Sherlock

Been having a bit of a pop-culture overdose lately. And I am not complaining.

Have read some, or parts of some, great graphic novels. Partly read some novels. Partly seen some TV series and movies. As you can tell, I have been distracted a lot.

But, one series I watched completely - it helped that the first season had just three 90-minute long episodes - has been Sherlock. It's a recent BBC series that's been renewed for the 2nd season too.

If you have ever liked the original Sherlock Holmes stories the least bit, and how could you not, then you ought to watch this modern retelling of the Holmes-Watson saga. Mycroft Holmes has a more prominent role than I recall from the original stories, and then there's the wicked Moriarty too, who makes his appearance in the final episode in a very inventive manner.

One of the first non-child stories I read was The Hound of the Baskervilles, when I was all of 7 years old. I remember sitting on the couch in our living room in the afternoon, alone in the house for all practical purposes as my 2 year old sister was fast asleep (parents were at work), and I kept looking over my shoulder for that beast to pounce on me. Been in love with Dr Doyle's stories since then.

Have seen several film and TV versions of the stories over the years, but none hits the spot as well as this newest BBC version.

Benedict Cumberbatch seems to have been born to play Holmes, and is more than ably aided by Martin Freeman's Watson. You might remember Freeman from that awkward Tim from the original The Office.

If for some reason you have put a restriction on yourself for watching just one TV series this year, do yourself a favor - watch Sherlock.

Zandu Balm

You know, when I first heard about Sonakshi Sinha making her debut with a Salman Khan starrer called Dabangg, my thought was - well, there goes another starlet. Didn't she learn anything from Sneha Ullal and Zarine Khan? And considering her brother made a rather forgettable debut, I didn't have much hopes from the other Shatru bhaiya offspring either. But the Bihari (and Sindhi) girl might just do us proud.

After having seen the trailers multiple times and having listened to Munni Badnaam Hui, I can't wait enough for September 10th, when it will be out. Of course, I should admit here that I absolutely loved Wanted and do think Salman Khan has the ability to carry off some really corny stuff (haven't seen Veer though, and have no intention to). But, the crazy thing is I don't even consider Dabangg, from what I have seen of it, to be in that same corny territory. Yes, it's going to be a full-blown masala movie. Yes, it will play to the gallery. Yes, people in single screen halls will throw coins at it (I hope they still do it). But, it reeks of such awesomeness.

And Sonakshi Sinha's smile is quite off the scales. As is her forehead.

I will kill Arbaaz Khan if this movie sucks.

Who the hell is John Roy Hill btw? Google says he is on Facebook, but it surely can't be the same man who apparently said - WHEN YOU LOSE THE FEAR OF DEATH, LIFE BEGINS

Tamarind Rice

I normally feel inspired enough to write here either when I am really happy or feeling really low. Thankfully it's happy right now. Of course, having read the post you would realize that it takes very little to make me really happy. Or really sad for that matter. Sometimes nothing at all.

The reason for my happiness right now is that I made some absolutely brilliant Puliyogare. It's tamarind rice from Karnataka, and even though I used the ready-made Puliyogare mix available in the market rather than preparing all the ingredients myself, it still feels great to make something so delicious in my kitchen.

And, I am also glad I used ghee instead of the oil the recipe on the back of the packet instructed. The best South Indian food ought to be had with ghee not some refined sunflower oil.

Even though the Wiki article says that it's meant to be had as a snack, it goes very well with bhindi (as I tried it last night) or shimla mirch ki sabzi (as I am trying tonight).

I have always felt that people living South of the Vindhyas have a better deal when it comes to food. Not only do they have the amazing variety of dishes from their respective states, most South Indian cities today seem to have restaurants that serve really good North Indian food too. And if you are in Hyderabad, you are living in culinary heaven. Because, according to me, the Hyderabadi Biryani is the epitome of Indian cuisine.

But, in the north, and by that I mean even in a city as cosmopolitan as Mumbai, one pines for a place that would serve a half-decent Bisi Bele Bath. North India's understanding of 'South Indian' food seems to be limited to a satisfying breakfast of idli-vada or masala dosa.

To be fair to some of the Udupi joints in Mumbai, and even in Delhi, they do serve some exquisite dosas, and even quite reasonably edible sambhars, but after having lived in Bangalore, I know they are not the real thing. The road-side minimal darshinis serve better stuff there. And even if the joints in Mumbai were authentic, I wish they would go beyond the basic idli-dosa stuff. There's so much more to food from every region in the South, which is largely lost on us uncouth Northies, who are wont to douse every thing in oil and garam masala.

