Somewhere in Space

I don’t know if the earliest Chinese settlers in Hyderabad were Nanking, Peking or Haiking…but I do know that the years have removed many boundaries between fried rice, pulao and biryani. And the localisation of the original Chinese cuisine has been one that’s perhaps stopped just short of Kothmir and Curraypak.

I guess there is nothing wrong with that…it’s just a sacrilege…in fact I know many locals who came back from Kolkatta or even from China convinced that the local Hyderabadi brand of Chinese was more palatable even if not more authentic than its international counterpart.

And we grew up on a delicacy called American Chopsuey and our children swear by a Chinese Bandi run by a man called Pandu.

I guess, if you really think about it, almost all the cuisines that have evolved in and around Hyderabad have been victims of the malaise called localisation. I know for instance that Punjabi cooks in the early dhabas went out of their way to make their chicken preparations more suitable to the local palate. Similarly with Udipi food, Gujarati and Rajasthani…

Continental had been bombarded quite a few years back and perhaps that’s the origin of what Truffles Café so quaintly calls its Lalaguda Cuisine. And we even have an all veg Italian restaurant for Heaven’s sake!!!

But I am an eternal optimist. I hope and live with the hope that mankind will learn, and learn before it is too late that some things are best left unaltered. The latest concern is Greek Cuisine.

And for the latest on that front I stepped in behind the Blue Door.

One of my fondest hopes for this wonderfully Mediterranean Restaurant is the amazing belief that the promoter seems to have in engaging authentic, first generation Greek talent to stoke the fires in the kitchen and whip up stuff for his customers that’s as Greek as the Greeks themselves would have it. Plus when I hear that even most of the ingredients used are specially imported by the management, my heart swells.

So I am glad to see that in their impending Menu Change, they are looking at a Chicken Crepe that can adorn the bar as a Tapas…at a Greek Beef Salad that’s nutritiously green and cosmetically crunchy…at Prawns that are tempered and Beetroot that is not…

With main courses that are going to explore the chicken side of Risottos and desserts that are going to lay ice cream to rest on a bed of juicy wet orange cake…the fare is going to be on the better side of authentica. And I for one am looking forward to that original Greek Coffee and perhaps too the cathartic experience of smashing plates that I know has serious Greek connotations.

I just hope that Hyderabadis allow the original Greek flavour to remain in this restaurant otherwise the Mediterranean will soon change into the Bay of Bengal and the fake shawarma counters in the city will soon have Greek Kebab bandis running around alongside.

God Forbid!!!

You must have noticed this phenomenon often. An Inspector of Police draws up to a popular street corner, parks his motorbike under a tree and sets up in just a few seconds a kind of mini darbar, a semi-mobile court of sorts. The constables send errant cases to him or often just go and hand over the booty. There is a Challan Book that is obviously kept on the lap of the Inspector and is used as a threat to coerce payment of the bribe that helps citizens avoid huge fines, imprisonments or both.

And there is Discussion…a lot of it…the offenders use every trick in the book to try and walk out of the ‘trap’ without paying a ransom. The Police chap is unmoved. The begging and pleading gets even more desperate and hilarious. Still no softening on the Inspector’s side. People’s names are dropped…sometimes this works…more often it only spurs the eventual price up the spiral.

But hey hold it!!! There was an offence committed. An individual caught. Punishment has been prescribed and the Dosage is a given. Now where is the Discussion???

There are times in life when discussions are called for. And there are times when there simply isn’t the scope for discussion of any kind. The problem however is that where there is need for discussion, there is often silence. And where there is really no room for debate, a long discussion takes place.

Thinking of life from this perspective throws up several questions…Was Sajjan Singh guilty? The Sikhs have boiled over and we are still wondering. Did Rajiv Gandhi take a bribe or not? Mr. Q is dead and gone and we are still ‘discussing’ this. Was the Masjid demolition avoidable? Monsieur PVNR is history and we are still in discussions.

The street passes judgements in a jiffy and a whole country moves ahead on a premise..not always a promise. But discussions still crowd our minds. There is always ‘gunjayeesh’ for adjustment.

I don’t know about you but I think our quality of life will significantly improve if we debate and discuss what is necessary and firmly decide on other ‘non bailable’ issues.

