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Saturday, November 7, 2009

Vol. 3 No. 44

LOUNGE THE WEEKEND MAGAZINE

BUSINESS LOUNGE WITH WIPRO’S SURESH VASWANI >Page 8

HOW TO HOST THE

PERFECT DINNER An envyinducing dinner table requires less effort than you might think. Excerpts from ‘Flash in the Pan’, a forthcoming book on innovative cooking >Page 10 THE GOOD LIFE

SHOBA NARAYAN

FORGET GENDER EQUALITY

omorrow, the World Economic Forum’s India Economic Summit will begin in New Delhi. Between discussions on agriculture and infrastructure is the plenary session titled simply: Investing in Girls, Investing in Development—The Girl Effect. Gender is the focus of several recent surveys, including the Shriver Report, WEF’s Global Gender Gap Report 2009 and a survey by the Dubai Foundation for Women and Children... >Page 4

LEARNING CURVE

OUR DAILY BREAD

GOURI DANGE

PAY ATTENTION TO ALL LANGUAGES

estern students who learn Hindi (and its Devnagari script) marvel at how easy it is to learn the alphabet and begin to read shop and road signs. You need to point this out to your child—and make it appear easy and fun. And if you think about it, it’s a much kinder language in terms of spellings. No doubt the content, as well as the way of teaching second languages in our schools, leaves much to be desired. A 10-year-old child who speaks English and Telugu at home, believe it or not... >Page 5

SAMAR HALARNKAR

THE YELLOW DIARIES

Excerpts from the blog of actor and model Lisa Ray, where she chronicles her journey through cancer >Page 6

MASTER MOMENTS

From nervous child prodigy to one of the sport’s most accomplished players, we look back at 20 years of Sachin Tendulkar >Page 9

SONGS OF THE HILLS Contemporary writers from the NorthEast are addressing issues more complex than middleclass angst >Page 16

DON’T MISS

in today’s edition of

REMAINS OF THE DAY

NEW WAVE INDIA CO LTD

HOME PAGE L3

First published in February 2007 to serve as an unbiased and clear-minded chronicler of the Indian Dream.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

FIRST CUT

PRIYA RAMANI

LOUNGE EDITOR

PRIYA RAMANI DEPUTY EDITORS

SEEMA CHOWDHRY SANJUKTA SHARMA MINT EDITORIAL LEADERSHIP TEAM

R. SUKUMAR (EDITOR)

NIRANJAN RAJADHYAKSHA (MANAGING EDITOR)

ANIL PADMANABHAN TAMAL BANDYOPADHYAY NABEEL MOHIDEEN MANAS CHAKRAVARTY MONIKA HALAN VENKATESHA BABU SHUCHI BANSAL SIDIN VADUKUT (MANAGING EDITOR, LIVEMINT)

THE CONSISTENCY DOCTRINE

his December, the husband and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. I’ve also been wedded to Mint since before we launched in February 2007. For three years I’ve worked hard to ensure that your favourite magazine holds at least a (pleasant) surprise or two every Saturday. My favourite colour has been black for as long as I can remember. I sound consistent, right? My orthopaedic surgeon doesn’t think so. In the last four months his uniq u e c om b at tac tic s h ave squelched a lifetime’s anti-insurgency movement against milk. “Please tell him he’s my favourite person,” my mother said last week. “He’s managed to make you do what none of us ever could.” I duly SMSed the good doctor who replied: “Please thank her. It will be good if you start thinking like this too.” Hrrmph. I’ve introduced milk in my diet—there’s even a carton stacked in the office fridge. I eat paneer almost every DAILY time I go out for a meal. And for someone who’s never eaten yogurt in her life, I can now smoothly empty the contents of a 400g pack without gagging and in one sitting (provided I camouflage its taste with blackberry syrup or mango pulp). Yet every time I go back to my orthopaedist, he’s disappointed because I still haven’t experienced that a-ha! moment. That dairy discovery if you will. I still haven’t acquired my own life-altering milky halo, though recently, when I met my motherin-law after several months, her first comment was, “All that milk is really showing in your face.” The meaning of that statement became clearer when my fatherin-law reported later that she said I had put on some weight. So every month my doctor and I say our lines. He interrogates me on my dairy consumption, my exercise routine, and whether I’m eating almonds and fruits every day. After that he asks me the Big Question: So

LOUNGE REVIEW | BROWN SAHIB, MGF MALL, SAKET, NEW DELHI

ntil recently, Delhi was not a city where stand-alone regional cuisine eateries flourished. With the success of Gunpowder (a restaurant in Hauz Khas Village that serves homestyle Malayalee food), chances are that restaurants such as the new Brown Sahib, which serves Bengali and Anglo-Indian cuisine, will attract the city’s ever experimental foodies.

The good stuff

Holy cow: She’s even in my dreams. how do you feel? And I reply, fatigued. Fed up. Heavy. Fat. “I’m telling you doc, all that milk is screwing with my hormones.” “Us vata types can’t drink milk!” my Ayurveda expert friend declared horrified as she listened to the details of my new diet. “He just doesn’t have a holistic approach,” she added. “Mix some protein powder in milk,” my mother-in-law advised. “Your fatigue will disappear.” I made notes for my next meeting with the doctor. Meanwhile, I’m following the Consistency Doctrine because, as the doctor said at our last meeting, “You are just not consistent.” So these days I maintain a little calendar which should ideally have the following entries—W, BE, D, M2— every day. That’s Walk, Back Exercises, Dahi (400g) and Milk (2 glasses) every single day of my life. “Consistency is killing me,” I SMSed the doctor recently. “Isko hi jeena kehte hai to yuhin ji lenge...” Write to lounge@livemint.com www.livemint.com Priya Ramani blogs at blogs.livemint.com/firstcut

The similarity between Brown Sahib and Gunpowder ends with the fact that both serve regional cuisine. Brown Sahib is a plush 44-cover restaurant where antiques dot the shelves and the servers are clad in kurtas and traditional Bengali-style flared dhotis. The menu is a clever mix of recipes from old-world clubs (the Anglo-Indian section in the menu) and dishes from a Bengali kitchen. So if you’re in the mood for Continental food as opposed to traditional jhols (curries), or chingri (prawns) and maach (fish), you can pick from starters such as melt-inthe-mouth Salmon Fish Cakes or main course items such as Chicken à la Kiev. Brown Sahib’s versions of these Anglo-Indian dishes, a staple on any Raj-era club’s menu, are certainly miles ahead of what the chef at, say, the Delhi Gymkhana doles out. The option of ordering a thali is a great one, especially for those who are not familiar with Bengali cuisine. The Bengali thali (it starts at Rs375) includes shukto, bhaja, tomato pora, a vegetable preparation, saag, dal,

rice, papad, chutney and dessert. For a little extra, you can replace the vegetable dish with either a seafood, a meat or a chicken dish. After consulting the staff, we opted for Doi Begun (baby brinjals in yogurt gravy, Rs195), Bhaja Moong Dal (Rs145), Kosha Maangsho (lightly spiced mutton curry, Rs375) and Maachher Paturi (steamed fish with mustard marinade in banana leaf parcel, Rs450 for Betki fish). If you’ve always harboured a desire to know brinjal more intimately, Brown Sahib’s Doi Begun is a must-try. The lovely yogurt gravy has a mild flavouring of roasted cumin and a tinge of sweetness. We were a little sceptical about the Maachher Paturi (a dish served during weddings or festivals in Bengal)

when we opened the banana leaf wrapping and saw a thick layer of mustard marinade on the fish. But the fish was soft, flavourful and the marinade not so pungent that it overpowered all flavours. Aloor Dum with fluffy Luchis (refined flour puris) was a huge hit with the children. Bhapa Doi (steamed yogurt, Rs125) is something of an acquired taste, we were warned, yet the slightly warm, mildly sweetened yogurt pudding was a refreshing change from the usual mishti doi available at Bengali sweet shops. Most Bengali dishes we tried were minimally spiced with a single flavour that stood out with just a hint of sweetness in the recipe—a hallmark of authentic Bengali cuisine, colleagues hailing from the state tell me.

The notsogood Chocolate lovers, steer clear of Spiced Chocolate and Pecan Pudding (Rs225). The overdose of cinnamon and clove drowned the taste of chocolate in this dessert. The restaurant did not have a working credit card machine until last Sunday. Hopefully it should be functional by now, but do check.

Talking plastic A meal for two without alcohol, with one starter and two desserts, will cost around Rs1,800 (taxes and service charge extra). Seema Chowdhry

LOUNGE WEB EXCLUSIVE: ‘The New Allboys Club’ by Parizaad Khan: A review of The Collective, Mumbai’s only international multibrand men’s luxury store, at www.livemint.com/weekdaylounge

inbox

EDUCATED INDIA

I follow Aakar Patel’s columns regularly. His columns reflect his rational, Western way of thinking. The contradictions in the thought processes of Indians can indeed be mindnumbing. In India, one has to either think and act like an Indian, or carry on living with an extraordinary sense of humour.

Aakar Patel’s column, ‘Why educated Indians are only halfliterate’, 31 October, is relevant. At the bottom of all our endemic problems is the lack of a solution to the ills of our education system. This is not because we are unable to put a system in place, but because an educated population would put an end to vote banks that can be manipulated. It would surprise me if the priests who ran the St Xavier’s school Patel has cited were Franciscans. Although St Xavier was indeed St Francis Xavier, the St Francis after whom the Franciscan Order was named was a different Francis. St Francis Xavier was a Jesuit, and the Jesuits have appropriated his name for some of the most renowned schools and colleges all over the world. The Jesuits are the world’s most prolific educationists.

SITU SHASTRI

STANLEY PINTO

Write to us at lounge@livemint.com WESTERN MIND

ON THE COVER: ILLUSTRATION: JAYACHANDRAN/MINT

L4 COLUMNS

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

SHOBA NARAYAN THE GOOD LIFE

Forget gender equality, make your own rules

BHARATH SAI/MINT

in Development—The Girl Effect. Gender is the focus of several recent surveys, including the Shriver Report, WEF’s Global Gender Gap Report 2009 and a survey by the Dubai Foundation for Women and Children, which plans to measure the extent of domestic violence and child abuse in the emirate. WEF’s gender report measured the gap between men and women using the usual four factors: economic opportunities, education, health and political participation. Nordic countries came out tops and India fell in the bottom quartile. The problem with gender reports is that while they can help governments decide policy, and nudge countries to perform better, they offer little to women in terms of how to live or improve their lives. They don’t answer the question: Say you are faced with a thousand little girls, what message would you give them? I know: It depends on the sample. Well, let’s narrow it down by country and region. Let’s limit it to India. I wouldn’t presume to lecture rural girls given that I know little about their lifestyle. So let’s narrow it to urban Indian teenage girls which in itself is a large enough sample. What would you tell them? There are macro messages. Learn to love without losing yourself is a key one, given a woman’s congenital desire for harmony; difficulty with saying “No”; and her penchant for spreading herself too thin in the emotion department. There are micro messages about learning self-defence, and managing hormonal cycles. But the bulk of it has to do with nuances, and gender parity reports, as George Bush famously said of himself, “Don’t do nuance”. Recognizing nuance requires battle

worn maturity; to see both the glorious achievements and also the thin limitations of feminism. It involves realizing that being a feminist means different things in Boston and Bangalore. Bostonians would be aghast if you didn’t call yourself a feminist (and this applies to the men too). In India, let alone Bangalore, feminism is still an ugly word, particularly in our parents’ generation. Many older Indian women are loath to call themselves feminists because they equate it with aggressive bra-burning types. Entire swathes of women in India—and not just in villages—have no clue what feminism means, nor do they care. Talking about gender parity to a housewife in Saurashtra or my aunt in Salem is meaningless. They are too bound by tradition and religion to question the status quo, ranging from why only the wives observe the karva chauth fast, to why not hire women drivers trained in krav maga to drop women employees, especially those working late. They are conditioned not to rock the boat. So while the message is important, choosing a target audience is equally so and urban Indian girls on the cusp of womanhood are my chosen targets. These are the girls who will implement and live out the findings of today’s gender parity reports. So what would you tell them? What will you tell today’s high school girl students at Chennai’s Vidya Mandir, Delhi’s Loreto Convent, Mumbai’s Cathedral School, or Kolkata’s La Martiniere? Here’s my message: Gender equality is a myth. Doesn’t exist. Get over it. We are inferior to men in many ways and superior in others. So don’t bother equating yourselves with them. Competing in the world using the male paradigm is setting

Word power: The World Economic Forum measured the gap in the education of boys and girls; in India, that gap is very wide. yourselves up for failure. Instead, choose a different paradigm. The question then becomes: What’s the paradigm? Women are surfers. We catch the wave, cope and adjust. We endure. Men are archers. They aim, execute and move on. Gross generalizations, I know, but humour me. Recently, I read two books that relate to this topic. One was The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine and it talks about hormone-induced waves, surges and troughs that affect the way women think and function. Much of her analysis applies only to the West and indeed, America. For instance, she talks about teenage girls being “drama queens”, and while that may be true for urban girls, it does not apply to rural Indian girls who are anything but drama queens. They are quiet, non-assertive, and if anything, too obedient. But the book makes a point of emphasizing how hormones affect women without, I might add, telling us how to use these peaks and valleys to improve our lives. The second is more of a self-help book by Tal Ben-Shahar, who teaches one of the most popular courses at Harvard University. His course uses

exercises, journals and specific questions to elicit and quantify happiness. His book, Happier, isn’t as successful as his course, mostly because asking readers to “name five things that make you happy” is not going to make them do it or think about it but a classroom setting most likely will. Nevertheless, Happier talks about changing paradigms. It suggests using an internal standard to measure success rather than the usual societal measures of money, fame and power. The Female Brain stresses how women are different and Happier suggests new paradigms. I am merely combining these two ideas and suggesting that we change the paradigm for girl students. Schools and colleges are best equipped to implement this for it involves revamping courses and curriculum. It involves asking questions like how we can train girls to multitask, which is not just an important skill but one that women are better at, according to studies. It encourages career and guidance counsellors to talk to girls about taking advantage of their natural talent for networking and forming communities. It suggests

re-examining which competitive sports play to the physiques and talents of girls, unlike sports such as cricket and basketball which have been grandfathered in. It involves looking at the core competencies of girls and allowing those to flourish alongside traditional subjects. As a feminist, I think women ought to compete on their own terms. As a mostly rational human being and an erstwhile Communist, I think equality (of any kind) is worth aspiring for but is largely a mythical construct. Gender parity is desirable for individuals and countries, but ultimately living your life as a woman involves not just competing with the males but also cherishing those qualities which make us—both women and men—gloriously different and therefore unique. Shoba Narayan’s core competency is to ask questions. Write to her at thegoodlife@livemint.com www.livemint.com Read Shoba’s previous Lounge columns at www.livemint.com/shobanarayan

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SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009

Parenting TV TIME

Remote controlled

LEARNING CURVE

GOURI DANGE ABHIJIT BHATLEKAR/MINT

Children’s TV channels are encouraging their viewers to spend more time outdoors

B Y N ISHA D AMANI ································· urbing “too much television time” is a battle most urban Indian parents fight. “My daughter will pick TV and computers over her parents! Quality family time is gone. I have to keep Tanya constantly occupied, which means many classes and activities if I have to get her away from TV,” says Nina Puri, a working parent, who often locks up the room that has the television set to prevent her 13-year-old daughter from watching too much TV. Nandini Mehta says her daughters, Niriksha, 13, and Parmangana, 11, wheedle her into allowing them to watch extra hours of TV when they are “having a bad week”. The girls are often banned from watching TV or spending extra time on the Internet because Mehta wants them to be outdoors more often. “I just take away the cable card and lock the laptop in my cupboard when I have to go out,” says Mehta. Mothers such as Puri and Mehta can now get some help from children’s TV channels. The idea of restricting TV time and encouraging children to spend more time outdoors is now being adopted by these channels. Whether it is an attempt to pacify parents, just appear socially conscious or a genuine shot at responsible programming, only time will tell. But when a children’s channel such as Nick decides to blank out for a while (today, at 5pm, Nick programmes will be off air for 30 minutes), parents sit up and take note. Nick’s initiative “Let’s Just Play” is in its second year and Nina Elavia Jaipuria, general manager, Nick India, believes that when supers toons—Ninja Hatori, Dora

