My mom and I have this queer collection of newspaper articles- important news, fun tidbits, zany ads, webpages and the best of our collection…reviews by food critics. Not five-star restaurants, but local ones, dabbas, old, quaint ones. We hardly visit five-star restaurants as they’re pricey and the food hardly fills quarter of our stomach [terrible for me because I’m a real glutton]
This review is of an old restaurant, called Pancham Puriwalla. It was a famous stall serving puri-bhaji about a century ago and was made into a proper restaurant much later….
We were hot and sweaty from that tiresome train ride. We were tightly packed like cola-cans in a crate. There was hardly any place to move! There were some old ladies selling their wares who were sitting at the mouth of the entrance. People entering the train kept tripping over them and falling on us.
We got down at V.T [ the last stop] and walked down to Pancham Puriwalla, peering at the dog-eared newspaper article about it for directions. A huge, rusty sign-board at the bend of the road caught our eye. There it was! teeming with men running about with red towels on their shoulders. Oh...You should have seen the place... I immediately rated it zero on ambience. It wasn’t well maintained. Old chairs and tables were strewn around the place. The place was as crowded as the train compartment.
“Errmmm” my mom cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable at the sight. One of the waiters, with a huge belly guided us up to the first floor. “There’s place here.” he explained. The first floor was not bad, [except for some sort of dicey looking, gigantic machine protruding from the wall] so, we took a seat, feeling somewhat relieved.
We were given a choice between three sorts of puris- plain, one filled with potato, another filled with a green vegetable; and three sorts of curries- potato curry with different vegetables to complement it. My mom chose the one with the least fat in it, and I did exactly the opposite. You can afford to go overboard sometimes. I mean, what’s life without food!
Within two minutes, our order arrived along with an additional bowl of two sorts of dal and a bowl of curds [each.] Those kind folks thought we were food critics or journalists [Yes! We do look like those crazy, adventurous sorts.] They even offered us their special pickle- one with whole mirchis [green chillies] with a tikka [spicy] coating over it. Hmmmmm….this was the best and most wholesome meal I’ve ever had in a restaurant. They deserved hundred points for the food and the quick service. The puris were huge, crisp and warm and the curries were the tastiest ever made. There was a perfect blend of spices and the right amount of salt, quite satiating for a glutton. And for dessert…. We had a super huge glass of fresh lassi [butter-milk.]
I was so full by then; I thought I could roll down the steps.And believe it or not, the whole meal for the two of us came within forty bucks! Promising them that I would write a review, I left the place with good memories and a full stomach.
22 Dec 2006
21 Dec 2006
THE GIBBERING GRANNY
We were learning this 'hinglish' poem called 'A Farewell Party for Miss Puspa T.S.' two years ago, when we are asked to attempt a 'hinglish' poem ourselves. I wrote one about my grandmother [ajji], though she never attempts to speak in english [ her hindi is atrocious enough.] However she does pronounce 'skipping' as 'SPIKKING' and 'coca-cola' 'CHOCOCO LA'
Some instances, like the serious blunders she makes while calling the shopkeeper is translated from her conversations in Hindi. Through most of the poem, I've tried to imagine what blunders she'd make if she attempted to skep, I mean speak, english.
I'm not really proud of the poem. I wrote it two years ago and it seems very childish to me now. Nevertheless, read on....
P.S. I'd like to thank Ajji for taking this in good spirits....
“ONLY SLEEPING AND READING, EATING NOT COOKING,
RHEAA DARLING, WHEN YOU DOING YOUR SPIKKING?”
“READING BOOKS LIKE RAMAYANNA
AND AMAR CHITRA KATHA [ACTS PROUD]
RHEAA WOULD YOU LIKE CHOCOCO LA?”
“COULD YOU DO ME A FAVOUR?
TAKE IT, PLEASE OUT OF THE MICROWAY
THEN WE CAN ALL EAT THE CAGE.
GOOD, NOW KEEP THREE PLATES, TABLE,
DON’T DWEDDLE, BE ESTABLE.”
