Parsipanny

Parsipanni

                Well, I’ve already written proudly about my recent acquisition of the inventory of new vocabulary. Added to it is Parsipanni, which is neither a brunch item nor a sartorial accessory but a cosy neighbourhood en route from Trenton to New Jersey. The ride through the grassy pasture towards the setting sun was a visual treat indeed. You have to exoerience it to enjoy the fun. It was darker than we anticipated. A nourishing, homemade food was in the offing. The arrival of visiting guests, I suppose, is a rare event here. Quite often the front door is closed tightly, the accession being the garage. So I’m pretty sure of a jovial reunion of like minded Sunu Divi, Sam and Sera. The cold wind cried for hot Indian cuisine. But even before our venture of knocking an unfamiliar door, the host was in front of us, all smiles and glee. Another hour went by exchanging jocose pleasantries, mouthful of nostalgic victuals, recollection of back home rituals and gossip. With cameras clicking from many hands and multiple angles and freezing those happy moments, we bid good-bye to Parsipanni, the pronunciation of which I learned from Sam.

Better written than read

Better written than read

                Lucha Loco, Quesa, Flan, Teek Mai-Tai  - do these make any sense?  Places? Persons?Dress? Well, desist from a request to read them aloud. These are the menu served to us on the colourful  street side deck of a Mexican restaurant in Philadelphia in Pennsylvania state where we went on a wild tour last Saturday. Besides being very delicious ( should be served hot straight from the kitchen) they were unaffordably high-ticket. Idly, dosa, upma, rice, rasam, poriyal, sambar, theeyal etc. were strictly limited to domestic consumption and once you cross the threshold of the house, you are exposed to infinite variety of multi cultured cuisine that is very difficult to identify and of course beyond the layman comprehension. Left by yourself you could do nothing but stare at the menu and cower behind your escort. Then you are at the mercy of the benefactor, dutifully savouring the complex dishes in front of you and take a gamble of your likes. If you are fortunate enough, your body language shows, if not, you move yourself to a silent zone, curse your fate, swallow what you could benumbing your taste buds. But there is another advantage. You could always improve your culinary vocabulary. I have learned words like bagel, waffles, croissant, dumpling, fries and muffins to name some. I think this menu would suffice to baffle my wife and friends to prove my familiarity with my foreign expedition. At least this much is an adventure to take back home.

Steel became noodle

Steel became noodle

                The long road in the lower Manhattan  drew a big crowd. When we lined up there under the blue walled One World Trade centre that was more than half a kilometer high, we never intended to look up and reach its sky merging top. This super structure, the world’s fourth tallest tower, measured 1776 feet. The number is a reminder of American independence year. Standing beside it, even cameras admitted their helplessness of capturing the whole along with the target figure. Walking a few metres forward, a square black subterranean waterfall spilling water slowly to a black pool below, and then flowing to another dark pool in the centre, enchanted the onlookers. It is the 9/11 memorial which symbolically narrates the story of the great tragedy that buried  3000 innocent people. Perpetuity is a favourite theme of memorials, as seen through the glowing flames in India Gate. But this black watery grave that engulfed thousands of gallons of water evoked a sigh from everyone. The drama enacted on the bright September morning of 2001 came alive in every mind – how every steel frame that supported the structure became a noodle and how human bodies became tangled in unidentifiable debris. All those martyrs became names on the bronze parapet around the pool. What wrong did they do to you, the perpetrators? Where are they now? Where are their dependents? Are you satisfied now? Do you feel triumphant? You could hear people rewinding the events of that black Friday. The massive structures have become random exhibits in the museum, quietly murmuring their fate how planes became weapons.

Gift of France

Gift of France

                Who does not love gifts? But when a nation gives a gift to another, how big and precious it would be. Well, we just wanted to find out how great it is, and boarded a commodious, three floored boat after coughing up a handsome purse for our tickets. The ride was fast, cold and served us a panoramic view of New York glass walls. Shortly the gift was visible, green and tall and imposing with a torch and a tablet of American Declaration of Independence. To note that this vast country won its independence in 1776, no wonder everyone here is proud and spirited. Probably, judging from this scale, India would be much more livable in another fifty years. Good luck to our youth. The Liberty island was the sole house of the Roman Goddess, popular as the Liberty statue, which was an expensive gift of the French brethren. There were a few richer friends on the pedestal and the crown, of the statue for which you should be early and lucky and deep-pocketed. The island was big enough for my evening traverse. Besides a souvenir shop that trebled  the cost of small take-home-your-memories-, the snack shop was crowded with all kind of visitors. Many Indian friends with family were eyeing one another surreptitiously, biting into their burgers and sipping from tall paper cups diverse tasted (or tasteless?) hot and cold beverages. The magnificent Goddess was glancing all these daily drama from atop a high pedestal without a wink. Soon it was time to return to Broadway to witness more fun and frolic. 