Ok, I am being a little too unfair to North Indian food now. I know Bihari food (and am not even talking about Litti-Chokha) is quite something and so are dishes from other parts of North India, but it just gets my goose that finding good authentic food from the South is so difficult here. A good avial or meen moilee should not be so difficult to come by in this city, without having to shell out a large fraction of my salary on an upmarket fine dining restaurant!

Ah well, I'll get going with my Puliyogare then. Can't resist the inviting fragrance anymore.

Missing Topi

I have been wanting to make a post on the magazines I love reading, but like everything else I want to write about I get bored midway through the post and move on to something else.

But, I chanced upon this piece by Aatish Taseer in this week's Lounge, the HT Mint supplement that I am a huge fan of, and felt like writing about it. The piece as well as the weekly.

First about Lounge. It is by far the most intelligent supplement that any newspaper has in India. Considering that Mint is by far the most intelligent newspaper in India, it might not come as a surprise, but the wide range of topics Lounge covers, and the phenomenally great columnists it has on its menu, it deserves mention several times more. If nothing else, just the fact that a mainstream paper comes out with a weekly column that very often talks, very intelligently at that, about graphic novels must be a proof of how great it is.

And now coming to the piece itself, which is about the moderate Pakistan. It took me back to the short time I had spent there in the spring of 2006. Pakistan is a beautiful country, almost as much as India, and it is one of humankind's greatest tragedies that the two countries are not together. For we could have achieved so much more if we had not wasted so much time fighting each other.

It is also a waste because we are so alike. One story I love narrating is how my friends and I were having a great time talking to people around us in Urdu till the time we crossed the border at Wagah and came to India where we could not understand anything because everyone was talking in Punjabi.

Personally, walking around in Lahore, singing obscure Hindi film songs on the bus trip to and from NWFP with other students, enjoying some random gupp-baazi after the debates on the rain-soaked stairs of Ghulam Ishaq Khan Institute, even the abuse from that woman whom I accidentally dropped coke on during the bus trip back to Lahore - it all seems part of another world now. A world I miss every day, for I don't think I will ever get to go there again.

A world we are unfortunately doomed to see as foreign. When we could have been brothers.

Believe them when they tell you - 'Jine Lahore nai dekhya, o janmya nai'.

Ek Udaan

When I was in school in Iraq I had this classmate of mine whose mother was our English teacher. She was a decent teacher, but the reason I remember her now is because she used to slap her son in front of us in the class. It used to be painful seeing it. Her son, my friend, was quite intelligent, and not being so would not still be reason enough for that sort of cruelty, but I could never figure out why she would subject her son to such humiliation in front of his classmates. And the most harmless of things would prompt the beating. He would be so ashamed of his daily beatings in the morning that he would rarely come out to play in the evening with us. Even at that time, and we were just about 8-9 years old then, we could feel that she was unhappy with herself and that's why she would beat her son.

This came to me today after watching Udaan.

It's a beautiful film. Not the least for some of the best acting I have seen in a Hindi film in recent times. But also because it hit home in some way.

No, my parents were (are) much much better than Rohan's father in the film (who goes to rather unbelievable extents of cruelty), and I sometimes wish they were a little cruel, for it might just justify my craziness, and selfishness, but it hit home because unlike many of my friends from Delhi, Kolkata, Bangalore and Mumbai, I know what growing up in a place like Jamshedpur is.

Of course, Jamshedpur stands in for hundreds of small Indian towns where thousands of people dream and then give up. I have come to take for granted a lot of things I have been given in my life and am wont to forget that so many others I knew, a lot more talented, a lot more capable, will take up that dreary job in the factory, will get married, will have children and will hope to see their children achieve what they could not. And then their children would repeat the same thing, maybe move a notch higher if they are lucky, but still lead stifled lives.

Jamshedpur is actually a lot more happening than the movie portrays it to be. I had my first pizza there, way back in 1991. I grew up in a township about 80km from the place, and it used to represent a weekend of freedom when we would take a monthly trip to my aunt's place, having that fabulous south Indian breakfast at Anand restaurant in Bistupur, having lunch occasionally at Kwality, buying audio cassettes for the latest hits, buying a comic or novel at that small shop in the basement of Kamani Centre, going through the collection of Commando comics that my cousins had - Jamshedpur was almost like being in New York for someone growing in the backyard of Jharkhand.