Off TV: To limit TV viewing, Nandini (right) encourages her daughters Niriksha (centre) and Parmangana to develop an interest in activities such as photography. and SpongeBob—tell children to get out and play, “it sounds cool and not like a nag, like when parents or teachers tell them the same thing”. Varsha Mehrish says: “Earlier, my five-year-old daughter would not drink her evening cup of milk if cartoons were not playing on TV. Lately I have been telling her that (her) favourite toon character Dora wants her to drink milk outdoors. Now we just take the milk to the park and she drinks it fast so that she can play.” Many studies have proven that too much exposure to TV leads to obesity and inability to concentrate and parents in urban centres at least are aware of this. “Television watching is a passive, isolating exercise. It is important to keep your child busy during the time they are likely to watch TV. Send them out to play. Or let them just sit and daydream—even that’s better than watching TV,” says Mumbaibased child psychiatrist Pervin Dadachanji. She believes that schoolchildren shouldn’t watch more than an hour of TV every day. “Rule of

thumb—don’t let TV become the babysitter. Make the child a discerning viewer—pick a few favourite shows and let your child watch only those.” Like Nick, Cartoon Network has found a way to do its bit in this battle against “too much television”. The channel will launch the “Go Active” initiative this month, which includes a mini marathon-like, non-competitive “fun run” for children and parents. The “Go Active Fun Run” will be held in Delhi on 22 November and in Mumbai on 29 November. Nearly 9,000 children and parents are expected to participate in each city. Channels such as Disney, Jetix and Hungama too organize several largescale events with the aim of getting children out of their homes and into an interactive setting. Currently Disney has My School Rocks—one such event where children from all over India audition to have their exclusive music videos on the channel, with choreographer Shiamak Davar as the judge. Write to lounge@livemint.com

UNDER 15 | M VENKATESH

Illustrious villainy Star Wars meets Hogwarts in this racy adventure set on a tropical volcanic island

.I.V.E. Dreadnought is an out-and-out schoolboys’ adventure story, though some girls may like it too. The fourth book in the H.I.V.E. (it is the acronym for Higher Institute of Villainous Education) series is even more exciting than its predecessors. Robert Muchamore (of the Cherub series) and Anthony Horowitz (of the Alex Rider and Power of Five series) beware. There is competition here. H.I.V.E. is an institute that trains young law-breakers such as pickpockets, chain snatchers and other thieves for more “illustrious” things. What qualifies someone to be a student is the degree of craftiness and valour that the would-be signee displays. H.I.V.E., the institute, is hid-

den on a tropical volcanic island that is more or less inaccessible. The academy members are trained for daring jobs. This time, it is the turn of Otto Malpense, Wing Fanchu and their friends to wing off to the Arctic for a session—led by their headmaster, Dr Nero, and his henchwoman, Raven, who is the ruthless monitor of the class. The schedule goes awry when the team takes a detour to visit the G.L.O.V.E. (Global League of Villainous Enterprises), the parent organization of H.I.V.E. The G.L.O.V.E. is run by Diabolus Darkdoom, who overthrew the agency’s former leader, No. 1, and usurped his position. Diabolus runs his worldwide organization quite efficiently except for the fact that he has an enemy, the man who thought he was the one destined to head the G.L.O.V.E. His name is Jason Drake and he is the head of Drake Industries—a technological powerhouse with tentacles across the world. Diabolus and his villainous band have barricaded themselves in the fortress that is Dreadnought, a spaceship-like city located 32,000ft above earth. Access to this citadel is almost impossible. Or so Diabolus and his men think. When the Arctic-bound H.I.V.E. team lands in Dreadnought, Drake strikes. Helped by the

H.I.V.E. Dreadnought: By Mark Walden, Penguin, 298 pages, Rs499. fact that he was one of the designers of the Dreadnought, Drake kidnaps Diabolus. What follows is a deadly hide-and-seek game with Dr Nero, Otto, Wing, Raven and the H.I.V.E. team and Drake, who has his own designs on America—and the world. Nero and his team of students are equally determined that they will save Diabolus and eliminate Drake. But Drake holds all the aces, including the president of the US. Despite a fondness for acronyms, Walden is a powerful narrator as he builds up the plot that leads to a thunderous climax. Dreadnought follows H.I.V.E., The Overlord Protocol and Escape Velocity as an explosive fourth offering in the series. For a change, the reader will be rooting for the villains. I did. The writer is the editor of Heek, a children’s magazine. Write to lounge@livemint.com

PAY ATTENTION TO ALL LANGUAGES My son, who’s 8, has had a the script is actually. pretty easy time in school so Western students who far. He reads a lot, is very learn Hindi (and its interested in subjects Devnagari script) marvel ranging from science to at how easy it is to learn sports to history. The only the alphabet and begin to stumbling block so far has read shop and road signs. been Hindi. It’s not his You need to point this mother tongue, we don’t out to him—and make it speak it at home, yet he has appear easy and fun. And to study it in school. He gets if you think about it, it’s by in conversation, but a much kinder language reading, and writing in in terms of spellings. particular, are proving to be No doubt the content, as a major chore. We’ve had well as the way of teaching to send him for tuitions second languages in our since neither of us can schools, leaves much to be teach him the language desired. A 10-year-old child and, of late, he’s been who speaks English and having meltdowns before Telugu at home, believe it or every tuition session. How Study rules: not, bed-wets the night do we communicate to Language before his Marathi and him that it’s okay not to be learning is not a Hindi school days, and good at everything? ‘necessary evil’. cannot speak a sentence Can I venture to say that a after three years of these lot of families that don’t speak a courses at school. Now, if that’s not particular language at home, but traumatic language learning, I don’t whose children learn it at school, tend know what is. He is too young to know to communicate to their children that that there’s nothing intrinsically horrid it’s a nuisance to study, and they about these languages. So he talks should just “somehow” pass till they about the time he can dump them and can dump the language? I wonder if take German or French. As if those you’re doing that a little. languages, somehow, are easier. If so, I don’t think that’s right. It just You would need to find ways for becomes that much more difficult for him (as well as the larger family) to a) the child to work with the language. accept that learning Hindi is not some He doesn’t have to be “good” at it, as “necessary evil”, b) realize that you say, but that is not the point that reading and writing it is not that you need to drive home to this child difficult. Think up small games—get here. He needs to be competent and, him to write out English words that really, having access to the national he knows in the Hindi script, or the language can only be an asset. names of his favourite cartoon Moreover, from what you describe, it’s characters, and the like. You may find turning into a big stumbling block for that this, along with the tuitions, will him. So perhaps it is time to accept help him, as well as the family, to that the language has to be learnt, and stop turning language learning into learnt fairly well. some punishment in his head. You say he has a problem with writing and reading, but not with Gouri Dange is the author of speaking. That’s a good beginning in The ABCs of Parenting. itself. Now, someone has to switch Send your queries to Gouri at him on to how very easy and phonetic learningcurve@livemint.com

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SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009

Life SATISH BATE/HINDUSTAN TIMES

FIRST PERSON

The yellow diaries Actor and model Lisa Ray chronicles her journey through cancer and its lessons in a blog

n June, model and actor Lisa Ray was diagnosed with multiple myeloma—an incurable cancer of the white blood cells. In between getting blood transfusions, trying to retain a normal life and attending press conferences for her new film, Ray decided to write a blog: The Yellow Diaries. Partly sardonic, partly heartbreaking, it’s a glimpse into her personal journey and the journey of those who are battling cancer. Edited excerpts:

From the marrow 7 September 2009

A few months ago my bone marrow started sending me messages. The signals: I was always exhausted, pale, drained, and completely depleted of red blood cells. The lack of oxygen made me a serial yawner and spacier than a displaced Czarina. Little did I know, but my haemoglobin had fallen to levels where even a dedicated bloodsucker would turn their thoughts to revival. In between work and travel in India this year, I got a routine blood test and the results sent me to the hospital for a blood transfusion. But not a reason to stop and, like, change my life? The attempt to communicate probably started earlier. Time when I was ‘busy’. Building a career and impersonating myself. Travelling a lot and stock-piling impressions and drama and super-hyped destinations and a life in ‘art’. So I couldn’t hear my marrow gently carbonating. Trying to get my attention. Instead of tuning in to my body, I tuned out like a landlocked pirate tuning out the

sounds of the sea. And then I stopped travelling and returned to Canada. Got myself tested by Dr Susy Lin, landed in emergency and eventually got full membership into the Cancer Club. That’s how I found out I have multiple myeloma. Cancer Club, Multiple Myeloma Division, June 2009. LIVESHOCK: the recurring shock of being alive. More on this later. Don’t get me wrong. It’s true the deepest crises are moments of great opportunity. An event that shocks you into seeing with the heart. A place from which to combine survival and celebration. Our boy Lance Armstrong called his cancer survivor story a Journey Back to Life. I believe. But right now I’m a cancer intern, covert social watcher and I’m doing all this against the backdrop of preparing to premiere two films at the Toronto International Film Festival and wondering if I should have cancelled that meeting with that director while bloated up on my ‘roids’ or I should have just come clean. ‘Yes—I have cancer. The meds shift the shape of my body in ways I can’t predict—but I can still perform torridly well and are looks really still that important in showbiz anyways? I have so much more to say now than ever before…’ Should have said it. Didn’t. But I’m writing this blog. I’m not sure why and that’s probably the best beginning. Many people become members of the cancer club. Loads of actors and artists struggle with the capricious nature of our business. There’s lots of ‘coming home’ stories out there. Maybe I’m just finally listening to my marrow. I asked around if I should speak openly about getting diagnosed recently with multiple myeloma. Some advised me to keep my ‘condition’ a secret as it could negatively affect my career. Buh? I’m plumper, redder, more energetic and wily than ever before—Kiss me like

I’ve been kidnapped! Tara Maclean, surrogate sister and super-talented singer, talked about how the role of an artist is to use every experience—especially the painful ones—and transform them by sharing. Laura Simms, my NY-based professional storyteller/surrogate Jewish mother, highlighted the ‘pathology of perfection’ which we suffer from in this age. How celebrity culture and media create unrealistic expectations in ourselves and others and how perhaps sharing my experiences in preparing for the Toronto Film Festival juxtaposed with my ongoing chemotherapy and treatments could inform and loosen these expectations...

Gently carbonating 8 September 2009

I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma on June 23rd. Started my first cycle of treatment July 2nd. Not long ago. For me, it was a relief to hear what was wrong. The plasma cells in my bone marrow were rampaging, multiplying, squeezing out the red blood cells and it was time to begin doing something about it. I was also tired of being tired all the time. And you just know when something is not kosher with your body. So when I sat there with Bobcat—my life partner and reservoir of Yellow—and got the news I didn’t react and I didn’t cry. I’m an actress, believe me, I can be dramatic. Not just then though. First the facts. Myeloma is incurable. It’s a relatively rare cancer of the bone marrow that affects about 6,000 Canadians. Every year, approximately 2,100 more cases are diagnosed. I’m a junior member in many ways, having been diagnosed at 37, while the average age is 65. Makes the disease not quite as ‘sexy’ as other cancers. But we can change that. In the industry I’m in, you could say, it’s motive alone that gives character to your acting... So today with Velcade and, Revlimid and other promising new treatments in the pipeline,

New horizons: Ray’s last film, Cooking with Stella, opened at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. our survival rates are improving. But only with an ever-expanding toolbox of treatments and awareness can this cancer be beaten. So I’m going to do everything I can to wrench the spotlight to myeloma and cancer awareness. I believe it can be cured. That’s the Dirty Realist in me. ...On Steroids: you are HUNGRY ALL THE TIME. When Dr Ahmed Galal, my Warrior-Hematologist at Princess Margaret Hospital gave me my first cycle of meds, he capped his recommendation off with a charming gesture that meant: Beware of sweets. Well. Sweet things aren’t the only temptation. Every cycle of treatment, I’m on Dexamethasone for four days on, then four days off. Who knew it would turn me into a free range chicken, pecking the landscape freely. I find it distracting to walk down my patch of Queen St without stopping for a nibble at the Pie Shack, scoping some sushi or sampling up kimchi and eggs. I’m currently obsessed with the pepperettes at Meat on the Beach... ...On August 4th, Toronto International Film Festival announced its line-up for its Galas and Special Presentations for the Canadian Section this year. I have a history and a successful and seriously affectionate association with the Toronto International Film Festival Festival. My first Canadian film, Bollywood/Hollywood, had a gala opening at Elgin Theatre. Then

The plasma cells in my bone marrow were rampaging...it was time to begin doing something about it.

Water, the source of so many positive beginnings in my life, opened the festival and went on to acclaim and an Academy Award nomination.... I went for the press conference but had to bounce down to PMH for my chemo treatment. And blending that energy felt just fine. Though at the time I didn’t tell anyone, I felt more invested in my day. Less juxtaposed. So the two worlds can blend: It’s okay to cross over from ballroom to Chemo Daycare. There was one difference: The press conference was more stressed. And no juice boxes. Bummer.

Ring my bell

16 October 2009 Today is Diwali. The Festival of Lights in India. In the night we light oil lamps to signify the victory of good over evil within an individual. And then you gamble. Faith and chance. Today is also my last chemo day. And wouldn’t you know, I’m gonna miss Chemo Daycare. ‘Hello There Welcome to Chemo Daycare’ You can get used to anything. Adaptable buggers we are. And I will miss the pager. When you check into the Chemo Club House, if you’re in the know, you can lean over the counter and make a secret gesture, like you are about to open your kimono and they hand you ‘the pager’. It’s long and vibrates in a most alarming way. If you’ve got the pager, you’ve got free range of the entire hospital grounds. So you can wander to the atrium to snack along to the noon time concert, go down and mess with them at pharmacy by trying to sell back your steroids or Ativan at a profit, or pinch a lab coat and do a bone marrow biopsy or two. And then the pager would begin to vibrate. Stridently. And I’d meander back to be admitted into the clubhouse. Pastel walls and warm blankets. Last few times, I brought my Scrabble board. If I could, I’d crack open some red wine and invite the nurses to, you know, play a board game, cause they feel like the

kind of family you want around. Tempted? Today, I will ring the bell. There’s a bell by the door. You ring it once you’ve completed your cycles of chemo, once the requisite amount of toxicity has dripped into your vein. A chance for renewal. This bell, its sound a moving of molecules against each other. To remind us we are like these particles, membranes touching but at our core, alone. I cried when others rang the bell. I don’t know how I’ll feel today. But I’ve become a participant in my life again. Yup, things are looking up since I came down from the roof. I’m deflating: The wetsuit is rolling off mamma! And I’ve stopped leaking yellow. Food is no longer the centre of my universe. I haven’t had a pepperette in days. I’ve started picking up the phone, combing my hair and speaking to real, live people instead of my inner tea party of one... ...My body presented itself in front of my friend Ronica’s home. Inside there was warmth and quail. It was, after all, Thanksgiving. Ronica was slightly startled to see me, I’d sounded so blue in the morning when we spoke. But at Ronnie’s gatherings the people and food are variously textured and arrange themselves in surprising new ways. The evening began with Sang’s entrance, proclaiming from Rilke. Cut to Imali and myself taking an experimental attitude towards whipped cream. It ended up everywhere except on the pie. I tipped my moonface back and took the spout into my mouth. ‘That stuff is toxic, Lisa. So bad for you’ I paused in mid-spray. ‘What’s gonna happen Jules? I’m gonna get, THE CANCER?!’ Eyes widen. Pause in midbreath. Then, Collapse with wild, loony bun laughter. And then I had wine. To read Lisa Ray’s blog, visit www.lisaraniray.wordpress.com

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SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009

Style MAKEUP

In great detail With the boom in highdefinition film and TV, can high definition makeup be far behind?