“BABY, SOME GUESTS ARE COMING, TAP, TAP [ON MY SHOULDER]
CAN YOU ORDER THE KATRI FROM THE SHOP?
OK,OK FINE, FINE , BUSY NO? CALLING MYSELF, NO TENSION,
“ HELLO, YES, I WANT A PACKET OF CHISPS, BEHIND, THREE PACKETS OF BUISUITS, BEHIND, PEDAS, IN PUSPA BHUVAN, 168, COLABA WEST, ROOM NO. TWO, FLOUR? COME UP WITH THE STUFF AND THEN I’LL GIVE FLOUR”
“ RHEAA DARLING, FOOD NOT COME YET,
WILL YOU HELP ME RULE THE LADOOS?”
NAMASTE, MR AND MRS. LOVEORWISHY, LETS SIT IN THE HOLE.
OH YES, FORGOT, THIS IS MY GRANDDAUGHTER,
EATING YOU FINISHED?
YOU KNOW, SHE LIKE ME,
SKEPING VERY GOOD ENGLISH.
Some instances, like the serious blunders she makes while calling the shopkeeper is translated from her conversations in Hindi. Through most of the poem, I've tried to imagine what blunders she'd make if she attempted to skep, I mean speak, english.
I'm not really proud of the poem. I wrote it two years ago and it seems very childish to me now. Nevertheless, read on....
P.S. I'd like to thank Ajji for taking this in good spirits....
“ONLY SLEEPING AND READING, EATING NOT COOKING,
RHEAA DARLING, WHEN YOU DOING YOUR SPIKKING?”
“READING BOOKS LIKE RAMAYANNA
AND AMAR CHITRA KATHA [ACTS PROUD]
RHEAA WOULD YOU LIKE CHOCOCO LA?”
“COULD YOU DO ME A FAVOUR?
TAKE IT, PLEASE OUT OF THE MICROWAY
THEN WE CAN ALL EAT THE CAGE.
GOOD, NOW KEEP THREE PLATES, TABLE,
DON’T DWEDDLE, BE ESTABLE.”
“BABY, SOME GUESTS ARE COMING, TAP, TAP [ON MY SHOULDER]
CAN YOU ORDER THE KATRI FROM THE SHOP?
OK,OK FINE, FINE , BUSY NO? CALLING MYSELF, NO TENSION,
“ HELLO, YES, I WANT A PACKET OF CHISPS, BEHIND, THREE PACKETS OF BUISUITS, BEHIND, PEDAS, IN PUSPA BHUVAN, 168, COLABA WEST, ROOM NO. TWO, FLOUR? COME UP WITH THE STUFF AND THEN I’LL GIVE FLOUR”
“ RHEAA DARLING, FOOD NOT COME YET,
WILL YOU HELP ME RULE THE LADOOS?”
NAMASTE, MR AND MRS. LOVEORWISHY, LETS SIT IN THE HOLE.
OH YES, FORGOT, THIS IS MY GRANDDAUGHTER,
EATING YOU FINISHED?
YOU KNOW, SHE LIKE ME,
SKEPING VERY GOOD ENGLISH.
JINGOIST JUICE
I despise boringly written projects, so, i try my best to spice up mine. we were given a project [we had to work in pairs] for which my partner and me had to write about patriotism. so... we came up with a juice...JINGOIST JUICE... that gives you a zing of patriotism.... here's the idea.
JINGOIST JUICE-
BECAUSE YOUR COUNTRY
NEEDS PATRIOTS LIKE YOU!
Jingoist Juice was made by Aishwarya Gupta and Rheaa Rao in the year 2005. It gives you a positive zing of patriotism. Jingoist juice is made of only the best willpower, determination, strength, sense to identify between what’s right and wrong and of course alertness which you need to be patriotic. Patriotism doesn’t just mean about behaving violently to protect your country but also about analyzing and solving the problems your country is facing.
