in longing for the tomato cheese toast sandwich

I miss having tomato cheese sandwiches. After I knew I was lactose intolerant, I dint miss not eating all the lactose rich foods. I have a craving for very few foods. I don’t miss, pizzas too much, nor ice creams, nor normal chocolates, nor rabdi or kulfi. What I end up missing at times is curd and at times buttermilk. Yes – the sweet buttermilk at Dadar. The one that my dad introduced me to. That was the awesome thing that I introduced Jispa to. There is this shop at Dadar west, very near the station (opposite nakshatra mall). It’s a nondescript place which only serves lassi. There is no board outside announcing the place. It probably grew by word of mouth and is at best 5 feet wide. At the entrance itself is the proprietor making lassi with a made to order contraption which is basically an old wooden style lassi churning device attached to an electric motor. There is room only for people to get in or get out in sequence, not simultaneously. The shop is around 20 to 25 feet long with narrow benches on both sides. And he serves only one thing – lassi – full or half. Typically, there will be a line outside his shop as one batch finishes their lassi. They come out and the other batch goes in. You go in and sit along the sides and wait for the server to come in with a massive tray with lassi glasses. Full or half. You choose and drink. Every glass will have a scoop of cream of curd on top of it. Thick sweet, creamy lassi, deeply India style. And on the way out, declare what you drank, pay and leave. I introduced this to Jispa and she loved it as well. I miss this. I am making a sad face right now. And I miss Tomato cheese toast. I love Tomato cheese toast sandwich. With some herbs in in.

Recently over the long weekend, I was helping Jasmine with some chores at Dadar. It was really hot and I took her with the car to finish the pending work. It’s one of those things that is a mighty bore to do alone. So, we parked the car somewhere and roamed around doing the chores. Then I took Jasmine to a place I knew from before which served some nice Misal Pav. Misal is the ultimate Maharashtrian dish and this road side eatery was good at it. After having some missal we were going back to the car when I saw some laal bhaji being sold. This is to is something that I saw some Maharashtrian friends of mine get for their lunch. I urged Jasmine to buy some and while she was buying, I saw that there was a restaurant at the side that seemed interesting. A very basic simple restaurant, non air conditioned and with a menu written in Marathi on black boards. It was serving interesting dishes that I had not even heard of. I told Jasmine that I was going in and checking it out. To cut a long story short, the restaurant was ‘Tambe Arogya Bhavan’ and served some of the best Maharashtrian food I have ever had.

The most amazing thing about this place is that I have passed this place upteen number of times. It is on the main road in Dadar and I have never ever even realized that this place exists. It has been under the radar and hidden from everyone, food critics, foodies and aficionados alike. It was a serendipitous discovery and a lovely cheap place to eat. I wrote about it on FB and tried to spread the message to whoever who cared to listen. It’s a place I would love to go to, again and again. Dadar trips are now going to be fun – taking people to this place and then to the lassi guy who is stone’s throw away.

But the story is not this – the story is how I am amazed at myself turning foodie. I was never a foodie. Food was simple to me – it’s something you eat and not something you go fancy over. Take anything and put cheese in it and voila – you are done.

Two things happened to me – first I realized that I was lactose intolerant. That one thing sent me on a trail of understanding food and the body and how we react to it, interact with it and live with it. And the second - I got a deeper understanding of the evolution of food and our food habits. A deeper understanding that has more anthropological roots in it. And it has been an eclectic journey. It has helped understand who I am and what I eat. It had helped me understand who others are and what they eat. And in the end, it has helped me what others will eat and hence what they will become.

I don’t know when and where and reading or listening to what not, did I realise that our food habits were dictated by world war 2. This is an interesting story. The fast and quick version of this is simple – Europe retained it culinary traditions through word war as the supply lines were relatively short and they eat from the farm lands and fresh food. US fought the war across the oceans and had huge supply lines. They are a large continent to start with. This ensured that any transport of food had to be processed and tinned. All tinning makes food mushy, slushy and easy to eat. After the war this industry was channelized for the people and that’s why you have such food. Over time as they exported culture and food to the world, we realized that this food is fast (hence fast food) to eat and gave us instant calories and protein – essential to survival. We developed a taste for it and slowly we started making all food easy to eat.