B Y P ARIZAAD K HAN parizaad.k@livemint.com

···························· here are times when highdefinition (HD) can ruin, rather than enhance your TV experience. For instance, if Dr Izzie Stevens was having a bad skin day on Grey’s, you might have been blissfully unaware if you were watching it on your standard-issue TV. In HD, all you would be able to focus on would be the spot on her chin. So to maintain the good reputation of Stevens’ and other significant TV people’s epidermis, there is a simple solution: make-up. The boom in HD television and film has caused a corresponding boom of sorts in the beauty industry. As HD cameras capture images six times clearer and more magnified than regular cameras, it can be an unforgiving medium for make-up artists and actors. So to help their friends in entertainment, the ever-obliging

people at beauty came up with specially formulated products for HD. These products mostly focus on foundation, because not only do the sharp cameras pick up every tiny skin imperfection, they also amplify pancake, or a heavily applied base, which has been the norm so far. The new generation of foundations “are more lightweight in texture, so they provide sheer coverage to the skin. You need a minimum amount of product to get the maximum coverage,” says Vimi Joshi, senior make-up artist, MAC. Brands such as Chanel, Christian Dior and Givenchy offer foundations specifically for HD. At MAC and Estée Lauder, foundations formulated with similar technology are part of the basic make-up line; MAC also teaches make-up artists techniques to create make-up for HD. Most of these bases are priced similar to the brands’ other foundations. Besides a liquid base, concealer and loose powder, Make Up For Ever, which will launch in India soon, has corrective primers in seven different shades which go before the foundation and help invisibly neutralize skin pigmentation. The green primer corrects redness, the mauve combats sallowness, while the caramel warms golden skin tones. Cargo Cosmetics, a Canada-based beauty brand (not available in India), has a line of products called blu_ray

t Christian Dior: Capture Totale High Definition Serum Foundation, Rs5,445.

A tight squeeze Leggings are the new chic wardrobe essential. Other variations: treggings (trousers + leggings) and jeggings (jeans + leggings) B Y R ACHANA N AKRA rachana.n@livemint.com

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u Make Up For Ever: High Definition Powder, Rs1,600; Primer, Rs1,500 (approx.); and foundation, Rs1,950.

(named after Blu-ray discs, which store high-definition video). The line includes a primer, base, blush, mascara and lip gloss. The way the foundations work is by reflecting and diffusing light and making it seem as if the face is being viewed through a soft-focus lens at all times. Learning about the technology that goes into these products is like sitting through a class on the physics behind light refraction. A sampler from a press release for Christian Dior’s Capture Totale High Definition Serum Foundation: “The HD Liquid Crystal™ Pigments are made of fine, highly transparent sheets that behave like selective mini-mirrors, reflecting light by following its constantly varying wavelengths and providing a unique ‘hologram’ effect.” Chanel’s latest launch is also HD-friendly. Vitalumière Éclat has been inspired by the RGB technology of plasma screens; each of the pigments in the foundation emits its own colour, either red, green or blue, which combine to diffuse a white light. The pigments are coated with “hydrophobic and lipophobic polymers”, which ensure that sweat and oil secreted by the skin do not affect the pigments. As cutting edge as the technology is, high-definition cameras do make artists’ work harder. Natasha Nischol believes in working the

base really well into the skin until it is flawless to the naked eye. “It should always look invisible,” she says. Her company Fat Mu offers make-up services for film and TV, and she has worked on films such as Slumdog Millionaire and Loins of Punjab, both filmed in high-definition. While shooting, Nischol cleanses make-up off the T-zone and under-eye areas during the lunch break, and reapplies it. “In high-definition, you can’t keep adding on more product to make it look fresh,” she says. According to Joshi, who often works with HD, every detail is picked up by the camera, much like a still photo shoot, so constant touch-ups are required. “Pancake make-up is a big no-no as its heavy texture looks like a mask on HD,” she says. She also avoids using too much gloss or shine as it looks reflective on camera. Matching the face and body tones exactly, and taking time to blend the make-up well, are her other must-dos. The results are worth the effort, though. Vivian D’Silva, senior make-up artist at Make Up For Ever, has noticed that these foundations decrease the amount of airbrushing that has to be done post-shooting to erase blemishes. “These bases minimize the need

u Givenchy: Photo’Perfexion foundation, Rs2,200.

t Chanel: Vitalumière Éclat compact, Rs3,300.

for Photoshop work,” he says. Make-up artist Clint Fernandes often uses Chanel’s Pro Lumière foundation; he says it makes the skin look like it has no make-up on (that’s a compliment). “It has a natural glow, blends into the skin nicely and reflects light really well,” he says. Earlier, Fernandes used to add a moisturizer, as well as a highlighter, to give iridescence to the foundation he used, but he doesn’t need to do that any more. Besides models and actors, there’s another group that would really benefit by using these bases—brides, who are routinely made to look like they are wearing Venetian masks on what is arguably the most important day of their lives. Fernandes says HD foundation is a good option at a wedding, or a function where photographs will be taken. Before use, make sure the foundation is waterproof enough to withstand high temperatures under bright lights. Fernandes suggests putting the make-up on in a cool or air-conditioned, room. This gives it a better chance of staying in place.

q Estée Lauder: MagnaScopic mascara, Rs1,390.

q MAC: Prep+Prime Transparent Finishing Powder, Rs1,250.

From far left: u Kazo: Animal print velour leggings, at Kazo stores in Mumbai and New Delhi, Rs1,000. u Mango: Checked treggings, at Mango stores in Bangalore, Mumbai and New Delhi, Rs2,750. u Esprit: Purple checked leggings, at Esprit stores in Bangalore, Mumbai and New Delhi, Rs990. u Forever New: Black sequinned leggings, at Forever New stores in Bangalore, Ludhiana, Mumbai and New Delhi, Rs2,000. u Tommy Hilfiger: Yellow knit leggings, at Tommy Hilfiger stores in Bangalore, Chennai, Kolkata, Mumbai and New Delhi, Rs1,999. u Promod: Indigo jeggings, at Promod stores in Mumbai, Gurgaon and New Delhi, Rs1,150.

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SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009

Business Lounge SURESH VASWANI

The silvertongued IT man 24 years after he started his post MBA career pushing boxes at Wipro, he’s the joint CEO of its IT business

B Y V ENKATESHA B ABU venkatesha.b@livemint.com

···························· t is a balmy evening at the Karnataka Golf Association (KGA) course. Ever since the airport was relocated to Devanahalli on the outskirts of Bangalore, the traffic on the old “Airport Road” in the heart of the city has gone from chaotic to merely congested. The KGA is one of the few lung spaces in a city that has grown too fast, with glass and chrome structures dotting its skyline. I am there to meet Suresh Vaswani, the joint chief executive officer of Wipro’s IT business, which brought in more than 80% of Wipro Ltd’s $5 billion revenue in 2008-09. After heady growth, when the sector as a whole grew at a CAGR (compound annual growth rate) of 28% over five years, the Indian IT sector is facing big challenges. In recent times, Vaswani and his co-CEO Girish Paranjape have had to navigate the spectre of slowing growth. Key markets such as the US and UK have been facing turbulence, clients have been playing hardball on pricing and margins have been under pressure. Vaswani had suggested that we meet at the KGA instead of the Wipro headquarters at Sarjapur. Despite the traffic, he is on time and looks relaxed. The trademark French beard, which he sported for years, has disappeared; the clean-shaven Vaswani looks younger than his 49 years. I later discover why he wanted to meet at the KGA: For the last six months, he has been spending time on the greens. “It was at the instance of my younger son that I picked up the game. Now I thoroughly enjoy it and try to spend as much time as possible, though my handicap is something I would discuss only a year later,” he laughs. He adds that the golf course is a great venue to bond with clients, “though I haven’t yet sealed any deals on it”. We are seated at the club house, where Wipro’s chief marketing officer Jessie Paul joins us. We order some entrées while we talk. Vaswani has always been seen as the blue-eyed boy of Azim H. Premji, the chairman of Wipro and its single largest shareholder. But more on that later. After completing his engineering from IIT, Kharagpur, Vaswani joined SKF Bearings. “The learning there was good but I wanted to grow, so I joined the IIM after working for a couple of years at SKF.” During the placement season at IIM, Ahmedabad in 1985, a not-so-well known company called Wipro came calling. Despite offers from a “couple of multinational companies”, Vaswani chose to join Wipro as “it sounded interesting and computers/IT was just taking off in

the country”. Twenty-four years on, he was named joint CEO of Wipro Technologies. From a rookie who pushed boxes (PC hardware) to heading the business is no mean feat. Vaswani says he can still recall the name of the IT department head who gave him his first sales order in Mumbai, where he was posted. “Mumbai, or Bombay as it was known then, was divided into various blocks and I was allotted one of them. I remember rushing in the locals (trains) to meetings from one end of the city to another. It was a great time.” The first big break came in 1991, when Premji was looking for a personal assistant. “Suddenly, one day my then immediate superior said you have to go and see ‘him’ in his office. I was thrilled. The two years I spent with him were one of my greatest learning experiences.” Learning from Premji was better than any management tra in ing —h e got to s e e the working and decision-making process at close quarters. Vaswani says Premji is very disciplined and hard-working. “He expects everybody to give themselves completely to the task at hand. He is forgiving when genuine mistakes are made. As long as the effort and intention are there, he is very understanding.” Vaswani’s next big break came when Wipro set up a joint venture in 1995 with Taiwanese PC major Acer to sell hardware in India. “I was the CEO of the JV and both the partners trusted me to look after the best interests of the organization.” Even when Acer and Wipro parted ways, the relationship didn’t sour. “That is a key learning I had from Premji. Sometimes in business one has to part ways. But even with competitors one can still have a good relationship.” What set Wipro apart from some of its peers in the domestic market was that early on it tied up with global IT players such as SAP, Cisco, Sun Microsystems, H-P, IBM and Microsoft. While Wipro Technologies, its global IT arm, competed in some spaces with these companies, it forged partnerships with them for the Indian market in a joint go-to-

market strategy. For instance, if SAP sold its software to an Indian customer, Wipro would do the implementation. Compared with other Indian IT companies, Wipro saw the domestic market’s potential fairly early. This was also evident when the company bagged the Unitech Wireless and Aircel deals over the past couple of years, helping it break IBM’s near monopoly in the Indian telecom services market. It is this kind of realpolitik which helped Wipro earn more than a fifth of its revenue from the domestic market. In comparison, its peer Infosys Technologies earns about 2% of its revenue from the domestic market, though it is now focusing on increasing that figure. And the blue-eyed boy tag? Even as Vaswani ponders and weighs his response, we order his favourite Chinese dishes: hakka noodles and stir-fried vegetables. There were many contenders for the CEO’s position, including long-time Wiproites such as Sudip Banerjee and Sudip Nandy. After Vaswani was made co-CEO with Paranjape, Banerjee left to head L&T Infotech and Nandy to head Aricent. Those departures were unconnected, protests Vaswani. It helped his case that unlike the cerebral Paranjape, who built the company’s BFSI (banking, financial services and insurance) business, Vaswani is more the marketing maven with a silver tongue. “I don’t know why this perception has been created. Wipro is a meritocracy. Nothing but hard work and results get rewarded. Blue-eyed is a tag which the media pins on me.” Can one scabbard hold two swords? Can the current co-CEO arrangement work? “Why not? Both of us clearly run businesses worth a couple of billion dollars. That provides enough challenges. We have our own working styles, but are clearly aligned to the larger organizational goals,” says Vaswani. And the relaxed look ? “Off on a small family vacation before the quarterly numbers season kicks in,” he grins.

Selfeffacing: Vaswani believes that his ‘blueeyed boy of Premji’ tag is a media creation.

IN PARENTHESIS Once, while working as a personal assistant to Azim Premji, Vaswani had to prepare a business proposal for a crucial potential client. It had some mistakes. When Premji pointed them out, Vaswani expected the chairman to lose his cool. Instead, Premji just asked Vaswani to rectify them. And when they got the client, Premji gave him and the team the credit. “I learnt valuable lessons from it,” Vaswani says. Vaswani is a foodie, with a fondness for Chinese, but he gave up eating nonvegetarian food three years ago. “No religious or other reasons. One day I just felt like turning vegetarian and since then have stuck to it.” JAYACHANDRAN/MINT

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SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009

Play CRICKET

The master moments B Y D ILEEP P REMACHANDRAN ······························ tzhak Perlman, the violin virtuoso who took his first bow at Carnegie Hall as an 18-yearold, once said: “For every child prodigy that you know about, at least 50 potential ones have burned out before you even heard about them.” After Sachin Tendulkar’s first Test match in Karachi 20 years ago produced just 15 runs and five wicketless overs for 25, hardened cynics might have questioned the wisdom of thrusting a 16-year-old on to such a stage. A week later, in Faisalabad, there was nowhere to hide. When Tendulkar arrived at the crease to join his Mumbai teammate, Sanjay Manjrekar, India were in disarray at 101 for 4. In a column many years later, Wasim Akram wrote: “It was a lush green wicket, possibly the greenest I’ve seen in Pakistan, and Tendulkar was batting on 20-odd when a ball from me hit him. I immediately asked him if he was alright and he looked me in the eye and nodded. I was a 21-year-old then, so I did not give the matter much thought, but in retrospect that score of 50-odd

was the first hint the world got about Tendulkar’s special talent.” For the world, it was a hint. For the boy himself, it was so much more. “My first innings was a disaster,” he said. “When I walked out at Faisalabad, I told myself that I would do my best to just stay at the wicket, even if I didn’t score runs.” He finished with 59, having stayed at the crease for a shade over 4 hours. And although it didn’t win the Test, or set the pulse racing, it meant a lot to someone thrown in at the deep end. “I said to myself, ‘You can handle this, it’s not a place where you don’t belong.’” In one of its special issues, Time magazine had Tendulkar’s debut at No. 4 in its list of Top 10 Sporting Moments, behind Michael Jordan’s The Shot (against the Cleveland Cavaliers), Pete “Charlie Hustle” Rose being banned from baseball and Arsenal winning the English league title in the last minute of the 1988-89 season. In the years to come, you can take it for granted that thousands will c l aim th at th e y w e re a t the National Stadium on 15 November when he walked out in an India cap for the first time. In ret-

rospect, it was certainly an I-wasthere moment, though few could have imagined that Tendulkar would still be punching the ball through the covers two decades later. Perhaps we in India can’t really fathom the full extent of the adoration and expectation that he has had to deal with in that time. Matthew Hayden, another batting colossus of our age, gave voice to what many outsiders feel when he wrote: “His life seems to be a stillness in a frantic world and I admire his mental strength. When Tendulkar goes out to bat, it’s beyond chaos—it is a frantic appeal by a nation to one man.” Some, like Muhammad Ali, protected themselves with a veneer of loudmouthed arrogance. Others, like George Best, lost themselves in a haze of boozy, womanizing nights. With Tendulkar, the humility, the feeling that he considered himself truly fortunate to be doing what he did, never went away, even if it cost him any semblance of a normal life. “I could say that I didn’t get to do all those things that a normal teenager would do,” he told me once, “but then again, not many people get the opportunity to do what I do.” That awareness of the big picture was best illustrated in Steve Waugh’s final Test at SCG (Sydney Cricket Ground) in January 2004. Twenty minutes before

HINDUSTAN TIMES

CARLO ALLEGRI/AFP

SAURABH DAS/AP

From nervous child prodigy to one of the sport’s most accomplished players, we look back at 20 years of Sachin Tendulkar

No one batted an eyelid: (from left) Tendulkar waves to the crowd in Kolkata during the inauguration of the 1996 World Cup; hoisting the Sahara Cup in Toronto after his team beat Pakistan in 1997; with the Man of the Series trophy at the trination championship final against Sri Lanka in Colombo in September.

stumps, with Australia seemingly safe, Waugh—who had scripted a typically defiant 80 just when his team most needed it—swept a delivery from Anil Kumble to deep square leg, where Tendulkar wrapped his hands around it. As 40,000 Australians rose in unison, it took Tendulkar a moment to comprehend the significance of the occasion. “Honestly, I wasn’t thinking that I had a hand in Steve Waugh’s last dismissal,” he said later. “I was thinking of how we could pull off the win. But once I realized that it was his last innings, I ran all the way from the boundary to congratulate him. I said, ‘You’ve made every Australian proud, and every cricketer admires you’. That was about it really, nothing more.” Just as Sunil Gavaskar was defined by his heroics against the all-conquering West Indies, so Tendulkar remains peerless because of the enormity of his achievements against Australia. Numbers matter in sport, but nothing counts quite as much as how you do against the best. With 10 Test centuries and eight one-day hundreds against the dominant team of his era, Tendulkar’s place in the pantheon is beyond dispute. More than cold statistics though, it’s the moments that will endure long after he’s put his bat away for the last time. That final over in the Hero Cup semi-final. The audacious assault on Shane Warne in Chennai. The cold-eyed targeting of Shoaib Akhtar at Centurion, South Africa, in 2003. That match-winning century in Chennai, just a fortnight after the streets in the vicinity of his restaurant in Mumbai had resembled war-torn Beirut. And most of all, Perth in February 1992. That magical 114 on a lightning-fast pitch, even as the team was routed by 300 runs. Watching the teenager stand on tiptoe and cut and drive with the panache of an old pro in baggy green, Merv Hughes, he of the walrus moustache and the colourful sledges, turned to Allan Border and said, “This little ***** is going to get more runs than you, AB.” He was right. Dileep Premachandran is associate editor of Cricinfo and Asian cricket correspondent for The Sunday Times and The Guardian.

