The borough of Eden

Readers are warned that this is my own spin on the etymology of Edinburgh and for the original etymology, one must refer to Edinburgh . Anyway here goes:

Edin: Eden; from the Garden of Eden where Adam and Eve were created. Eden is hebrew for delight.
burgh: borough; area, fortress, walled area

And hence the title of the blog. Understated and a city very much at peace with itself, it's complex too, like blended whisky, a place where the distant sound of those haunting bag pipes can so easily fade into the screeching sound of police sirens. Most people talk about Edinburgh during Hogamanay, the last day of the Year and the Scottish tradition of celebrating this day - a time of the year when Edinburgh becomes a wild party place. Obviously, the city has more to offer than that and it is with this conviction that I decided to write about the charms of this city.

Defining Moment # 1: The McCondom

"Scotland ... No English ... Ireland .. No English ... England ... English"
I overheard this at Jenny Ha's Tavern, on the Royal mile, at the table next to mine. I was drinking a glass of single malt (think it was Ardbeg) and couldn't help but smile when this young, cute au pair from Turin was trying to give the man who was trying to chat her up her take on who in the United Kingdom spoke the real English.
Jenny Ha's was also the place where I came across the McCondom. Condoms in vending machines of toilets is commonplace across Europe, but the McCondom was special. It was the first whisky flavoured condom that I came across and as I tried to understand the enigma of those blessed Scots, I couldn't help but raise my arms in exasperation at their cheek.

Defining Moment #2: Holyrood Park

Holyrood is not a badly spelt scottish version of wannabe mainstream cinema but an anglicisation of the Scottish Gaelic words Haly Ruid (Holy Cross). The Holyrood Park is bang in the centre of town and gives you the best views of the city.

The Hyde Park in the centre of London may be bigger and the English Gardens in Munich may be more aesthetic but to find such an amazing piece of highland landscape, unspoilt, right in the middle of the city makes me wonder at the amazing odds. The highest peak in Holyrood Park is Arthur's Seat, named after the legend of King Arthur, though, I think it is one of those urban legends that the Scots invented to keep this place untouched. As I climbed and watched the sun set on the city I couldn't help but wonder if there was a better seat to be perched on while watching the day dissolve into night.

Defining Moment #3: Graffiti and Shortbread

When you have 3 defining moments to choose in such a wonderful city, you end up cheating by clubbing moments. Edinburgh by far has the most charming Pubs and the graffiti in the pubs are equally charming. Picture this at the Blind Poet which quotes Churchill's I've taken more from alcohol than alcohol has taken from me or the Irish Love Ballad The greatest love above all other loves is the tender, passionate love of one drunken slob to another. As I hopped from one pub to another I couldn't help but writing more and more of such one liners and wondered how I had never seen one repeated even across pubs. Fascinating indeed !!!

I always thought Amma made the best home made biscuits in the world. Every summer holidays as she baked biscuits I'd come running into the kitchen waiting for her to get them out of the oven so that I could lay my hands on them. I wouldn't stop and Amma never tried to stop me. I would end up having far more than I could eat and would invariably end up skipping dinner. That day when I ate Scottish shortbreads for the first time, I was very much convinced that Amma came from an old Scottish clan that had settled in coastal Andhra Pradesh. The shortbreads came very close to Amma's biscuits ...

My Roman Holiday

Rome at the surface is just like any other capital city in the world - The best directions for getting around the city are provided by policemen (maps by the way come a distinct 17th ... ), People on two wheelers think their grandparents built the roads they ride on and the best bet for fast food options is Italian Pizza.

Strike the surface and you have a city that is charming in its own way - a city with a great deal of character waiting to burst out of its seams. When the coins stop finding the floor of Fonata Di Trevi and the Colosseum closes at Sun set, when St Peter's closes it's doors and the Spanish Steps (and the boat fountain at it's foot) bear a deserted look, all we have left is impressions of the people we ran into. I can say, rather emphatically, that Rome gave me some rather vivid memories of the people I bumped into. I've decided to call some of these the defining moments of my Roman Holiday.

Defining Moment #1: The Sisters of Trastevere

As I walked aimlessly around Rome I entered Trastevere a hip, bohemian section of Rome that is never written about in any of the guide books but something most visitors must make as a part of their itineraries. Hungry and wanting to get something to eat at about 10:30 in the night I entered McDonald's (why ?). Out of the handful of times I've entered McDonald's all my life (Delhi, Bangalore, Atlanta, Milan, Paris, Dusseldorf and Zurich prior to this one in Rome) I've always tried being faithful to the Mac Salad.