The most popular foods today in Mumbai are idlis, dosas, pastas, McD and margarita pizza. Basically nothing to chew. When I realized this, it changed my taste and my passion for food completely. Now, I look for joy in food when I go to eat. Sometimes we go to just eat. That’s filling your tummy. But some times, I love to go and eat for tasting, for feeling, for texture and for anthropology. To understand the culture and people behind the taste. What is it that makes us, us?

This has made me into an interesting foodie, and a food snob of sorts. I like to taste the food and analyse all of it. Not simple gobble it down. Keep it for a few moments in my mouth, understand why I enjoyed it or not, what is so interesting about it, what is the chef trying to do. Once I understood this, it made a better chef myself, as I treat friends with flavours and textures with my fun stuff on salad and deserts. It has become an enriching experience.

As Dharen said, you can write a book on hunger, but to really experience hunger, you have no option but to be hungry for a day. Being lactose intolerant made me miss my cheese and curd and ice cream, but it opened my palate like none other. It made me understand the role of food in my life, in our lives. It made me understand what it did to me. Today I understand what foods I like for lunch and what I like for dinner, I know what makes me play better and what doesn’t. How my energy levels move according to the food I eat. This has been an amazing enlightening condition. I look at all the so called gujju foodies and feel sorry for them. They are what I was. “I will eat it as long as you can cheese it’ is the gujju philosophy. Recently we went to a place called Spesos. It is a gujju orgasmic paradise. It had cheese on everything. That’s why all of the gujjus were in full force there. We went there and ordered for myself the only two things that were lactose free on the menu. By default, those were the south east Asian items. After my condition, this cuisine is the best for me. Authentic SE Asian cuisines are naturally lactose free and they have become the family haunt. In 30 minutes of having the food, I got severe bloating and a mild migraine. The jokers must have put some cream or something in the soup or gravy. Why else would the damn gujju eat there? Jokers. But hell – I just had to sleep through it. Luckily it was dinner time.

But still no complaints. People ask me all the time about my condition and feel sorry for me. I don’t think they need to. I feel happy for me. Some talk about cures available and some talk about tablets that allow you to eat the stuff. But I am happy. This has meant a healthier lifestyle, less sugar, less fat and by that logical consequence less salt. All of which is good.

But the knowledge that I gained thanks to this has also been amazing. The simplest of which being – you will find milk when you least expect it and you will find it missing where you expect it – tomato flavoured ready to cook and eat noodles have milk solids in them and Oreo cream biscuit doesn’t. People wonder. Especially when they think about it and ask – then what is the white thing in the Oreo. Well – that cream biscuit you are eating has no cream. It freaking hydrogenated vegetable oils. And that stuff is bad for you. Really bad for you.

Frozen desert that Walls sells masked as ice cream is also that – it doesn’t even legally qualify to be called ice cream, and that’s why recently an ice cream maker Amul came up with an ad that called it just that – NOT ICE CREAM. They took them to court.

People don’t realise why there is so much sugar, salt and fat in their diet. Neither did I, till I got affected by it. That’s a good thing. Such a beautiful cultural extravaganza from a stupid condition. And now thanks to me I am teaching Jispa to eat and understand. We started reading ingredients on wrappings and understanding their impact. We started understanding a little bit of good food. When we travel, certain restaurants come with very interesting foods and certain local places are true to their roots. It has become an interesting family discussion. Food food, glorious food. But not as a means to grow fat but as a means to understand one-self and ones roots. Because if you don’t know where you come from, you are not going to know where you are likely to go. Deep nah?