First innings: Tendulkar at age 16, polishing his moves a few months before his international debut against Pakistan in 1989 that made him India’s youngest Test player.

PARIKH MAHENDRA/INDIA TODAY

GAME REVIEW | GHOST TOWN MYSTERIES: BODIE

Hidden and ponderous India’s first ‘hidden object’ video game doesn’t make the cut just yet

B Y V ARUNI K HOSLA varuni.k@livemint.com

···························· ndia’s first “hidden object” game is a study in headscratching confusion. On the one hand, Ghost Town Mysteries: Bodie is a fully India developed game, made by Gaming Hungama, the game development arm of entertainment company Hungama Digital Media, a studio known for small, Web-based game tie-ins with Bollywood. On the other, the content is as far removed from the country as it can be, being the story of the mysterious death of a six-yearold in a California ghost town. The “hidden object” genre is a particularly popular niche in the video game world that has thrived on online distribution. It involves lovely, static artwork in which various objects, usually listed on the side of the screen, are hidden

cleverly. Find these objects (a task accomplished by staring blankly at a computer screen till patterns emerge), and you progress. Most hidden object games have a thin semblance of a plot to wrap around this gameplay device, and these range from simple murder mysteries (like this one) to 19th century literary works (The Count of Monte Cristo, unknown to Alexander Dumas, is quite a popular hidden object game). Bodie sticks to this template, but adds some bizarre variations to the theme. You play sidekick to newspaper reporter Amy, who’s investigating the strange death of a six-yearold girl, and gets stuck in the ghost town of Bodie, California, after a “ghost” steals her car keys. Finding the key means navigating through a series of locations in the town, where you try and find a list of hidden objects. Once you find objects from

Hide and seek: Hidden object games rely on complex, layered artwork. each location, the game awards you a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, and takes you back to a “graveyard”. Here, the pieces must be arranged to solve particular puzzles that unlock keys to further locations. These are fun initially, but the creators should understand that the player may not want to solve 17 identical puz-

zles, each more cryptic than the other. Since the game is locked into this particular path, completing these sometimes infuriating puzzles is essential for progress. Why Bodie makes it complicated for the player to get to the interesting part—the hidden object bits—is a design decision that boggles the mind.

The hallmark of any good hidden object game is the artwork, which must be pretty as well as clever in disguising odd objects in familiar locations. Bodie falters on both counts. The art is unremarkable, and the animations are repetitive. A grating soundtrack doesn’t help either. The pacing and difficulty don’t scale effectively and the game doesn’t manage to stay tricky and interesting at the same time. It’s a lesson Hungama is strongly advised to take from the example of the Mystery Case Files games, possibly the most popular (and most polished) hidden object game series. Hungama has announced that Bodie is the first game in a series of eight similar titles. There’s a good game hidden somewhere deep within Bodie’s desolate locations, but it’s perhaps best to wait for future instalments. Ghost Town Mysteries: Bodie is available for Rs347.59. For the unconvinced, a free demo can be downloaded from www.ghosttownmysteries.com

L10 COVER

COVER L11

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

GASTRONOMY

How to be a

culinary showoff An envyinducing dinner table requires less effort than you might think. Edited excerpts from ‘Flash in the Pan’, a forthcoming book on innovative cooking

B Y T USHITA P ATEL ··········································································· omeone asked me once the question so favoured by lifestyle magazines: If there was one food you had to eat every day, what would it be? I think because I didn’t have an answer, or because I have always been so spoilt for choice, I answered: Cyanide. Like many others in my generation, I was fortunate to travel—first on work, then for pleasure. Friends with good jobs abroad would find exciting eating options, or cook flashy meals. In time, we learnt what we liked to eat, where you could get it and, about the time google transformed from noun to verb, how to cook it. Even in the 1990s, a dinner party menu could be a geography lesson gone wrong—it would include Russian salad, chhole, gobi manchurian, mutton do piaza, Chinese chilli chicken, Prawn Malay Curry, pulao, puri, rabdi, caramel custard and shondesh, all of it cooked at home (desserts from the halwai) by the earnest hostess, as eager as anyone today to show off. Size really did matter. These days, style is substance. During the week, most people meet for a drink as dinners are too intense—both for the host who may have to cook, and the perpetual dieter. Drinks is easy—local booze shops are now flush with a wide range of spirits and wines, but when it comes to the eats with the drinks, we just open a packet of chips or peanuts. Or we order India’s favourite cocktail snacks: chicken reshmi kebabs or gobi manchurian. But opening packets doesn’t always have to lead to peanuts. Off packets, I have been eating bhakri (baked Gujarati biscuits) and Boursin (creamy cheese available everywhere these days) with sliced aam papad as part of cheese platters. This is simple to put together and rather original. Or there are the easy and super elegant steamed shrimps (available shelled and deveined) dipped in Japanese soy sauce, to slightly labour-intensive, but most marvellous beef and lettuce-wraps. The big entertaining happens over weekends. I believe in playing to the gallery with flashy cooking—the kind that generates envy. I also believe in working less, so these dishes really make an impression with minimal effort. I like the spectacle of one attention-grabbing main course, supported by a salad or a side dish Adventurous guests these days seem to enjoy the surprise of a confident menu and like to eat in big, hearty amounts rather than pick at too many small, nondescript and common dishes. A Pork Raja Mirchi with Boiled Vegetables or Cold Sesame Noodles is statement cooking. When you serve Khowswey, it’s the victory of the idea over the food (which is fab too). What’s not to like when guests stand around the table and stare at the food in admiration, then go on to polish off bowls of it in a steamy blur?

Flash in the Pan, a guide to what to cook, and how, by Tushita Patel will be published this month by Westland Books.

Khowswey

(SERVES 6) This is my style of cooking—if there is such a thing. A one-dish dinner with little effort and immense wow factor. Ingredients 1kg skinned and cut chicken 1 tsp gram flour 3 cups of thin coconut milk 250g egg noodles Marinade 3 tsp garlic paste 1 tsp ginger paste 3 tbsp oil 1 tsp chilli powder 1 tsp turmeric powder 2 tbsp fish sauce 2 tsp salt Toppings 12 cloves finely sliced garlic 1 cup picked and chopped coriander leaves 1 cup finely chopped spring onions (optional) 6 diced hard-boiled eggs 3 tbsp chilli powder 4 quartered limes 200g potato straws (commercial) Method Combine all the marinade ingredients in a bowl and marinate the chicken for up to 6 hours. Aim for at least an hour. Heat a heavy-based pan and add the chicken with all its marinade. Stir and cook till the marinade starts bubbling. Turn heat down to

moderate, cover and cook for 15 minutes. By now, the chicken would be half done and cooking in its own juices. Stir in the gram flour and the coconut milk. Cook on moderate heat, uncovered, for another 10-15 minutes. The chicken should be done, but not coming off the bone. This is important, as it will need to be kept warm through the dinner period. Once the chicken cools, it’s critical to taste this dish. Remember it will be eaten with bland noodles, which will play off the spices from the curry. It should be well salted, spiced and giving off some heat. To serve Cook noodles according to the instructions on the packet. Arrange the toppings in individual bowls. Place the noodles on a platter, the steaming chicken curry in a bowl, and the smaller bowls with the garnishes on the table. Guests should take some noodles, ladle some hot chicken curry and top off with all the garnishes. I serve this in soup plates or bowls, as it’s too runny for normal dinner plates.

Vegetarian Khowswey (SERVES 6) The vegetables that taste good in this curry are those which provide a bit of a crunch, but because the dish is rich with toppings, I have settled on broccoli

and tofu. Carrots, French beans and baby corn also work well. Ingredients 2 tsp oil 2 tsp garlic paste K tsp ginger paste K tsp chilli powder N tsp turmeric powder 1 tsp gram flour 2 cups coconut milk (as for the non-veg dish) 1 tsp salt 1 head broccoli cut into florets 250g cubed tofu 2 packets noodles Toppings As for the chicken Khowswey Method Heat the oil in a pan on moderate heat, add garlic and ginger and sauté for 2 minutes. Sprinkle in the spice powders and cook for a minute. Stir in the gram flour, followed by coconut milk and salt, and bring to a gentle simmer. Add the broccoli, cover pan and cook for 5 minutes. Open the pan, add tofu, give it one last boil and switch off. This is blander than the chicken Khowswey and has a gentler, satvik appeal. Serve it in the same way as the chicken Khowswey. (A note about the coconut milk: My coconut milk comes straight out of a tetra pak. I pour the contents of the carton into a bowl, fill the carton with water, give it a good

shake and pour into the bowl. I like a thinner consistency of the coconut milk as I think this makes the curry light, not smothered by the richness of the coconut milk.)

Nagastyle Pork Raja Mirchi and Soupy Greens (SERVES 6) The first time I had Naga-style cooking was at the Naga stall at Dilli Haat in Delhi. I was blown, not just by the novelty of the Naga thali, but because of the heat the raja mirchi used in this dish generated. Raja mirchi, one of the hottest chillies in the world, is found only in Nagaland. While I am a raja mirchi fanatic, for my friends I have toned it down and used Kashmiri and normal red chillies. This dish is perfect for a wintry or rainy day. The red heat of the meat, the bland white rice and the cool shades of greens make a rather enticing picture. Pork Raja Mirchi Ingredients 1 tsp oil 1kg pork, not too bony, with at least 25% fat, cut into 1-inch cubes 1 raja mirchi or 3 dried red chillies 4 dried red Kashmiri chillies 8 cloves of garlic 1 tsp salt Method Heat the oil in a large,

heavy-based pan that has a tight-fitting lid. Once the oil warms up, add the pork and stir on high heat for a minute till the meat loses its pinkness. Add the chillies and garlic, but don’t stir this too much. The idea is to lightly cook these in the pork juices, before extricating them from the pan to make a paste. Cover the pan. After 10 minutes, fish out the chillies and the garlic, ideally with tongs. Place these either in a blender jar or in a mortar, along with the salt. Grind coarsely. Open the pan and stir the chilli-garlic paste into the cooking meat till all the meat is coated. Cover the pan, turn heat down to moderate and cook for about 25 minutes, stirring every 7-8 minutes. This shouldn’t have gravy—the chillies should darken with the cooking. If you want a bit of gravy, add a cup of warm water and cook for 5 more minutes. This makes it easier to eat with rice. I often use more than one lethal raja mirchi for this as an occasional endurance test for guests. Soupy Greens Ingredients 1 tsp salt 6 trimmed beans 6 roughly torn cabbage leaves 6 roughly torn bok choy leaves Method Put a large pan with 2 litres of water and salt on high heat to boil.

Once the water is bubbling, put in the beans, followed by the cabbage and bok choy. Leave for 30 seconds and turn off the heat immediately. Cover and set aside. This is excellent diet food—I often have it as dinner during the week. The vegetables should be eaten/slurped out of soup plates. Ladle in some rice and the vegetables with the cooking liquid. Add the meat.

Chicken Tea Soup (SERVES 6) This is a marvellous dish—as easy as making a cup of tea. Its appeal lies in its simplicity and the explosion of flavours that follows with almost no effort at all. Ingredients 1 whole garlic head 1 large onion 2 plump stalks of lemon grass 800g whole chicken with skin 2-inch piece ginger or galangal 10-12 kaffir lime leaves 2 tsp salt 200ml coconut milk at room temperature, straight from a tetra pak 3 chopped bird chillies 100g rice noodles (optional) Method Take the entire garlic bulb and cut it into half along the equator. Do the same with the onion. Trim off the dry bits of the lemon grass, and smash the fat root with a blunt instrument. Put 3 litres of water in a pressure cooker. Add the garlic, onion, lemon grass, the whole chicken, ginger or galangal, lime leaves and salt. Pressure-cook for 40-50 minutes on low heat. After the cooker reaches full pressure, remove from heat and let it cool naturally till the pressure subsides. Just as you would for tea, strain the contents of the cooker by pouring it into a colander placed over a deep bowl. Keep the chicken aside and discard everything else in the colander. Quickly skin the chicken, and shred about one-third of it. Save the rest for some other purpose. In individual soup bowls, put about 1 tbsp or more of shredded chicken and pour in a portion of the soup. Add the coconut milk according to preference, like you would for tea (make sure the coconut milk is at room temperature, to avoid curdling). Top it off with K tsp of chopped bird chillies, which bleed into the heavenly whiteness of the hot and lemony soup. To add a bit more substance and make a meal of this soup, put some rice noodles into the bowls along with the chicken. The noodles get cooked when the hot soup is poured in. It’s important to stick to rice noodles or vermicelli—anything stronger like egg noodles or wheat noodles distracts from the taste and texture.

Wintry Sausage and Mustard Pasta (SERVES 4) This is quite a posh meal on a winter evening, with a glass of robust red wine, perhaps a rocket salad and a warm dessert like a chocolate mud pie and ice cream (with candied orange peel, of course). For serious eaters, not fussy dieters. Ingredients 200g small pasta—orecchiette or penne at a crunch 1 tbsp salt 1 tbsp olive oil 1 clove of minced garlic 100g fresh basil leaves 400g sausage, chorizo, other Italian sausages or masala sausage 1 tbsp Coleman’s mustard or kashundi mustard or a blend 200ml cream Chilli flakes (to add taste) Method Boil the pasta in 1 litre of water and salt. Heat the oil in a pan, add garlic and half the basil, stir-fry till the garlic changes colour and the basil turns crunchy. Take it out with a slotted spoon. Chop the sausages coarsely so that some of the meat is out of the casing and some within. In the same pan used for the garlic and basil, put in the chopped sausage and let it cook on moderate-low heat, giving out juices, for about 4 minutes. Stir in the remaining basil, the mustard and the cream. Stir and cook on very low heat till it is bubbling. Turn off the heat. Drain the pasta, saving 1-2 cups of the boiling water. Add pasta to the sauce. Blend in some of the pasta water to thin out the sauce. Spoon into individual bowls or plates. Top off with some of the fried garlic and basil, and some chilli flakes.

Chicken Stew, Rice and Papad (SERVES 5) When I talk of the one-dish dinner party, I think of a hot stew, something crunchy like a papad and comforting basmati rice in the wee hours of the morning, which gives second wind to the party. I find the Kerala stew quite showy. The heat from the pepper, the sweetness from the coconut milk and the onions and the big burst of flavours from the other spices make this dish very posh. Ingredients 3 large onions 5 shallots or 1 small onion 2-inch ginger piece 2 medium-sized potatoes 3 tsp + 1 tbsp oil 4 green cardamoms 4 cloves 2-inch cinnamon stick 2 tsp whole black peppercorns 1 tsp plain flour 1kg skinned and cut chicken 1O cups coconut milk (see my note under the recipe for Khowswey) 1 tsp salt

6 slit green chillies 2 sprigs of curry leaves Method Slice the 3 large onions lengthwise, and chop the shallots or small onion. Cut the ginger into matchsticks. Peel and cut the potatoes like French fries. Soak them in cold water. Heat 3 tsp of oil in a kadhai or wok. When hot, toss in the whole spices and give it a stir. Add the sliced onions and ginger and stir and cook till the onions turn translucent. Ensure they do not brown, as this will darken the pristine white stew. Stir in the flour (to prevent the coconut milk from curdling). This should not take more than seconds. Add the chicken and stir on high heat. Pour in the coconut milk. Once the milk is in, add salt, cover and cook on moderate heat for 15 minutes. Open the pan, add the potatoes and chillies, cover and cook for another 15 minutes. Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a small pan. In Kerala, the oil that is most commonly used at this stage is coconut. If you don’t have the stomach for it, use your normal oil. When the oil heats up, put in the chopped shallots or onion and the curry leaves and fry till brown. Turn off the heat. With a slotted spoon, transfer the fried shallots or onion and curry leaves into the bubbling stew. Most pleasurable hot, with rice and crisp-fried papad. Variation: Vegetable Stew This stew is lovely with vegetables too. I use potato, carrot, beans, broccoli (1kg in all). After frying the onions and spices and adding the flour, pour in the coconut milk. Cook the carrots (cut in long sticks), potatoes and beans with the pan covered for 15 minutes. Five minutes before adding the curry leaves and shallots/onion, add the broccoli. All the vegetables should have some bite to them and not be overcooked.

