Sometime during my bachelors the feminist side of me woke up and I wanted to learn cooking. My grandmother was scandalized with the idea of a male son (stress intended) entering the kitchen and my mom didn’t take me seriously. My kitchen was anyways filled over the brim with my mom, grand mom, sister, two cousin sisters and all the floating female population and I didn’t even start learning. I lived away from home in Hyderabad for a month [it is beyond the scope of this blog to explain why I was in Hyderabad only for a month :)] but I had strict orders from my roommate’s girl friend to train him to be a good house husband (which I dutifully and happily followed). So my cooking so far was restricted to cutting vegetables, making masala chai and preparing about 6 varieties of egg.
I am now living alone in Lucknow and moved into a nice rented place (never mind that it is just servant’s quarter in that big bungalow) two days back. Since I am working for peanuts I have no choice but to cook as I can’t afford to eat out everyday. So I fondly setup my kitchen with a new gas stove, black market 4 liter gas cylinder, some utensils that I brought from home and some grocery.
Before I left Bangalore I took theory classes from few people about how to cook. For example – Take rice, clean it, fill water up to an inch above the level of the rice and let it be done. For my first attempt I choose to cook rice and eat it with the MTR ready to cook Puliogere Mix. I followed the above instructions to cook rice. A couple of minutes later the lid was an inch above the vessel with white hot bubbles in between them and I am thinking no one told me about the bubbles. Before I could think I realized that the steel vessel was turning black in certain spots. I guessed my rice was getting burnt and the only thing I could think of doing was to add more water. Five minutes and three more cups of water later the rice was cooked, never mind it was a little liquidy and the vessel a little black.
Next was to cook the ready to cook Puliogere Mix. Simple instructions on the packet –heat one and half spoon of oil in a vessel, add 20 grams of the ready to cook mix and stir and finally add 200 grams of cooked rice to it (they should give a measuring device free with these products). I did but the results were unexpected. I put the oil into the vessel and within a few seconds (literally few seconds) there was smoke again and the vessel was turning black again. Guessing that the oil was hot enough, I added the puliogere mix and within a few seconds (I am not exaggerating) the powder and the groundnuts and everything else turned black. Without knowing what to do I added some of the cooked rice into it. I did dare to taste it and something was too burnt. So I had to throw that down the drain.
But I am not one to give up easily. So I decided to make some egg fried rice with the remaining rice. After all I had seen countless street vendors prepare it so easily. So I added chopped onions, tomato and chilies into heated oil. Then I broke the eggs into the vessel and suddenly I realized this is how I make egg burji! Shit I said and added the rice (which was now a single hard lump) into the egg burji mixture. And I see smoke again (Thank devil I don’t have a fire alarm) and the vessel turning black. So I generally added water and as I was adding water I was thinking what is the water doing in the fried rice. And the end result was as liquidy as Bisibelebath so I decided to name my creation Bisi-motebath. But hey, it was edible and a little tasty and I had satisfaction of cooking my own meal for the first time in my life. I am just a little worried about cleaning all those blackened dishes in the evening. My girl friend better start learning to cook or ours will be one messy kitchen.
P.S - I know this has been a long time coming. Apologies to the few who followed the blog and kept asking me to blog again. Hopefully there will be more such experiences for me to pen down here. The three or four of you that read the blog, leave some comments so that i get motivated to blog more and to know that someone is reading it.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Balajee Speaks - Part 1
OK - I am sorry to all you few readers for disappointing you with no new posts. I guess travelling alone for many weeks made me just drift away thoughtlessly and thoughtfully. But that's a different story for a different time. Not to despair people - the blog has found its saviour - Balajee Venkataraman. Balajee has witten his version of things we experienced together. Here goes the first part I hope of many to come.
Disclaimer:
Most of what is narrated here are experiences that are common to Rakesh and I. Have tried my best to bring in my own perspective on things.
"They were like the ant, which can see small objects but not large ones" says George Orwell in his classic work '1984' whilst describing the 'proles' (possibly from the word 'proletariat'). I felt that he might as well have been describing me as I have often thought my life to be quite uneventful and sheltered compared to some of my friends.