And yes – I still miss tomato cheese toast. But I think I am going to get some lactose free cheese from US (Jasmine’s brother) and I am going to savor it, without sharing it. Lactose free cheese? Yes – I figured that aged cheese is lactose free as the lactose is shed in the whey and then the process ensures that the lactose is already digested in the curing itself. See – shit you would never know till shit hits you man. And just yesterday, I was talking to another swim parent whose kid is lactose intolerant. I told them about the cheese which is certified as lactose free. He didn’t know that. The poor kid obviously didn’t have pizza, but now it could. Thanks to this information. This also came to me once when my fiend was having some cheese that he had bought for himself and he saw the wrapper that said ‘lactose free’. It’s crazy how the information spreads. I feel like starting a community of lactose intolerant people.

Such is the way of life. Knowledge doesn’t come by itself. It must have meaning to you in your life. It cannot be aimless. You have to find its purpose. Food now has purpose for me. The books I read on sport have purpose for me. What I understand in history has purpose for me. Because of this purpose I can understand it, appreciate it, apply and therefore have a greater passion for it. Purpose can come from anywhere and can help you, but I am not so sure that real knowledge can be gained without purpose. At least not for me. I lose interest and it wouldn’t seem to really help. That was the problem in school and is the problem with boring teachers. They may have had amazing expertise but the ones that I loved was the ones that connect that to my lives or inspired it as a story in my life. I loved those and hence that’s how I teach. My marketing class tries to connect stuff that happens to things that happen in my life and hopefully it tries to connect to things that will happen in their life as well. Then only will they listen and then only will they understand and that will make an impact. Not otherwise.

does the box belong to Pandora or Schrodinger

Over a period of time, one changes. Someone was asking me about people and how we change. My belief is that typically people don’t change themselves too much. They change and many times it looks big, but most of the time, it is a representation of something that was there in them from the start. An avatar of it, comes out. So essentially you are the same person but just a different manifestation of yourself comes out. People and circumstances do that to you. How long can you go about being beaten and getting jammed by the world, before you put your foot down and change.

The new friend in office is the HR lady. She is sweet and we seem to get along. Possibly she is one of the older recruits we have had and this brings a certain sense of stability to her behavior vis a vis the rest of the jokers. She was saying that she can’t make out what I am. She is understanding a new perspective about me every time. Ah well. She said that sometimes I am damn tough and sometimes, I am a softy. I was telling her that as a kid, a young recruit, I was pretty naïve and simple. I was innocent, loyal and straight forward. I believed in what people said. Soon enough, I became hardened and you can’t just take me for a ride every time. Shit happened and kept on happening with me in my life and you change. I would to be the 21-year-old me. I loved myself then. I really was a sweet kid. Now I am an asshole. I have changed.

So here, I have changed but not as much as it seems. I still care, I am still more trusting than suspicious, I still like to give stuff rather than receive and fundamentally, I just try and be the person I would like to interact with. That’s how I have become.

Yesterday I was telling Jasmine – I don’t know how, but this weird part of me has come out. In sense that I can love and give and give and love till a point – and then, if you still don’t get it, I simply just shut off. I am done. And once I am done – it’s over. I can be there but it’s over. It happened with Mom. I loved her and gave a lot to her. I was loyal and by her side. I tried to keep her happy and manage her expectations for many years. I asked Jasmine to manage and I exacted greater sacrifices from them. Till a point that Jispa was born. I remember that it was about the point that I just gave up. I kept quiet. That was a snapping point. Till that point I was the sweet kid who could do anything, and when break point happened, it was so quick and fast that it seemed like I just flipped a switch. I would be very worried when I keep quiet and I try not to. Because once that happens, it always dangerous. Getting me back is not that difficult, but it will never be the same.

It happened to people at work as well. One kid I taught, he was drifting away and I gave him a nice job with me. He was okay at his work. I kept him going till appoint came when he decided to leave. Sure, you must leave, I try my best to ensure that people who work for me find new havens elsewhere. But this kid hid his job search from me, which I understand and then he never told me which firm he is about to join. That was bad and something that I did not accept. You cannot be that secretive from me, especially if you hold me in any regard. That was it, I rarely did speak to him afterwards.