Mustard Fish 101 (SERVES 6) This is such an exotic dish with so many variations that I had to, absolutely, include it. Ingredients 1 cup mustard seeds 1 tsp + K tsp salt 2 + 2 + 1 green or red chillies 1kg fish (ideally river fish) K tsp turmeric powder 1 tbsp + 1 tsp + extra to taste mustard oil Method Soak the mustard seeds in 1K cups of water, with 1 tsp salt and 2 chillies for 20-30 minutes. Drain and pulse grind. If the fish is large, cut it into pieces about K-inch thick and 2-inches long. If the fish are to be kept whole, and are about 3-4 inches long, just trim them. Wash the fish and pat dry. Coat fish with K tsp of salt and the turmeric and let it marinate for 15 minutes. Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a pan. When hot, fry the fish

in batches, on each side for a minute. The idea is not to make crisp fries, just remove the rawness. Remove the fish from the pan and set aside. Add 1 tsp of oil to the pan and heat. Slit 2 chillies and add them to the pan. Dilute the mustard paste in water, and holding a strainer over the pan, filter it through. This I do to keep the rough mustard skin out and make the gravy smoother. Once it starts bubbling, lower the heat and put in the fish. Cook for 2 minutes and turn off the heat. To serve, pour the fish and the gravy into a dish. Swirl a little oil on it for a sharp kick. Split the remaining chilli and place it in the dish. This should not be runny like a curry, but just the fish coated in the mustard.

Aubergine in a GarlicYogurt Sauce (SERVES 4) About 10 years ago, I came across Madhur Jaffrey’s A Taste of India where she gives a recipe for baingan ka boorani from one of the aristocratic families of Bhopal. Slices of fried aubergine, a quirky sauce of coriander, garlic and turmeric, a soothing layer of garlicky yogurt topped with crunchy fried onions—the sight, the smell, the taste—classy, exotic, delicious. I make variations of this where only the aubergine and the garlic-yogurt are constant. Ingredients 1K kg large, round shiny aubergine K tsp + 1 tsp salt 1 cup oil 3 large, finely sliced onions 1 tsp turmeric powder 2 tsp coriander powder, home-made recommended 1 tsp + K tsp garlic paste 1 cup yogurt Method Slice the aubergine into half-inch pieces. Sprinkle with K tsp salt and set aside. Place the oil in a pan for deep-frying on moderate heat. When hot, add the onions in batches and fry till they turn golden. Remove on paper towels to drain. Once the onions are fried, drain out most of the oil, reserving just 3 tbsp and put it back to heat. Pat dry the aubergine slices and place them in the hot oil, turning after a minute to evenly brown both sides. Remove in a bowl, mix the turmeric, coriander powder and 1 tsp of the garlic paste with K cup water and make a paste. Fry this paste in the same pan for about 2 minutes on moderate heat—to get rid of the rawness of the garlic and the spices. Beat the yogurt with the remaining garlic paste and 1 tsp salt. At the time of serving, spread the fried aubergine slices on a serving platter. Spread the paste of coriander, turmeric and garlic evenly over them. Pour the garlic yogurt on top. Sprinkle the fried onions and serve.

ILLUSTRATION

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L12

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SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009

Love BONDS

When four play the dating game Once you’ve found a life partner, the hunt for lifelong ‘couple friends’ begins

B Y E LIZABETH B ERNSTEIN ···························· was wrong about marriage. I thought that as long as I tied the knot—and made sure it stayed tied—I’d never have to date again. Then I found myself out at a restaurant, smiling a little too broadly, watching my table manners and nervously trying to make conversation. It was a date all right—a “couples date.” My husband and I were having dinner with an acquaintance and his wife who had just moved to town. We were hoping the evening would be the start of a friendship. Little did we know that finding another couple we could stand to spend time with could seem twice as hard as finding each other in the first place. “It’s frustrating,” says Ben Van Houten, a 40-year-old technology writer. “We are looking for chemistry—a couple to become lifelong friends with us. But we have not been able to find it.” Since moving to Grand Rapids, Michigan, three years ago, Van Houten and his wife have gone out with several of his old highschool buddies and their spouses, and tried to meet couples through work and their son’s school. They had one “date” where the woman was self-absorbed; another, Van Houten recalls, where the man was “a complete dud with no sense of humor”, and

a third that was ruined by politics. When Van Houten got up his nerve and asked a neighbour and his wife out to dinner, the man replied, “I don’t like people.” For the past few weeks, the Van Houtens have been waiting nervously for a couple to reschedule a date they had postponed—and debating whether to call first. “With couples dating, you really have to put yourself out there,” Van Houten says. “It’s hard.” Yup. The possibilities for awkwardness are seemingly endless. And if something goes wrong, you don’t just embarrass yourself. You embarrass your mate as well. Just ask Brett Blumenthal. She was nervous when she and her husband were introduced to another couple by a mutual friend. “We knew that this couple was friends with our friend and that we would feel weird if it didn’t work out,” says Blumenthal, who is 35 and owns a Web company that promotes balanced living. For their first date, the couples went to a restaurant in Cambridge, Massachusetts., where they both live. They broke the ice with wine and jokes about how they were on a blind date, and chatted about their careers. Then the topic of vacations came up. When the other couple said they go to Utah every year to ski, Blumenthal blurted out, “We would totally love to go with you!” Unfortunately, no one had invited her.

After dinner, Blumenthal told her husband she worried she had come across as desperate. “I hope I didn’t ruin our chances of hanging out with them,” she said. His response, “Yeah, that was a little forward of you.” Actually, the date itself is just the beginning of the stress. Wait until the next day, which can be just as excruciating as the day after a singles date. If you didn’t like the other couple, you’ll need to plot ways to avoid them. If you did like them, you’ll need to deal with your anxiety. Because what if they don’t call? Should you contact them? And if you do, and you still don’t hear from them, what does that say about your relationship with your partner? Are you irritating? Insufferable? Uninteresting as a team? “There’s a whole new lack of self-esteem in this venture,” says Rhett Soveran, 27, a Web editor in Calgary, Canada. He and his wife have undertaken a flurry of couples dates this fall, looking for new friends to replace several who have moved away. In September, they had dinner at a local brewery with a couple they met through Twitter. Soveran was fascinated to learn that the husband also works on the Web and is the son of a pastor, as is he. After dinner, the two couples went to the Soverans’ house, where they made a bonfire in the backyard and toasted marshmallows. “We had an awesome night,” says Soveran. So what’s the problem? Soveran didn’t go in for the hug. He wonders if that’s why there hasn’t been a follow-up date. “There was a millisecond where I could have made the move,” he says. “Maybe as the host I should have initiated it.”

Sure, there are ways for the date to go wrong. Some are big: jealousy, extramarital attraction, the discovery that you’re on a date with real, live swingers. But plenty more are petty dealbreakers. Because whether we admit it or not, we’re just as picky when looking for a couple to date as we were when we were looking for a mate in the first place. Which reminds me: Am I the only one who finds the idea of making new couple friends on one of those couples Web sites, such as Kupple.com, simply terrifying? It’s always sticky if half of one couple is friends with half of the other. That often leaves the other two people to stumble through the conversation on their own. Case in point: Last year, my husband and I went to brunch with my boss and his boyfriend. My boss and I chatted, laughed and gossiped; our partners politely discussed carbohydrates (we haven’t double-dated since.) Some couples will hog all the attention. Or run up a gigantic bar bill and ask you to split it down the middle. Or just not talk. “I sometimes feel like I’m doing

It’s always sticky if half of one couple is friends with half of the other. That leaves the other two people to stumble through

stand-up all night,” says Nancy Berk, a 50-year-old psychologist in Pittsburgh, recalling dates she’s been on with her quiet husband and a subdued couple. Other couples will bicker, or flirt, or make out right in front of you. “When the night is about to draw to an end, I’m not really sure if I want to hear the one ask the other, ‘Want to go sleepy in the beddie?’” says Jason Scarlatti, a 34-year-old creative director for a Manhattan underwear company. And then there’s the bad manners. A few years ago, Lauree Ostrofsky, a 34-year-old life coach in Bethesda, Maryland, and her then husband were having dinner at a tapas restaurant with another couple. Everything was going fine until the cheese plate arrived. As everyone was chatting, the wife stabbed a piece of manchego with her knife—and licked it off. After dinner, Ostrofsky told her husband she didn’t want to see the couple again. But that didn’t stop her from being offended when they never called. “They should have—we’re fun, entertaining and engaging,” she says, adding, “Not that we wanted to hang out.” Still, we do need friends. Research shows that couples who are friends with other couples have happier, longer-lasting relationships with each other. The reasons are simple. If you have friends who enjoy you as a couple, you may feel better about your union. These other couples can be a support network. And the process of making new friends together may inject energy into your relationship and give you something to bond over. But finding the perfect match is hard. Look at it this way: You had to go on lots of dates when you were single just to find the one

person who clicked. Imagine how many more it will take if four people are involved. I’ve got some tips to help make the most of your next couples outing: Don’t date your boss. Don’t share food on a first date. And don’t sit there silently, letting others do all the work. Do ask questions and share. Soon-to-be-published research into how couples form friendships, by Richard Slatcher, a psychology professor at Wayne State University in Detroit, found that pairs of couples who spent 45 minutes discussing personal issues bonded more closely than couples who made small talk. “You need to do it slowly, though, so you don’t scare them off,” Slatcher says. More tips: Hug them if you like them. And, for heaven’s sake, let your partner get a word in edgewise. Trust me. Several years ago, my husband and I were invited to a dinner party by a co-worker and his wife. That evening I felt a little under the weather but didn’t want to cancel. So I asked my husband, who is often more quiet than I am, if he would cover for me by talking more. I spoke very little that night. And my husband was the life of the party, effortlessly steering the conversation from hip writers and foreign films to how to fry a turkey. When we left, he asked me how he did. And I asked him what happened. I’d never heard him talk so much when we were out on a couples date. He thought about it for a second. “Well, you finally shut up.” Write to wsj@livemint.com

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SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009

L13

Culture THEATRE

Stages of growth The Prithvi festival toasts some eclectic stage experiments this year

B Y S ANJUKTA S HARMA sanjukta.s@livemint.com

···························· he annual Prithvi Theatre Festival is a great indicator of talent and innovation in Indian theatre. Ever since the 1990s, the festival has hosted lesser known, but avantgarde theatre from different parts of the country. The Irish brew the Prithvi café is famous for is just a bonus. Since the late 1990s, director Sanjna Kapoor has chosen to look within. “There’s so much dynamism and so much originality here, but not enough platforms,” says Kapoor. She says she never wanted the festival to go out of India for international recognition. In 1998, Prithvi hosted the last of its purely international festivals. Groups from Italy, France, Hungary, Poland, Germany and the UK performed, and among the most memorable plays was Carmen Funebre, with the ethnic conflict raging in Bosnia at the time as its theme. It was performed by a Polish group on stilts at the Juhu aerodrome. This year’s festival, Theatres of India, combines the works of artistes who have developed their own contemporary language and way of living through theatre in remote parts of the country, with those who fuse more than two art forms or new media to communicate visions of urban reality. We pick what promises to be the best from the festival.

Charandas Chor This year, Prithvi pays tribute to Habib Tanvir, who died in June, with an exhibition of his works. The exhibition was first held in 2004 at the Horniman Circle Garden. The festival opens today with a performance of the legendary play, Charandas Chor, by Naya Theatre, the group that Tanvir founded and nurtured.

At play: (above) Adishakti’s Ganapati; and Nirman Kala Manch’s Bidesia. has to grapple with the immediate reality of being a slave of man.

Nirman Kala Manch, Patna

There’s a second performance of the play, banned in Chhattisgarh in August, on Sunday at the Horniman Circle Garden.

Ninasam, Karnataka Heggodu is a small village in Karnataka’s Shivamogga district, where Akshara K.V. and his group have made theatre a way of life. They have a travelling repertoire that includes adaptations of Shakespeare, and their efforts to inculcate the arts in the local community include screening world cinema classics in villages. At this festival, they will perform four plays: a Kannada adaptation of The Merchant of Venice, called Venissina Vyaapaara, Aakaashabutti, Aakaashabheri and Yakshagana: Vidyunmati Kalyaana.

Adishakti, Puducherry Th e atre veter an Ve e n ap a ni Chawla’s initiative in Vazhaku-

lam, near Puducherry, that began in 1993 has evolved into an eclectic group, Adishakti, that uses elements of traditional art forms such as Kalaripayattu, Kathakali, Koodiyattam, Chhau and puppetry for its four major plays—Ganapati, Hare and the Tortoise, Impressions of Bhima and Rhinoceros—which will be staged at the festival.

The Elephant Project This technically accomplished production by the Keralabased group Theatre Roots and Wings of Sankar Venkateswaran has performed in cities across the world. The collaborative piece is based on a poem by Vyloppilly Sreedhara Menon, a Malayalee poet, and the lead is played by Micari, an acclaimed Japanese actor. The performance reveals the inner world of a bull elephant who is bewildered by the wild, but

This group, formed in 1988, is an amalgamation of local talent that has evolved under the aegis of its founder Sanjay Upadhyay. It’s a travelling group that educates rural communities in Bihar in the language of drama through folk traditions, music and dance. Prithvi will host five of their acclaimed plays: Neelkanth Nirala, Harsingar, Kahe Gaye Mere Ugna, Dharti Aaba and the most popular, Bidesia.