So, what better way to open up the mind and cast away prejudices than by travel?
The Train
Rakesh had resigned a month ago and I, a couple of weeks afterward. Gupta, however was yet to cast off his working–class chains. So, he almost missed the train. Rakesh and I considered 'punishing the ***tard' for being his usual un-punctual self by deserting him. We couldn't, because Gupta had the tickets.
When we boarded the train, we discovered, much to our annoyance, that Gupta's very expensive travel agent had reserved only two seats for the three of us. Rakesh sneaked away to the top berth and had it all to himself. Gupta and I had to share a berth for the night after a heated discussion on the possibilities of whose feet would be in whose mouth.
We woke up to the cries of "Chai" – I more, out of fear of being scalded by the hot containers which the vendors carried than anything else.
A train journey in India is one of the most enriching experiences anyone can have. The scenery is awe-inspiring and the train buzzes with life. The sight of a solitary tree in the middle of a field can move even a stone to poetry. Travel by train (preferably window – seat) is a great way to introspect and discover oneself.
Digression aside, we passed most of the morning reading books (I was reading '1984', Rakesh 'Catch -22', while Gupta had to be content with his economics textbook).
All of us downed chai after chai in the afternoon while Gupta and I listened to Bob Dylan – Of course, Rakesh had brought his own music as he strongly disapproved of the very broad category of 'stupid English music'.
One of the first major stops on the way was Nagpur. No, we did not buy oranges there!
Instead we sampled kachoris , while simultaneously avoiding a large number of inquisitive cows – yes, they wanted a share. I kept wondering what the poet Ogden Nash, who wrote "The cow is of a bovine ilk, One end is moo and the other milk" would say if he happened to see these cows.
We passed some time by thinking up politically incorrect remarks about every state we passed through. We spoke of the great 'Ghandi' at Sevagram and at Ballarshah, where we had the worst idlis ever, we made observations on why a south-indian dish had to be crucified so in the north. (Is Ballarshah above the Vindhyas, I wonder? Sorry to bring up the north-south divide but it's a pet topic).
What was comical was that Rakesh and Gupta tried to smoke a beedi every time the train stopped somewhere between stations, but they were always thwarted by the signal turning green at just the wrong moment. As they pondered a beedi-less day, I jostled with fellow passengers to re-charge my mobile phone. (Of course there was no queue near the re-charge point, for is not the railways a mobile version of India?) .
In the evening, we struck up a conversation with a man from Bangalore (Yes, you guessed it – he was working with an IT firm). He seemed convinced that we had been laid off due to the prevailing poor market conditions (the great depression of 2008 they ll call it in the future). So much for us telling him that we had resigned of our own accord and that we wanted to travel a great deal.
The rest of the journey was uneventful and we reached Delhi sometime in the mid-morning on our third day on the train."
Disclaimer:
Most of what is narrated here are experiences that are common to Rakesh and I. Have tried my best to bring in my own perspective on things.
"They were like the ant, which can see small objects but not large ones" says George Orwell in his classic work '1984' whilst describing the 'proles' (possibly from the word 'proletariat'). I felt that he might as well have been describing me as I have often thought my life to be quite uneventful and sheltered compared to some of my friends.
So, what better way to open up the mind and cast away prejudices than by travel?
The Train
Rakesh had resigned a month ago and I, a couple of weeks afterward. Gupta, however was yet to cast off his working–class chains. So, he almost missed the train. Rakesh and I considered 'punishing the ***tard' for being his usual un-punctual self by deserting him. We couldn't, because Gupta had the tickets.
When we boarded the train, we discovered, much to our annoyance, that Gupta's very expensive travel agent had reserved only two seats for the three of us. Rakesh sneaked away to the top berth and had it all to himself. Gupta and I had to share a berth for the night after a heated discussion on the possibilities of whose feet would be in whose mouth.
We woke up to the cries of "Chai" – I more, out of fear of being scalded by the hot containers which the vendors carried than anything else.
A train journey in India is one of the most enriching experiences anyone can have. The scenery is awe-inspiring and the train buzzes with life. The sight of a solitary tree in the middle of a field can move even a stone to poetry. Travel by train (preferably window – seat) is a great way to introspect and discover oneself.
