MAVALLI TIFFIN ROOM

This post was originally written by the author on August 16, 2010

I used to be a big fan (still am) of Malgudi Days the tele-series. I used to watch it in our 14 inch black and white TV, totally lost in the world of Swami and his friends. Going to Mavalli Tiffin Room (MTR) in Saturday reminded me of the 20th century of my childhood which is the sleeping nineties.

After finishing a round across an overcrowded lal bagh, my stomach begged for food and hence me and Prashanth went out in search for the famous MTR. MTR was started in 1924 and the owners have tried their level best to ensure that the customers know that it is a pretty old place. We were really disappointed to find that the entry doors were shut. There were groups of affluent people sitting in front of the door, waiting for it to open (which would be at 12:30), from almost half an hour before its time. It made me wonder about this mysterious looking, pre independence day building and its visible charm over the crowd outside. Two minutes before 12:30, a man wearing a veshti/mundu on a two wheeler came honking towards the entrance and shooed away the people sitting there, to park his vehicle. He had the air of a medieval Zamindar. He entered the building from the back entrance and opened the front gate of MTR like an emperor. In a total lack of direction, we followed the crowd which thronged inside to stand in a queue. Stepping inside MTR was like time travel. The place had minimal modern day elements. Even the tap at the washbasin looked as if it was made by a novice engineering student as a part of his workshop assignment. When it was our turn to pay, we were really surprised to find that the lunch would cost us Rs. 130 per head. “It better be good” was what my skeptic part of the brain said. But I had a feeling that it was going to be good.

We were ushered into a room inside a room inside a room… I lost the count, but the name of the restaurant started making sense. We were seated in a martial fashion on a table for eight(we were later on joined by an illad family). An attempt by Prashanth to seat himself at the place of his choice was foiled by a stout and bald veshti clad gentleman. In the meanwhile Prashanth apparently spotted a beautiful girl in the room just before the room we were in and he started acting stoned (he still cribs about moving one more room inside).

The meal started with grape juice. This was followed by carrot salad(I’m sure it has some other name) and a large quantity of chutney. The first round included dosa which were too yummy (better synonym unavailable) and so I had a second helping. After this I was served bisibele bath, a local cuisine of which I had been introduced through my PLCC(Programming Language and Compiler Construction) lecture slides. Usually I am not a big fan of any dish which has that tinge of brown which the bisibele bath served to me had. However I was mistaken and I loved it. In the meanwhile, people who served food (waiter sounds inappropriate) were hell bent on proving that they don’t give a damn about the 21st century pro-consumer crap. From avial in my payasam to water on my rice, I was in for a potpourri of brilliance. By now my plate had avial, rice, sambhar, halwa, payasam, beetroot dish and salad.

Time for a digression. When I was a kid and used to go to kerala at my grandmother’s, she used to serve rice to me and my brother with homemade ghee. It used to be … well yummy. One of the MTR people who served food poured a spoon of ghee on my rice( and water and avial and on everything in its trajectory). It was getting better every passing minute. When it was turn to eat rice, I thought of getting rid of my spoon (before the people who served food might ask me to) and eat it Indian style. By now my stomach was bulging out and my tongue was in a trance. When Rasam came, I couldn’t have faith on even MTR, because I am a chronic Rasam intolerant. By then end of rice, the tensile strength of my duodenum was under test. However it was followed by the inevitable(in south india) curd rice. On a normal day, I would have said “curd rice? Really?”. I usually find it difficult to understand how such a bland combination of mere rice and curd is staple food for millions. But well that day was no ordinary day and MTR gave me something more to hog on. By the time I finished the elaborate dessert ( paysam + halwa+ icecream), I was all smiles for the food. The exit from the building was even more interesting. We came down a flight of stairs and found ourselves in the middle of the kitchen. We found our way out, to be greeted by the Bangalore of 2010 all over again.

A Trite Life

Coming into the industry straight from a college was like waking up from a dream. The order in my life looks so anarchic to my normal sense. The fact that the whole day is already planned out, the foreknowledge of where I am gonna be in a particular hour(/minute/second) of the day, the fact that a Monday would surely follow a Friday, sooner than later, the fact that a Saturday and a Sunday also look the same from any other Saturday or Sunday, the ability of my mind to be able to observe a definite pattern in anything and everything out here, makes it all mundane. Being in college is similar to being in the wonderland of Alice. Every single day is new and unique with its own unique dose of pain and party. I guess lack of adventure is a part of growing up.

I Wonder

Being nostalgic makes one cheesy. So be it. Approaching a semester away from campus and then the realization of having one final semester on campus has made me ponder upon what it meant for my life to be a bitsian. Why a period of 4 years of life in a certain place has made an indelible change in my life like never before and perhaps never after.

