They joke about Englishmen always talking about the weather...It took me to get to England to realise why..Now I empathise, I also often catch myself talking about the weather...
The rains appeal to me a lot.. I remember, one of my English teachers in school, who taught me to romance the words, gave the class an excersise..She would say a word and you needed to find associations...the words would be abstract, what it rings in your mind had to be a concrete image...if she said yellow, then the person who said the egg yolk that i love to dip into in my bulls eye would get cheered while whoever said the traffic light or the sun would be smiled and tolerated...my moment of glory in class came when she said bliss...and my reply was a soak in the rain....Thats how I feel about rains...
Every time I post a status update with a mention of rain in it, my friends have started to chide me, saying 'Ohhh there she goes again with her rain talk...' And can't fault them, its true...When it thunders, the weather says things to me, when it drizzles, I feel nature is whining...when there is bright sunshine with the rains, my heart hums a merry tune...but all the pleasure stops the moment the rains turn rowdy and start to pelt heavily...I hate getting wet, hate getting dirty even more...The rain is pleasure so long as Im dry and sitting by the window, watching puddles form and little streams flow...Walking in the rain, and resembling a drenched cat is what my best buddy, Prachi loves, not me...
So...coming back to the weather...I have a theory why the English talk so much and so expansively about it...Imagine you are Peter and I'm Pam..We work in the same office, we have been meeting everyday for the past 30 years that we have worked together..you know where I live, who I live with, how I live and all that assorted crap that follows...Now there is one thing in our lives that change everyday, that give us some common topic to whine about every day...and that is..the weather..
And now imagine one more scenario...You are Jack desperately trying to open a conversation with this girl (me) you always see at the coffee shop, as you rush in and I rush out...So as you look around the room to find an excuse to talk to me, there plops out of your mouth...Hey, is this umbrella yours, and I say No...and You say, well then looks like you will sorely need one...Its going to rain badly you know..And I look at you with adoration for your intelligence and puppy love for your consideration...Deal done!!!
These are how I see scenarios develop...and when the variable is as unpredictable as the weather in England..which never bothers to play by the rules- like it shouldnt rain more than this in autumn or that there should be two more hours of sunshine this time of the year, but darn..dont know why the Sun refuses to work the scheduled hours - it makes for memorable conversations...
If in India, the weather update, is like an unwanted tag-along to news bulletins because some sponsor promised to pay for a 5 minute slot, in UK, it should easily be the most watched segment...People ensure they catch is as they bite into their toast before deciding to pick their umbrella on their way out...I also know some who have the BBC's weather link as a bookmark on their screen...How many weather possessed Indians do you know like that?
Its raining as I write with thunder peppering the atmosphere...Reminds me of this little romantic interlude I always imagine on a night like this...
Thunder grumbled to the Sky all night...
She heard him out patiently,
Silently sending out the clouds
Spreading them wide to muffle the argument
Now, the Sky is pensive and Thunder grumbling in his den..
Everytime I raise a fine point on cuisine, the problem is I try to drive it in with all the subtlety of a battering ram. But then I'm never allowed an easy point for, I have friends who love rubbing it in my face, that as an Indian I have no voice to complain.
For isn't Indian food all about 'over-cooking, masking the flavour of meat or vegetables totally with about a million masalas and then deep frying the rest of the stuff'....And even as I protest vehemently, I think to myself....pooris and pakodas we fry...the meat is always 'cooked till tender' in our careful lexicon...which means there is no concept of lightly tossing the meat on a skillet with the bare minimum flavours or seasoning...and we can put just about anything in about 5litres of oil and chilli powder and pickle it for posterity...if that's not all, we can kill just about anyone with diabetes with the amount of sugar and condensed milk we empty into our desserts...
Hmmm...that as it is...the reason why I'm willing to eat 'humble pie' is as follows...the friend, who I feel would gloat till he chokes, used to begin any conversation he ever had with me by asking me what I ate/ was having for breakfast/lunch/dinner. When I was in India, surrounded by everything that I gastronomically consider heavenly, I was of the opinion that food is merely for subsistence - ie, to give me enough energy to pull through a hard demanding day as a TV professional. Barring the occasional craving for something exotic, I would be hard pressed to remember wanting something specific for any meal... So asking me about what I ate, was like the most irrelevant, out of my interest area beginning to any conversation...and something I remember telling him quite pointedly too...
These days, he often smirks at my status updates on facebook or my tagline on google messenger...It's either about craving chai or wanting pakodas or missing something else specific in the wintry loneliness of Brighton...And while I would have protested till I turned blue before admitting it, for once I feel the 'devil needs to be given its due'...
For the past two days, I have been in a state of urgent want....for chaat...In fact, I was so sure I'd miss chaat so much that for nearly a week during my last month in Mumbai, all I had for dinner was assorted chaat....
If you haven't heard of panipuris and aloo chaats and ragda pattice and bhel puris...then there is a big chunk missing from the education your tastebuds deserve...
For those unfamiliar with Indian street food, chaat is as unhealthy as it comes...well, atleast most of it is....but the speed with which it can be slurped and the immense satisfaction it leaves the eater with, is unparalleled...most of the ingredients are deep fried, dunked in sweet and sour sauces and garnished with starchy yummy potatoes and sprinkled liberally with salt and spices...
and if potatoes are not the garnish, then they are the shallow-fried base for masala-infused lentils called chhole...Just writing about chaat makes me drool....
And then there is the pani puri...it's the simplest of them all....but in my book, the king of all chaats.....my chaat routine begins almost always with it...they are deep fried dough balls, the crust is lightly broken and filled with potatoes and other fillings, then dunked first in sweet date sauce and then dunked in tangy tamarind water before it is plopped into a bowl you hold...and as soon as the first one plops into your bowl, you gulp it down in one go and then drain the water that has escaped out of the dough ball into your bowl.....
There you go....I am having foodgasms....I empathise with my friend I considered loony...In fact, I think I have gone three degrees loonier than him....
I dream food, I crave food and when I manage to overcome the fierce pulls of laziness and inertia, I actually try to make some of it that I miss sorely in England...
But the water is different....the ingredients lack the smell of India...and then there is the sterile prettiness to England, that leaves me feeling a little cheated when I try to recreate the food orgy that India alone provides....
And now after writing this post, I have just managed to increase my craving for chaat by about ten notches....Talk about therapy boomeranging!!! Hmppppphhhhh......