Jamshedpur also represents the pain that preparing for JEE was the first time around (I moved to Kota after a failed first attempt, stopped living for 9 months, and cracked the exam). My Brilliant Tutorials centre was in the town and making those periodic trips to the place knowing that I would do badly in the mock tests, gradually losing all hope and confidence in my chance to get to an IIT, that perceived gateway to a life of prosperity - so many young students must go through that.

I wanted to take up Arts after Class X. Study Literature. Write. But, you see, I was good in studies. Science made more sense. But then, that's a story we have heard so often and is hardly worth talking about.

I also saw Inception this weekend. The movie will go on to become one of the most talked about movies of the year, if not of our generation. But I think Udaan is a better movie. It's about dreams we actually saw.

I love it when a film makes me go all crazy. That is what films are for.

Chicken marinated in rum and cooked in coconut milk

That's what I cooked for dinner tonight. Inspired by a Discovery Travel & Living show's episode on Caribbean food.

And it tastes beautiful. I modified the recipe a bit since I forgot to buy lemon-grass and made my own curry powder. I feel really proud, and sated tonight.

The recipe is something like this:

Take around 500 gm of boneless chicken, cut it into bite-sized pieces and add to a bowl with 2 tbsp white rum (I used Bacardi rum, not sure if that is the right one to use, but it turned out fine), 2 tbsp fresh lime juice and 2 tsp garlic paste/minced garlic. Mix the chicken pieces well with the rest of the contents.

Cover with that wrapping plastic sheet (can't recall exactly what it's called) and leave in the refrigerator for marinating for around 2 hours.

For cooking, chop one large-ish onion into fine pieces and add to 2 tbsp of heated oil. Saute on medium flame for 5 minutes or so. Add the chicken pieces and the liquid remaining in the bowl, cook till the pieces change color and turn soft.

Add 1 tbsp curry powder. Which in my case was made of cumin powder, coriander powder, a bit of turmeric, a bit of black pepper powder and some garam masala. And some salt.

Mix well, and then pour in around 150 ml of coconut milk. Cook for around 5 minutes till the chicken reaches the required softness.

Serve with steamed rice.

And fly.

Two films and a soundtrack

There are these green, very green, oasis-like days in a life pretty much dry, brown, desert-like that make you thankful for being alive.

I saw two brilliant movies today and listened to a soundtrack that just blew me away, and I just had to write here about them.

I read the Ebert review on Shutter Island immediately after the film was over and was pleased to see that he also noticed the similarity with King Kong in the first scene. The sense of foreboding as the boat approaches the island, those amazing camera shots set the piece just right. A beautiful movie. It gives me goosebumps to see that someone as feted as Scorsese still loves being a child so much. I wish I could meet him some day.

The other movie I saw today was Toy Story 3. Apart from my persistent fascination with how Pixar keeps throwing trumps every year, I also loved a very personal chord that this film touched. That feeling of leaving the familiar environs of the place you went to school at, for college, has never been portrayed better anywhere else. I miss those days badly - the luxury to waste time. Things changed so much after I left for Delhi.

But, the best part of the day was listening to the soundtrack of Udaan. This is such a mind-blowing compilation that I felt guilty for having downloaded the album off the net. I am going to buy a CD of the songs soon. And I really look forward to the film, coming out on July 16. A film with songs like these can't be worth not seeing. A film-maker with music sense like this is worth looking out for.

To repeat what I just told a friend of mine on GTalk, Amit Trivedi is the new Rahman. In fact, I almost look forward to his new tracks now more eagerly than I do Rahman's. There surely can't be a bigger compliment.

Meetha Sa Chadha Hai Bukhaar...

Does it happen to you that a song that you heard some time back hits you suddenly in as mad a rush as the Mumbai rains?

It happens to me.

Very often.

I am not an expert on the intricacies of what constitutes a great song, but I do fall in love with songs once in a while. Like people tend to fall in love with other people for no rhyme or reason.

And then I fall out of love. As people tend to do. For no rhyme and reason again.

These days I am in love, for no reason I can explain, with O Pardesi from DevD. It's a beautiful sultry song that asks me to make love with it every time I hear it. I have multiple orgasms listening to it, and I keep playing it in an infinite loop on my iPod Touch.

I don't even dare to watch the clip from the film on YouTube for I am afraid I might die of happiness.

Ok, it's been 10 minutes since I listened to the song, and I need to get back for my fix now.

Nainon mein sapne hajaar, and all that...

Nihari (and Butter Chicken) in Mumbai

I had made a memorable trip to Pakistan with college friends in 2006, and during our stay in Lahore, our host had helped us do a round of some of the best eating joints in the city. One of those memorable experiences included a breakfast of hot, soft Nihari and Khameeri Roti. A decidedly heavy meal, which still makes my mouth water on occasions.

