Papad for Dummies!

Disclaimer : If you've ever cooked anything more complicated than a boiled egg, stop reading NOW and go search for a blog which will tell you how to REALLY make a Papad.

Ok, now that that is out of the way, I have something for Lijjat Papad. Maybe it's those old amateurish advertisements of the 90s, or maybe it's just me being obsessed with yet another "brand", but when I saw Lijjat Papad in an Indian supermarket in Berlin, I just knew I had to buy it. I wondered what Ma would say, well my guess is she would tell me it's not possible to make good Papad without "fire", or maybe she'll tell me it's beyond my cooking skills. Who cares, if worse comes to worst, it'll be eaten raw (after sheep cheese and stalked bhindi, this seems totally reasonable).

So, I actually ate 1/4th of it raw just to get a feel of things, and now that I'd tasted blood, I had to eat more. I quickly washed the dirty frying pan, and in my excitement didn't wipe it nicely (MISTAKE #1), just switched on the heat and placed the papad, which broke into two as I hurriedly tried to pull it out of the packet (MISTAKE #2) and waited with bated breath for it to "cook". I wasn't sure how much heat it needed so I started with minimum, and ended up 5 minutes later with a soggy, still raw Papad that looked nothing like any other Papad I'd ever eaten. Anger can drive you to craziness, and so I went from minimum to maximum with my hot plate (after all fire, which we make Papad on in India is pretty hot I told myself) [MISTAKE #3].

The results of Mistakes 1-3 are summarized in a photo below :



Sorry, I forgot something (the black spoon in the pic just reminded me). MISTAKE #4 was to try and invert the Papad with my hands (the maid at home has to be blamed for this, she never gets a damn burn!). As I ate this Papad, it was a sense of deja vu. The last time I felt like this was watching Drona in a cinema hall in Indore, and convincing myself that everything about it was just about perfect, till the very end.

Anger had now given way to despair, and I decided to make one last attempt at making a Papad (MISTAKE#5)

I debated for a moment about experimenting with oil, then gave up (Do I really want to clean an oily pan after making crappy Papad?) All I did was correct Mistakes 1-4 (Dry pan, carefully taken out round Papad, Medium heat, and no turning with hands) and the results are again summarized in a photo below :



The missing piece is just me being sure that taking another pic is gonna be worth it! Of course there are many things that might be wrong with this Papad and my second method as well, but at least it tasted like good old Papad. And didn't we say this was a Papad for Dummies blog? Go enjoy your Lijjat Papad, and post a comment so I know what how to make it even better next time!

PS - Isn't it cute that the picture (this is the packet I bought) still has the "kurram kurram karram karram" tagline and the same girl and rabbit? Some things should never change :)

एक अनोखी यात्रा

My flight from Delhi to Berlin via Vienna was rather uneventful and shorter than what I had anticipated, but the journey from Tegel Airport to my apartment in Triftstr on Sunday January 10th, 2010 was one that I shall never forget.

I had, of course done my homework and was not too concerned since my apartment was just 7-8 km from the Airport, and although it was snowing, I was convinced that paying 20 euros for a Taxi would be a complete waste when public transport would cost just 2 euros! The troubles started right at the airport, where I looked around desperately for Immigration to stamp my passport, blissfully unaware that the transit visa stamped at Vienna was enough for me to enter Germany. Finally a friendly cop and some fellow Indians convinced me that leaving the airport had no risk of deportation.

I gathered my 2 huge suitcases, and my laptop bag and confidently headed towards the bus stop right outside the airport (my notes told me that I needed to take the bus in the direction of Alexanderplatz) Wondering where to buy a ticket, I went to the help desk at the airport and got a 2,20 euro ticket which I was told would be good for both buses and trains for two hours but only in "one direction". Since I did not get the direction funda, I decided to confirm if my route was okay with this ticket, the guy at the counter said that it would be better if I took another bus and wrote down the number for me.

