Something really pretty happened here

Friends who work together and live together often forget to hang out with each other. So Takloo and I just left. We left the city in the midst of chaos. The chaos of finishing work in its last two weeks, the chaos of packing up the house we are so emotionally attached to, the chaos of our emotions. We left the madness of this noisy city to hang out with each other in Kochi.

Totally unprepared. Without an itinerary. So unprepared that I kept wanting to go to a cyber cafe to at least find the right places to eat.

The paranoia of missing out on good food.

Our modus operandi in this dire state was to just grab each and every tourist brochure that came our way and quickly screen through it to remember some, if not all, of the recommended places to visit (to eat) We felt so rushed. So much to do in four days. Not knowing where to start. Stop.

Kochi at first was a little disappointing. The spice market we went to, the beach we saw was nothing like the pictures we had in mind. Mental pictures are often photoshopped. But we are hopeful travelers. It started to grow on us, slowly, as we spent more time with it, as the sun signaled to set, as the evening breeze floated on water and the magic of the night took over. Its like we got over our photoshopped expectations and something started to happen!

Fort Cochi was our first stop. It is not a fort. Its an island of sorts connected to Ernakulam by a 10 rupee ferry ride, known for its huge Chinese nets meant for small fish fishing. Made in the 1840s, these nets are a major tourist attraction. Lots of people come here to watch the sunset. But the trick is to come here after the sun sets, evading the shadiness of the night, to hear the water and watch the light ripple from afar. The trick is to trip on your trip.

The trick is to walk down the Princess Street just when the night has taken over, when gorgeous stars hang from small arched doors, from old archaic dutch balconies, with the lights and shadows of closed antique shop windows - the trick is to walk and explore - and once tired to sit at the Loafers' corners - cafe on the first floor which allows you to watch the entire street (through old dying windows) and watch the purposeless tourists move  about - and the trick is to do this while sipping a good cup of coffee or while stealing Takloo's well ordered banana milk shake!

Yes the trick is to discover a walk. And in the walk discover quaint shops (we found one selling stationary made from elephant poop), and buy a filter less Charminar and smell the streets perfumed with Kerala oils. The trick is to walk through a spice market and for once really know what a walk in a spice market feels like (in your nose, in all your senses) as described in one of those novels. The trick is to enter the Dutch museum and find the prettiest ever wall paintings in natural dyes, to notice the greens of the hands and feet and find a pattern, and to slowly move away to find another pattern.

The most important thing to do is to do the backwaters. Tak and I were picked up from a folk and theatre museum in a yellow minibus which took us 45 min outside the city to Viacom. And this is where we found some magic. A small row boat took us through small canals and riverlets by small villages. We met the trees, the birds, the weeds, the ducks, the fishermen and found the palms hiding the sky from us. Suddenly someone made some noises and a young man wearing his mundu came to give us two bottles full of toddy. Then we floated on toddy, streamed under small water bridges and saw some green and some brown and more green and more brown!

Then we moved to the glamour of a big house boat and sailed on Vembanadu to find a boat man sing to us from afar, and to find a man bathing fearlessly in the deep and have a fisherman's wife cook hot baby mussels with coconut. The backwaters are not like the photoshopped photographs. They are far more magnificent and deep and serene and hued and calming than we can imagine.

Since food is important. One last thing I'll tell you about is the Ceylon Bake house. I actually found the best place to eat in the city. They served us karimeen masala, roasted prawns, fried fish, parontha and idliappam. Absolutely brilliant! And arguably cheaper than any of the fancy places in Fort Kochi or Mattancherry. This place is beautifully modest and sincere. Nothing fancy shwancy except for the food. The ambience is simple, shockingly plain, the mood is nothing extraordinary. You come, you eat, you love it and you leave. Full and satisfied. Maybe the reason I liked  it so much is because its glamour and fame has not gone to its head.

We did so much and saw so much and ate so much! So overwhelming in such a short trip. The art of not doing anything while doing some things. The art of finding an itinerary which flowed so beautifully. So effortlessly. We are all such artists!

And it ended with a perfect train journey. With a long train journey up the west coast. So long that it threatened to get tedious. But stopped just when we had soaked it all in.

Now I'm back to the madness, to a city I'm going to leave. Wish me luck!

Eating is Exploring

The paranoia of leaving a city.

The paranoia of returning to a city.

I feel I haven't explored Bombay yet and I am leaving in a month. 

And eating is exploring.

On a lazy Monday morning my friends came up with the idea of bunking work and going to town (or South Bombay or as TOI calls it SoBo) to explore some new and some really old (the ones we know of but never land up going to) places to eat. We landed at Britania and Co. in Ballard Estaste.

This restaurant from the 1920s has not been touched up. A small space with black chairs, it is tabled with Kayani like red and white checked clothes, has worn out walls and open shelves for inventory, an open counter and menus stuck to table tops. An old wooden staircase in one corner takes you to an open indoor balcony with table fans attached to its ledge.

We pretty girls were asked to sit wherever we liked. We looked through the simple menu and before we knew, an old man in his 90s was standing at our table. 'Girls are you ready to place your order?', 'Yes please', 'Then I'm ready to take your order.'  We casually accepted the surprise. We knew what we wanted. 