You jump the signal. You pay a fine. You make a mistake. You pay the price. No discussion.

Discussion is necessary when there are at least points of view and both have some merit. Else just speak…and it should be done. Amen…

When you are a Foodie in Hyderabad you have to do justice to both the words that define you…or so it seems. Because while most of the foodies who collected displayed an amazing depth of knowledge about cooking, cuisine and food they also displayed the rather disappointing trait of arriving late for the event, or in fact not landing up at all.

It was a cheerful Sunday plan that brought us all together to the haloed precincts of the legendary Taj Mahal Hotel, Abids for a brilliant breakfast-brunch-lunch marathon hosted by Sri Chandrasekhar & Aditya of the Taj and their wonderful team – Mithun, Dinesh, Rajsekhar, Krishnamurthy and the rest.

The menu had been intimated to us so there were no surprises.

The Brunch Menu (Buffet) included Idly & Veg. Idly, Dosa  (Masala, Hara Bhara Dosa and Roast salad Dosa), Button Idly & Button Vada, Semiya Bath, Taj Mahal Special mini cutlet with special sauce, Rava Kesari and Tea/coffee.

The Lunch Menu (Thali) had been designed to include  a Welcome Drink: Special Butter Milk, Soup: Pacha Curry Soup, Starters: Masala vada & Gol Pakoda, Salad: Kosambari (Split Moong Dal), Dry Curry: Cabbage Green peas poriyal, Wet curry: Avial, Dal : Lemon Dal, Rice: Masala Sadam, Indian bread: Palak Poori, Sambar: Bhenda Bolgodel, Rasam: Pineapple Rasam, Desserts: White Pumpkin Halwa, Curd: Beetroot Dahi vada ,Plain Curd, Pickle: Vegetable Pickle and Accompaniments: Steamed Rice, Papad, Ghee.

What astounded us however was the extreme care and attention the hotel management took to make us feel welcome.

And what impressed us was the quality of food that announced itself with the very first cup of coffee that was served when we walked into the spacious and well laid out banquet hall. Avi, a born in Coimbatore Tamilian swore that this was the finest filter coffee he had had in Hyderabad, ever.

No wonder, because we later found out two things…one, that the man who actually made the coffee for us was from Chennai and the other, that the coffee powder used to make the filter coffee had been specially procured from Davangere from the same vendor who has been supplying the Taj from its very inception. This secret formula coffee powder is the reason why the coffee is so good and so consistent.

And this we found to our delight was also the reason why Taj Mahal food hasn’t changed in all these years.

Everybody and everything is just the same. Most of the staff have been with them for years. Almost all the vendors have been supplying items like oil right from the very start. The recipes are never compromised, the menus never allowed to take short cuts and the original, founding commitment of the management – providing quality food at affordable prices has been unwavering and the beacon that lit the path for the hotel’s success for more than 60 years.

The second generation owner of the hotel Mr. Chandrasekhar spent some quality time with the Foodies and regaled them with some memories and anecdotes. Excerpts from his very casual session can be seen by clicking on this link…http://youtu.be/fs1_ZOjyWPs

There was some discussion a few days back as to what the foodies could do between breakfast and lunch. The answer was provided in the shape of Mimicry Srinivos garu, a world famous Mimic and Ventriloquist whose experiments with Sound Magic and Sound Illusion have got him international acclaim. He kept us laughing, in wonderful spirits and with the help of an old man puppet described our morning experience from the smell of the saambar to the delicacy of the soup. He also proved that it was he and not Edward de Bono who first came up with the idea of describing a man who wore several hats…and he did that with the help of origami.

The event also gave the foodies to exchange notes about various specialty and signature dishes in Chennai, Vijayawada, Goa and so on…and we actually ended up considering not just a few day trip to Goa in August but also a trip to Dubai soon…

…in search of good taste, in search of foody heaven, in search of paradise…

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am as I unabashedly admit, pretty low on the ‘Intelligent’ scale. And when I am warned of an artsy-fartsy experience (even if it is film or theatre) I try to duck out of the event. But when you are invited by two very pretty ladies and promised a ringside view of a friend’s performance, you have very little choice but to go. And go I did to an exclusive Premier of Kiran Rao’s Ship of Theseus, a movie scripted and directed by Anand Gandhi.