Having spent a few years in Delhi, I also had the good fortune of trying out Nihari in the Jama Masjid area, but the less than clean environs do not encourage one to make frequent trips.

So, I had been looking for a long time for a clean eating joint that serves great Nihari - a dish very likely to figure among the top contenders when shortlisting a menu for gods.

And since I am writing all this here, it must be obvious that I have finally found a place like that in Mumbai.

The Lokhandwala outlet of Jaffer Bhai's Delhi Darbar does not have a seating arrangement yet, and I had to make a long pilgrimage from my flat in Goregaon East to the place and back before I could partake of the divine food, but it was all worth the trouble in the end.

The soft, succulent piece of meat accompanied with the delicious Khameer ki Roti made the one hour of combating Mumbai's weekend traffic a small price to pay.

And the gravy! The rich, thick gravy, sprinkled with green chillies, is not for the faint-hearted. A few hours after my lunch, I was already missing its taste.

The chicken biryani - one of the better ones I have had in Mumbai - and the shahi tukda - an absolute must after a good dum biryani - added to the beauty of the meal.

If you like (love) non-veg food, not having tried the Nihari at Jaffer Bhai's is unforgivable. The chain has outlets in other parts of Mumbai as well, where they also have full-fledged restaurants.

And this was on Saturday. I was back in Lokhandwala the next day. Their butter chicken is almost as memorable.

To think I still haven't tasted their Paya (which they make only in the evenings) and Khichda and so much else.

Rajneeti, and Aloo ka Bhujiya

Two things I think Rajneeti could have significantly improved upon were the editing and the dialogues.

The film felt unbearably long at times. In fact, when the interval sign came up on the screen, I could hear several people exclaim, "What, abhi interval hi hua hai!". But, one can excuse the length given the large number of important characters and so much happening between them. The Chopras took tens of episodes to cover the stretch of Mahabharat that this film covers in around 3 hours.

The dialogue, on the other hand, can't find refuge in any such excuse. Except for some rare moments of brilliance, I felt the dialogues did not pack the punch that the situations, the characters or the film itself deserved.

But, barring these small issues, and Arjun Rampal's wooden-ness (and even that seemed less wooden here), the film was a very enjoyable experience. Thankfully, I didn't go by Raja Sen's review and went ahead with the late night booking. I feel he was unnecessarily sarcastic and critical of a film that is a great watch not only because of the deliciously cruel and human characters it is populated with, but also the fun one has in drawing parallels with the original Mahabharat. Like Bharti's first son being born out of wedlock after a night spent with someone called Bhaskar, whom she worships like a God.

Raja Sen's review made me feel if he is being paid now to write reviews making fun of films, just as Nikhat Kazmi and Taran Adarsh seem to be in the pay of Bollywood to write glowing ones.

What I like about Prakash Jha's movies is this rawness that seeps through the frames. That rawness might seem to have dulled, with an out-of-place item number, where Katrina Kaif does her patented shimmying moves (you know, those ones where her hair is untied, blown by some unseen industrial size fan, she looks down, looks at you, smiles coyly?) almost providing the nadir of the man who started off with Daamul.

The traces of that rawness that are to be found here are deeply cherished. Even though chief-ministerial candidates getting down to shootouts and vindictive baseball bat sessions might seem far-fetched, the other bits of naked greed and ambition were extremely enjoyable. Especially considering that all happens within one family. So much for the Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham brand of cinema.

Even though Kalyug remains the best Mahabharat adaptation into modern life, Rajneeti does not do a tawdry job either. Any film that is well-made, largely well-paced and well-acted, and has almost no character, like Mahabharat, and like real life, completely fault-less, ought to be encouraged.

An experience with a film like this is like eating dal, bhaat and aloo ka bhujiya. It hits the right spot, even if the bhujiya might be a little too oily or the rice slightly under-cooked. Unlike most other good Hindi films today, which might be momentarily delicious like a pizza, but not what the body truly craves for.

***Spoiler Alert***

I did hope for a while that it would be revealed at the end that Indu was responsible for the death of Prithvi and Sarah - ek teer se do nishaane, getting the seat (CM's) and the meat (Ranbir's, if you may allow the rhyming) - maybe with the help of Brij. Draupadi and Krishna finally doing what they should have all those eons ago.

Also, Prakash Jha makes a Hitchcockian (or Ghai-an, if you prefer) cameo appearance towards the end of the film. Can't recall him doing that in any of his earlier films.