I see this turning off behavior many times when I deal with people. I just choose to keep quiet or not tell. If it’s not going to help then it’s not worth it. My life gets selective. Old colleagues who bitch about me, get this as well. You have to decide what you want from me and what you are going to give me. If you want good friendship then you go the whole hog. If you want camaraderie then that’s what you are going to get and if you want a good colleague then that’s that. It’s the confusion in your mind that will get my goose. I don’t abandon friends no matter how bad they may have been to me. I am there, just the avatar that they are used to, changes. This is something they don’t understand.

This is something about me that I fight a lot with myself when it comes to my family. I know that the off switch is very very difficult to turn back on and hence I try and stay away from it at all times. Jispa is dangerously flirting with the off switch in some aspects.

I have always maintained a system in which I talk and discuss a lot of things and try and impart learnings. All my life, I have learnt, not for just expanding my knowledge but in a large part so as to expand it to those around me. Talk to people, let them learn from your experience and knowledge. This is the way for knowledge to expand and further gain roots in your own head. It gives the greatest joy. Jispa gets the best from this as I explain various different things to her. But these days as she changes and as she grows up, she has little time and little patience to give me. Just yesterday itself, I had an interesting conversation with a swim parent and this one was someone who I was trying to explain on the role of government and how it is becoming a ‘Big Brother’ in our lives. While we were discussing this, I explained that how today we have so much control over our children’s life. We watch over them and we know what they are doing in their lives. My parents hardly knew anything about us compared to what we know about our child. That I keep telling Jasmine to back off is another matter for a later conversation. But that we have an overhang over their lives is a crazy thing. We are there and they know we are there. The parents have whatsapp groups that talk to each other, corroborating stories and chatting with each other. My mom knew no other mom from school. None. We parents, practically know every other one. This is influencing their behavior in many ways I argue. At a fundamental level, the kid knows about this overhang and hence his behavior is attuned to this. He will change his behavior and choices knowing our likes and dislikes and approval. So, in effect in many ways we have made these choices for them. While we were growing up, the biggest choice I think was the choice of girlfriend and the choices of our families, in many ways shaped the choice of partners we had. Some rebelled but most stayed within the norms. Today we know so much more and we therefore choose much more and therefore, what we approve or disapprove in many ways in shaping our child’s choices even before they make their choice. My friend to whom I was talking to, got it and said, Schrodinger’s cat. Yes – much like the cat, the fact that you are going to open the box and look inside has made the decision for the cat. In fact, the fact that you have the choice to opened the box and look inside has collapsed the probability and influenced the life of the cat. We make our choices for our kids even by not making them, but by the very fact that we can choose to make them. Oh bloody hell. But well it was interesting conversation and I started talking about it at the dinner table, when Jispa got up for something, and then she got up as she finished the dinner and then was sitting elsewhere on the sofa in the living room. I looked at Jasmine and said “I was telling her something”. Jamsine looked at me and called out to Jispa and said “your dad was talking”.

I told Jispa to let it be. I dint want to talk anymore. I then whispered to Jasmine “I think she has its easy. Ever since she was a kid, she got me and whatever I could offer on a platter. I don’t think she values it as much.” And then I murmured something to the effect that outside people come to conferences once they see my name on the speaker panel and I have a lot to offer to so many people and students. I guess at home it’s not as valuable as it could be. Jasmine understood this. She knows what I have gone through or what I go through.

I study and read so much and learn so as to teach. Of all the students of mine, Jispa is my special one. It will be heart breaking when she will do this. But I don’t grudge her for this. This is what kids will do. They will not value whats in front of them. Possibly down the line, she may value what I bring to the table. I jokingly (possibly half-jokingly) told Jasmine that I am dying to meet her boyfriend. Possibly then she will know what her dad is worth. I know that weird people like me are less available, what are the chances that Jispa will meet two in her life.

But still, yesterday I was a little surprised with myself. I normally try not to switch off when it comes to family. I know how dangerous I can get with this. It can get pretty unnerving for the other side. I don’t wish it on people, but this is a simple response mechanism.