I had seen the trailer online, and I had followed with interest the campaign promoting the film with a unique ‘Vote for your City’ Campaign but I just wasn’t prepared for what hit me as I took my first bite of Cinemax Popcorn.

From Frame One it was as if the camera had a mind of its own and was seeing the world in a random sequence of ‘search and find’ glances. The sounds were rapidly zeroed in wave forms that told stories without the aid of the visual. And I realized that I was slowly being blinded. I began to see life as the blind girl saw it…with my fingers, with my ears, with all my unmuted senses.

The eyes they say, speak volumes…but here was a girl who had to stop her eyes from speaking and let her rest do the talking…her arms, her hands, her shrugs, her swiveling head, her hesitant voice…the young lady made acting redundant. She was with her best friends, the camera and the director’s vision…and damned if she was going to let anyone else intrude.

And Faraz…in a role that could have been easily designed to be forgotten, he stepped in…and like a timely bookend, he stopped the narrative from meandering and gave the relationship between man and woman a strange kind of normalcy in a very abnormal state. And it was in his understatement that he proved that he had understood the dynamics of the part he was playing…so he just was…without trying to be. Even the peculiar accent that he has was allowed in, just to make sure that there was no obvious effort to ‘act’.

Now when it came to the part when the girl begins to relive the world with a new pair of eyes, the questions began to form…would she ever be the same again? was she better off not seeing? and so on…and my overspeed warning system kicked in and said…sit back, relax, enjoy…don’t try to analyze..

And I did just that…but found I was walking breathlessly alongside an unlikely friend, a monk who scorned a Ferrari and just skidded through life. But before alternative medicines and quick repartee could take over I got a call.

It was a client and I had to step into my role of Crisis Manager who acts like a Film Maker.

But yes, this is a ship I will have to sail in again. A cruise that I will have to complete…else the story will haunt me. And I so hate ghosts…

I have always admired Deccan Chronicle for its attitude and ‘never say die’ spirit. While in Karnataka the Deccan Herald folded over gently and surrendered to the Times blitzkrieg, DC in Andhra Pradesh has been giving the Times a good run for its money.

Deccan Chronicle advertising attitude too reeks of confidence, cheekiness and a very endearing flavor of rebellion…talk to me, not to my Mom…was a line that kicked off the aggressive DC Campaign many years ago…the Katrina Kaif hoardings simply carried forward the tone of voice with a nice echo of defiance.

So when a couple of days back the Times of India released an ad declaring that it had now displaced DC as the No. 1 English Newspaper in Hyderabad I was surprised yes, but I was already looking forward to the response that DC was sure to provide.

Because, let’s face it…while Times of India has been making inroads into the market for quite a while and Deccan Chronicle (the company) is going through a rough patch I can’t for a moment imagine that DC will someday be relegated to No. 2 position. The generation that believes that only Deccan Chronicle is an authentic local newspaper is still alive and kicking…and has yet to be outnumbered by the readers who come from out of town and may have misplaced loyalties.

But that’s just a sentimental knee jerk reaction. Forgive me for a momentary lapse of reason.

Let’s first look at DC’s full page response. It sums up everything that the newspaper represents…in just two alphabets

But after the applause, the admiration of the spirit and the laughing at the sheer cheek of it all, we need to pause and take stock of the situation.

I am by no means an expert at analyzing Media Figures collected after extensive research, nor am I qualified to pass judgments based on these reports. But the first thing that attracts your attention when you go past the smoke screens in both the ads is the fact that while TOI is quoting ABC (Audit Bureau of Circulation) figures, DC is falling back on the IRS (Indian Readership Survey) report. As obvious a case of comparing oranges to apples as I have seen.

But then common sense kicks in and we extrapolate…

Circulation is, as I am given to understand…the actual number of newspapers sold. Readership however, I am told is the number arrived at after assuming that every newspaper sold is possibly read by 4 or 5 readers. So if a newspaper says it sold 100 copies, it would be safe to assume that 4-500 people read it, and therefore are its effective audience.

While deviations are expected in any Research Report, when comparing one and the other, these exaggerations and aberrations normally cancel each other out in the final analysis.

So for the purpose of the argument let’s examine the figures quoted by each paper.

The Times of India talks of sales of 2, 53, 749 copies…and makes no mention of the corresponding DC figures.