Contents-
Fats- 0.03 mg
Proteins- 23.45 mg
Carbohydrates- 0.00 mg
Vitamins- 0.3 mg
Will power- 65 mg
Determination- 64 mg
Strength- 25 mg
Alertness- 55 mg
Sense- 50 mg
This bottle contains one litre of the juice.
One sip every week will give you the ability to speak beautifully and meaningfully about patriotism. [ popular during elections]
Two sips every week will give you the abitlity to fight for your country
[ in case of wars]
So hurry! Be the next Bhagat Singh or Jawaharlal Nehru.
JINGOIST JUICE-
BECAUSE YOUR COUNTRY
NEEDS PATRIOTS LIKE YOU!
Jingoist Juice was made by Aishwarya Gupta and Rheaa Rao in the year 2005. It gives you a positive zing of patriotism. Jingoist juice is made of only the best willpower, determination, strength, sense to identify between what’s right and wrong and of course alertness which you need to be patriotic. Patriotism doesn’t just mean about behaving violently to protect your country but also about analyzing and solving the problems your country is facing.
Contents-
Fats- 0.03 mg
Proteins- 23.45 mg
Carbohydrates- 0.00 mg
Vitamins- 0.3 mg
Will power- 65 mg
Determination- 64 mg
Strength- 25 mg
Alertness- 55 mg
Sense- 50 mg
This bottle contains one litre of the juice.
One sip every week will give you the ability to speak beautifully and meaningfully about patriotism. [ popular during elections]
Two sips every week will give you the abitlity to fight for your country
[ in case of wars]
So hurry! Be the next Bhagat Singh or Jawaharlal Nehru.
HARI ( my two year old adorable pup)
"Groan!" all my friends would say when they visit my blog. "Hari is the only thing you can talk about!" [ my exasperated bus friends have threatened to beat me up if I continue to talk about him.]
But, since I have no sibling and I'm still a child with a lot of imagination, Hari is my only companion at home. He seldom barks. He emotes only with his expressions. His ears cock up, his eyes become small, emphasizing his huge, wet, billowing nose. yes! he's quite, but he seems to say a lot, and believe me, its fun making up dialogues for poor Hari when he's busy making funny faces. Then, again, he'd be awfully annoying if he knew how to speak [ more annoying and idiotic than he already is, that is]
Anyway, the short story you'll read bellow is the shortest thing Ive ever written about Hari. Its good those competition holders set a word limit, or else me and the other dog lunatics could have gone on and on....
“Butter eyes, brownie skin, chocolate nose” is what I call him sometimes. His eyes are gleaming black and they shiver like soft butter hit by cyclone when anyone leaves. He stands with his soft golden- brown hair held tightly in a small tuft at the center of his chest; his black- chocolate nose billowed with pain and anguish as you dart towards the exit. That’s my two year old pup Hari, a total joker. He slips, slides and pulls the very cloth he’s standing on! He is a sight for sore eyes.
He’s a thief. He’ll steal anything from onions to undergarments and give it back in exchange for biscuits and kisses.
Once, he jumped up and snatched a cricket ball from a few panic-stricken boys. He strutted all over Sion with it, in great pride! He proudly marked his territory [peed] with the ball still in his mouth. He looked so comfortable with it, that a few stopped to stare at him, wondering if that ‘thing’ in his mouth was some sort of abnormal growth!
He then sniffed around to find a dry spot to poo [incidentally, he found one near the gates of a very posh building]. We finally got the upper hand; we realized that the poor boy would break his teeth if he held the ball firmly while applying pressure. He realized that too and… gave up!
I gave him a sly glace and grabbed the ball from near his feet. I threw it back at the boys, who were too tempted to throw it at Hari again and see his reaction…and they did! They never saw their ball again!