As I concentrated on my Salad I noticed a table-ful of nuns (for a lack of a better collective noun for nuns) sitting and enjoying burgers and fries. I was tempted to ask if it was a daily ritual after a hard day's work or was it one of those special Friday night treats. Too embarrassed to ask for permission and too greedy to miss out on a possible Pulitzer (yeah . . I aim big), I acted as if I was taking a picture of this rather nondescript canvas on the wall as I shot them. As they talked animatedly, laughed and enjoyed the meal, I realised that I needed a visit to Rome, to help bring back a perspective on the Christian Clergy. At the end of it - all of us are humans first and then everything else we're made out to be ...

Defining Moments #2: The Indian Immigration Story

I was spending 3 nights in Rome and I decided I'd do the 3 nights in 3 different places: Night #1 would be in this posh place where I'd have to wince when I swished my card out to pay; Night #2 would be in a dump which would be less expensive than a meal at a reasonable restaurant and Night #3 would be in between - a place I would be most comfortable spending a night. After spending a night at a 110 Euros a night place, I decided to look for home (read dump). As I walked past Castello Saint Angelo I saw a Punjabi (Sardar) selling souvenirs on a road side stall. I hesitated, turned back and as our eyes met we greeted each other silently from a distance with "Mera bharat mahaan". Using my heavily accented Hindi I asked if he knew of a place I could stay at. To make it absolutely clear I drilled the word cheap in as a many 4 different languages. 2 Phone calls later I was talking to Deepu, who was into arranging cheap places to stay for cheap people like me.

We had an appointment at 7:00 PM - "The 4th stop when u board # 714 from Termini" was his idea of a rendezvous and we had fixed it at 25 Euros. By 7:30 we were ringing the bell of a Punjabi family from Ludhiana - "Singh" was the name on the calling bell. The place was no dump, it was basic, but clean and most importantly this was so much better than the best scenario that I had conjured up in my head for Night #2.

They had been in Italy for 10 years; He worked as a baker, she did odd jobs. They had children. This was their way of earning the extra bit. They had people from all over - England, Germany, India. People from embassies and people on business and most of them had come to know of them through word of mouth - like me. The Singhs were doing pretty well for themselves in the hospitality business.

The next day not sure if the No. 64 was going to the Vatican, I asked this Indian looking guy in my heavily accented Hindi (nobody expects accents to change after spending one night with a Punjabi family). He replied in English. As we sat on the last seat of the bus (which surprisingly was the place most of the immigrants always sat on the bus and bizarrely reminded me of Rosa Parks and her Alabama protest) we started to talk. Laiju was mallu and an illegal immigrant who had come to France 4 years earlier on a Schengen visa that expired within 3 months of entry. He moved to Italy as it was easier to survive as an illegal imigrant and was working in a workshop to support his mother back home in Thrissur. Laiju had just applied for a Residence Permit and was hoping that it would come through so that he could meet his folks back at home.

Defining Moment #3: A small step for entrepreneurship ... a giant leap for Globalisation

300 Meters from St. Peter's Basilica, a Chinese lady had set-up a stall on the side. She was charging 1 Euro for people who wanted their names written in Chinese. Audacity.Chutzpah.Guts. 300 metres from the Vatican. A German pontiff at the pulpit. An Italian city where the largest Asian tourist population is Japanese. This women is selling people a piece of paper with their names written in Chinese.

It reminded me of the old lady in Friedman's book, The world is Flat, who'd be sitting in a park in Shanghai every morning with a weighing machine charging people who wished to weigh themselves. Friedman endearingly decided to indulge the lady. That was his ode to globalisation and his way to bring her into the web of globalisation. I decided against indulging the lady at the Vatican. The unwritten yet simplest rule of capitalism and hence globalization is that people buy services/goods that are useful. I want her to win, but I want her to win by the rules.

Don ...

He has always been a phenomenon. His following - legendary, and the aura around him - invincible. He's been a maverick, a rebel without a cause and the superstar we never had but have always craved for. He's as suave and merciless as the younger Corleone and as infallible as Mr Clark Kent's alter ego.

A few weeks back I had the chance to watch the Iowa Republican Primary results and saw Mike Huckabee's ad that was endorsed by Chuck Norris. Looking at Chuck Norris's facts doing the rounds on the Internet I realised a lot of them apply to our very own Don.