Meanwhile I conveniently forgot that taking this new bus meant that the route ahead would also change, and quickly jumped into the bus lest my "2 hour" limit get over! A friendly Indian in the bus also validated my ticket for me, the importance of which would dawn on me much later (having been caught with an unvalidated ticket in the train next week) Getting off at the correct stop, I suddenly panicked realizing that I did not know where to go next. Asking a couple of people didnt help because I didnt know then that Triftstraße was pronounced as Triftstrasse and not Triftstrabbe! As I was desperately going through my notes, an old gentleman on crutches said something to me. Panicky and desperate to reach home, I replied rather impatiently "Sorry, I speak only English." He smiled and said "I know, I asked if I could help you" (I really blame the guide I bought at the Delhi Airport for this, it said that only young people would be likely to speak English in Germany)

Embarrassed, I mumbled something like an apology and told him I wanted to go to "Triftstrabbe" He gave me a knowing smile and asked for my notes. "It is Triftstrasse, take the S Bahn (metro) to Wedding and you can walk from there" Thanking him profusely, I reached the S Bahn station, where I realized that I was on the "Ringbahn" and a wrong direction could mean a 45 minute longer transit time (and possibly an expired ticket!) Asking a fellow commuter resolved this issue in a few minutes. I was also very tired by now, and the two suitcases with the notebook were feeling heavier by the minute.

I consoled myself saying that it is the last stop, the walk cant be longer than 10 minutes. The escalator at the Wedding Station was out of order, and I took two trips to transfer 50 kgs of precious baggage out of the station. While the temperature was -15 degrees, I was yet to feel the brunt of it, courtesy 3 layers of thermals and sweaters and jackets which were forced on me during tearful goodbyes at Delhi Airport. Thankfully I have a mom who has her way with things, and so the only preparation that actually helped was the warm clothing!

The weather had gone from bad to worse meanwhile, and the strong winds, while unable to penetrate my mom's armor started stinging my eyes. The suitcases were stuck in thick layers of snow, my hands were numb from all the pulling, the street was deserted and I had no idea which direction to take. I decided that getting stuck in a snowstorm would qualify as an emergency and decided to call my Professor on his mobile for help or instructions. Trusting Vodafone was a BIG mistake, and inspite of a hefty payment I did not have International Roaming and my phone just refused to dial a single number.

I bravely mouthed a prayer and decided to head further on the main street, and after about 500 metres of walking and dragging my luggage for what felt like an eternity, I saw 2 friendly looking Indians! Almost hugging them, I quickly narrated my story and asked if they could help. Of course I had come in the opposite direction from the station, and the only option they said was to go back the same way that I came. Fortunately, they were going the same way and one of them even carried my laptop bag for a while. By this time, I was already worried about getting a frostbite and horrible Grey's Anatomy amputation jokes came to mind! Saying goodbye to the Indian Angels, I continued on my quest for glory at the next crossing. Now I had started taking breaks every 5 minutes, and the distance covered was minimal because of the thick snow blocking the wheels of my brand new Samsonite.

Knowing that just 200 metres were left, tired and exhausted like never before, I gave up; placing both suitcases on top of each other and sitting on them, enjoying the snowfall on the street. Two passer byes did not understand when I requested them to phone and call a taxi (I almost asked for an ambulance!) Another annoying fact was that I hadn't seen a single taxi after leaving the airport (this was always going to be my backup plan in case I got lost) After a 15 minute break, I got up again and continued to move at a snail's pace, both my suitcases in tow.

When I reached the apartment, I felt like Sholay's Thakur, and throwing all niceties to the wind, begged the concierge to carry my luggage to the 10th floor! I had no sense of time at all, and was rather surprised to know that I made it in just under 4 hours :)

PS - Thanks Aamir, All Izz Well actually helps!

Random Berlin Blunders!

1. First day at the Goethe Institute - Spending 5 minutes at a German class and pretending to fit in before having the courage to ask the teacher - Er....Is this level A1? (It was C2 - the native speaker level)

2. Asking a female colleague - Can I "du" you? (du = तू vs Sie = आप)

3. Asking my Professor why there was a "Nazis Stoppen" banner in the lobby of the University and who exactly needed to be stopped.

4. A taxi driver mistaking me for a mugger when I tried to enter through the wrong side

5. Trying to keep a straight face and answer if I bathe in the Ganges

6. Ok, this was priceless - Watching 2 Chinese girls walk up to me and an Asian friend and frantically asking him for directions in Chinese before he had a chance to say "Excuse me, I'm Korean!"