Midnight sojourn

Midnight sojourn

                What is the right time to hang around the much talked about pedestrian plaza that attracts millions of wide mouthed tourists around the world? Yes, you guessed it right. A little later than midnight, it was never too late for the thousands thronged there even in the biting cold April. The huge, blindingly bright bill boards which blast music and vision of popular brands were a novelty indeed. The young and old are tempted to dance to the tunes, sip from huge cups of starbucks, and do whatever your mind tells you. A screaming group was excited to find themselves on the huge screen, after edging themselves triumphantly into the camera’s limited jurisdiction.   A handsome, smiling cop was obligingly posing with anyone who likes to take back a souvenir. I couldn’t help recalling the stony faces of our unfriendly, pot bellied, guardians of law and order. The Broadway was really broad enough to accommodate one and all without any discrimination of colour, nationality, language and gender. The otherwise clean and disciplined America took a French leave here. The answer was simple enough. The sea of people couldn’t just care; I could see three or four familiar figures too, the Indian counterparts who are the members of the mendicant squad. Another fun is to see the victory of pedestrians over the motorists who flaunt their big, brand new cars and finding it virtually impossible to park anywhere near the happening site. The available private parking  was incredibly expensive which must give valuable hints to businessmen in India as to how making money is easy provided you have a few yards vertically to enable at least twenty cars on each floor. Comedians, artists, musicians, tourists and late night employees – all mix and match. Three cheers to the Times Square.

Weekend hop

Weekend hop

                Couldn’t imagine the long weekend is spent in four states. It’s like being at Nagercoil on Thursday, in Bangalore on Friday, in Hyderabad on Saturday, in Mumbai on Sunday and back home on Monday early morning for a home breakfast. Isn’t it very lively and  hyperactive? Well, all these hopping between states was done here with Pearl and Britto. Sunil joined us in Washington DC 

( District of Columbia, as it was explained to me, after many years of ignorance). Miles and miles by air and road made it possible, of course with great expense, for which my humble pocket just kept chuckling. I wonder how an ordinary Indian citizen could roam around all these places without anyone affluent behind you. A very memorable four day tour around Pennsylvania, Washington DC, Maryland, New Jersey and New York helped me realize how our business magnets and minister white clad party men spend a short, lavish vacation here to take back readymade technology and improve our amenities speaking eloquently why all these fail in our nation. What can we do but listen to them                                                                                   and nod approvingly and repeat the past mistake                                                                                 of voting them back to power!  

Michigan Summer

Michigan summer

                All the callers from India grumble about the scorching heat and dust and researching ways and means to escape to some hill tops in search of cool sleep and shivering luxury. Nagercoil is worse, thanks to the farsightedness of the municipal authorities who love to dig pits all along the roads and somehow forget to fill them. They too enjoy the frequent discomfort while driving through their government vehicles which cry for repair. Fun loving motorists who shun from making any sort of legitimate protest take it so easy with their birthright of riding on these road like structures. At least for another month I need not worry over sweating and speeding, tossing and hopping, jerking and moaning, darting and dropping. They say that here in Michigan winter is always around the  corner playing hide and seek. The sunshine and outdoor games cannot fool you. When you come out of the mall bear headed and sporting the new T-shirt, there comes the whistling wind threatening chill and flurry. Run for any cover, cursing your over confidence and weather watching. The deserted streets and sidewalks remind me of bandh and curfew. Summer, sunlight and warmth are still far away, it seems. 

My handset

New role of handset

                I used to think that a handset is rather used for more purposes than what it is meant to be. But, now I myself use it for many things I never thought I would need. With a high end mobile phone in my hand, I have never called any one so far. But it has become part of myself. Every now and then I check weather at Troy, compare it with that of New York where we plan to spend the weekend. Minneapolis weather also interests me because we were there for three happy days. Chicago also asks for constant check since we spent a beautiful sunny day along the shore of the lake and the Millennium Park. Then I use the mobile set for listening to radio, the sound of which would come in full effect through the Sound link Mini Bose. I keep on switching stations one after the other and listen to old and new numbers, familiar and unheard of. The tourist in me awakened my shooting skills ( Hope I have a bit ) and out comes my mini shooting app which roams around curious objects, strange sights and way-out locales. Finally comes the mod fever of one and all – the WhatsApp. I never dreamt that I would use this app. I was challenged before my departure from India that I would be its devotee. Well, I do understand its fun, the  living, happening moment shared with those who look for such tit-bits and photos. There are many unaccustomed features that call for constant scrutiny, but let me not become a slave of this small machine! 