Contemporary directors Jeet Thayil and Suman Sridhar give an edgy 21st century twist to opera in The Flying Wallas: Opera Noir, a conversation between a soprano and a ghost about God, murder and showbiz. The techniques and themes of opera are stripped down to a contemporary level. Equus is an adaptation of the original play of the same name by Peter Shaffer. Kolkata-based director Vikram Iyengar of the group Ranan uses Kathak to tell this story of a teenaged boy and his fears and fetishes. The Prithvi Theatre Festival begins today and ends on 20 November. For tickets, call 022-26149546 or log on to www.bookmyshow.com

RAAGTIME

SAMANTH S

MMA’S MAVERICK GENE

crucial part of the period of anticipation between December music seasons is the action on the Sangita Kalanidhi front. From January to July, music enthusiasts, like racecourse bookies, mull various odds to predict the Madras Music Academy’s Sangita Kalanidhi award that year. Little patterns do exist. Vocalists, violinists and mridangists rotate out of equitable favour, interrupted by players of the ghatam, the veena or the nadaswaram, or the odd musicologist. As with the Nobel, age is a factor; the more grizzled the musician, the better her odds. After the academy’s announcement in July, the debates begin about who has been flagrantly S THANTHONI/THE HINDU overlooked. Over the last two years, few would have backed the eventual winner. The 2008 Kalanidhi was clarinet wizard A.K.C. Natarajan; this year, the academy picked Valayapatti Subramaniam, expert on the thavil, the thunderous drum that accompanies the nasal nadaswaram. The awards were pleasant surprises; Natarajan and Subramaniam are masters of their craft, but neither the clarinet nor the thavil had ever won the Kalanidhi before. Subramaniam, gnomish at Beat it: Valayapatti Subramaniam. 68, does not punish the thavil as others do. Instead, he delivers calibrated raps with his fingers and his baton, his head bobbing in perfect tempo. (There is a market for the Valayapatti Subramaniam Bobblehead Doll). At its most energetic, his playing can sound like a hailstorm descending upon a wooden roof. Over a career of 56 years, he has accompanied the best nadaswaram artistes, but his most popular collaboration was an unorthodox one, with the violinist Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan. They performed nearly 3,000 concerts with this odd, enjoyable offering: the refined tones of the violin paired with the brusque folk notes of the thavil. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that with its recognition of Natarajan and Subramaniam, the academy is growing adventurous. There has always been a maverick gene in its constitution. In 1973, the Kalanidhi was T. Balasaraswati—a dancer given a musician’s prize. In 1946, 1967 and 1975, the academy gave no award at all; these were, respectively, the death centenary of the composer Thyagaraja, the bicentenary of his birth and the bicentenary of the birth of another great composer, Muthuswami Dikshitar. In 1947, the Sangita Kalanidhi went to Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer, all of 39 years old, still the youngest musician to have won the title. If I could prod the academy into revisiting its earlier boldness, it would be in this matter of age. Doubtless there is only one award a year and many deserving senior musicians. But music is no devotee of age. I particularly urge the choice of U. Srinivas, 40 years old and a performer for 31. Srinivas has steered the mandolin, an un-traditional instrument, into the Carnatic mainstream. He has spliced Carnatic music superbly into jazz, and has drawn a new generation to the art—all without compromising a gram of classicism. Write to Samanth Subramanian at raagtime@livemint.com

STALL ORDER

NANDINI RAMNATH

BHANDARKAR MORALITY INSTITUTE

omewhere among his bank papers and news clippings, Madhur Bhandarkar has a list of names of his forthcoming movies. These include Court, Hotel (not to be confused with the Ramsay Brothers’ horror classic), Factory, Bank, School/Boarding School/College, Chawl, Mall, Call Centre and Cyber Café. Bhandarkar is a firm believer in the “keep it simple” school of thought. Most of his films have titles that are as direct as road signs. Chandni Bar is about a dance bar. Traffic Signal: no explanation required (a sequel is in the works, called either Flyover or Sea Link). Corporate: no mystery here. Fashion: ditto. Satta: ditto. Page 3 is a slightly more complex way of commenting on the print

media’s obsession with vacuous glamour. The one that doesn’t fit into the scheme is Aan: Men at Work. It should have been called Khaki, but that’s also the name of Rajkumar Santoshi’s film. Why didn’t anybody think of Police? Did Bhandarkar pick up his love for vanilla names from his mentor Ram Gopal Varma? The two shared office space in the same building in suburban Mumbai some years ago. The names of several Varma films, especially his older ones, didn’t tax the film-goer’s brain too much. Consider Shiva (original and remake), Satya, James, Company, Bhoot and Jungle. However, Bhandarkar has a stronger social conscience than Varma. Bhandarkar wants to reform society. He is an avid follower of news, and is deeply

bothered by the corrosion of values in middle India. He is something of a pop sociologist, and he likes to explore widely observed social phenomena through fictional characters and situations. Give or take a few elements, all of Bhandarkar’s films are the same. An honest hero or heroine discovers the rot that lies at the heart of ___ (fill in the blank from the list provided in the first paragraph). Said person tries to clean up the mess, but fails. Through the experiences of the character, viewers are forced to confront one and only one truth: The rich and the powerful are sick bastards. The little people—the models, the beggars at traffic signals, the drivers, the reporters, the police officials, the MBAs—are puppets and pawns.

Gloomy: Neil Nitin Mukesh in a still from Bhandarkar’s Jail. Bhandarkar is especially invested in the city of Mumbai, its people and its problems. Each of his films carries warnings about the city’s present and future, and his solution is heartbreakingly easy to follow, should anyone care to listen. Don’t be ambitious. Don’t earn too much. Don’t trust anybody who offers you more money or a

promotion. Don’t get too Westernized. Don’t move out of your house and come to Mumbai—it’s a big, bad place. Don’t smoke. Don’t drink. Drugs? Are you out of your mind? In Bhandarkar’s universe, love is a strange bird and betrayal is the flip side of romance. This is especially true if his characters have consummated their union

before marriage. According to Bhandarkar, only men and women can be joined at the hip and elsewhere. He is appalled that men sleep with men and women copulate with women. Homosexuality is among the many social evils that Bhandarkar wishes to stamp out. However self-explanatory it sounds, he isn’t likely to make a film called Gay. Despite the gloominess of the worlds he has chosen to gaze upon (and will no doubt continue to keep an eye on), all is well with Bhandarkar’s professional life. He makes headlines with whatever he says. Most of his films earn good reviews, healthy box-office returns, and awards. He is likely to be nominated for a Padma Shri some day. Bhandarkar’s latest film, Jail, released in theatres on Friday. Nandini Ramnath is the film editor of Time Out Mumbai (www.timeoutmumbai.net). Write to Nandini at stallorder@livemint.com

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Travel SUMANA MUKHERJEE

LA FERME

Mould is gold In Auroville, Sri Aurobindo’s ‘universal town’, world cheeses find a home for rebirth B Y S UMANA M UKHERJEE ···························· had a Cheese Slices moment deep in the belly of Auroville. With freezing cold water lapping around my bare feet, I took a long metal needle and poked it into a creamy golden wheel. “Go on, make more holes,” urged Benny, “the more the oxygen that enters, the more the mould that is created and the tastier the Gorgonzola.” Mould is good. But having Benny (he prefers using one name) explain why is better. Talking us through the process of cheese-making, the Dutchborn Aurovillian is alternately self-deprecatory and impassioned, as if he can’t quite figure out why the magic of milk and bacteria and rennet should interest anyone but him. “Are you sure you want to know the chemistry?” he asks repeatedly. We nod, secretly wishing someone had told us in school that this is what compounds and coagulants and controlled temperatures could end up doing. Apparently, no one told Benny either: A chemist by training, he found himself one day in France, making cheese from raw goat milk. When he moved to Auroville in 1998, he brought his experience with him and soon found himself at work at La Ferme (literally, The

Farm). Together with Olivier, a professional cheese maker from France who has since left the commune, Benny experimented with milk collection and enzyme introduction to expand the bouquet of products and today is in the happy position of having more demand than the farm can meet. Among La Ferme’s seasoned cheeses are Lofabu (mild, nutty, somewhat similar to Edam or Raclette), Swissly (strong, comparable to a sharp Pyrenees), Cheddar (firm, with a distinct taste), Auroblochon (piquant, akin to a young Parmesan), Gorgonzola (of course) and Bleu d’Auroville (the first blue-veined and the other mould-covered, soft, creamy and white cheeses) and Parmesan, while their fresh cheeses include a Ricotta cream (excellent in quiches and sauces), a crumbly feta, a moist mozzarella and a Philadelphia herbed spread. It’s somehow peculiarly appropriate that all these world cheeses should be reborn in Auroville, Sri Aurobindo’s “universal town”. “La Ferme is actually at the crossroads,” Benny says. “We have to take a decision soon whether we stay a cottage indus-

try or grow bigger.” In the outside world, that would be a non-question. But La Ferme takes pride in its local/artisanal label: The milk—up to 500 litres a day, producing 50kg of cheese—is sourced from Auroville’s own dairy and from local farmers, the fuel for pasteurization is biogas (the cow comes in handy in more ways than one) and a windmill pumps water. When we arrive, on a Friday afternoon, the workshop has just been washed, the burners are off and all activity is confined to bacteria. “I’m sorry, but it’s just not possible to have visitors during the morning work hours,” Benny shrugs, a half-smile making disappointment impossible. We walk into a water-filled hollow—as commonly found in temples—at the doorstep to divest our feet of all dust, and confront the five or six large vats sitting silently on gas hobs. This is where the milk is cooked at individually pre-determined temperatures for various cheeses and the vegetarian rennet introduced. The milk cools in a specially appointed cooling room and, once it has “set” (thanks to the rennet), it is “cut” with a wire implement that looks like a cross between a rectangular badminton racket and a gardening tool. The whey is drained off (to be used elsewhere) with lengths of cheesecloth, the solids salted and

FOOT NOTES | SUMANA MUKHERJEE CONNECT WITH HIMALAYA

Say cheese: Cheddar moulds wait in intermediate rooms till they turn firm. stuffed into perforated round moulds—that’s how the “wheels” are formed—and weighted down with 25kg of wooden blocks. Variations in this basic process create the various cheeses. On Friday morning, Benny’s team had finished working with Cheddar—they usually make one kind of cheese a day—and in an intermediate room, blocks relieved of their weights sit in their moulds till they are firm enough to be removed. The wheels are then stored in the cold room—the water on the floor is yet another improvisation to maintain an ideal ambient temperature—each stamped with their production date. But Benny’s greatest triumph,

he’s certain, is the Goaty. In Europe, he tells us, goats have been reared for milk since the early Middle Ages; over the years, their milk-providing capacity has grown, the cheese production, too, has been refined. Goat cheese typically has a strong, distinctive flavour, a fallout of the tangy taste of the milk itself, and is much prized by food connoisseurs. In India, with no history of goat milk consumption, it takes much larger herds to provide a quantity of milk that can be profitably turned into cheese. “A few years ago, we heard of a breed of goats in Kerala that provided good milk. We went down and procured about 10 and now their number has

grown to about 30. Milk production is still low, however, but we have successfully processed their milk into cheese,” says Benny. What he doesn’t say is that this is the only goat milk cheese produced in India. It has the same delightfully squidgy consistency as European goat cheese and a strong taste. It spreads delightfully, though a little goes a long way, and is brilliant sprinkled on bruschetta or crostini. A little bit of history in a mouthful, in fact, that Will Studd would be proud to record. For a tour of Auroville’s cheese unit, call 04132-622212 for an appointment. Write to lounge@livemint.com

Queensland on a shoestring QUEENSLAND TOURISM

High up and Down Under Forge your own trail high up in the hills, and explore Oz on a light pocket

o fixed itinerary. No luxuries. No marked trails. Just forging your own path, going, perhaps, where no urban soul has gone before. Connect with Himalaya, or CWH, launched by a group of trekking aficionados who think exploration is the right way of experiencing the majestic range, helps you do just that. Unlike other operators, it doesn’t provide daily break-ups of its

itinerary: “Since our destinations—Darma valley in the Kumaon, Lidder valley in Kashmir, Wang Khango pass in Spiti in the recent past—are so remote and largely unmapped, we prefer to leave some wriggle room for last-minute manoeuvrings,” says Gaurav Punj, one of the founders of CWH. CWH trips usually last 10-14 days, depending on the destination, and don’t comprise more than 10 people. Prior trekking experience is essential for the exploratory trips, while a good pair of trekking shoes and the spirit to walk top the list for the others. CWH trips work with

local service providers and are committed to maintaining the mountains’ fragile environmental balance. Coming up next is a New Year trip to Khirsu from 29 December through 3 January. Exploratory trips cost Rs20,000-35,000, while shorter getaways start from Rs8,000, covering transportation, food and lodging, adventure activities, trekking equipment, guides and porters. Log on to www.connectwithhimalaya.com or call Gaurav Punj on 09833829240 for details. Geetika Rustagi

f you overlook the airfare to Brisbane (around Rs50,000 return on Qantas, ex-Mumbai), Queensland offers loads of opportunities to travel without blowing your budget. Oz Experience (www.ozexperience.com) is a popular hop-on, hop-off bus service for backpackers and travellers aged 18-35. Jetstar (www.jetstar.com.au), Virgin Blue (www.virginblue.com.au) and Tiger Airways (www.tiger.com.au) are the budget airlines one can choose from. There are also the regular train (www.traveltrain.com.au), bus and city mass transport services (www.translink.com.au). Or sign up for budget camper vans at www.wickedcampers.com.au and www.travellers-autobarn.com.au And where do you go? There’s no dearth of destinations. Pick up the Five-in-One discount card (Australian $145, or around

Balmy: Winter in the northern hemisphere means sunny skies. Rs6,000) for Brisbane (www.brisbanefiveinone.com) to access five of the city’s top attractions. On the Gold Coast, join the Backpackers’ Big Night Out in Town (www.backpackersbignightout. com.au) every Wednesday and Saturday night. Tickets (AU $30) cover entry to four nightclubs and live

A Chadar for winter W

ith the onset of winter, it’s time to plan the Chadar trek, one of the most spectacular walks in the Zanskar valley. If you need someone to hold your hand, adventure travel outfitter X-treme X-on has drawn up a 15-day schedule (give or take a day or two for weather-related exigencies) that takes you via Bakula Bawo, Yokmado, Nyerak, and the Lingshed monastery to the frozen Chadar river. You walk on the river till Tsarak Do and

entertainment. On Magnetic Island, a 20-minute boat ride from Townsville, a full-moon night party winds up only when the sun rises (www.stayatbase.com/ base-magnetic-island-hostel/). For the full lowdown on doing Queensland on the cheap, visit www.backpackingqueensland. com.au SANKAR SRIDHAR

then return to Lingshed, stopping at a few more monasteries on the way back. The actual walk starts from (and ends at) Chilling, a 5-hour drive from Leh. On behalf of X-treme X-on, co-owner Gaurav Schimar says the trek, scheduled to Vertical limit: The frozen Chadar river. begin 28 January and end 13 February, costs Rs59,000 per brave the snow and want more person (ex-Leh), inclusive of details (the website’s still under boarding, lodging, transfers and construction), email equipment. Only 12 places are xtremexon@gmail.com or call available, so if you’re keen to 09871511133.

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TRIP PLANNER

München munching

THE LOUNGE CUTOUTANDKEEP GUIDE TO

MUNICH PHOTOGRAPHER: HEINZ GEBHARDT; OWNER: MÜNCHEN, TOURISMUSAMT

You probably missed the best reason to visit Munich by a month. But no worries: Oktoberfest returns in 2010, with its 200th edition. And that’s not all KAI PFAFFENBACH/REUTERS

HISTORY

CULTURE

The city that composers such as Mozart, Wagner and Strauss called home is a mecca for Western classical music lovers. Apart from world famous opera houses such as the National Theatre and Prinzregententheater, the city has three fabulous orchestras in the Munich Philharmonic, the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and the Bavarian State Orchestra. At the 2010 Opera Festival (28 June-31 July), don’t miss Puccini’s Tosca and Strauss’ Die Schweigsame Frau, among other gems. On 11 July, there will be the Concertante Opera for All, conducted by Kent Nagano on Marstallplatz (www.staatsoper.de). In the art district of Kunstareal, the three “Pinakotheken” galleries (www.pinakothek.de) are devoted to three eras of European art. The Glyptothek houses Greek and Roman sculptures, the Museum Brandhorst showcases works by Andy Warhol, among others, and for science and technology, there’s the Deutsches Museum (www.deutsches-museum.de/en/). Car lovers can drop in at the BMW Museum and the BMW Welt (www.bmw-museum.com/2/ webmill.php). Don’t miss out on the baroque Nymphenburg Palace and the Residenz Royal Palace. Between February and May, India’s royal

Search for München (the German way of writing the name), Bavaria, on the Internet, and you’ll end up with three places: Two are small towns, and the third—Munich—is the third largest city in Germany. The recorded history of Munich goes back to the mid-12th century—from being ruled by bishops it passed to the House of Wittelsbach in 1240 and eventually became the capital of the Bavarian duchy in 1504. Munich has always been prominent. The Bavarian Academy of Sciences was founded in 1759 and, in 1818, Bavaria became the first German state with a written constitution. But it was under Ludwig I (1825-1840) and his two successors, Maximilian II and Ludwig II, that the city really reached its zenith in arts, architecture, academics, music and science. Ludwig I also founded the city’s most enduring legacy, the Oktoberfest, at the site of his wedding to Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen. The 20th century was less glorious. The city came under heavy bombing during both world wars: Indeed, it was dubbed “Capital of the (Nazi) Movement” between 1935 and 1945; it was also the site of a failed assassination attempt on Hitler. Since then, though, Munich has made headlines for all the right reasons.

ALEXANDER HASSENSTEIN/AFP

Bavaria bonding: (clockwise from above) Munich has it all—from the excitement of a Bayern Munich match to shopping at Marienplatz Square and the famous Oktoberfest.