7. Opening a sparkling wine bottle for the first time on my birthday in our research group meeting and making a dent on the roof

8. Not knowing that a train ticket has to be validated and getting caught by the ticket checker

9. Hearing a Punjabi number in a cafe right in the heart of Berlin (there's a video!)

PS - Why doesnt anyone comment on my blog? For starters, how about picking your favourite from this list ;)

मैं और मेरी मातृभाषा

The transliteration tool is too dumb for me to complete this blog post in Hindi, but really - how long has it been since I wrote something, read a book, or even took an exam in Hindi!

While my short stay in Berlin is full of interesting (embarrassing?) anecdotes, and a blog is long overdue, I thought of writing something about, well a "native language identity crisis" (for lack of a better phrase!) that has afflicted me for some time now. Yang and Phil are friends that I made in my building (names changed!) a few weeks back, we hang out together sometimes in the cafe on weekends and have discussions on a wide variety of topics. Yang is in her early 20s and comes from South Korea, while Phil is in his late 20s and lives in Bavaria (Germany) Of course our native languages are Korean, German and Hindi(?) respectively, but most of our conversations are in English for obvious reasons.

I have always considered Hindi to be my first language in spite of the fact that I am a Maharashtrian, and I can speak decent Marathi; and I was rather disappointed when we stopped studying Hindi at school in the 10th grade (English was taught all the way till 12th grade) Medical College was all in English and there was a lot of John Grisham and Robin Cook along the way, but I cant remember reading anything by Premchand or Harvansh Rai Bachchan other than the small book chapters in School.

Yang finds this (and a lot of other stuff too, if I might add!) weird, and cant imagine growing up without reading books and novels in Korean. Phil agrees, and after a lengthy discussion "informs" me that my "native" language is English. Some of his arguments, and valid ones at that are strong enough for me to make an MS Office Table out of it


I have two problems with this - Firstly, my English is just not good enough for a "native"and secondly, I resent it. I might not have shown the same respect towards my native language as Yang and Phil, but well it's never too late!

I am asking my parents to gift me 'Madhushala' on my next Birthday!

BBW

Whoever made that law on Leg Before Wicket (LBW) , Stuart Broad obviously isn't too impressed...so he's gone a step further and created his own version of the law - Bat Before Wicket!

Well,at least that's the only way you can justify him going bonkers over this defensive push from Rohit Sharma,but whatever happened to Ravi Shastri! "That's close" "Two sounds" eh?

While Sehwag was banned for supposedly over appealing in South Africa , Broad gets away with just a warning from the Match Referee.Well , having a Match Referee for a father certainly isn't having any angelic effects on him , in fact ironically he says

"I would have been fined the whole match fee if he (Chris Broad) had been in charge"

PS - The reaction from the Indian bowlers is priceless!

Impeccable Ishant

If I die tomorrow,one thing I won't regret is that I got a chance to watch an Indian "fast" bowler knock the stuffing out of guys like Ponting and Clarke,supposedly born and brought up on fast pitches like the WACA.

With all due respect to Anil Kumble, in 15 years of seriously following Indian Cricket,not for once have I felt that an Indian bowler,even on his day and at his peak could run through a top batting side on any pitch in the world

Kumble has toiled and served Indian cricket, Srinath has, for long been the lone warrior in a "pace starved" country, Bhajji can bamboozle the best of batsmen on spin friendly wickets; Zaheer,when he reverse swings the old ball is lethal but Ishant is a class apart.His biggest strength I believe is that he swings the ball both ways at >140 kph, and gets movement with the new ball as well as the old one

Of course, with just 13 tests under his belt, he's got a long long way to go and match those illustrious names,but simply the sight of a tall Indian fast bowler terrorising teams like Australia and Pakistan, once the powerhouses of fast bowling is an awesome experience.

The fact that he is the first Indian fast bowler since Kapil Dev to pick up "Man of the Series" in a home series speaks for itself!

PS - Is it just me or does the sight of him bringing the ball back in into the right hander remind everyone of Courtney Walsh?

PPS - You can also read this blog on Cricinfo!

President Piyush?

Well it turns out Sant Chhatwal knew what he was talking about when he speculated about an Indian American President.Piyush "Bobby" Jindal has revealed that he refused a position on McCain's ticket.

Smart chap,I guess he didn't want to end up jeopardizing his chances for 2012/2016 by ending up on the losing side.

Anyways I don't think he could have made any difference to this election result, and I have my own doubts if an Indian American President would mean better Indo-US relations.
It certainly gives us some boasting rights though, especially considering Madame's influence in our own country and on its politics ;)