Showing posts with label bombay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bombay. Show all posts

Saturday, September 07, 2013

Back here, with new taste

For the whole of last month, I was in alien environments - but mostly comfortable, since this time I kept myself to the Indian cities of Bombay and Bangalore.

The first thing I did upon touching base was what I - being a Delhiite - had been desperately missing. Me and my Dilli-wallah dost P, share some things in common, this being one. With gang-rape being Delhi's favorite team sport, somebody might deduce that I'm talking about something degenerate.  Not really, unless you count fat-laden food as something degenerate. I had a plate of Chhole-Bhature to mark my arrival back home. The way it is programmed into the parietal lobe, Chhole Bhature could be the shock therapy to Delhi expats to restore their sanity.


Since this log has normally segued into food, let me do a quick best-of over the past month:

Bombay/Mumbai
* Berry Pulao (@ Britannia)
* Amrakhand
* Strawberry Yogurt
* Crab [in black pepper]
* Mutton Biryani {thanks NM}
* Cheese Tortillas (@ Shiv Sagar, Pune)
* Stuffed Capsicum
* Tahri

Bangalore/Bengaluru
* Steaks (@ The Only Place)
* Steaks (@ Thulp)
* Traditional kannada(?) chicken {thanks Mahesh}
* Dosa and filter coffee combo (all over the city)

I was also offered some delicious Hyderabadi food during my journey back. I don't know names of either of the two dishes, but one was something egg and the other was a variant of lemon rice. Both were worth gorging on, although the spicy overtones successfully corrupted my tummy (as anticipated).

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Delhi prostitutes

UPDATE: Prostitute at my doorstep.

Funny condensation filaments - that seemingly jut out from the fields along the R. Yamuna to my left - make a convex shield-sorts above me. I occasionally gaze up to collect and make whatever i can of this fascinating sight that reminds of aerodynamic flow, and pedal along, and eat some more of the road. Surprises to the common man returning home tired, as a cyclist zips by, whistling to signal his approach.

Surprises to this cyclist, as his eyes steal a scene from the city's underbelly: a couple of prostitutes (ugly and man-like, as be the norm), sticking out from the dense grassy growth along the road, not far from Akshardham (to think that religion and sex don't mix, hah!), seemingly fixing their rates with a couple of freight-auto-wallahs, one of whom looks a boy of mere 12 (but at least somebody's compensating for me by starting out early; 'maintaining the balance', as we say).

Insert King Crimson's choral verse to "Ladies of the Road" here:
All of you know that the girls of the road
Are like apples we stole in our youth.
All of you know that the girls of the road
Been around but are versed in the truth

Friday, September 04, 2009

City B

Weekend blogger - thats what I never intend to be. But change of events and geographies on my side have pushed me here today, posting something - long, long time after - on this Saturday.

City B slowly unravels, the dynamics are educational and quite redeeming. The social fracas of a different kind, the smiles of a new face, the mud splashes from a new road material, weekenders high on a different street food, rainwater from salty seas nearby; a city of shying sun and dominating clouds.

In the meantime, Velvet Underground's "Perfect Day" (of Trainspotting fame) has become the most endearing song in recent months, and the grinder that 'Mixie Wale Sardarji' at Kingsway Camp fixed for me has become my favorite (and only) kitchen tool, giving me banana shakes day after day.