Because I read so much, I learn so much and I tech so much, I try and explain it to various people; and that is the exact reason I just shut up if I don’t find interest on the other side. There is no point pushing where nothing can be helped. So many people in day to day life, don’t know learnings from their freaking elbow, if they see it. So many don’t want to and are too preoccupied to or are just plain too arrogant to really want to know anything. Hence it better to switch off. But this works (actually really does not) with the rest of the world but is a zero-sum game with the family. You end up losing as much as anyone else. I don’t let that happen. This little blogpost is a reminder to me to say that I shouldn’t let it happen.

There are enough idiots in the world who piss me off and I don’t need them again in my life. Some have managed to be family, I can’t handle any more. This mustn’t happen. Today as I type this I realise that I have to resist this. Shutting off is not an option at home. I think this response is a means to not belittle what I have to say and not insult all that I have read. It is a way of preserving my sanity and desire to learn more. I see many kids every year. Some have an innate desire to learn and some don’t care about anything. It would kill me to see Jispa move away from learning. But then – see I have just done a Schrodinger’s on her.

I think we have influenced our kid’s reality in many more ways than we care to think.  This blog can serve so many purposes. It’s not meant to be a blog to help her understand and shape her behavior or be grateful towards us parents. It was meant to be a source of soup for her. A kind of soup you want on a rainy day, that makes you reflect and take heart in whatever issue you have. Soup, or perhaps coffee with some chocolate dust sprinkled on it. Warm. On a cold day.

Some day she will have to deal with kids, possibly her own. This will be awesome fun at the time.

Parenting is alike a freaking rollercoaster that just doesn’t stop, it slows down and when it does, its typically when its creaking upwards, making a weird sound to let you know that it’s going to just take you over the edge and give you the scare of your life; and when you are done with it, you should go back happy thinking that was a swell ride. Ya sure. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Of all, not on Jispa for sure.

Fun fact – I can handle roller coasters of all types, I find the humble tea cup ride a crazy nightmare. I can handle anything that goes round and round. Conversations included ;)

Oh Kashmir

Today morning I sat on the dining table for my breakfast and Jispa was reading the newspaper. One the page was this brilliant and lovely photograph which won the MCC Wisden photo of the year award. This was shot in the beautiful fall of Kashmir, and it captures the moment and its environment so beautifully.

This is the magic of Kashmir, I told Jispa. Then I explained the plight of the Kashmiri Pandit to her. Kashmiri is a place like no other. It is extremely beautiful and magical. The valley has snow and autumn fall. The weather in summer is lovely and the trees and lake all add to the magic that is like something never seen before. It is no wonder that Pakistan and India fight to retain this lovely piece of land. My personal suspicion when I have met people from Kashmir, both Hindu and Muslim is that they always considered themselves to be Kashmiri first and then accustomed to reality or religion as a state identity moved to be an Indian or a Pakistani. I think our geography and history strongly affects our culture and our sense of identity. Kashmir with its unique geography and its isolation form the rest of the country before modern rail and roadways meant that they tended to be different from the rest of the country with its own uniquely different identity. They managed to carve out a sub culture for themselves. The case in point being the Kashmiri Pandit. You can recognize them anywhere thanks to their typical facial features and the of course the Kashmiri nose. They were learned and educated. They prized education and were keen to inculcate this in their young ones as well. They were in seats of power in the Hindu Dogra kingdom that ruled Kashmir. They were amongst the few Saraswat Brahmins to freely eat non-vegetarian food, as they ingrained themselves with the local cuisine and culture. They are known to be foodies and connoisseurs of non-vegetarian cuisine. Then the insurgency took ground in Kashmir and terrorism and violence became an integral part of the Kashmiri life. Then on one ill-fated day – 19^th January 1990 when insurgency was at its peak, the Kashmiri Pandits were asked to leave Kashmir immediately.  They left in large droves leaving their houses and their lives behind. I have spoken to so many of my Kashmiri friends who where kids as they left. They speak about their wooden houses, two floors high with wooden cabinets and beautiful rugs. They speak about the beautiful chinar trees and the apple tree that they had in their plot of land on which they lived. They speak about letting them all go as they left the valley to other parts of India. Some of them left the houses on a ‘as is where is’ and the others left it to their Muslim neighbors and friends. Some of hem were burnt, the others forcibly occupied. These Pandits then ran away and many took refuge in Jammu in camps where they were given bivouacs, where they thought it would be temporarily before they could get back home. There was also a sudden mass clandestine exodus under the watch of the controversial Governor Jagmohan. After this exodus, no Pandit ever returned back to his home. The violence increased and ebbed, but now the Pandits set up their home across the country and rebuilt their lives. You have colonies in large cities like Delhi and Mumbai where you will pockets of Kashmiris as they settled down.