Digression aside, we passed most of the morning reading books (I was reading '1984', Rakesh 'Catch -22', while Gupta had to be content with his economics textbook).
All of us downed chai after chai in the afternoon while Gupta and I listened to Bob Dylan – Of course, Rakesh had brought his own music as he strongly disapproved of the very broad category of 'stupid English music'.
One of the first major stops on the way was Nagpur. No, we did not buy oranges there!
Instead we sampled kachoris , while simultaneously avoiding a large number of inquisitive cows – yes, they wanted a share. I kept wondering what the poet Ogden Nash, who wrote "The cow is of a bovine ilk, One end is moo and the other milk" would say if he happened to see these cows.
We passed some time by thinking up politically incorrect remarks about every state we passed through. We spoke of the great 'Ghandi' at Sevagram and at Ballarshah, where we had the worst idlis ever, we made observations on why a south-indian dish had to be crucified so in the north. (Is Ballarshah above the Vindhyas, I wonder? Sorry to bring up the north-south divide but it's a pet topic).
What was comical was that Rakesh and Gupta tried to smoke a beedi every time the train stopped somewhere between stations, but they were always thwarted by the signal turning green at just the wrong moment. As they pondered a beedi-less day, I jostled with fellow passengers to re-charge my mobile phone. (Of course there was no queue near the re-charge point, for is not the railways a mobile version of India?) .
In the evening, we struck up a conversation with a man from Bangalore (Yes, you guessed it – he was working with an IT firm). He seemed convinced that we had been laid off due to the prevailing poor market conditions (the great depression of 2008 they ll call it in the future). So much for us telling him that we had resigned of our own accord and that we wanted to travel a great deal.
The rest of the journey was uneventful and we reached Delhi sometime in the mid-morning on our third day on the train."
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Yummy!!!! Food and Musings that go with it.....
It has been about 7 weeks on road for me now. So decided to put up a list of the best food/drink I have tasted so far. I wouldn't bother you guys with the gory and disgusting details of the stomach upsets I have been experiencing. So here goes the list in no particular order:
1) Karim's in Delhi - This mughalai place is run by the bloodline of Mughal Empire's official cooks. The food is absolutely tasty and rich. No visit to Delhi is complete without a visit to Karim's. But be careful not to over order.
2) Chats in Dehradun - The dahi vada balla masala I tasted in Dehradun's main street has got to be the best chats i have eaten in ages. Hot and Spicy - the best way to satisfy a proud Gowda tongue. The old man has stood right at that corner selling chats for more than 35 years now. It was so nice to see passersby greet him every now and then - the great small town charm.
3) Thapa Tea Stall in Massoorie - Balajee and I have become life long fans of Chai though that means compromising on our Dravidian principles a little. There is nothing like sipping on a hot cup of chai as you sit on the road side observing the street and watching the world go by. The chai at Thapa Tea Stall at Massoorie Bus Stand is one of the best I have tasted. Mood and atmosphere guaranteed with all the Sherpa porters that hang around there.
4) Channa Chat with Kulcha - Though Channa chat is popular in North India the best ones are found in Rishikesh and enjoyed best on the banks of River Ganga. Two Kulchas and Channa chat (prepared by taking Channa, potato, tomato, thinly sliced chilly, salt, pepper and two sauces into a leaf plate as wide as a palm and tossing it with cupped palms to mix them) for just Rs 10. Wholesome, tasty, cheap food - a traveller's delight.
5) India Coffee House, Shimla - One of the most mentionable places of Shimla is the Indian Coffee House. The atmosphere in the old building is fantastic with government officials, lawyers, tourists and travellers occupying the tables. I guess I just love old time charm. If ever in Shimla, don't miss the Indian Coffee House.
6) Gulab Jamoons, Shimla - In the middle bazaar of Shimla there is a quiet unassuming snack place with mounts of samosas, pakoras and a big frying pan full of Jamoons at the entrance. The Jamoons were so delicious that it inspired a quote by me - "If Indian Sweets were the commandments, Gulab Jamoon has to be Adultery."
