Well, having lived in Mumbai for almost 17 years, I wud always say that I am a Mumbaikar at heart! I mean, i can live on the Vada-Pavs and the Paani Puris sold by those hawkers standin by the railway station or the signal, with the busses,cars and every other vehicle possible adding to the flavour (courtesy pollution). But still the taste is brilliant! For all those of you, who love the cleanliness while makin food, this might not be ur recipe for a sumptous meal... but then, who the hell cares... The food tastes great, and this is Mumbai for u!!! And i loved it all...
U know, being a Tam-Bram based in Mumbai is sooo cool, esp if u are a foodie! I mean, at our home, I can remember being fed idly sambhar and dosa chutney, even before i was fed cerelac (intentional hyperbole!!!). N once i grew up, I remember the breakfasts having Pongal too.. Ven Pongal with chutney and Ghotsu. For the ill informed, Pongal is the tamil version of Kheer, Ghotsu is well... Ghotsu! Ven Pongal is lotsa Ghee with Pongal! And then ofcourse who can forget the elixir of life, thair sadam! (curd rice!) I mean, no true tam-bram who belongs to the lineage can deny loving Thair Sadam... and the innumerable helpings of mavadu or some other urga (achar/pickles). Whatever said and done, i feel Sambhar has been our contribution to the world... well, to Indian cuisines across the world. I mean, all my friends relish the crap that i cook and feed 'em, callin it Sambhar! My cousin abroad has her American n punjabi friends swoonin over the Liquid she proclaims as Sambhar too... :)
Oh! i forgot the kara kolambus... (the sibling of Sambhar, which is stronger and more spicier!) and Rasam (Sambhar without too much dal, and with lotsa tomatoes and Tamarind!) So u see, what a vital role Sambhar plays in our lives!!! I mean, it is the perfect side dish. With rice and dollops of ghee, with Curd rice, with dosa, pongal, idli, pakoda, u name it, and it can be used! (hell! when my mom is not lookin i actually have it as a side dish for pulao too!!!). Vada Sambhar is another famous combo which every tambram must know accept and relish!!! And the poriyals too... the Urlakalangu (Potatoes) and its siblings (senai) played such an important role in our brought up! And the Avials too!!!
Today I am in Kochi, cookin my own crap, eatin my sorry excuses for food! And missin ghar ka khana... call me a foodie to have devoted a whole blog for food! All typical tamil saapadu... whatever said n done, nothin can bring the taste of Veetu Saapadu (Home food!) All that talk has made me hungry like hell!!! As i cant gt home food, ill settle for the next best thing! Ill grab a beer (with urga!) n then some chicken 65 and finally end up with some fried rice from the roattu kadai (read as hawker) and go to sleep! Buonas noches n Bon Apetit! (different Languages i Know!!!)
Friday, June 16, 2006
My first time...
I came across this mail some months back... I ve treasured a copy, beacuse it was my first foray nto the world of TamBrams as such. Yes, I am a Tamil Brahmin but i dont bear any resemblance to 'em. Except that I am an engineering Grad myself! There ends the similarity. I dont do 'Sandi', eat Non Veg, strictly against going to the US for settling down, said 'No' for IIT classes, speak lousy tamil, hate madisar clad women, hate floral rangoli on my classmates/colelagues head, have never been invited to see the gollu bommai! When i got this mail, I just realised what all had i missed to notice... Brilliant stuff!! :)
"YOU graduated in Literature, right?" asked my young cousin. "No, in Economics." I hastily clarified . "Economics honours," I added for good measure. The question coming from anyone else would have been innocuous, but from my cousin who was a third year engineering student,it was almost offending. As a card carrying member of the Tamilian Brahmin community,or Tam Brams, as the endearment goes, I knew that in his world-and that included his parents, relatives, colony friends, project group,dorm mates-someone who graduated in Literature obviously did so because he or she had a learning disability. The poor thing was a freak who couldn't get admission into an engineering college or even a pitiful, but definitely more acceptable, science course. Or worse, such a specimen was a wasted wanton whose desire to do B.A. was an