Those court scenes!

Back then, as children, we watched the Sunday evening film on TV. It was a family ritual that was rarely missed. The most riveting films were the ones that ended in a court scene.

The plot was well known. The hero had been unfairly implicated in a crime while the villain went scot-free. The court scene was the final denouement when the hero’s fate would be decided. The proceedings followed a familiar pattern. When a witness came to the caged dock, he first swore on oath- “Whatever I say is the truth and shall say nothing but the truth!”.

Witnesses fumbled over words so that the entire audience was in splits. The judge was a serious man. He used a wooden hammer to strike down the commotion with shouts of “Order! Order!” That was enough to quieten the audience.

The prosecution lawyer spewed venom. As far as he was concerned, it was an “open and shut case” and the hero was undoubtedly guilty. The British may have left the country decades ago, but lawyers continued to address the judge as “Your Honour” and “My Lord”! Witnesses addressed the judge in the vernacular as “judge saab”.

It was now the defense lawyer’s turn. He appeared ineffective, but slowly built-up the tempo. Sometimes, he started with irrelevant questions for the witness. This angered the prosecution lawyer who protested, “Objection Your Honour! My client is questioned on details that have nothing to do with the case!” The judge mostly replied, “Objection overruled!” and gave rope to the defense. Witnesses had to answer all kinds of questions related to what they were doing on a particular night, several years ago. Surprisingly, they recalled and answered!

Soon, the camera panned to the statue of Lady Judgement carrying a balance in her hand! The twist in the case was brewing. The defense lawyer summoned a particular witness. There was a collective gasp from the audience as if the dead had come back alive! This old lady held the key to the entire puzzle.

Finally, the judge read the verdict, “Having examined all the pieces of evidence, we reach the following conclusion- the hero is innocent, the villain is guilty and shall be awarded the severest punishment!” A last-ditch effort by the villain to escape was thwarted by an alert policeman.

At the end of the film, there were details that I didn’t follow. I tried to get them clarified from my sister. Her answers were cryptic and left me more confused. But you got the big picture. The hero was a free man and joined the heroine in a two-seater car. They drove out into the sunset and lived happily ever after. Life was that simple!

The case of the forgotten briefcase!

The laptop has become a part and parcel of every profession today. And with it, you need a backpack to carry the laptop around. From the kindergarten child to the top-notch executive, everyone carries a backpack. It has become so ubiquitous that it has become impossible to differentiate between a kid, an upstart and a professional!

Back then, any person of standing carried a briefcase. Like a king’s scepter and crown, it was an integral part of his persona. The briefcase had to be sleek. Any bigger and it would metamorphose into a suitcase and just wouldn’t suit the purpose. You never knew why people carried a briefcase. There was no concept of “working from home” back then. It was too slender to accommodate anything- not even a lunchbox. So, what did they carry in the briefcase? At best, some stationery, the day’s newspaper, a business card, and some magazines from the office library!

But when you stood at the bus-stop or the railway station with your gleaming briefcase, you made a style statement. It announced that you were employed, and you felt officious and important. Briefcases looked classy. Just a click of the button, and it immediately sprang open, like a prodded cobra! The interior was glossy and split into several compartments, that housed your personal items.

In Mumbai’s crowded local trains, the briefcase assumed several avatars. The briefcase was balanced across opposite passengers and served as a table-top for an engaging game of cards or chess! Sometimes, passengers doubled up as musicians to spend the travel time more meaningfully. While one sang latest cine songs, the other kept beat, with the briefcase functioning as a percussion instrument!

No yesteryear Bollywood movie was complete without the briefcase playing a prominent role. Invariably, the hero carried ransom money in a briefcase to be handed over to the villain at a shady beach. But the briefcase’s sense of morality was unquestionable. The villain would never pocket it. At the opportune moment, there was always some distraction that led to a major scuffle. In the ensuing fight, the hero battled with the villain’s hoodlums, with the briefcase serving as a shield for many a kick and a punch. Needless to say, it was the briefcase that saved the day!

We are saddened that the briefcase that played such a multitude of roles and was a veritable Swiss-Army-Knife, has now been cast away in favor of the measly backpack. Even the Finance Minister does not carry it anymore while presenting the budget! Can we make a case for the briefcase and resurrect it back to life? We are sure it will provide ample entertainment that this generation has been completely deprived of!

Paper Roast!

You sit at the restaurant table and pop the question, “What is today’s special?” Pat comes the answer, “Paper Roast sir!”

The term “Paper Roast” has become such an integral part of the South Indian culinary vocabulary that it hardly strikes you as an English phrase! Paper Roast is not just another “dosa”.  It has an added aura- it is paper-thin and roasted to the point where it looks like burnished gold! It is wafer-crisp and with each bite, you can feel it crackle as it melts in the mouth!

The restaurant kitchen looks like the boiler of a Steam Engine! An array of pans, a battalion of burners, smoke wafting all over, and through all that haze, you can see the dosas in various stages of metamorphosis!