But, since I have no sibling and I'm still a child with a lot of imagination, Hari is my only companion at home. He seldom barks. He emotes only with his expressions. His ears cock up, his eyes become small, emphasizing his huge, wet, billowing nose. yes! he's quite, but he seems to say a lot, and believe me, its fun making up dialogues for poor Hari when he's busy making funny faces. Then, again, he'd be awfully annoying if he knew how to speak [ more annoying and idiotic than he already is, that is]
Anyway, the short story you'll read bellow is the shortest thing Ive ever written about Hari. Its good those competition holders set a word limit, or else me and the other dog lunatics could have gone on and on....
“Butter eyes, brownie skin, chocolate nose” is what I call him sometimes. His eyes are gleaming black and they shiver like soft butter hit by cyclone when anyone leaves. He stands with his soft golden- brown hair held tightly in a small tuft at the center of his chest; his black- chocolate nose billowed with pain and anguish as you dart towards the exit. That’s my two year old pup Hari, a total joker. He slips, slides and pulls the very cloth he’s standing on! He is a sight for sore eyes.
He’s a thief. He’ll steal anything from onions to undergarments and give it back in exchange for biscuits and kisses.
Once, he jumped up and snatched a cricket ball from a few panic-stricken boys. He strutted all over Sion with it, in great pride! He proudly marked his territory [peed] with the ball still in his mouth. He looked so comfortable with it, that a few stopped to stare at him, wondering if that ‘thing’ in his mouth was some sort of abnormal growth!
He then sniffed around to find a dry spot to poo [incidentally, he found one near the gates of a very posh building]. We finally got the upper hand; we realized that the poor boy would break his teeth if he held the ball firmly while applying pressure. He realized that too and… gave up!
I gave him a sly glace and grabbed the ball from near his feet. I threw it back at the boys, who were too tempted to throw it at Hari again and see his reaction…and they did! They never saw their ball again!
LOST LENSES......
This is a love story, but not an old, soppy, ordinary one. it involves a pair of lenses, a very proud crazy ball, a drain and an old mansion. I wrote this about 6 months back.....
Oh! The excitement when I was first put into my mistress’s eye. I was placed on the tip of her finger, and I immediately melted into a great, scary, black ball. My twin sister, Gitanjali, however, hesitated, toppled twice; and tested our owner’s patience to the maximum flexibility.
I’m sixteen now [a week old in the human world], I’m pretty, mature and strong [and adamant] I’m quite content with the eye and the spa [lens box] I’m kept in. I feast on pretty sights and lens solution [a delightful drink for lenses to beat the heat.] But one thing has changed my life forever. On Friday, my mistress was attending her classes, [Gitanjali and me are respected and praised there], when a small blue-green crazy ball hit her nose. She looked angry and humiliated when everyone laughed at her. Her nose became bulbous, like a male crocodile. Everyone laughed…except me. I was in love with this handsome crazy-ball! There was something about his speed, his confidence, his style that mesmerized me. The life that I was content with, now seemed fruitless and boring.
I uneasily shifted to corner. The eye watered, “ What do you think you are doing, miss? Barked the eyeball, “ Not once has your sister failed to perform her duty! And you? Don’t you have concern for your mistress?” he scolded me.
“Like hot fudge on a sundae, like dew on the rose petals so bright, I pine for my love, my handsome lord” I said, romantically.
“ And, who, I pray, is your love?” he asked, mockingly.
“ Dressed in blue and green armor, he hit our mistress gallantly, just a few minutes ago”
“ Gallantly? As if he was defending a nation! Gallantly! Huh! He was very haughty, and I suggest that you pay attention to your work, rather than pining for that idiot.”
I fell silent. There was no use of arguing with that stupidly stubborn eyeball, I thought. He is wrong and I am right! I went back to work, secretly resolving to run away tonight. I twinkled in excitement for the whole evening, though I was aware that it was troubling my mistress, who kept dabbing her eye every five minutes.
9:00 pm- dinner was done with, 10:00pm- I was going to be put in the spa. I impatiently moved from my place, I couldn’t wait THAT long! I took a deep breath… held on to the eyelashes and slowly crept out of my mistress’s eye and fell on to the floor. I moved slowly…if I were caught sneaking out, I would be put back into the lens box, for a few more tiring weeks. I floated on the smooth floor… oh! It was wonderful to be FREE! I hesitantly slipped down the drain…I had to go through a lot of tests to reach my true love!