irresponsible, rebellious act, almost akin to joining a Neo-Nazi like cult group and living on the edge of civilised society. In any such conversation with a bonafide Tam Bram, I find myself fervently hoping, that despite falling under the horrifying category of B.A Economics,with its connotations of statistics and analysis of numbers and trends, would redeem me a little in their maths-science obsessed eyes. For a Tam Bram family mathematics and science are not merely subjects in the school curriculum. They are a religion. And the dharma of every Tam Bram student is to master them and pave his way to the heavenly portal of an IIT. Or at least to the ordinary portal of a local engineering college,which the family will eventually reconcile to, in the absence of the 'real thing'.The first time I seriously understood this was when I was in primary school and on one sunny day was gleefully reading out my final exam results to Grandpa who was sitting on the porch and frowning in attention. "English: 90 percent, Hindi: 85 percent, Social Studies:87percent.." I prattled on. "How much in maths?" interrupted Grandpa. "Maths: 97 percent," I said grinning widely. "What happened to the remaining marks?" was his unexpected reaction. After which he asked me to fetch the question paper,spent the next two hours going through each problem and figured out where I could have lost the precious three marks."Nothing less than a centum in Maths next time." he said finally.'Centum'is a word unique to the Tam Bram world, that a child grows up listening to. It is a figure that even if sometimes elusive, is never lost sight of throughout the academic career. Centum, Maths, Science, Brilliant Tutorials,Engineering, IIT, B.Tech, Computer Science, USA, Financial Aid, I-20, Student Visa, M.S, San Jose, California, Oracle, Microsoft, Intel. These words and names are like carefully arranged furniture in the mental landscape of a Tam Bram boy-and increasingly girl- below the age of 25. Care is taken not to clutter it with anything related to useless stuff like literature, history or art. Show me a Tam Bram boy who wants to be a fashion designer, VJ, historian or air force pilot and I'll show you something wrong in his blood line. For all such are heathen, a blemish on the fair face of the community. Till about 15 years ago, the only heathens were girls who did not sing. Formidable maamis from the neighbourhood would drop in> for a casual afternoon gossip session with grandmom and on espying any hapless young girls in the vicinity, would pounce on them with the dreaded entreaty, "Oru paatu paadein." (Sing a song). A simple three word sentence, you would think, but in maamiland it is a deceptively camouflaged barometer of the girl's cultural grooming and readiness for Tam Bram society (read marriage market) and her mother's efforts in making her a fine Tamilian lady. A Tam Bram girl's singing talents always have to be on standby, as they could be called upon by anyone no matter what the time of day, nature of the occasion or profile of the audience, by simply uttering the three powerful words, "Oru Paatu Paadein." And woe betide the girl who in shameful ignorance, takes the words at face value. When the words were uttered by a visiting neighbour, I readily accepted and joyously broke into a popular Hindi film ditty. I had finished the second paragraph when I stopped to check audience response. My mother had a strained, embarrassed smile on her face, grandmom was scowling hard, an aunt hurriedly excused herself and went inside and the venerable neighbour looked so disturbed, I thought she was on the verge of a heart attack."Well..that was nice, but don't you sing any varnams or keerthanais?" she finally asked, after an awkward silence. My mother hurriedly explained how in the culturally bereft North we were unable to locate a Carnatic music teacher nearby...but hopefully by this summer she would manage to do something about it. That's when I realised that the only music that was expected to pour out of your mellifluous throat where classical Carnatic songs. If you didn't know any, you simply shut up and ducked out of sight of visiting maamis. And if like me, you are a non-engineer-non-Carnatic-trained loser of a Tam Bram, you should be drowning yourself in a drum full of idli batter for having wasted this lifetime.