The magician is at work, as though endowed with a dozen arms. He works in a frenzy- scoops out the batter, spreads it in a circle, squirts some oil and very soon, the dosas sizzle to life. He is all over, moving from pan to pan, scraping and scooping and before you know plates upon plates are ready with Paper Roast! He steps to the far end and gives a stir to the cauldron of sambar! The air is redolent with a fragrance that makes you all the more hungry! 

Paper Roasts come in all shapes- some are circular, others are folded in a triangle, while some stand up conical! It is a visual treat as the golden dosas are laid upon the green of the plantain leaf. Tucked with the Paper Roast is a cup of steaming sambar and beside that, the textured white of the coconut chutney!

As the bearer steps out the kitchen, Paper Roast is a head-turner. You roll up your sleeves expectantly, only to find that it is headed to a different table! A series of such false starts fills you with a mild sense of irritation, but you know the wait will be worthwhile!

Now, the bearer carries one enormous Paper Roast, spanning several feet and rolled like a carpet! You wonder whether this dish was meant for the giants at Brobdingnag that Gulliver stepped into! An entire table erupts in excitement as the item is gently anchored.

Your reverie on how this is going to be consumed is cut short. The Paper Roast is now at your table. It looks delectable, topped with a generous globule of butter. Like an ice-berg in the sun, the butter melts leaving tiny rivulets that trickle down the sides of the Paper Roast! You cannot wait anymore. You dive into it with gusto. The contentment is supreme- all is well with yourself, the world and all that’s in it!

 

 

The Harbour Line

Every city has one evocative image that typifies it more than any other. When it comes to erstwhile Bombay, the first image that comes to mind is the suburban train and hordes of people buzzling in and out of VT Station.

My relationship with the city is unique. Having spent my childhood entirely in Bombay, I left the city for good, never to go back. It is like one of those cinema plots, where a shock incident leaves the protagonist’s memory pinned to a distant past! Needless to say, the only images of Bombay I have, are those backed in time by more than 3 decades!

The Western and Central Suburban lines were well known for connecting the Northern suburbs with South Bombay. Not so well known was the Harbour Line. In keeping with the name, the Harbour Line ran skirting the harbour all the way from Mankhurd to Bombay VT. Koliwada was a tiny station- a dot on this line. My earliest childhood memory has stayed unchanged. It was taking the suburban train as a joy-ride from Koliwada to Bombay VT! Often, it was in the company of my father or my favourite uncle.

You sat at the train window and peered out. The station names were quaint- there was Wadala and Sewri. May be, it was the marsh lands at Sewri- you smelt the place before you reached it! And then, you had “Cotton Green”! Each time you said “Cotton Green” aloud, it sounded queer! Next on the line was “Reay Road”. Mr Reay’s English past was lost by then. He was just a name on that board- shorn off all his antecedents.

From "Reay Road", the train went up a gradient to reach "Dockyard Road". Imagine a station in Mumbai called “Sandhurst Road”! These names indicated how inextricably the Railways were linked to the days of the Raj. Sandhurst Road was special since the station existed in 2 levels: trains could dock at the lower or the higher level. 

This was followed by “Masjid Bunder”. From Masjid, it was a home run to the last stop- Bombay VT. VT stood out as a colonial relic- with its imposing façade and huge glass-panes and one massive clock.

The Harbour Line would have surely changed. The stations may have all gone. Sometimes, I hear that the railway line now extends beyond Mankhurd. My mind is in absolute denial! It clashes with the space-time coordinates held dear since childhood! Back then, Mankhurd was the most distant place on the map- at which point, the world simply ended and you fell headlong into a total void! How can there be stations beyond Mankhurd? How will you convince that child?

 

Two styles!

When live telecast first came to India, we were treated to the titanic battles between Borg and McEnroe at Wimbledon! John McEnroe and Bjorn Borg were players of contrasting temperaments. McEnroe wore emotion on his sleeve. If he was upset, he shouted. If the umpire’s call was debatable, he argued. If he made a mistake, he cursed himself! The outbursts gave him the required fillip to take on his adversary. Spectators came to watch as much the genius that he was, as his over-the-top rants!

Borg was the other extreme. He was unflappable and his face registered no emotion. He went about the entire match like a robot- totally expressionless! No wonder, they called him “Ice Borg”.

When you are in primary school, hero worship takes extreme forms! In class, boys permed their hair in a curl like McEnroe and threw tantrums when the evaluation of their answer-sheet was not to their liking! And then, there were others, who wore their hair long, and sat stone-like in class! The only time you saw them respond was when they got full marks in a particular test- like Borg when he won the Championship, they went down on their knees and clasped their palms together!

In a different age and in a different sport, we see similar contrasting temperaments in Virat Kohli and MS Dhoni. Kohli endorses an aggressive brand of Cricket. If the opposition as much as tries to sledge at him, he gives back to them in kind. He enjoys the duel. The adrenalin rush spurs him to raise his game to another level. Dhoni is a lot like Borg- his Cricketing brain is all alert, but there is no outward display. He stays cool and composed and waits for the right moment to go for the jugular to win the game!