As he loses his single status a little later this year, this is my tribute to a friend, soul mate and my personal hero. Ladies and Gentleman ... from the United States of Apparala, weighing 70 kilograms and 165 cms ... The Don of all Dons ... The jack and master of all trades ... Nuthan Reddy Godhumalla ...

1. If you have five hundred rupees and Don Nuthan has five hundred rupees then Don Nuthan has more money than you.
2. There is no 'ctrl' button on Don Nuthan's computer. Don Nuthan is always in control.
3. There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Don Nuthan has allowed to live.
4. Don Nuthan counted to infinity - twice.
5. Don Nuthan can divide by zero.
6. It takes Don Nuthan 20 minutes to watch 60 Minutes of Television.
7. Don Nuthan once rode a bull, and nine months later it had a calf.

[Blogger's Note: The picture was taken when he came home to Vetlapalem ... Needless to say everybody at home absolutely adored him. ]

From the X-Files (Part 2) .. Those Crazy Years

[Blogger's Note: An e-mail exchange between Aroon and me that talks about those four crazy years. The e-mail itself was sent some time around Feb 17th 2005 (a good 3 years after those 4 crazy years) ... the intent in his own words .. "and yet I have done little all these years since those times to even set eyes upon your countenance, or to speak with you of your trials & sorrows, or to know of your joyous crushes". Aroon's e-mail was titled "Is this Love ?" and my response was titled "This is Love"]

Is this Love ?

Where do i begin?

The invention of the phrase (phrase isn't it?) "bitch bastard" that even today brings warmth to my heart, or

The stolen gift of IPv6: The next Internet Protocol from the refli that I'll hold dear till my last breath leaves me, or

The many blissful nights (and mostly days) of sleeping on your floor which you begrudgingly permit in spite of your inability to self-gratify, or

The pool of urine that was found between my sleeping place on your floor and your cot, that until today hasn't had its source resolved, or

Your tolerance (and hidden love) of Julie, the bitch that found solace on your bed, and your feigned fits of anger at her, or

The daring breach of the locked-tower of sundial in Jaipur, or

The comps, god forbid I forget them!, or

The drunken spells of violence, targeted at khus and Das, or

You just being the friend you can be, or .........

Where do I begin? Is this love?

This is love

If our hearts are the doors of a temple then what is the key that opens it ? Love !!! Love !! Love !! Love !!

~ Translated from a song in Pelli Sandadi ( a Telugu movie by Raghavendra Rao, B.A. The song: Hridayam ane kovila thallupu theriche thaalam ? ... Prema !! Prema!!Prema !!!)

I could just carry on from where u signed off ....

The ticketless train travel from Bikaner to Loharu 'coz we thought it was more important to keep our stomachs happy ... or

Our midnight visits to ANC where the only word that counted was "karara" while the cook tried to figure out whether you were Sai-baba or Jesus Christ (incarnate of course) or

Chaco trying to decode what comps meant while Saiku was trying to figure out why the Time Cigarettes we gave him were always more kick-ass than the ones he bought or

Our nocturnal (and afternoon) visits to Golden Dragon where Hemantji would oblige us with old food, adulterated CDs and a credit that if evaded could put off his plans to buy a car by a couple of years or

The names like "random duckling", "Naamka", "boo...babu" that have stuck to people even today while (luckily) "granny" never got too popular!!

If this isn't love then what is ?

From the X-Files (Part 1)

[Blogger's Note: I wrote this on 29th Oct 2003 a long time before blogging was cool. I sent it to my wing - a group of people I had stayed with for 4 years in Pilani and had an absolute blast. Since then, nothing has changed much, the sun is the same in a relative way but I'm older, shorter of breath and four years closer to death. However, I still identify very much with what I wrote]

I'm back cooking a different Story

"My job requires mostly masking my contempt for the assholes in charge, and, at least once a day, retiring to the men's room so I can jerk off while I fantasize about a life that less closely resembles Hell."
~ Lester Burnham to his boss in American Beauty ...

I know none of us are doing this badly ... but I'm sure we can do better. We were a wing. Common belief is that we still are a wing. Fatefully, if all of us were to get run down by a big red bus today, history would remember us as folks who came, screwed around and passed out .... I don't have an idea or a super wave that's gonna get us to where we ought to be. At the same time I can't define where we ought to be 'coz that's just restricting the limit to the amount we can do in a lifetime. All I know is that there's definitely more we can do ...