The drain was dark, and hollow. It was stinking to the high seas. There was a very tiny outlet for me to get out. I saw a great finger feeling for me. Equipped with a torch and a frown, my mistress and her family searched for me, but in vain. I slid down the dirty pipe. “Aaagh” I screamed seeing a shimmery thing floating in the dirty water.
A pair of friendly eyes stared at me, “Hello, I’m Jahraan, who are you?”
“An-jali” I whispered, “Have you come in search of me?”
“ Great heavens, no!” he said, “I’m a runaway lens, like you. I’ve been living here for a long time. But, where are you off too, Anjali?”
I told him that I was trying to search for a drain leading to the first floor in Darbangha Mansion, to meet my love.
“I can take you there. I’m familiar with all the routes in this drain,” he said. He took me to my destination. Through the way we came across many perils, but he pulled me out of them. He saved me from a pair of grubby worms, a sharp needle and carried me across when the waters were very murky. Within a day I reached the abode of my love. “There you go,” he said sadly, helping me get out of the drain. “Thank you,” I said, delighted.
The rest was very easy. I slipped across many bathrooms and bedrooms, and there he was! My love! Bouncing up and down. I made my way towards him, ready to confess my love. He didn’t make an effort to stop; he just bounced over me to the other room. Attention seeking brat! I thought, but followed him nevertheless.
“My sweet love. My dear pretty one! I cannot say how much I love you. Do you love me, my dear?” he said. I was filled with happiness. Just then, a green marble rolled towards him, trampling me. “Oh! Yes my lord, I love you. But, if you want to be with me forever, you must roll, like me, and not bounce like an overexcited rabbit” she laughed, moving close to him. They moved away happily.
I felt lost, and empty. The eyeball was right. He was not worthy of my love. I couldn’t go back to my mistress, she wouldn’t recognize me. I made my way down the drain, reluctantly “ Hello” a very familiar voice said, “ Did you find him?” It was Jahraan! I told him my story. “What are you doing here?” I asked him, inquisitively. “ I just wanted to say, that… I love you,” he said, blushing. I looked at him, with joy. I felt a deep attachment towards him. My true friend… he was my soulmate…my true love. I gave him a tight hug. We lived together for many years, exploring new drains, new houses, living independently. I realized that everyone has a soulmate, but just doesn’t recognize him/her. The crazy ball loved the lady marble, and she loved him back. If it hadn’t been for him…if he hadn’t rejected me, I would have never found my true love…
Oh! The excitement when I was first put into my mistress’s eye. I was placed on the tip of her finger, and I immediately melted into a great, scary, black ball. My twin sister, Gitanjali, however, hesitated, toppled twice; and tested our owner’s patience to the maximum flexibility.
I’m sixteen now [a week old in the human world], I’m pretty, mature and strong [and adamant] I’m quite content with the eye and the spa [lens box] I’m kept in. I feast on pretty sights and lens solution [a delightful drink for lenses to beat the heat.] But one thing has changed my life forever. On Friday, my mistress was attending her classes, [Gitanjali and me are respected and praised there], when a small blue-green crazy ball hit her nose. She looked angry and humiliated when everyone laughed at her. Her nose became bulbous, like a male crocodile. Everyone laughed…except me. I was in love with this handsome crazy-ball! There was something about his speed, his confidence, his style that mesmerized me. The life that I was content with, now seemed fruitless and boring.
I uneasily shifted to corner. The eye watered, “ What do you think you are doing, miss? Barked the eyeball, “ Not once has your sister failed to perform her duty! And you? Don’t you have concern for your mistress?” he scolded me.
“Like hot fudge on a sundae, like dew on the rose petals so bright, I pine for my love, my handsome lord” I said, romantically.
“ And, who, I pray, is your love?” he asked, mockingly.