AS TOLD BY INSIDER CONSTANTIN GRAF VON PREYSING, RESIDENTIAL PROPERTY SALES

Schumann’s: The alltime classic hangout for Munich’s elite. Its owner, the timeless Charles Schumann, rules over this Munich institution, which is the ideal evening location for dinner and drinks. Odeonsplatz 6+7, Munich, 0049-89-229060, www.schumanns.de u

treasures, sourced from important Indian and European collections as well as the Victoria and Albert Museum, will be on show at the Kunsthalle as part of the exhibition Maharaja (www.hypo-kunsthalle.de). And, of course, there’s the 200th edition of Oktoberfest, coming up between 18 September and 3 October.

Nightclubs: The worldfamous P1 club still attracts plenty of fans, but the city has a lot more nightlife to offer, so start the club crawl. A new favourite spot is the very 1980s’ Paradiso. For electronic sound and big beats, head to Registratur or the Prinzip. Paradiso, Rumfordstraße 2, Munich, 0049-89-21269193, www.paradiso-tanzbar.de; Die Registratur, Blumenstr. 28, Munich, 0049-89-23887758, www.dieregistratur.de; Prinzip, Maximilianstraße 29, Munich, 0049-1778354997, www.prinzip-club.de. u

SPORT Besides hosting the Summer Olympics in 1972, Munich was the venue for the final of the football World Cup in 1974—when Germany beat Holland 2-1 to lift the title—and many of the matches in 2006. Local outfit FC Bayern Munich is one of the most successful teams in Europe, and any home match it plays is an event in itself. If you get the opportunity to watch a match—it’s not easy—don’t miss it, even if you aren’t a fan: You won’t regret it. At the very least, do a tour of the Allianz Arena, a state-of-the-art, doughnut-shaped stadium constructed of plastic-foil air panels (www.allianz-arena.de): In football season, it is lit up in the home team’s colours. Munich’s proximity to the Alps also makes winter sports such as skiing and ice skating very popular. Not too far from the city is Zugspitze, Germany’s highest mountain, which has a small ski resort (www.hotel-zugspitze.de) that’s perfect

3 THINGS TO DO

for the uninitiated. The more advanced skier may prefer the larger skiing area of GarmischPartenkirchen.

FOOD AND DRINK Munich is paradise for non-vegetarians and beer aficionados. Must-haves include weisswurst, or white sausage, served with sweet mustard and freshly baked pretzels, crispy grilled knuckle of pork served with sauerkraut, and leberkäse, a dish made with pork and beef. Must-try desserts: apfelstrudel, apple strudel with vanilla sauce; millirahmstrudel, a cream cheese strudel; dampfnudeln (yeast dumplings served with custard); and auszogene, a large doughnut-shaped fried pastry. Among restaurants, try Käfer-Schänke (www.feinkost-kaefer.de) for traditional Bavarian cuisine,

Barysphär (www.barysphär.net) for the exotic, and Nage und Sauge (www.nageundsauge.de) for a taste of something quirky. Munich also has seven Michelin-starred establishments. If you like doing your own thing, visit Viktualienmarkt, near Marienplatz, for fruits, vegetables, herbs, breads, wine and food from around the world. And then there’s the beer. Try the beer gardens, open spaces with large benches under chestnut trees that serve a large variety of beers ranging from Weizenbier, or wheat beer, to Starkbier, Munich’s strongest beer. Information courtesy the German National Tourist Office, India. For more information, visit www.germany-tourism.de Blessy Augustine blessy.a@livemint.com

English Garden: The English Garden is one of the biggest inner city parks in the world. Bike through it and stop at one of the two main beer gardens, Chinesischer Turm or Seehaus, to taste the best beer in the world and get a good bite of Bavarian specialities. Another hot spot in the English Garden comes as quite a surprise—an artificial wave that draws surf enthusiasts from all over the world. Chinesischer Turm, Englischer Garten 3, Munich, 0049-89-38387300, www.chinesischer-turm.de; Seehaus, Kleinhesselohe 3, Munich, 0049-89-38161300, www.kuffler-gastronomie.de u

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Books DINODIA

FREE VERSE | KYNPHAM SING NONGKYNRIH

PUBLISHING

Songs of the hills

Identification marks

Postcard: The scenic landscapes of the NorthEast feature in the work of writers from this region.

Contemporary writers from the NorthEast are addressing issues more complex than middleclass angst

Laburnum for my Head: By Temsula Ao, Penguin, 120 pages, Rs150.

Dancing Earth: Edited by Robin S. Ngangom and Kynpham S. Nongkynrih, Penguin, 344 pages, Rs350.

Stupid Cupid: By Mamang Dai, Penguin, 200 pages, Rs199.

B Y A NINDITA G HOSE anindita.g@livemint.com

···························· he Khasis from Meghalaya have a legend about how they lost their script. It was swept away in “the great flood”—an undated reference that has currency in several ancient cultures. The tribesmen eventually lost all memory of it and their descendants were left without alphabet. With the coming of the Christian missionaries in the 18th century, the Khasis got back the written word. Over the next century, tribes in Arunachal Pradesh, Nagaland and Mizoram took to writing as well, stimulating a giant transcription of these oral cultures into written texts. Today, there is a profusion of literature from the seven states of the North-East. Intense political conflict and complex issues of identity provide much fodder for storylines. And the subsoil of myth and folklore, coupled with scenic landscapes, make it a fertile ground for literary ferment. Over the next three months, Penguin India will have five books by writers from the region on bookstands. The publishing house is working on organizing a gala in Guwahati in December to celebrate the joint launch of books by Dhruba Hazarika and D.N. Bezbaruah from Assam, Mamang Dai from Arunachal Pradesh, Temsula Ao from Nagaland, and a panNorth-East poetry anthology edited by K.S. Nongkynrih and Robin Singh Ngangom, both members of the faculty at Meghalaya’s North-Eastern Hill University (Nehu). Zubaan, a relatively smaller publisher, is also set to launch Shadowmen by Khasi writer Bijoya Sawian and a book of poems by the Manipuri activist, Irom Sharmila. Ravi Singh, editor-in-chief, Penguin India, was introduced to this batch of writers through the annual publication of the North East Writers Forum, NEWFrontiers, around five years ago. Singh believes that writers from the North-East are the “single most organized group of writers” in the country today and their self-created literary platforms have given impetus to large-scale publishers such as Penguin. Niche publishers, such as Katha, had recognized the literary merit of this region in the mid-1990s. “I haven’t been able to find any other comparable group of writers in the country that meet regularly, work together and self-publish with such drive,” says Singh.

Singh himself has been a great crusader for drawing mainstream attention to this region. Book circuit rumour has it that he has flown down to attend small book launches in Guwahati and Itanagar. He says some of the most interesting Indian writing in English today is coming from this region. The reason: They have something more than just middleclass angst to address. This literature is germinating more specifically in Meghalaya, Nagaland, Mizoram and Arunachal Pradesh—places that have been taking to the written word over the last century, explains Dai, who is from Arunachal Pradesh’s Adi tribe. But to celebrate only the newly written orality of the NorthEast is to ignore the existence of Assamese and Manipuri written literature that dates back to the 10th and 16th centuries, respectively. Writing in Assamese is, and will be, the forerunner in this region. Many writers, including Dai herself, have had their primary education in Assamese. Founded in 1996, the North East Writers Forum was the brainchild of Dhruba Hazarika, Mitra Phukan and a few other writers from Assam. They sought the help of two young Khasi poets and academicians, Nongkynrih and Ngangom, to organize chapters in each state. Today, the forum is an efficient body. It held its annual general meeting in Shillong just two weeks ago. Voices: (clockwise from right) Mamang Dai; Siddhartha Deb; and Anjum Hasan.

Over the phone, Nongkynrih shares, somewhat modestly, that a poetry anthology that Ngangom and he brought out in 2003 as a university publication from Nehu did much to attract mainstream publishers to local talent. The anthology is truly sublime, and features works by Penguin writers such as Dai and Ao as well as young poets such as Mizoram’s Mona Zote. In poignant verse, in her poem titled Rez (2006), Zote writes: A boy and his gun: that’s an image will do/to sum up our times…/if they say they want to hear about stilt houses...and the preservation of tribal ways/give them a slaughter. Several writers resonate Zote’s sentiments, expressing mild rage at being labelled as “North-East writers”. At the literary consultancy Siyahi’s Voices from the North East festival (13-14 October) in New Delhi, writers complained of the “conflict zone” and “new heart of darkness” tags. Ao, a Padma Shri awardee for literature in 2007, articulated her resentment. “My peers and I belong to the broader category of Indian writing in English. To shelf our literature with a disparate label is to be non-inclusive.” Dai doesn’t have a problem with the label as such, but stresses that fetishizing her ethnicity shouldn’t be a point of focus for publishers. The region is such an assorted conglomeration of people with varied cultures that the “NorthJOHN MACDOUGALL/AFP

MADHU KAPPARATH/MINT

JERRY BAUER

One day a strange voice asked me a strange question: “How do you spot a Khasi?”¹ I gave it a strange answer. Not by his mother tongue since too many mothers and fathers have rendered his tongue truly macaronic, his features truly olla podrida. Not by his dress since he is truly universal. Not by churches or temples since he doesn’t have any. Not by his religion since they would simply label him “non-Christian”. Not anymore as “a red-mouthed demon” since kwai² stain has afflicted everyone. Not by his syiems³ since they rule like commission agents and serve at the pleasure of scoundrels. Not by his leaders since they are the scoundrels. A Khasi is a man, who once a year, sports a muga-mulberry⁴ turban, an eri shawl and is seen en grande tenue at Weiking or Pomblang⁵. Who once a year, speaks of these great festivals and the teachings of his great ancestors. Who once a year, says “to Know Man—to Know God, to Know Maternal-Paternal Relations, to Earn Righteousness” is our faith. But this, only once a year. (1. A tribesman from Meghalaya, especially one still adhering to the indigenous faith; 2. Areca nut chewed with betel leaf and lime; 3. Khasi traditional rulers; 4. A type of silk. 5. Khasi religiocultural dance festivals in spring and winter.) A collection of Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih’s poetry, published by HarperCollins India, will be out next year. Write to lounge@livemint.com East” as a collective term is misleading. Preeti Gill, an editor with Zubaan, has travelled around the region and says the collective noun doesn’t even exist in any of the local languages. That said, she dismisses it as a term of convenience, one that doesn’t warrant offence.

The new grammarians The work of the older generation of writers reflects a particular strain of violence. Arupa Patangia Kalita’s powerful novel Felani, for instance, vividly captures the terror of this region. While politics and folklore still dominate much of the region’s literature, writers are moving beyond. A lot of it has to do with exposure and elite education. The present coterie consists largely of academics, journalists and civil servants. Sawian even agrees that her privileged education at Shillong’s Loreto Convent might have “over polished” her prose. Western influences are apparent: The core idea for her forthcoming book on youth getting exploited by political sharks came from a Bob Dylan song: He was a clean cut kid but they made a killer out of him. At the Siyahi festival, where she was a panellist, Sawian was dressed in the traditional Khasi jainsem and spoke of the beauty of her indigenous faith, Niam Trai. At 60, she represents a generation of writers who are perched precariously on a fence between the old and the new. The case of writers who do not share the ethnic heritage of their peers is even more interesting. Writers such as Anjum Hasan, Siddhartha Deb and Samrat Choudhury hail from Shillong but do not belong to the indigenous tribes of the North-East. But the region, and the issue of identity,

has featured prominently in their early works. They have been quick to move on to writing about more mainstream India. Large chunks of action in Hasan’s second novel, Neti, Neti, take place in Bangalore. And while Deb’s first two books were set in Shillong, his third, to be published by Viking Penguin in 2011, takes on India as a whole. However, though it was planned as a work that would have nothing to do with the North-East, the region is nevertheless making an appearance in the book. “You can take me out of the North-East but you can’t take the North-East out of my work, it seems,” says Deb, who is Sylheti, an ethnographic group spread around the larger area of the North-East, Bangladesh and Myanmar. Some writers from this bunch, all settled in urban centres and even abroad (Deb lives and works in New York), are planning a Shillong Literary Festival in mid-2010. Lalsawmliani “Teteii” Tochhawng, a cultural practitioner based in New Delhi, says they have had preliminary negotiations with the government of Meghalaya and the state’s chief secretary, who are committed in principle to supporting the festival. In proportion to the output, not much literature from this region has attracted a global readership yet, possibly because the international reader is not yet familiar with its complex politics. But there is hope. Hasan’s Neti, Neti has recently been sold to a Swedish publisher, Ordfront. Assamese writer Aruni Kashyap’s work has drawn interest as well. And several international publishers were interested in Dai’s Stupid Cupid when it was shopped around at the Frankfurt book fair last month. The view from the hills, for now, is fabulous.

BOOKS L17

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

GHALIB AT DUSK | NIGHAT M GANDHI

POSTSCRIPT

Loneliness and domesticity KAMAL KISHOR/HINDUSTAN TIMES

Stories of desire, loneliness and what constitutes ‘home’ in the subcontinent

B Y C HANDRAHAS C HOUDHURY ···························· ne of the tasks of fiction—one of its ambitions, one of its motives for speaking up, one of its desires—is to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, by harnessing adeptly the power of story, of context, of point of view. Most of us take our motor ability for granted (and how should we not?), but don’t we leave our easy security behind when we read an accurate report of the mind of a person who is disabled? Here, for instance, is a moment in the life of Saeed, the crippled young protagonist of Desire by Any Other Name, one of the stories of Nighat M. Gandhi’s mature and considered debut collection, Ghalib at Dusk. Saeed is a virgin, and the needs of his body have harrowed him for years. A considerate friend has set up an encounter with a prostitute in an apartment somewhere. When Saeed is delivered to the site of the rendezvous, the girl herself comes out to wheel him in. She then begins to potter about the house, fixing him a snack, as if he were just another visitor. Saeed desperately wants sex, but we sense that he has an innocent and vulnerable nature, and he despises the sordidness of an encounter that is paid for. The girl’s matter-of-fact behaviour relaxes him, makes him feel as if he is a person and not just a customer. “She seemed in total control of the evening,” writes Gandhi, “so he decided he would simply watch her. People moving about freely, going about their jobs, without any awareness that they were doing anything extraordinary always fascinated him....To him human movement, the willed exercise of one’s limbs to make the body achieve some purpose, was one of the most novel feats of Nature.” Saeed clearly feels desire, discontent, longing, not just when he sees a female body, but when he

LAKSHMI CHAUDHRY

CHETAN BHAGAT IS NOT SO ‘MASS’

Indianized: The book’s title story is about a married woman and her elderly neighbour in Allahabad. sees any normal body, and Gandhi’s story, in wheeling him in and out of this encounter that he will always cherish, also wheels us into a place of perception and understanding that we would otherwise have small chance of reaching. Disability, with its connotations of loneliness, alienation, need, is one of the overriding themes of Gandhi’s book, but so, on the other hand, is domesticity—the comforts and challenges of living together, of keeping love or regard

Ghalib at Dusk: Tranquebar, 176 pages, Rs200.