Big and small

Big and small

                Does size matter? When you cross countries it does matter. Coffee mugs are big when you ask for small; India offers her coffee cups so small that you crave for one more sip. Here you wish to hit the bottom soon. Pop corn bags are very big even you demand small. You feel awkward to carry such a big paper container bubbling with warm corn. A snack sandwich is larger than you could possibly bite. The counter man need not necessarily be so generous with his large spoon. Asking for a smaller plate seems very odd here. A burger is so big that you need a knife to make small bitable cubes. The prospect of opening your mouth so wide to swallow all these frightens me. The Japanese eatery which offered a host of delectable dishes for one dinner made me wonder how could anyone do justice with the variety of colorful dishes. Still I could suffice with a plate full of one twentieth displayed. The apple pie about which I had read many stories came alive in front of my eyes. Couldn’t resist that, notwithstanding my satiety. Milk cans are big enough to go into fridges here, but I doubt whther they could be accommodated there. Apples, onions, potatoes, bell peppers, bread, ice cream bowls, wine glasses – all these are much bigger than I have ever seen. Yes, frighteningly bigger.

Sunday Jaunt

Sunday Jaunt

                A twenty minutes drive led us to a vast area of exhibits of a different kind. Henry Ford, the motor wizard of the USA with his vision and foresight had kept open an automobile museum for visitors. Entry tickets were expensive judging from the Indian standard. But the expensive Presidential limousines used by Roosevelt and Kennedy and a host of older models gleaming with steel and shine were a visual feast indeed. The huge monster of a car rode by John F. Kennedy when he was shot from a distance kindled the memories of 1963 when the explosive news reached India. The heavy rail engines, snow removers, aeroplanes of yester years, the legacy of America displayed in a series of wall displays, especially the blood stained rocking chair on which Abraham Lincoln sat watching a performance and shot on April 14^th 1865 and finally a feel of an imax theatre which was almost empty – all these registered within four memorable hours.

obstinate winter

Reluctant winter

               

                Winter is an adamant child, least willing to end its playful mischief. It plays truant with less frequent chilly wind and falling temperature. Spring is down the corner sending its secret codes to the trees and flowers. And summer, they say, is a little far away. The bulky overcoats are gradually leaving their six month abode. The gloves and mufflers have already left. But the light woolen wear and sweat shirts make their presence felt  among the  seniors. I wonder, why these little kiddies pretend about the weather. They are too busy with their outdoor equipment to bother about the stubborn cold wind. Cheers!

On the top of the world

On the top of the world

                It was a momentous weekend. Five hours of tireless driving through the 94 highway was quite pleasant, with intermittent rain- the herald of Spring – and an American snack in an exit food court. Chicago at night was alive. The hospitality of friends was very palatable. The vision of the sea like lake next morning was quite a reward. A boat ride on the blue water, a burger and a pizza in an eatery overlooking the lake,  a dolphin show(bit disappointing though), a leisurely stroll in a park to be climaxed by an express lift which promised a bird’s view of the city glowing far below right under the glass floor guarding us from the profound drop. The crowd was excited. Age was no barrier. The expression of the thrill was palpable. It was incredible that we were on the 103^rd floor of Willies Tower. The city far below seemed to breathe life on its slow pace. Yellow lights winked at us inviting to try a willing jaunt. The beach in Michigan city next morning was marvelous.  The saltless sea was very tempting. Had a mouthful of the crystal clear water and convinced myself. How much of water problem in India would be solved with this volume of fresh water! Once in six days was our quota back home, even in rainy days. Whose fault is it? Blessed are the MI citizens!