7) Momos, McLeod Gang - Just outside the temple complex gate in McLeod Gang there are two Tibetan Ladies selling Momos on the road side. Just Rs 10 for 5 tasty steamed momos that go so well with the spicy sauce that they serve. The best part is to see the two ladies co-operating and dividing the customers equally among them which is a rarity in today's competitive greedy world.
8) Deer Park Kitchen, Bir - Deer Park is a green and ecological campus with focus on reducing the footprint on environment. So there is a zero waste kitchen that serves absolutely tasty and healthy meals. Now that is a rare combination. Deserts prepared from fruits grown in the garden are the best. Completing the circle is the great practice where guests have to clean their own dishes after their meals. It goes without saying that you won't get any food if you come outside of the meal time allotted. It is so refreshing to see people trying to do their bit for the environment when it is so easy to be cynical in this 'unchangeable world'.
1) Karim's in Delhi - This mughalai place is run by the bloodline of Mughal Empire's official cooks. The food is absolutely tasty and rich. No visit to Delhi is complete without a visit to Karim's. But be careful not to over order.
2) Chats in Dehradun - The dahi vada balla masala I tasted in Dehradun's main street has got to be the best chats i have eaten in ages. Hot and Spicy - the best way to satisfy a proud Gowda tongue. The old man has stood right at that corner selling chats for more than 35 years now. It was so nice to see passersby greet him every now and then - the great small town charm.
3) Thapa Tea Stall in Massoorie - Balajee and I have become life long fans of Chai though that means compromising on our Dravidian principles a little. There is nothing like sipping on a hot cup of chai as you sit on the road side observing the street and watching the world go by. The chai at Thapa Tea Stall at Massoorie Bus Stand is one of the best I have tasted. Mood and atmosphere guaranteed with all the Sherpa porters that hang around there.
4) Channa Chat with Kulcha - Though Channa chat is popular in North India the best ones are found in Rishikesh and enjoyed best on the banks of River Ganga. Two Kulchas and Channa chat (prepared by taking Channa, potato, tomato, thinly sliced chilly, salt, pepper and two sauces into a leaf plate as wide as a palm and tossing it with cupped palms to mix them) for just Rs 10. Wholesome, tasty, cheap food - a traveller's delight.
5) India Coffee House, Shimla - One of the most mentionable places of Shimla is the Indian Coffee House. The atmosphere in the old building is fantastic with government officials, lawyers, tourists and travellers occupying the tables. I guess I just love old time charm. If ever in Shimla, don't miss the Indian Coffee House.
6) Gulab Jamoons, Shimla - In the middle bazaar of Shimla there is a quiet unassuming snack place with mounts of samosas, pakoras and a big frying pan full of Jamoons at the entrance. The Jamoons were so delicious that it inspired a quote by me - "If Indian Sweets were the commandments, Gulab Jamoon has to be Adultery."
7) Momos, McLeod Gang - Just outside the temple complex gate in McLeod Gang there are two Tibetan Ladies selling Momos on the road side. Just Rs 10 for 5 tasty steamed momos that go so well with the spicy sauce that they serve. The best part is to see the two ladies co-operating and dividing the customers equally among them which is a rarity in today's competitive greedy world.
8) Deer Park Kitchen, Bir - Deer Park is a green and ecological campus with focus on reducing the footprint on environment. So there is a zero waste kitchen that serves absolutely tasty and healthy meals. Now that is a rare combination. Deserts prepared from fruits grown in the garden are the best. Completing the circle is the great practice where guests have to clean their own dishes after their meals. It goes without saying that you won't get any food if you come outside of the meal time allotted. It is so refreshing to see people trying to do their bit for the environment when it is so easy to be cynical in this 'unchangeable world'.
Tattapani - destroying identities
From Shimla Balajee and I headed to a serene quiet village called Tattapani which is about two hours from Shimla. The roads leading to the place were perilous to say the least. Narrow roads carved out of tall hills, which are of course covered with hills in all directions (not four, all). There is no room, or should I say inch, for mistakes on this road for it would mean ending up in the depths of the valley.
Tattapani was one of the most beautiful places I have been to. The River Sutlej flowing just about 50 feet from out hotel balcony, tall green hills all around, a tall majestic bridge over the river connecting two hills and an old defunct iron bridge behind it. This place is famous for the natural sulphur hot springs that are found on the river banks, hence the name Tattapani.