I wonder whether anything else can be more festive in life than oasis, apogee or bosm. I wonder whether any other musical performance will be more ‘apna’ than our music night. I wonder whether lazing around anywhere else in the world be more exhilarating than in sky lawns. I wonder whether I would ever eat anything as ritually as maggi. I wonder whether I would be giving ‘doubs’ to anyone on a cycle ever again. I wonder whether I would ever grab an ice cream a day in summer. I wonder whether I would ever watch sitcoms all day and all night and all day again. I wonder whether I would ever be jobless enough to listen to “Welcome to hotel keralaphonia” over and over again till it is no longer funny. I wonder whether I would ever put a night out because of a power cut. I wonder whether I would ever run in a heavy downpour with my laptop on my back. I wonder whether I would ever sing with my friends, like retards in the middle of a street. I wonder whether I would ever be able to scare someone by telling him that I am gay. I wonder whether I would ever attend some friend’s course because the instructor was apparently funny. I wonder whether I would ever draw graffiti over my cupboard. I wonder whether I would be stinking with the smell of rotten maida, turpentine and insomnia. I wonder whether black thunder would ever haunt my morning routine. I wonder whether I would ever sleep in the middle of the road. I wonder whether I would ever dance (rather jump) like how I did when KK sang and euphoria crooned. I wonder whether I would ever be able to do anything more pointless than fighting over whether ‘A7’ has more search results than ‘C6’ on google. I wonder whether I would ever pour water over the floor to make the room cool. Oh there is so much to wonder at.

And why all this would never happen again is because we are growing old and we had our chance to live our life to the fullest. What made it an awesome experience were the people around here. A bunch of smart people with thwarted egos (failure in IIT-JEE) are an ideal kind of folks for a lifetime of memories preserved in some GBs of photographs. I can’t stop wondering though.

Kane and Abel

Disclaimer: The author of this blog considers himself a casual reader and claims to have a brain not any older than 20 and a half years. Hence the books being reviewed are done on their “value for time” criterion. There are certain handicaps about the author of the blog which the readers need to keep in mind. The writer is a mere engineering student and hasn’t read a single piece of Shakespeare in entirety, though he claims to have inherited the much needed sarcasm ( for any blog writer) from his few days in college.

KANE AND ABEL

Jeffrey Archer has produced bestsellers at an impressive rate. This particular novel was one of those which I wanted to lay my hand on since long.

BACKGROUND:

The setting for this novel is the times from early 20th century. A story of two individuals born on the same day, one( Kane) in an emerging nation called USA and the other ( Abel aka Wladek) in a less celebrated European country called Poland. The author has very gracefully stitched all the major incidents of the early 20th century and weaved the story of these two people around it. From the world wars to the great depression of 1929 and to rise of USA as a strong capitalist economy and even to the drowning of titanic, you are in for a wonderful ride of fiction in a non fictional setting.

PLOT:

Two people, born on the same day, in different parts of the world, in contrasting circumstances. One with a silver spoon stuck his throat, the other bleeding in the woods. The first half of the novel is the time before they encounter each other. One struggling from the pangs of the world war I , the other living his dream. William Kane grows up to become the chairman of one of the biggest bank of the United States, Abel Rosonovak becomes a minority stake holder in an upcoming hotel chain. Everything was going on fine till the Great Depression of 1929 hits the market and they encounter each other in an unpleasant way. What follows is a series of actions by both kane and abel to strike each other down.
The story boasts about many other characters which stay on for certain part of the story. From some generations before to some generations after, it can very well be summed up as combined biography of Kane and Abel.



WHY READ:

The novel takes you through the horrors of the world war and the heat of the boardrooms in an intriguing manner. As in his other pieces, Jeffrey Archer relies more on the twists of his story and high number of characters than over in depth description of the plot. What I likes most about this book was that it was fully in touch with the happenings of the then world. From the Nazis to the women, Wall street to gloated egos, one can relish popcorn while reading this.

WHY NOT:

One major weakness in the plot is the inadequate reason for the fight between Kane and Abel. In the middle the story goes through a point when everything is according to routine and nothing changes. Otherwise the story is pretty fast.

My RATING : 3.75/5

The scale is based on the markers given below:

0 -> My Electrical Sciences 1 text book
1 -> Read a railway notice board instead
2-> I can write better
3 -> Good
4 -> I strongly suggest you read this
5-> You are reading something in heaven.

Completing a moment

So often we miss an upbeat rythm or celtic music in the background to complete a moment. Was watching some parts of the movie metro and suddenly got into a nap of imagination.

Just imagine a band of musicians carrying mouth organ, a violin and an acoustic guitar following you everywhere waiting to complete a moment.

Imagine what if the drums start rolling and “highway to hell” starts playing in the midair as soon as we come out of our examination hall.

Or imagine the life falling into slow motion as soon as you hit a six in gully cricket.

Imagine the atmosphere change into sepia mode as soon as one starts recounting good old school days sitting with friends.

Imagine getting hold of a camera every time a kid gives a cute smile or when the sun just perfectly hides behind a cloud.

Moments come and go. Life splashes new colours almost everyday. Wish it rained whenever we felt like it, to make these colours the precise tinge of blue which makes our heart all nostalgic.

Sarcasm

It seems ages ago when i didn’t have anything sarcastic to say. Sarcasm has got woven into my system. When a simplest innocent statement like “hey look the stars are so bright”, would force me to say “Obviously, why else do u think celebrities are called stars”.

I don’t know what has caused this change. Whether it is the unending desire to make oneself above all worldly desires or a total monotony which has plagued my life. Dont know whether it really matters to me at all. The creative satisfaction in dismissing anything and everything said by anybody has made me numb. Feel like telling myself “ hey you forgot to add ‘comfortably’ before numb”.