Lone Walker

Lone walker

                Thought of taking an adventure this morning. The prospect of spending half- a-day by myself in the Public library was quite gratifying. As office goers do, I dressed up and Pearl drove me to the library which winked at me having made me an April fool. Alas! It was closed on Fridays. Somehow I didn’t want the adventure to be misfired. So managed to walk by myself at least some distance towards home. The bright sun was very tempting. But the chill wind dissuaded me. Not only that, I found myself awfully lonely on the long stretch of the road which was quite busy with all kind of beautiful cars. Where are the people? Are they under house arrest? Or are they slaving around in their cubicles and too busy to warm their faces in this bright sunlight which is rare, I suppose. Anyway, I made my presence felt on the Troy main road. 

sounds of silence

Sounds of silence

                I have discovered a land of silence after hopping from a noisy surrounding. Sometimes this silence is frightening like the lonely alley in the middle of a scary night. But there are times this silence is  bliss. No more jarring parleys, dinning loud speakers, discordant disputes, honking lorries, temple anthems and whirring motor cycles. I am tempted to think that even birds soften their chirp when they occasionally whiz behind the house. The mid-day at home sounds like mid night. I play music to ward off the illusion. Even big malls are frighteningly silent outside, especially in this winter. Inside is not just the opposite either. Moderation rules everywhere but not in coffee cups and coke cans. Sugar is not so sweet, neither salt salty, fruit fruity, and meat meaty. Churches ought to be silent, I know. Refusing to talk aloud, these people make you an intense listener. Accent and slang is another inhibition. Well, I wonder how babies here learned to weep rather than bawl. Cars and trucks take minimum effort to engage themselves in top gear. Horns in them are for additional accessory, seldom depressed. And , in case depressed, others are depressed too!

Japanese cuisine

What will you have?

Courtesy is everywhere here, on the road, on the pavement, in shops, even with policemen, I am told. So when you walk into a restaurant, and that too in a Japanese place, courtesy was very much evident. The place is known as Wasabi, a strange name for an eatery. But later I learned that wasabi is a fine, concentrated, pale green paste made of horse radish, cabbage and mustard, a tiny slurp of it makes you hit high. This is once-in-a-life-time experience that you opt to sit right in front of the Japanese chef along with four other complete strangers. Your choice food is taken as an order and the chef comes, greets us, and then gets into his expertise. He juggles his giant fork and knife skillfully and waits for an approving applause. When he gets what he wanted, he mixes aesthetics and culinary arts and tosses our aromatic food in different colours and flavours into our plates. You stare at his skill and then at the food, indecisive as to the taste. But then the food does taste good and we wait for the next installment. The climax was something very unexpected. Two women came banging on drums, put a mask on Pearl’s face and started singing birthday wishes. Our fellow guests had no option but join the chorus. Britto must have given them a hint. But the outcome was dramatic. Thus our Pearl got her special day served on a platter .

weather report

A weather report:

                Approximately 15000 kms away from home,  the weather was a total surprise to me. Used to wonder why on books people always talk about the weather. Now I got the answer. At the heat of scorching summer there, I was witness to shivering cold  and rain here. Going out was not that easy. Layers of winter clothing make you look big. Acquired a full wardrobe of unaccustomed shoes, socks, full sleeved t-shirts, gloves and jackets. No more walks along the parks and pavements. Huge malls spread their corridors and bridge to non-customers who crowd around to ease their laziness and accumulated obesity. Never realized malls could extend their service to walkers too. Kudos to the weather that promised a very cosy sleep at night and  the sweat is probably reserved for the next season. One late morning when opening the window, I saw  for the first time snow covered roofs, gardens and tree tops. Another dream became real. Never  thought I would see with my own eyes what I had seen only in pictures and movies. What precision! How smooth and calculated the snow spread through the entire landscape! Were angels playing legos on earth?   

my reflections

A two hour slow train journey, a four hour early morning sleepy drift over Arabian sea, and a short 14 hour discovery of a huge Emeritus carrier which landed  over 600 of us on New York’s not so busy lobby with a cloudy, cold afternoon whispering welcoming notes to America. The courtesy of employees is amazing. A long walk to the next gate which led me to the last air stretch of that journey really made me fresh. Expensive food, cosmopolitan passengers, non-stop touch-downs and take-offs through misty windows – all these did not take long. After the previous carrier, this Delta with hardly a couple of flight attendants and a diet coke on asking seemed like a toy. By now I seem to have learned the art of passing through the rituals of the airports.

                At 9.30 p.m Detroit was awake with Britto and Pearl suddenly joining me. How familiar are they with the road rules, menu cards, where-to-find-what, the American slang, the friendly smile to strangers and what not! The ‘you’ attitude that I read in the management books was very much visible here. The discipline of the roads and queues, the ever courteous welcome smiles of men and women across the counters, frequent mumblings of thank you’s, and  have-a-good-day’s, reminded me that I am in a different region. And when I listlessly knocked down an expensive china pot from its shelf, a shop assistant swiftly came not to reprimand me nor even to ask for compensation, but to reassure me that things were alright. I just reminded myself that I was far away from my home town.

March 25th 2015 - a very special day to remember. Guess what?
Someone's birthday? Anniversary?