You can be a successful sportsman with either mental makeup. McEnroe and Kohli, Borg and Dhoni are great examples. Looking back in time, if you had another chance to idolize someone, who would it be? We are not looking at success in sport alone. The question is, which temperament is better suited for life’s battle?

Unlike a 5-set Tennis Match or a 5-day Cricket match, life is a long drawn out battle. Life keeps hurling cannonballs at you- straight balls, spinning balls and balls you cannot reach. In this game, any over-the-top reaction to give a limited emotional kick is useless. It is a game of endurance.

You can combat it in only one way- by taking a leaf out of Borg’s and Dhoni’s book. To sail through life’s choppy waters, you have no choice but to cultivate Borg’s monk-like visage and Dhoni’s meditative composure.

Urban India goes on vacation!

When it comes to vacationing, urban India is bitten by the “Resort” bug. The city animal heads to resorts in exotic places to spend his holidays. More far-flung the place, more the “likes” earned on social media! The places are chosen with intent- there’s Munnar and Wayanad, Coorg and Chikmanglur to name some destinations.

You follow a fixed pattern to select the Resort. You read the reviews on the internet before you zero-down on one. The selection is not easy. Previous travelers leave their remarks in full detail. Take any resort and the opinion is divided. There are some who endorse the place wholeheartedly. Others are brutal in expressing disapproval- “The place is just not worth your money!” It leaves you totally confused.

The problem runs both ways. Up-scale Resorts are pricy. Often, you wonder whether the price quoted is for a stay overnight or for the cost of the resort itself! By jacking up the price to such extreme levels, customers come with unrealistic expectations. The disappointment is natural. Customers complain about a variety of things- from lizards on the wall to frogs in the rest-room! It is disconcerting all right, but what do you expect when you are in a wilderness? There are others who whine- “The breakfast spread is too limited!” You feel like retorting, “Sir! You are in the middle of Bandipur Forest! Any more breakfast spread and the bears will come sniffing right up to your table!”

The urbanite just cannot leave the city behind. At the Resort, he frets that the WiFi speed is very slow or the TV channels are too basic. Or the Gym is not equipped. It is as if, his rippling muscles will melt away without hitting the Gym. He fusses there is no Spa or Jacuzzi and the Indoor-Games Room does not have a “Foosball” table! Resort owners have to mollycoddle the disgruntled customer to ensure the rating does not suffer.

Some tough questions have to be asked. Why have we come on vacation? We been part of the urban rat-race for much too long; in the process we’ve actually become rats, so much so, we need our rat-hole to be recreated wherever we go! Let’s step outside the rat-hole and look at the world as a whole!

For the two days, we’ve chosen to spend in the wilderness, let’s enjoy the communion with nature. We tune the ears to listen to the sound of the rain and the crackle of the cricket. We allow the eyes to reach out for the morning mist and mellow sunshine, for the riot of green and the pug-marks of the majestic predator! Why are you hiding under your headphones in the Resort room?

The cutlery conundrum!

Throughout childhood, eating with cutlery was not encouraged at home. You ate with your fingers. The South Indian foodie needs to mix the rice and sambar with his fingers till it turns into a creamy consistency. A spoon is a poor instrument- it just wouldn’t cut to take a spoonful of rice, and follow it with a separate spoonful of sambar. 

When you went to school, for conformity, you made some adjustments- ate roti with the fingers and rice with a spoon. Still, the skill level when it came to using cutlery was basic. It was much later in life that you encountered the cutlery conundrum. 

Sitting on your first flight, you faced a lunch platter and a full set of cutlery- a fork, a knife and multiple spoons. Your first temptation was to reach for the food with your fingers. But when you are sandwiched between folks from other parts of the globe, it is not so easy. You watch them go hammer and tongs at the food with all this equipment! You feel it is easy to imitate them, but without cutlery practice, you are all at sea! 

Many an upstart has cut a sorry figure on his first flight! Either he toppled the bowl onto his neighbor’s lap trying to use the spoon, or worse, put too much pressure on the knife as he tried to saw the cutlet in the center. The cutlet was airborne on an uncharted flight-path, much as the novice watched helplessly! 

Sometimes, you get caught in tricky situations. A gulab-jamun on a plate, and a single spoon is a recipe for disaster. The jamun is a mischievous fellow. You relentlessly pursue him with the spoon, but he keeps evading, always one step ahead. The hockey game comes to a close when you successfully manage to push the jamun right out of the plate! There is no sight sorrier than this. The jamun was so tantalizingly close. You could have used your fingers and gobbled him whole! Now, the opportunity has gone begging. 

There is none more slippery than a bowlful of noodles. The adept wields the cutlery effortlessly. But each time you pick up the noodles with the fork, he gives the slip. By the time you raise the fork to your lips, it is all empty, leaving you hungry and angry! 

As you advance in age, a sense of defiance sets in. You do not worry about conformance any more. You eat in a manner that is easy for you and leave it at that. You wonder- why is the world struggling to walk on stilts when you can walk on your legs, faster and better!