going, of dealing with adulterous desire. Her stories achieve a number of surprising effects as they shuttle between these two poles. The title story, for instance, deals with the experience of a married woman in Allahabad on a casual visit to the household of Babar bhai, an elderly neighbour who is an expert on the poetry of Ghalib. Babar is an attractive man despite his age, and although one of his legs has become paralysed and he needs a crutch for support, his mind is still fine and flaming. He lives with several unmarried sisters, and has never before given the narrator cause for suspicion, but this evening, as he explains the meanings latent in one of Ghalib’s magnificent couplets, his feelings overcome him, and he confesses his love for her. As he advances, so she must retreat, and she never goes to his house again. But Gandhi’s story beautifully braids and contrasts the prose of worldly details, responsibilities and roadblocks with the poetry of dammed feelings and delicate negotiations. Indeed, her own storytelling voice frequently has a persuasive lyrical force and assonance, as when she observes one of her

characters at work: “In the dying light of dusk, he flitted between the tap and the trees, a waif of a man, watering his garden.” Unusually for a South Asian writer, Gandhi has lived in Bangladesh, Pakistan and India; half of the stories in her book are set in Karachi, and the other half in Allahabad, where she now lives. But it seemed to me that a sense of place, a relationship to place, is not so important to her characters as a sense of home is: the actual houses and rooms they inhabit and share with others. Her story Trains, for instance, is about a woman, Urmila, the sacredness of whose home has been violated by her husband’s affair with a servant, but who nevertheless clings to that very house as the stable centre of her power, pride and respect. Many of Gandhi’s other stories bestow a similarly lucent attention to the meanings of domestic space, and in doing so they turn these small worlds into places we can all enter. Chandrahas Choudhury is the author of Arzee the Dwarf. Write to lounge@livemint.com IN SIX WORDS A mature voice from South Asia

hetan Bhagat is the reliable purveyor of middle-class male fantasy and its key elements: masculine angst, sexual triumph and material success. His latest offering, 2 States: The Story of My Marriage, hews close to the well-worn script. Krish does indeed get the girl, who is beautiful and liberated, but in that safely middle-class way. Ananya, the TamBram hottie, prefers beer with her chicken pakoras, but is horror-stricken at the sight of cleavage; a good little virgin who gives it up for true love. As for being upwardly mobile, Krish’s degree from IIM Ahmedabad and fancy job at Citibank will do very nicely, thank you. Attacking Bhagat’s literary credentials is like shooting fish in a teacup. As critics have noted ad nauseam, his writing is execrable, as are the wafer-thin Bollywood-style narratives. When Bhagat tells Open magazine, “My books are not that great,” he’s not being modest, but merely accurate, perhaps even a bit kind. Since the best defence is offence, Bhagat routinely dismisses his critics as nasty little elitists who “move in circles where the common people and their tastes are looked down upon”. In a speech at the Hindustan Times Leadership HARIKRISHNA KATRAGADDA/MINT Summit last year, Bhagat described himself as “the mass-iest English author ever invented in India. My books sell on railway stations and next to atta (flour) in Big Bazaar”. Yet Bhagat’s books are aspirational fantasies for those who have the privilege to aspire to a degree from IIT or IIM, a well-paid corporate job or a business start-up. None of his protagonists are coolies, maids or farmers—the people who better represent the Indian “masses”. His novels, instead, pander to the worst kind of middle-class materialism. Bestseller: Bhagat’s found a formula. In Bhagat’s universe, self-fulfilment is a patriotic imperative. It’s why he often compares 20-something middle-class Indians—who, not coincidentally, are also his biggest fans—to the generation of freedom fighters who marched against the British, courted arrest and valued community service. His novels pretend that young people serve their nation just as well by courting parental disapproval, inventing money-making schemes and having sex before marriage, especially with Tamil girls. While promoting 2 States, a Panju-weds-TamBram love story, Bhagat told The Times of India, “(B)y marrying outside one’s state, the aam aadmi (common man) can do his bit towards making the country one.” In order to sell this spurious proposition, Bhagat does his best to lard his book with over-the-top inter-regional hatred—and ignorance—that ring grossly untrue in post-liberalization India. Denying reality allows 2 States to peddle a faux version of youthful rebellion that affirms middle-class values in the name of tweaking them. The characters cross the barriers of caste and community—for a well-educated mate from a “good family”—but never of class, which would be entirely unforgivable and unthinkable. Krish will likely do a lot more for national integration by marrying the dhobi’s (washerman’s) daughter, but that would truly upset his parents and, worse, make him downwardly mobile, which is just plain unpatriotic. Write to Lakshmi at postscript@livemint.com

THE YEAR OF THE FLOOD | MARGARET ATWOOD JOHN MACDOUGALL/AFP

Apocalypse now A novel that tries to be Orwellian, but is best read as a story of two women

B Y A RUNAVA S INHA ···························· ssume, for just one moment, that you already know Margaret Atwood belongs to a family of scientists, that she tweets, that she reads Wired magazine for pleasure and wraps her novels around themes of science-andtechnology-catalysed apocalypses. Then you won’t have a choice but to read her newest novel, The Year of the Flood, as the latest in her ongoing chronicles of Armageddon caused by extremes of politics or biotechnology, to mention two examples. Here, too, planet-wide destruction comes in the form of a flood—the symbol of destruction in every myth—which, in this case, is without water. It’s an unknown, presumably genetically engineered, disease that kills all but two women, Toby and Ren, both of whom were luckily in locations that offered immunity. Their backstories leading up to the flood, and their annals of sur-

The Year of the Flood: Bloomsbury, 434 pages, Rs999. vival make up the novel, with the mandatory hopeful final sentence. Strewn as this novel is with many signs, artefacts, social mores and clever references, it’s possible—even tempting—to interpret it as a literary warning against accelerating climate change and environmental degradation. It’s almost deliciously self-righteous and artistic at the same time. Except that, part of

Authorspeak: Margaret Atwood. the way in, you start wondering whether Atwood, now 70, is being serious or playful. Is it possible that, in her depiction of the cult of the Gardeners—encountered in earlier books of hers too—she’s actually laughing at their childish belief in ascending an organic stairway to heaven? Their hymns are banal. Their personalities range from vapid to sly, without any depth.

Their behaviour is a parody even of the rituals of fringe groups. But something is rotten in this reading, and it isn’t just the overripe fruits and vegetables. For if Atwood were to be poking fun at those who forecast the death of the planet through environmental stupidity, wouldn’t that destroy her own case too? Unfortunately, whether by design or not, this element does rob the narrative of some of its credibility. The Year of the Flood appears to be believable only when it explores the emotional landscapes of the two women narrators, the relationships they form, the wisdom they acquire, the strategies they adopt. And therein lies a clue to just how this novel might be best read: as their story. Forget, therefore, the science fiction which Atwood prefers to label speculative fiction because, she says, the events she depicts are in the realm of possibility; indeed, some of them may have happened already. There’s no scientific or technological premise here without which the story would fall—as should be the case with kosher sci-fi. Forget, too, the commentary on

extreme societies of the nature of 1984 or Brave New World or A Clockwork Orange. All those books depicted dystopias far more chillingly than Atwood does. Looking at the novel through any of those lenses leaves you cold, not caring who survives, who wins, who lives to see another sunrise. Despite the wordplay, in the best Orwellian tradition, throwing up a CorpSeCorps, a HelthWyzer, a SecretBurger, it’s no fun as a 1984-wannabe. So, let the apocalypse remain in the background. Don’t let artefacts such as the liobam, lion meets lamb—which can dismember people while looking at them with gentle eyes—suck you back into the foibles of genetic manipulation. Read The Year of the Flood instead as the story of two women battling enormous odds, losing people they care for, and the resultant kinship between them. Then, suddenly, things fall into place. Arunava Sinha is a Delhi-based writer and translator who has translated The Middleman by Sankar from Bengali. Write to lounge@livemint.com

L18 FLAVOURS SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2009 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

PHOTOGRAPHS

SAMAR HALARNKAR

OUR DAILY BREAD

SAMAR HALARNKAR

Remains of the day Leftover kebabs, sausages and some fresh vegetables make for a light, hearty Sunday meal

ometimes, don’t you just love leftovers? I do. It’s so relaxing on a Sunday to rummage through your fridge and cobble together a diverse meal of disparate flavours. Making chapattis is a chore, and you shouldn’t have to bother with them—unless of course someone makes them for you. If, like me, you hate anyone in the house on weekends, it’s a great time to have fun with leftovers. If you’re feeling creative, use those leftovers as a starting point for a new dish altogether, guaranteed to put a zing into your weekend and beyond. I come from a family that always has leftovers. Our fridge has always had substantial quantities of food. Day before yesterday’s chicken overlaps with yesterday’s fish, which overlaps with today’s sausage, which overlaps with, er, last week’s roast mutton. We don’t share the general Indian squeamishness about so-called stale food. After marriage, my wife was horrified that I ate “old” food. I argued that refrigerators were built for a purpose. I think she is now a convert—at least partially—to this sound, modern logic. Only rarely now does she stick her lower lip out and scowl over leftovers.

Chopchop Pak Choi Serves 2

The great thing about leftovers is that you can have a lot of fun. That’s what I did last weekend, gathering leftover veggies, rice, kebabs and sausages and merging them into one fun, fragrant dish. If, like me, you also do your drinking over the weekend, do consider that alcohol is a great thing to splash and sizzle in your wok when you’re cooking. Swig. Sauté. Splash. Sizzle. Swig. Stir-fry. Splash. I did just that as I cobbled together a one-dish meal (recipe given). To round it off, I stir-fried some greens for my wife, and she put together a quick iceberg and rocket lettuce salad, dressed with our standard home-made dressing of vinegar, olive oil, garlic and pepper. There was a lot of the rice, so I could put aside half. It’s very satisfying to wake up on a Monday and pack whatever you created. Of course, this will now be the leftover of the leftovers. So what?

Ingredients 1 colander full of pak choi, leaves pulled apart and cleaned 3 garlic cloves, crushed K tsp ginger paste 1 star anise 1 flat tsp red chilli powder 2 tsp sesame seeds 2 tsp soy sauce Red-wine vinegar

New life: (clockwise from top right) Leftovers and fresh ingredients; the Chopchop Pak Choi; and Twiceasnice Spiced Rice.

Twiceasnice Spiced Rice Serves 2 Ingredients 2 large spring onions, chopped (use stalks as garnish) 2 carrots, chopped 1 red pepper, cut into half-inch pieces 1 yellow pepper 1 tomato, sliced N-inch ginger, sliced into juliennes 4 big cloves of garlic, crushed 2 or 3 leftover shami kebabs or equivalent, crumbled 200gm leftover sausage, chopped into bits 2 tsp sesame seeds 1 tsp black onion seeds 1 black cardamom 1 tsp cumin seeds + 1 tsp red or black peppercorns, crushed to a

powder together in a mortar pestle K a grated nutmeg K cup vodka 2 cups rice 1 litre chicken stock 3 tbsp soy sauce Method Cook the rice (in case you don’t have any leftover) in the chicken stock with the carrots (I used a rice cooker) and salt. Set aside. In a non-stick pan, heat a tablespoon of olive oil with the cardamom, sesame and black onion seeds. When the seeds sputter, add the

garlic and cook till light brown. Add the ginger and the chopped bulbs of the spring onion. Sauté till onion is translucent. Add cumin and peppercorn powder and nutmeg. Sauté, adding vodka in sizzling dribbles, followed by the soy sauce. You can also sprinkle red-wine vinegar. Add the tomatoes and stir for a minute. Add the kebabs and sausages and then the red peppers. Add the rice and mix everything well. Taste to adjust salt. Serve hot, garnished with the spring-onion stalks.

Q&A | SHAHAF SHATBAY

B Y P ARIZAAD K HAN parizaad.k@livemint.com

······························ hef Shahaf Shatbay, creative chef of Mumbai’s Zenzi and Zenzi Mills restaurants, grew up in Israel, served five years as a diver with the Israeli navy, went to culinary school in Paris, trained in New York, and has set up restaurants in Mumbai, Prague, Serbia and Israel. He talks about the food culture of each of these places. Edited excerpts:

What are your food memories growing up in Israel? I grew up in Israel in a kibbutz, which is like a community village in which you don’t deal with money. Everyone shares everything, whether the dining room or the car. If you want a car to drive, you have to put your name on a board. We have four cars and if it’s available, you can take it. It was a community of sharing that was very simple. One person cooks for everybody, and there was no special food. So what I remember most is the banana field in the kibbutz. What made you want to be a chef? In Israel, everyone needs to serve in the army. After my army service I went to Paris and studied ooh-la-la French cuisine. My passion for food developed when I went to Paris, not

because I liked cooking but because I wanted to do something different after the army. And cooking was fit for me because it was the opposite of what I was doing in the army. Then I went to New York for my training. After that I moved to Bangkok and learned Thai cuisine for eight months, then I went to the sin city, Amsterdam, and then came to Mumbai. I met my wife here, but she is English and needs fish and chips, so I am in the UK now. I’ve opened three restaurants in Serbia, in Israel we opened two, and now one in Prague. This is how I share my time now. But India is the place where I developed as a chef. What did you learn at cooking school (École GrégoireFerrandi) in Paris? I learnt tradition and respect for food. You understand where cuisine comes from, what stock is, how to combine ingredients, what you never combine, the way of cutting vegetables and good food hygiene. It brings you close to the history of food. Paris gave me the root, respect, tradition and history. Once you know your roots, you can grow. And then I moved from Paris to New York, and there time is money. If you need to make a short cut, you make one. In NYC, you don’t care if it is the right way. In Paris, if you need to

This is a column on easy, inventive cooking from a male perspective. Samar Halarnkar writes a blog, Our Daily Bread, at Htblogs.com. He is managing editor of the Hindustan Times. Write to Samar at ourdailybread@livemint.com

ABHIJIT BHATLEKAR/MINT

The wandering chef The Israeli creative chef of Zenzi on the kitchens of Paris, Serbia and Mumbai

Method In a wok, heat 1 tbsp of olive oil (do not let it smoke) with the star anise and sesame seeds. When they sputter, add garlic and ginger and stir-fry quickly. Add red chilli powder and sauté with red-wine vinegar. Add the pak choi in bunches. It will reduce in volume as it cooks. Add the soy sauce and salt. When cooked, remove to a serving dish and eat immediately.

make a mayonnaise, you make it from scratch with egg, oil and the other ingredients. In New York, you get it from a supermarket. In New York I learnt business. What’s the food culture in each of the places you’ve worked in? Paris, like I said, is about tradition and respect. Food there is just the way they write about it in books. It is traditional and you need to follow it. New York is a big mess but I love it—it’s mess with style. You get every flavour from the world, but everything is about business. Everything is about money; there’s passion, but with money. In Nice, there’s more freedom than Paris because of the Italian influence in the south. It’s French culture with freedom. Amsterdam is not all of Holland, which is different. Amsterdam reminded me a bit of New York, but with an eclectic, cool style. In Amsterdam, I found Asia. What I remember there is the Indonesian food. Mumbai is the market, the smell, the taste of spices. Czech Republic is all old style—goulash and potatoes. Serbia is like a culinary time machine. They’re good-hearted people, but culinarily—nah. I’ll tell you a secret. When I go to a new country to start a restaurant, I go to the newspaper shop and see how many food magazines they have. Then you know the culinary level. In France, there are more than 17, in England they have I think 12. In Serbia, I found one. What’s different about Zenzi’s new menu? When we started Zenzi more

Earthy: Shatbay presents Zenzi’s new dishes in a marketinspired style. than five years ago, the idea was to show the combination of cuisine from Europe and Asia. But now we thought it had become routine—first course, main course and dessert. Even the flavour had become routine. So now we have four sections— the tempura, grill, the flame and a fresh section. You can order one from each, and share them, as the portions and price is less. We always translate or influence food the way we want. We don’t take something and copy. For example, usually fish is steamed in banana leaves, but here we grill the fish first and

then steam it, so it gives extra flavour. We are also presenting it in a more market-like style. For instance, a broken coconut is served with the curry. You don’t eat it, it’s just for presentation. We go to Pali Hill market and take only what is there, instead of importing every ingredient. What did you like at Pali Hill market? The smell—I love it. The smell of spices, it’s very simple. In

Pali market, I like the fact that everything you want, they will get. They say “chalo chalo, 1 second”, they will give you a chai, and go to bring it. Even if it’s from the other side of the market. I like the fact (that) there is the human touch. It’s not like supermarkets, which have come up, with vegetables from Italy. Those are like a museum. Pali Hill is real life. We buy the poultry from there. For fish we go to Santa Cruz fish market, which is very nice. They always have fresh calamari at 4 in the morning. If you come there at 4am, you will see all this salty water from the sea with the fish, in buckets. What do you remember of Mumbai food when you lived there from 2004 to 2006? I remember it was a lot cheaper. Five years ago, my friend and I had eaten the same amount of food at Kareem’s in Bandra and spent Rs170. Today we spent Rs1,200. But my chai is still Rs3. India is importing much more. I see many more suppliers and types of fish, meat and vegetables which weren’t there. Earlier, our supplier of dairy products used to send me one page (of a product list). Now he sends me 17 pages. As for eating, then I couldn’t eat any spices. Today I’m a hero. I remember being very impressed with the tandoori. I had never seen it before—marinated in yogurt, cashew, spices and mustard oil. In no part of Asia did I see yogurt in food.

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