"YOU graduated in Literature, right?" asked my young cousin. "No, in Economics." I hastily clarified . "Economics honours," I added for good measure. The question coming from anyone else would have been innocuous, but from my cousin who was a third year engineering student,it was almost offending. As a card carrying member of the Tamilian Brahmin community,or Tam Brams, as the endearment goes, I knew that in his world-and that included his parents, relatives, colony friends, project group,dorm mates-someone who graduated in Literature obviously did so because he or she had a learning disability. The poor thing was a freak who couldn't get admission into an engineering college or even a pitiful, but definitely more acceptable, science course. Or worse, such a specimen was a wasted wanton whose desire to do B.A. was an irresponsible, rebellious act, almost akin to joining a Neo-Nazi like cult group and living on the edge of civilised society. In any such conversation with a bonafide Tam Bram, I find myself fervently hoping, that despite falling under the horrifying category of B.A Economics,with its connotations of statistics and analysis of numbers and trends, would redeem me a little in their maths-science obsessed eyes. For a Tam Bram family mathematics and science are not merely subjects in the school curriculum. They are a religion. And the dharma of every Tam Bram student is to master them and pave his way to the heavenly portal of an IIT. Or at least to the ordinary portal of a local engineering college,which the family will eventually reconcile to, in the absence of the 'real thing'.The first time I seriously understood this was when I was in primary school and on one sunny day was gleefully reading out my final exam results to Grandpa who was sitting on the porch and frowning in attention. "English: 90 percent, Hindi: 85 percent, Social Studies:87percent.." I prattled on. "How much in maths?" interrupted Grandpa. "Maths: 97 percent," I said grinning widely. "What happened to the remaining marks?" was his unexpected reaction. After which he asked me to fetch the question paper,spent the next two hours going through each problem and figured out where I could have lost the precious three marks."Nothing less than a centum in Maths next time." he said finally.'Centum'is a word unique to the Tam Bram world, that a child grows up listening to. It is a figure that even if sometimes elusive, is never lost sight of throughout the academic career. Centum, Maths, Science, Brilliant Tutorials,Engineering, IIT, B.Tech, Computer Science, USA, Financial Aid, I-20, Student Visa, M.S, San Jose, California, Oracle, Microsoft, Intel. These words and names are like carefully arranged furniture in the mental landscape of a Tam Bram boy-and increasingly girl- below the age of 25. Care is taken not to clutter it with anything related to useless stuff like literature, history or art. Show me a Tam Bram boy who wants to be a fashion designer, VJ, historian or air force pilot and I'll show you something wrong in his blood line. For all such are heathen, a blemish on the fair face of the community. Till about 15 years ago, the only heathens were girls who did not sing. Formidable maamis from the neighbourhood would drop in> for a casual afternoon gossip session with grandmom and on espying any hapless young girls in the vicinity, would pounce on them with the dreaded entreaty, "Oru paatu paadein." (Sing a song). A simple three word sentence, you would think, but in maamiland it is a deceptively camouflaged barometer of the girl's cultural grooming and readiness for Tam Bram society (read marriage market) and her mother's efforts in making her a fine Tamilian lady. A Tam Bram girl's singing talents always have to be on standby, as they could be called upon by anyone no matter what the time of day, nature of the occasion or profile of the audience, by simply uttering the three powerful words, "Oru Paatu Paadein." And woe betide the girl who in shameful ignorance, takes the words at face value. When the words were uttered by a visiting neighbour, I readily accepted and joyously broke into a popular Hindi film ditty. I had finished the second paragraph when I stopped to check audience response. My mother had a strained, embarrassed smile on her face, grandmom was scowling hard, an aunt hurriedly excused herself and went inside and the venerable neighbour looked so disturbed, I thought she was on the verge of a heart attack."Well..that was nice, but don't you sing any varnams or keerthanais?" she finally asked, after an awkward silence. My mother hurriedly explained how in the culturally bereft North we were unable to locate a Carnatic music teacher nearby...but hopefully by this summer she would manage to do something about it. That's when I realised that the only music that was expected to pour out of your mellifluous throat where classical Carnatic songs. If you didn't know any, you simply shut up and ducked out of sight of visiting maamis. And if like me, you are a non-engineer-non-Carnatic-trained loser of a Tam Bram, you should be drowning yourself in a drum full of idli batter for having wasted this lifetime.
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