Deccan Chronicle on the other hand talks of a readership of 4, 93, 000 compared to a TOI figure that they peg at 1, 42, 000 only.

Since comparative figures are available only in the Times case, I have to limit my exploration to only that newspaper.

If we accept the theory of multiple readership and allow a factor of x4 in the calculations…the readership as per ABC’s figures for the Times should be in the 10 lakh category…and as per IRS they should have sold only about 30, 000 copies in Hyderabad.

A general awareness of the market leads me to believe that however No.2 the Times may be in this region their sales are definitely more…much more than just 30, 000. The 10 lakh readership isn’t too bad…is much more believable…but in the absence of a corresponding DC figure it means nothing.

At the end I am forced to leave rationale, logic and exact figures etc. and conclude that on the face of it there is a tough fight going on…that DC seems to be leading…that DC still has an edge…

but more importantly DC still has the kick-ass spirit that makes it a local Dada so to speak and I wish DC and its team all the very best…just as I congratulate my TOI friends for a battle well fought…

and may the war continue…

Ok. I admit it. I spend too much time on Facebook. And you are right when you call me Facebook Obsessed. But damned if I will let you laugh when I say that my time on Facebook is partly an exercise in consumer research.

Don’t believe me? then read on…

Advertising is a Science. Go ahead…admit it. And it is a serious sub-set of Marketing. And Communication rules…and that is why they say Content is King!!!

The most effective Advertising Strategies are those born out of experiential wisdom and inspired by common day to day life examples. For instance, a child crying to ensure that it is fed…or that it attracts the attention of the mother is a phenomenon that brings together the complete circle of communication life. A Need is felt…a Desire is expressed…The Need is Recognized…the Desire Fulfilled…and thus are the threads of advertising woven around a demand-supply matrix and a target acquisition program that ensures that the circle is complete.

But I digress…I started off by objecting to my Facebooking being called a waste of time…I believe that it is as fulfilling and result oriented as body watching and is certainly as enlightening.

Take a look at the string of comments, a single post of mine generated.

What happened was that my younger daughter came up to me this morning and said…hey Dad, I feel like having some Cup Cakes…can you help? Being a ‘Food Critic’ and a Reviewer of many an outlet…more importantly, a personal friend of some of Hyderabad’s best bakeries, delis and eateries I could so easily have picked up the phone and ordered in or sent off my driver to a designated location and return forthwith with the item being demanded.

But NO…I threw it open to my Foodie Friends because they were perhaps cued in to some places more contemporary and more recent. Also I knew that a lot of them were home business professionals who dished out food of the most exotic kind to public on demand.

Within seconds of my putting up the post, suggestions began pouring in. One person said ‘A’ was the best option. Another asked me why I had not thought about ‘B’. Someone recommended ‘C’ and even included a photograph by way of testimonial. Yet others ran through the alphabet in their attempt to give me useful tips.

Till a friend (Aparna Karve) stepped in to the jungle with a very brief message…the message said ‘Call Unnati 0123456789 for the yummiest Cup Cakes ever.

Here was a classic advertising statement. Product Promise (yummiest Cup Cakes ever)…Relevance of Message (Answering my question in my domain)…and Action Point (Call Unnati 0123456789). My needs had been identified…I had expressed desire..a solution was suggested…with an immediate action point…the circle was truly complete.

As I went through the comments I saw that there were more lessons on offer. Everything from ‘Don’t Dos’ to examples of perception being quite different from reality.

Go through your Facebook Posts…carefully this time…and not just to click the Like Button…study the string…and patterns will begin to emerge…and then slowly, you will realize…that Facebooking is an education…and not an objectionable obsession…sorry I have to cut my blog short…I have to go and convince the wife that 1230pm is way past our bedtime…and she should spend some quality ‘non facebook’ time with me…after all even I have a few like buttons that need to be pressed

No it’s not what you think!!!

Yes, it has something to do with drinking. But before I reveal any more about my phobia, I think it’s only fair that I present my credentials so to speak.

I am one of those occasional drinkers, though in their innate wisdom, a few of my doctors and their nurses have labeled me as an alcoholic. The price of having a couple of drinks once or twice a week is that you get branded as a ‘boozard’…God Help Me…but it is an unfair world.