In the evening we settled for Chai at a tea shop and struck up a conversation with a group of villagers. There we learnt that a dam has been constructed upstream on river Sutlej and when they decided to open the dam, the lower half of the village will be submerged. So in about a year's time, there won't be any natural sulphur hot springs for the present river banks would be submerged.
For the 'economic progress of the country', read power for urban India, a village is paying a price - that of its identity. The name Taatapani would be meaningless, almost ridiculous, without natural hot springs there. How easily they are destroying the most important characteristic of a village. And this is the model that is being followed throughout India. Systematicaly destroying the character, soul, history and depths of a place for blind 'economic progress' that benefits a few.
Tattapani was one of the most beautiful places I have been to. The River Sutlej flowing just about 50 feet from out hotel balcony, tall green hills all around, a tall majestic bridge over the river connecting two hills and an old defunct iron bridge behind it. This place is famous for the natural sulphur hot springs that are found on the river banks, hence the name Tattapani.
In the evening we settled for Chai at a tea shop and struck up a conversation with a group of villagers. There we learnt that a dam has been constructed upstream on river Sutlej and when they decided to open the dam, the lower half of the village will be submerged. So in about a year's time, there won't be any natural sulphur hot springs for the present river banks would be submerged.
For the 'economic progress of the country', read power for urban India, a village is paying a price - that of its identity. The name Taatapani would be meaningless, almost ridiculous, without natural hot springs there. How easily they are destroying the most important characteristic of a village. And this is the model that is being followed throughout India. Systematicaly destroying the character, soul, history and depths of a place for blind 'economic progress' that benefits a few.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Shimla - History and Random....
I had always known Shimla only as a beautiful hill station. But I came to realise that it was also a historically significant place. Being the summer capital of The Raj Indian Empire, the entire administration of the Indian subcontinent was carried out from here.
One morning we visited the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies, which was formerly the Viceroy Lodge. About 13 British Viceroys governed the Indian subcontinent from this building during the summers. After independence it was the summer residence of the President until Dr S.Radhakrishnan donated the building to be an educational centre.
The guided tour of the building was very interesting and informative. I was in total awe of the conference hall when it was pointed out that this was the hall where The Indian National Leaders and The British Officers met and the decision to divide the land was taken in that very place. The table on which the documents were signed was also right there. It was quiet a strong place where such monumental historic decisions were made.
One of the most mentionable places of Shimla is the Indian Coffee House. Balajee and I enjoyed as many meals as possible in that charming old place. The atmosphere in the old building is fantastic with government officials, lawyers, tourists and travellers occupying the tables. I guess I just love old time charm. If ever in Shimla, don't miss the Indian Coffee House.
The main street is called The Mall road. But soon I realised that the city centre in every British built Hill Station is called the Mall road. I saw it in Massoorie, Dalhousie and Manali too. I read somewhere about a hill station in Pakistan with a Mall road. But I should say these roads have character and soul that the shallow Malls we have in our big cities don't.
One morning we visited the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies, which was formerly the Viceroy Lodge. About 13 British Viceroys governed the Indian subcontinent from this building during the summers. After independence it was the summer residence of the President until Dr S.Radhakrishnan donated the building to be an educational centre.
The guided tour of the building was very interesting and informative. I was in total awe of the conference hall when it was pointed out that this was the hall where The Indian National Leaders and The British Officers met and the decision to divide the land was taken in that very place. The table on which the documents were signed was also right there. It was quiet a strong place where such monumental historic decisions were made.
One of the most mentionable places of Shimla is the Indian Coffee House. Balajee and I enjoyed as many meals as possible in that charming old place. The atmosphere in the old building is fantastic with government officials, lawyers, tourists and travellers occupying the tables. I guess I just love old time charm. If ever in Shimla, don't miss the Indian Coffee House.
The main street is called The Mall road. But soon I realised that the city centre in every British built Hill Station is called the Mall road. I saw it in Massoorie, Dalhousie and Manali too. I read somewhere about a hill station in Pakistan with a Mall road. But I should say these roads have character and soul that the shallow Malls we have in our big cities don't.
