference does it make if we don't. A twisted case of 'When you are in Rome....', huh?
Maybe we are going about it in the wrong way. We have to begin by cleaning up the neighborhoods, the residential areas - not just for a day, but for every day of the week, week after week, year after year. When people get used to clean surroundings, they will automatically get used to not littering - in their neighborhood and in other places. Plus we have to make sure that these lessons are imparted in schools. The children should be taken on cleanliness drives of their neighborhoods where they can urge other people to keep the area clean. They should also be encouraged to practice the same at home. We have to make sure that the children teach their parents because teaching parents isn't helping. And finally, we have to hit those who litter where it hurts the most - on the financial front. A hefty fine and community service of cleaning should prove to be an ample deterrent.
We have to aim for the day when cleanliness becomes part of our collective national personality, and not just a word in the some 'Quotable Quote'.
You might think I am being cynical. But anyone who day after day sees her fellow commuters litter, sneeze and cough practically in other people's faces is sooner or later bound to be so. What difference is one day's cleaning going to do? People seem shocked when educated people litter. And I am surprised at that. In this country being educated means learning science, maths, history and geography by heart. Civics is just one of the subjects where you learn by rote the boring details about the responsibilities of the members of the houses of parliament and yet, years later, cannot figure out what exactly an MLA is supposed to do. Being educated has absolutely, I repeat, absolutely, nothing to do with having a civic sense. What's worse is that some of these so-called educated people point fingers at the uneducated lot and say that when they are throwing garbage around, what difference does it make if we don't. A twisted case of 'When you are in Rome....', huh?
Maybe we are going about it in the wrong way. We have to begin by cleaning up the neighborhoods, the residential areas - not just for a day, but for every day of the week, week after week, year after year. When people get used to clean surroundings, they will automatically get used to not littering - in their neighborhood and in other places. Plus we have to make sure that these lessons are imparted in schools. The children should be taken on cleanliness drives of their neighborhoods where they can urge other people to keep the area clean. They should also be encouraged to practice the same at home. We have to make sure that the children teach their parents because teaching parents isn't helping. And finally, we have to hit those who litter where it hurts the most - on the financial front. A hefty fine and community service of cleaning should prove to be an ample deterrent.
We have to aim for the day when cleanliness becomes part of our collective national personality, and not just a word in the some 'Quotable Quote'.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
I was reading Jeff Bezos' interview today when towards the end a sentence caught my attention:
It is not work that is exhausting; it is hating what you do which makes it tiring.
How true!
It is not work that is exhausting; it is hating what you do which makes it tiring.
How true!
Oh Calcutta!, Khar
I was heartbroken when Mah Jong downed its shutters. Their crispy chicken was my favorite. :-(
I was keen on visiting the restaurant that has opened in the same place - Oh Calcutta! My previous trysts with the cuisine haven't been that successful. When I was in the Business school, the catering service had prepared Bengali food one night. My Bengali quadmate had sampled the fare and advised me not to go for it. 'There is nothing Bengali about this' she had declared emphatically. Then I had landed at her parents' place in Kolkata for the Durgapuja celebrations one year. But I was told that the Bengali households rarely cook during that time, busy as they are visiting various pandals. So I didn't get a chance to sample home-cooked Bengali food. Though I must confess that I was a fan of one the carrot vegetable prepared by mom of one of my ex-colleagues.
But as the saying goes my plans of dining at the restaurant kept getting disposed of by God. Finally, I managed to do so this weekend.
The seating, of course, has been changed. Gone are the high-walled cubicles and their place has been taken by chairs and tables without any separating panels, thus creating lots of open space. The downside is that at times the restaurant can get pretty noisy.
I was expecting some kind of Navaratri special menu given that this is an important festival for the Bengali community. But I was in for a disappointment. What was handed to me was their routine menu. What is worse is that all the dishes had Bengali names (Kakra Chingri Bhapa, Ada Lebu Bhapa Maach, Koraishutir Dhokar Dalna etc) and there was no description provided along with each dish to give one an idea of the ingredients and the method of preparation. As a result, we could see patrons getting into long-winded discussions with the servers at each table. Oh and BTW, I am yet to figure out what a dish like 'Paneer butter masala' was doing in a menu at a restaurant known for its Bengali food. It looked as if it was tacked on at the end like an afterthought.