Sali Boti, Berry Pulav, Dhan Saak, Rotli and Caramel Custard for dessert. 'Sir, what would you suggest for drinks?'. Pointing at the menu he replied, 'I would suggest our special Fresh Lime Soda Salt-Sweet-To beat the Bombay Heat!' He was adorable. He was an instant hit with the young girls. He made us laugh. He also told us to 'Keep the boys out. Not kick them. Keep them!' 

Britania has character. It has style. It has a tint of the madness the Parsis are fondly accused of. In spite of its age, it has a freshness. And it has food. The best Parsi food I have had in the city. It blew our minds off. We kept regretting having over ordered but couldn't stop eating. We couldn't talk because we couldn't stop eating.

Open only between 11am and 4 pm, most of the regulars here were collared lawyers, coated corporates and foreigners. We were told the old Parsi owner carries a laminated picture of the British Queen in his pocket and is often found flashing it to British foreigners. He tells them to 'Bring back the Brits!' We were also told that many years ago, the same old man, used to keep his pet rooster on the main counter with him.

We spotted the a photo of the rooster on the notice board. We also spotted the rooster in their logo.

My favorite was the tag line above the rooster:

'There is no love bigger than the love for food'

How can I disagree!

Ps. At the lack of a camera, I stole a picture from the internet. Thank you Lucy Archibald

Nach na jane aangan taida!

Inspired by the flash mob video kiki shared with me (here), I shyly danced on the harbour line train today from Chembur to Vadala!
I was given a ginger toffee as consolation prize by an11 year old boy selling hair clips in the ladies compartment!
I love Bombay!

Weekender Girls

Once you start working, you have no choice but to find delights in weekend trips to a place reasonably close to your city. I wonder why in spite of having lived in Bombay for more than three years, I had not discovered Maharashtra's true potential. Especially in the magic that lies down the Konkan coast.

I learnt from my mistake and found myself planning the forth trip within Maharashtra this month. It was actually a matter of chance. Ms. Kiki Bakshi and I were looking for a mid point between our cities. Hence we arrived at Ganpatiphule, a religious place, about 25km by a ST bus ride from Ratnagiri. (Trivia: Ratnagiri is the home town of Madhuri Dixit, Sachin Tendulkar and Dawood Ibrahim - as shared by a rather sweet, sweet shop owner). Known for a big ass Ganpati Temple by the white sand beach, this place is easy to effortlessly fall in love with.

We fell in love.

The delights of having nothing to do!

So what does one do when there is nothing to do?

You sing. You sing to the sea, sprint a 100m race, chase tiny crabs, try cart wheels, bury things, bury each other, talk, laugh, feel silly, scream, stare at the dome like sky, yodel and scold the moon.

The science of silliness!

You feel silly. You tell yourself, honestly, that you are feeling silly. And then go a little crazy. Like nuts. Like two nutty nuts. (Two girls I know are experts at this. I am trying to get there!)

Beaching it 

So Bakshi and I found ourselves at the beach getting lost in the blurring horizon. For hours. To have an entire white sand beach with see-through waters entirely to yourself? How does it feel? How does it fee-eee-eeee-eeel? (Susheela Raman cover Like a rolling stone) No, we didn't feel like we ruled the world. We didn't rule the sea, the sand, the birds or the crabs in their little hole-homes. We felt like we were friends. Katti-Abba friends. Abba at the moment. We felt welcomed. We felt the warmth. We felt the cold in the breeze. We felt like we were their guests. We felt like we were let loose. We felt unrestricted. Full of fresh air, fresh thoughts, full of smiles and full of silliness. We felt so full!

A harmonica, a camera, a sun and a sunset! What were we missing? (though we did miss our dear little Bubbles) 

A swim. A swim with all our clothes on. A swim without any. 

So we swam. Jumped the waves, heard the water, watched the birds above us go home, we tasted salt. We floated like dead bodies which rose with the swelling sea belly. We swam in the oceanic blue, the glistening sun dipped blue, the metallic blue, the far away blue, the blue which smudged the skyline, the blue which made way for white soldier like waves. The white washed blue, the blue green blue, the aquatic blue, the purple blue. The blue of the ocean that refuses to just be itself. And we jumped the waves, chased the waves, waved at the waves  and danced like sea ballerinas, we fell, we swam, we sang and spluttered and splattered and laughtered! We laughtered our silliness!

And we did all this while watching the sky change on us, the sea change on us and grow on us. We did this while the night took over, while the stars twinkled one by one and the moon calmly took over the glamour.We got lost in the pitch of darkness, in the quite of the air, in the noise of the sea, in a place where the far away lamp lights tried in vain to reach us.

We talked. At times. 

Sometimes the over celebrated sunset is too pretty for any words, any lens or any song.
You just have to see it.
You have to sea it!

But we didn't see the famous Ganpathi temple after all. 

Among other things:

A fort, a jetty, a self proclaimed miraculous village museum, spasticated birds, a cinnamon tree, an exquisite auto ride, an all purpose kirana shop selling drum sticks, a perfect conqueror's picture, filter kapi, an exiled burmese king's palace, coconut water, some fish, some amul ice cream and some peace.

Apni nazaron mein gir jana

Things I have achieved in the last two weeks:

1. Got myself a back massage by a man at the local spa.
2. Got my ex to pay me the money he owed me from three years back.
3. Been to a electricity-less village on a night filled with a zillion stars
4. Sang my lungs out and completely lost my mind at the biggest music festival I have ever been to!

Maybe now I can rise in my eyes.