Shimla - Walk in the nature.....
From Rishikesh, Balajee and I headed to Shimla after a brief, nothing to write about stop at Chandigarh. Shimla lived up to its reputation of a beautiful hill station.
One morning we set off on a walk trying to find a meadow based on the information in our guidebook. After about two kilometers down the main road, we turned left to a mud road and were soon in the woods. Tall pine trees covering us on all sides. At one point the canopy was so thick that I felt like it was late evening though it was a hot afternoon. We walked through a path next to a beautiful stream. We were surprised by a pleasant waterfall which was about 100 feet tall. The water peacefully fell on the rock and then slowly flowed down without splashing or any hurry. We continued walking down the valley enjoying great views, expecting the road to somehow lead us back to the main road. We went on and on and we seemed to be climbing down into the valley and there was no sign of the path joining back to the main road.
We knew we were in shit but we kept digging deeper. Luckily, we found a group of cow herding women who said the only way to go back to Shimla was turning around and taking the same path we took to come here. It sounded simlpe - take back the same path. But soon we realised (me for the nth time - my friends would know about the famous compass incident) that retracing your path in a forest is difficult work. I thought we had come down one straight path but when we headed back we began to see the path breaking into two at various points. At one point, when the path split into two again, we decided to take the one going down as we could hear the stream that we had passed on our way down. But after about 15 minutes, the path just ended at the stream, except somewhere much down the stream where we hadn't come before. So we retraced back and took the other branch. It was great relief when we finally saw the waterfall that we had passed in the morning. Now we could just go back to the city but we were dog-tired after all those hours of walking and the whole way back was uphill. We were practically dead by the time we reached the main road and we had two more kilometers of uphill walk left.
Back home in Bangalore I have given lifts to any and every stranger that asked for it with a pointed thumb. So I thought this was a good time to cash in on my karma credits and tried to get a lift. For the first ten minutes not a single vehicle passed. And later not a single vehicle stopped. Then came the police who chased us away from there (But we were very happy because it showed how beaten we looked :D). So we just pulled our beaten, tired and exhausted bodies back to the city. And I decided that there was nothing called Karma.
One morning we set off on a walk trying to find a meadow based on the information in our guidebook. After about two kilometers down the main road, we turned left to a mud road and were soon in the woods. Tall pine trees covering us on all sides. At one point the canopy was so thick that I felt like it was late evening though it was a hot afternoon. We walked through a path next to a beautiful stream. We were surprised by a pleasant waterfall which was about 100 feet tall. The water peacefully fell on the rock and then slowly flowed down without splashing or any hurry. We continued walking down the valley enjoying great views, expecting the road to somehow lead us back to the main road. We went on and on and we seemed to be climbing down into the valley and there was no sign of the path joining back to the main road.
We knew we were in shit but we kept digging deeper. Luckily, we found a group of cow herding women who said the only way to go back to Shimla was turning around and taking the same path we took to come here. It sounded simlpe - take back the same path. But soon we realised (me for the nth time - my friends would know about the famous compass incident) that retracing your path in a forest is difficult work. I thought we had come down one straight path but when we headed back we began to see the path breaking into two at various points. At one point, when the path split into two again, we decided to take the one going down as we could hear the stream that we had passed on our way down. But after about 15 minutes, the path just ended at the stream, except somewhere much down the stream where we hadn't come before. So we retraced back and took the other branch. It was great relief when we finally saw the waterfall that we had passed in the morning. Now we could just go back to the city but we were dog-tired after all those hours of walking and the whole way back was uphill. We were practically dead by the time we reached the main road and we had two more kilometers of uphill walk left.
Back home in Bangalore I have given lifts to any and every stranger that asked for it with a pointed thumb. So I thought this was a good time to cash in on my karma credits and tried to get a lift. For the first ten minutes not a single vehicle passed. And later not a single vehicle stopped. Then came the police who chased us away from there (But we were very happy because it showed how beaten we looked :D). So we just pulled our beaten, tired and exhausted bodies back to the city. And I decided that there was nothing called Karma.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Rantings of a Wannabe Socialist
Balajee and I stayed at the Omkarananda Ganga Sadan Ashram while we were in Rishikesh. The Ashram is situated on the banks of the River Ganga offering great views of the Ram Jhula bridge, the Ganga in all its fury,the temples on the other bank, green hills in the background etc. I spent hours and hours on the banks reading Shashi Tharoor's "The Elephant, The Tiger and The Cellphone". The self proclaimed rightist's views on urban development in India left me fuming.