And it is a world that scarcely believes me when I announce that in the last 35 years that I have been drinking, I have been DRUNK on less than ten occasions. The first time I drank, was also the first time I got drunk. The last time I got drunk was when we shifted gears from an old boys reunion and slipped into a karaoke night and changed our diet from whisky to beer…and two frail young friends of my daughters had to carry me home.

The other time I distinctly remember getting drunk was at my wife’s cousin, father of the gorgeous siblings Tanya and Renu…Vijay Kumar’s house…when he was Commandant of the AP Special Police Battalion at Yousufguda, and he threw a party for his colleagues and a few friends. All I remember is that I had borrowed my brother-in-law’s car for the night and the only momentary touch with sanity and sobriety was when I stopped the car on the way back and asked my wife to drive.

Obviously there have been logical reasons for the drunkenness…it must have been a tiring day…or I was drinking on an empty stomach…or I was just not in a mood to imbibe…or it could have been what I drank.

You see, I am one of those guys who can put away a few whiskies (neat/on the rocks) without even taking a deep breath…except if the brand being served is Johnny Walker Red. One peg of this is enough to make me want to keep on walking.

Or if it is a Bacardi Breezer. Give me a bottle of that monster and I shall be singing lalala-labies within seconds. On the contrary, give me a few Bloody Maries and while I shall celebrate the birth of Jesus, our Lord in heaven…I shall remain stone cold sober…counting the bloody drinks on my neighbor’s hands when I have run out of fingers on mine.

So why am I scared of Pedhapally Kishan?

You see I have been told…and I sincerely believe…that any high that you get when you drink, is not the function of the liquor alone…a lot of environmental factors have a role to play in the intoxication game.

For example, during the days of prohibition, I had gone to Yanam on a shoot…and came back to Hyderabad with a couple of thousand sachets of Portugese Port Wine stuffed into the back of my Sumo and hidden by the equipment. Those were wonderful days when the freezer partied with sausages and the wine and we were just  hangers on.

We tried everything. Wine and Biryani. Wine and Avakaya annam. Wine and bread-omelette. Wine and idli-dosa. And of course, on many occasions…wine and more wine. But while I steered Port for many months I never went starboard or overboard

Not so a few years later when I realized that when the occasion was celebratory and the mood joyous and happy, red wine had a devastating effect on me…and I often landed up happy…but not drunk mind you, never drunk.

A few years back I met this friend of mine…Pedhapally Kishan…the face of Sula Wines in Hyderabad. And a very generous partner in many social and cultural events and get togethers. So we started getting chances to savor his bouquet of wines quite regularly.

And most of the occasions were celebrations of something or the other. So the combination of an inner spirit that dictated joy and the exquisite Sula Wine regularly began to make me heady and happy.

What I realized more recently however is that when I get happy I like to force happiness onto my friends…and often land up bullying them into doing something extremely random.

Ask my friend Khagin Varada and his wife Krishna who dropped in at the Goethe Zentrum ‘One Year at Banjara’ Celebrations to see some of my wife’s art pieces that were on display. Between the joy of seeing her art, seeing some of my films exhibited and the warm, loving mention of the ‘Marurs’ by the Centre Director Amita Desai…I was very happy.

And then came my friend…the Sula Man.

And my happiness switched into automatic pilot mode. I became a bully and forced poor Khagin to host a party at his wonderful apartment…NOW!!!

The evening was wonderful…the food from Sher-e-Punjab delicious. His flat was superb and a great time was had. But damned if I don’t owe him an apology. We not only imposed on his hospitality, raided his bar, attacked his well maintained flat, messed it up and even made his wife entertain us with her lovely renditions of old Geeta Dutt songs but we also started making plans for the next party…much to the horror of the hosts.

Those of you who know me will hopefully agree that I am the gentlest of giants in the worst of times. And that this boorish behavior is but an aberration.

Anyway I am convinced that I am a beast who prefers to walk on the quieter side of life. So what could it be that presses the switch that transforms me thus…it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that the villain in the piece is the glassfuls of red wine that I am consuming whenever there is a celebration, whenever I am feeling happy and most importantly whenever Pedhapally ‘Sula’ Kishan is around.

So what should I watch out for? Be careful when I am happy? Be cautious when I am celebrating? Or…be scared of Kishan