Once you spend ten years or more outside rebuilding your life, how can you go back? The government tried various incentives to get them back and supposedly only one has returned. With it an important part of history and culture was lost to Kashmir forever.

Now a new kind of violence in increasing in the valley. As the youth get educated, they need jobs and income. There is none being created. In Kashmir the land is fertile and plentiful. No one will die of hunger but people will die of subjugation, propaganda and unfulfilled ambition. When I went there the last time, around 12 years ago, the tourism industry had just started and the people were recovering from the terrors aftermath. I realized it then, that the people will now need industry and commerce to grow and live peaceful lives. They need to be more connected to the rest and not so insulated. Right now, the youth has picked up the ultimate weapon in its fight against the government. Not the gun or the knife – but the humble stone. A gun can be fought with a bullet and the person can be killed in response, brutally. But when the protestor is an unarmed youth with nothing but a stone, then any act of retaliation by the forces will be seen as excessive. The democratic foundation and moral high ground of the country rests on its ability to treat its populace with care and collective concern. Stone pelting is something that started the revolution in Egypt and the Arab Spring. Here it is creating a problem unknown to the forces who have historically dealt with the gun. With excessive media outreach, cell phone camera and instant news, can a democratically elected government be seen shooting at youth armed with a stone.

A new chapter is being written yesterday as I saw an image that completely caught me. An image of young school girls throwing stones at the armed forces.

Oh, my god. If young men pelting stones was bad enough, this is the ultimate sign of revolt. You can still fight through and lathi charge a gang with stones but can any government do anything with a bunch of school girls throwing stones at the security forces. What moral right will the government have in this case. What is its standing? This defiance cannot be quelled by might but only by discussion, dialogue and what I really believe – economics. Religion, freedom, beliefs, rebellion come from idle minds and poor pockets. As long as ambition is given freedom, these can be managed within structures without rise to violence. Trading nations don’t fight wars. Commerce abhors a war. This the same reason why in spite of the vice seen on every street corner in Bangkok, you will still find it relatively safe as a tourist. I walked around the streets at night and I saw illicit bars and rampant prostitution, I was solicited by every taxi guy but still I felt safe. It’s also one of the reasons that people suggest when you talk about the low crime rate in Tokyo. There is a debate – whether its effective street level policing or its the crime lords who ensure petty crime is at bay and the citizens feel safe while they extract money from the business. But if commerce is good to quell crime then it’s also equally awesome for quelling insurgence. If the adage that no war can be won on an empty stomach is true then the corollary is that no insurgence can be sustained in the land of plenty.

The politics of insurgence is wonderfully understood by those fueling it in Kashmir. They successfully got the youth involved in pelting stones and now this. Now we wait for the Indian government to revert. The army in the middle did something weird. They were in a situation where they had to go in and get their people who were stuck in a mob that was pelting stones. They did something quite innovative. They got one of the pelters and tied him to the front of the jeep as a human shield. 

Yes. The tactic seemed to have worked. You got out of the situation without firing a single shot, no one was harmed and the day was saved. But this is not war, this is a fight over ideologue over your own people. Can you do that with your own populace? Can the government so brazenly kidnap its own citizen and use him as a shield. That too a person picked up from the street without a trial. It’s not about what’s right or wrong at the time. It’s about how these instances can be used to fuel further hatred and the feeling of them versus us. In the battle of ideologue, PR is extremely important. You may have quelled the situation but you gave rise to a few more revolutionaries, a few more girls who were emboldened to throw stones.  What are the long term implications of your actions?

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In the backdrop of this, look at the lovely picture of a the youth of Kashmir playing cricket, again. It suddenly has so much more meaning.