“ Dressed in blue and green armor, he hit our mistress gallantly, just a few minutes ago”
“ Gallantly? As if he was defending a nation! Gallantly! Huh! He was very haughty, and I suggest that you pay attention to your work, rather than pining for that idiot.”
I fell silent. There was no use of arguing with that stupidly stubborn eyeball, I thought. He is wrong and I am right! I went back to work, secretly resolving to run away tonight. I twinkled in excitement for the whole evening, though I was aware that it was troubling my mistress, who kept dabbing her eye every five minutes.
9:00 pm- dinner was done with, 10:00pm- I was going to be put in the spa. I impatiently moved from my place, I couldn’t wait THAT long! I took a deep breath… held on to the eyelashes and slowly crept out of my mistress’s eye and fell on to the floor. I moved slowly…if I were caught sneaking out, I would be put back into the lens box, for a few more tiring weeks. I floated on the smooth floor… oh! It was wonderful to be FREE! I hesitantly slipped down the drain…I had to go through a lot of tests to reach my true love!
The drain was dark, and hollow. It was stinking to the high seas. There was a very tiny outlet for me to get out. I saw a great finger feeling for me. Equipped with a torch and a frown, my mistress and her family searched for me, but in vain. I slid down the dirty pipe. “Aaagh” I screamed seeing a shimmery thing floating in the dirty water.
A pair of friendly eyes stared at me, “Hello, I’m Jahraan, who are you?”
“An-jali” I whispered, “Have you come in search of me?”
“ Great heavens, no!” he said, “I’m a runaway lens, like you. I’ve been living here for a long time. But, where are you off too, Anjali?”
I told him that I was trying to search for a drain leading to the first floor in Darbangha Mansion, to meet my love.
“I can take you there. I’m familiar with all the routes in this drain,” he said. He took me to my destination. Through the way we came across many perils, but he pulled me out of them. He saved me from a pair of grubby worms, a sharp needle and carried me across when the waters were very murky. Within a day I reached the abode of my love. “There you go,” he said sadly, helping me get out of the drain. “Thank you,” I said, delighted.
The rest was very easy. I slipped across many bathrooms and bedrooms, and there he was! My love! Bouncing up and down. I made my way towards him, ready to confess my love. He didn’t make an effort to stop; he just bounced over me to the other room. Attention seeking brat! I thought, but followed him nevertheless.
“My sweet love. My dear pretty one! I cannot say how much I love you. Do you love me, my dear?” he said. I was filled with happiness. Just then, a green marble rolled towards him, trampling me. “Oh! Yes my lord, I love you. But, if you want to be with me forever, you must roll, like me, and not bounce like an overexcited rabbit” she laughed, moving close to him. They moved away happily.
I felt lost, and empty. The eyeball was right. He was not worthy of my love. I couldn’t go back to my mistress, she wouldn’t recognize me. I made my way down the drain, reluctantly “ Hello” a very familiar voice said, “ Did you find him?” It was Jahraan! I told him my story. “What are you doing here?” I asked him, inquisitively. “ I just wanted to say, that… I love you,” he said, blushing. I looked at him, with joy. I felt a deep attachment towards him. My true friend… he was my soulmate…my true love. I gave him a tight hug. We lived together for many years, exploring new drains, new houses, living independently. I realized that everyone has a soulmate, but just doesn’t recognize him/her. The crazy ball loved the lady marble, and she loved him back. If it hadn’t been for him…if he hadn’t rejected me, I would have never found my true love…
Howdy folks...
Hiii... This is Rheaa Rao, the Emperess of Gibberish and Gab. Here you'll meet my noble subjects, an assortment of odd animals, wierd people, an idiotic dog [HARI!] and several queer abstract things [lenses, numbers] brought to life in my kingdom, each with their own thrilling tale to tell. Travel to faraway camps in crammed trains, visit resteraunts through my reviews and explore strange worlds with my subjects. Of course post in your own comments too.
ENJOY.....
ENJOY.....
-tolerable,tolkien-like teen
RHEAA RAO
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