Shashi Tharoor bluntly says Calcutta is finally on the path to development because "people are now dining in affluent restaurants". He is very happy with the model of development urban India is following. He should know that annual family holidays and visits for conferences do not suffice as enough experience to comment on the path the Indian Cities are taking. As an urban Indian from Bangalore, I can see the cultural denigration happening in the city. By culture I of course don't mean the traditional Hindu/Indian culture. Every city has a character, a soul and a depth which we seem to be continuously ignoring in out blind pursuit of economic 'progress'. To give a simple example - shopping malls and commercial complexes are becoming the only public or community spaces in Bangalore. The city is drowning itself in the gaudy of consumerism while happily ignoring (and even burdening with higher costs of living and real estate) the economically lower sections of the city. But Shashi Tharoor wouldn't mind as long as people are "dining in affluent restaurants."
He waxes eloquent about the great infrastructure at Bangalore's infosys Campus and says Infoscions have the best work environment. Does working 12 hours or more in a day qualify as the best work environment? An environment where a big part of the urban young seems to be living just for the weekends. An environment where the IT generation thinks taking kids to McDonald's on weekends is spending quality time with them. (Of course it is not just Infosys but most Indian and Multinational IT/ITES / BPO/KPO and the like companies.)
It has been rightly said the greater the materialistic choices in a society, lesser the rights. So as long as there are "18 restaurants" to choose your lunch from and "a world-class gym" (that you don't have time to use) in your office, don't bother about asking for labour rights like fixed working hours and fair Overtime allowances. Few argue that we can't complain about these things as we are a third world country and we need to be happy with the jobs (which give disposable income too!!) we have. But why should we let ourselves be slaves of the time in history and follow a "beggars can't be choosers" attitude? Why should we give up our lives in working, shopping and watching TV? But more and more people do not seem to understand this as , more and more people have made their jobs and incomes their lives.
Shashi Tharoor bluntly says Calcutta is finally on the path to development because "people are now dining in affluent restaurants". He is very happy with the model of development urban India is following. He should know that annual family holidays and visits for conferences do not suffice as enough experience to comment on the path the Indian Cities are taking. As an urban Indian from Bangalore, I can see the cultural denigration happening in the city. By culture I of course don't mean the traditional Hindu/Indian culture. Every city has a character, a soul and a depth which we seem to be continuously ignoring in out blind pursuit of economic 'progress'. To give a simple example - shopping malls and commercial complexes are becoming the only public or community spaces in Bangalore. The city is drowning itself in the gaudy of consumerism while happily ignoring (and even burdening with higher costs of living and real estate) the economically lower sections of the city. But Shashi Tharoor wouldn't mind as long as people are "dining in affluent restaurants."
He waxes eloquent about the great infrastructure at Bangalore's infosys Campus and says Infoscions have the best work environment. Does working 12 hours or more in a day qualify as the best work environment? An environment where a big part of the urban young seems to be living just for the weekends. An environment where the IT generation thinks taking kids to McDonald's on weekends is spending quality time with them. (Of course it is not just Infosys but most Indian and Multinational IT/ITES / BPO/KPO and the like companies.)
It has been rightly said the greater the materialistic choices in a society, lesser the rights. So as long as there are "18 restaurants" to choose your lunch from and "a world-class gym" (that you don't have time to use) in your office, don't bother about asking for labour rights like fixed working hours and fair Overtime allowances. Few argue that we can't complain about these things as we are a third world country and we need to be happy with the jobs (which give disposable income too!!) we have. But why should we let ourselves be slaves of the time in history and follow a "beggars can't be choosers" attitude? Why should we give up our lives in working, shopping and watching TV? But more and more people do not seem to understand this as , more and more people have made their jobs and incomes their lives.
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