I don't use the word 'hate' too many times but I can tell u that I hate working for someone else ... it's not in my blood ... I probably would hate working for myself too (and claim that it's not in my genes) but I still dunno that and I'm willing to take the risk and find out ... I dunno how many feel the same way as I do ...but it would be great if I have U folks on board with me ... I don't even know what I'm planning to do ... but we have brains and we can sit and discuss ... we don't have to start tomorrow ... we can sort our lives out for a couple of months and then decide what we should be doing ... and all of us don't need to join at one shot ... it's a crazy world ... and people have made money ... so no reason why we shouldn't be making money ... and we get to be our bosses ... and we get to decide who we wanna work with ... (of course if we wanna be successful honestly ... we might not have much of a choice on who we wanna work with :p)

Just look at the wing ... we do have folks who can do wonders ... and what are we doing instead ... a couple of us cross a country to watch a movie in which an aging fart cleans up the so called 'mess' around him ... at times I wonder if he can clean his own mess after he's done ... one guy's obsession with cars made him do a Masters in Information Systems in BITS and just to make sure he could get even closer to cars he's doing an MBA now ... defines Irony .. one's married and planning to build a house ... the other isn't married and is planning to buy a house ... I can't say much to u folks ... except that real estate is business too ... in fact real estate is good business ... ask Donald Trump ... ask K.P Singh. A couple of us are in college talking about SIP, Thakurs and the universe ... u guys are working with ideas of tomorrow ... let's sell a few of these ... I hear clinks on the other side of the cardboard .... do U hear them too? Girls recently turned 'majors' are not even a 'minor' hiccup ... it's just a way of life ...Colombian girl friends and salsa classes can still be in ...everybody needs respite ... so can working with the Shankaracharya ... Motorola and Cisco are build to last companies ... maybe we can make a build to last company too ...what say 'Huzur' ? Wear your shirt. In the room

I've wanted to send this mail for quite sometime ... was a little scared to be honest... thought U guys would think I was crazy .. and that I had lost it ...I'm sending it now ... 'coz ... what the fuck ... who the fuck really cares ... I lost it a long long long time ago ..

Those weird eaters

After living on and off a suitcase for close to 6 years, I decided I'd write about some food habits that have stood me in good stead when the going got tough. As you'd realise the going never really gets tough ...

1. Corn Flakes goes better with yogurt than milk. Ranjith introduced this to me when he came over to London for a weekend and I didn't have milk in my fridge. As a Telugu I usually tend to have yogurt for my regular cravings of Perugu-Annam with Aavakayi Pacchadi (curd rice with mango pickle). I haven't moved back to milk ever since ... except in rare occasions when I've had milk but no yogurt in my fridge.

2. Poha tastes amazing when prepared with a little white wine in it. I was making breakfast/brunch for Ranj and Chandra and I decided it would be Poha day. Mid way through this Ghati preparation I found something amiss. I added a dash of white wine and everything fell into place. Both of them were unable to place where the additional zing to the Poha had come from and when I did tell them they found it pretty interesting. (Even if they didn't show it they must have found it freaky to find a place other than church where they could have something made of wine at 10:00 A.M on a Sunday morning).

3.In general, if I thought my guests would find the food too spicy, I'd add a dash of lime. If I thought that's not going to work I'd add tomatoes and I'd continue with yogurt and wine and end by removing the green chillies from the food (I call it the placebo effect). If this still don't work, just order from a take away. (Don't forget to ask for spicy food else I'd bet you a silk pajama that your guest is going to find the food bland)

4. I have decided to call my sandwich invention as yogurt and pickle spread sandwiches after realising how simple it was to make them and how much better they tasted compared to those vegetable and cheese sandwiches that I had grown tired of. This tastes best with Priya's garlic pickle (though taking this to work means you need to carry some mouth wash along as well). The preparation is simple:
a. Toast the bread (Optional). For best results try brown bread
b. Spread pickle on a slice of bread
c. Glaze it with some yogurt.

5. At any point of time if you started cooking and realised you've run out of spices Don't Panic (Yes, I know, even the Hitchhikers Guide tells you the same). Just pick up a pickle and add two tablespoons of pickle into your curry. It works like a charm. I tired this in Potato Korma, Brinjal Curry and even with Chicken.

Flash Fiction

This morning I was 'kindly' introduced to Flash Fiction. Inspired by Hemmingway's six-word flash:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn

I thought I'd publish my first six-word flash as well:
Flash Fiction: Never written ... Never read ...