I was clear about one thing - I was there to eat Bengali food. And the hallmark of it is seafood. So I was going to skip any chicken and Mutton (except for maybe Railway Mutton Curry) preparation. Similarly, I wasn't interested in going for any vegetable dishes before I had a chance to taste their non-veg offerings. So after much deliberations, we chose Fish Fry, Chingri Malai Curry and Luchi.
When the server served Fish Fry, I liked the look of the dish. Two chunky Betki fish pieces fried to a crisp nestled in the plate with a serving of mustard paste and lemon wedges on the side. The chef had managed the tough task of keeping the outer coating crisp and the fish meat soft with perfection. It is equally enjoyable without the addition of the mustard paste. But I added it anyways in keeping with the true Bengali spirit.
The Chingri (prawn) Malai Curry had a gravy with perfect consistency - neither too thick nor too thin - given the fact that it had coconut milk as one of the principle ingredients and perfect taste. The only sore point was that, in my humble opinion, the prawns were a bit under-cooked. It went well with the 6 bhatura-sized Luchis (puris).
In one of the reviews on either Zomato or Burrp, I had read about Nolen Gurer (date palm jaggery) ice-cream. So we ordered it for dessert. If I hadn't been to Kolkata before I would have also ordered Mishti Dohi as well. But after eating Mishti Dohi in Kolkata, I know that the one made in Mumbai is simply no match. The ice-cream was good but frankly nothing to write home about. I enjoyed it as part and parcel of the Bengali food experience. That said, I do have the mind to try the recipe if I can get my hands on date palm jaggery anywhere.
The staff is courteous and the service prompt. But the sum total of Service Charges (10%), VAT on beverages (12.5%), VAT on food (12.5%) and Service tax (4.944%) is a bit too much, I say Oh Calcutta :-)
I was keen on visiting the restaurant that has opened in the same place - Oh Calcutta! My previous trysts with the cuisine haven't been that successful. When I was in the Business school, the catering service had prepared Bengali food one night. My Bengali quadmate had sampled the fare and advised me not to go for it. 'There is nothing Bengali about this' she had declared emphatically. Then I had landed at her parents' place in Kolkata for the Durgapuja celebrations one year. But I was told that the Bengali households rarely cook during that time, busy as they are visiting various pandals. So I didn't get a chance to sample home-cooked Bengali food. Though I must confess that I was a fan of one the carrot vegetable prepared by mom of one of my ex-colleagues.
But as the saying goes my plans of dining at the restaurant kept getting disposed of by God. Finally, I managed to do so this weekend.
The seating, of course, has been changed. Gone are the high-walled cubicles and their place has been taken by chairs and tables without any separating panels, thus creating lots of open space. The downside is that at times the restaurant can get pretty noisy.
I was expecting some kind of Navaratri special menu given that this is an important festival for the Bengali community. But I was in for a disappointment. What was handed to me was their routine menu. What is worse is that all the dishes had Bengali names (Kakra Chingri Bhapa, Ada Lebu Bhapa Maach, Koraishutir Dhokar Dalna etc) and there was no description provided along with each dish to give one an idea of the ingredients and the method of preparation. As a result, we could see patrons getting into long-winded discussions with the servers at each table. Oh and BTW, I am yet to figure out what a dish like 'Paneer butter masala' was doing in a menu at a restaurant known for its Bengali food. It looked as if it was tacked on at the end like an afterthought.
I was clear about one thing - I was there to eat Bengali food. And the hallmark of it is seafood. So I was going to skip any chicken and Mutton (except for maybe Railway Mutton Curry) preparation. Similarly, I wasn't interested in going for any vegetable dishes before I had a chance to taste their non-veg offerings. So after much deliberations, we chose Fish Fry, Chingri Malai Curry and Luchi.
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| Fish Fry |
The Chingri (prawn) Malai Curry had a gravy with perfect consistency - neither too thick nor too thin - given the fact that it had coconut milk as one of the principle ingredients and perfect taste. The only sore point was that, in my humble opinion, the prawns were a bit under-cooked. It went well with the 6 bhatura-sized Luchis (puris).
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| Chingri Malai Curry - or what is left of it :-) |
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| Nolen Gurer Ice-cream |
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