I am not a very sociable person. Apart from a great reluctance to be the first one to strike up the conversation, I also think I suffer from, to say the least, a mild case of Enochlophobia. Google it if you don’t know what it means. So it is clearly established that I am, under no circumstances, a party animal.

But fate plays it’s funny games, and I had to attend, of all the parties that could’ve brightened up Delhi’s nightlife, a wedding. And not just any wedding, a Punjabi wedding. I had very cleverly avoided so far all the social obligations I had as an army brat, but none of the excuses in my list, which now had become considerably exhaustive, could nudge me out of this tight spot.

Thus at nine in the evening, when I should’ve been sprawled on my bed listening to music and playing football manager, I was smiling rather uneasily at people I neither knew or cared to know. I somehow survived the initial pleasantries, and set off on a reconnaissance of the vast lawn where the part was being organised. I located the food stalls, the bar (which served only Coca Cola) and the gazebo under which a band was playing the latest Hindi hits.

And then I saw it. The perfect vantage point. As if illuminated by a heavenly spotlight, it was waiting for me. I walked towards it almost instinctively. The spot was close enough to the food stalls for me get refills without having to march cross country, and far enough for me to eat in silence and anonymity. It was a stone’s throw from the bar, so I could have as much Coke as I wanted. Most importantly, it was at the perfect distance and angle from the speakers, which made even a most ordinary rendition of ‘Om shanti om’ seem almost mellow.

There I stood, drinking my coke and eating the free food, listening to the latest bollywood chartbusters, and all this far from the madding punjabi wedding crowd. Every now and then I would get a refill of the chaat they were serving- I liked the fruit chaat the best. And I lost count of the number of glasses of coke I consumed. The rest of the party was like a colourful blur, what with the Aunties separated from fresh air by three layers of greasy makeup, one layer of glitter, and heavy, bright, shiny, lacy outfits, the uncles all suited and booted, kids zooming around, and ‘cool’ teenage boys and girls cheering the ‘band’ on, and requesting encores of songs of the class of ‘Om shanti om’, ‘Dus Bahane’ and some some stuff I couldn’t recognise.

Much like Sauron’s, my eyes saw everything. Aunties discreetly helping themselves to cartloads of Golguppas, ice cream dripping onto the little boys’ best pair of shorts, and dejected uncles settling for coke, visibly disappointed, the band moaning on all the while. And then dinner was served. It was rather lacklustre, to say the least. I ate only half of what I had very greedily heaped onto my plate, but my appetite was pretty much satisfied by all that chaat. A few more glasses of coke, and I was done.

I wasn’t disappointed by the mediocre food, or the groaning band, or the smell of myriads of cheap colognes permeating the atmosphere, for that night, I had come as close as I had ever come to getting rid of my enochlophobia. The trick was, simply, to look at the crowd objectively, treating it as a single entity. And then you see how the whole thing unfolds before you, like I said earlier, in a blur of colours. Maybe it was the beauty of my spot, or maybe it was all in my head. I’ll find out at the next party.

Ironically, I didn’t set my all seeing eyes even once on the bride and the groom, not that I knew them anyway.

The other day we decided to visit the much talked of ‘Paraanthe Waali Galli’ in Chandni Chowk, Dad, Mum, brother and I. I loved a good parrantha any day, but the journey promised to be tiresome. It was impossible to drive up because of the distance and the traffic, so we had to drive up to the nearest metro station and take the metro.

The metro was crowded as usual, but I didn’t mind the journey, hardly ten minutes. We disembarked at Chawri Bazaar, the station before Chandni Chowk, Mum had some shopping to do. The market was a fair distance from the station, so we had to take a rikshaw. At this point, I suggested that we take two rikshaws, but the rikshaw-wallah said with pompous reassurance, “Ho jaayega bhai, do aage, do peeche.” The ‘peeche’ was a nothing more than a plank with a rusty iron rod running accross it about chest high, not unlike an amusement park ride, and naturally, my brother and I were dismissed to it.

So we set off, four people, overweight to say the least, being towed through an ocean of activity by a set of skin and bones in comparison. But the man was an expert- he meandered cleverly between pedestrians, motorcycles, bullock carts, hand carts and horses, and we progressed at a very lively pace considering the situation. He took us through numerous shortcuts- paths just wide enough to accomodate a rikshaw and, say, two pedestrians. Lined along every path were innumerable shops that claimed to sell everuthing to microwave ovens to cheap kites. And the kites were so abundant they might have outnumbered the people. It seemed to be the season for kite flying, as every shop stocked them. They came in all shapes, sizes, colours, materials and prices.

The air was saturated with the smell of fried, oily food from homes and restaurants, mixed with the odour of sweat from labourers who engaged themselves in a plethora of activities, from pulling huge handcarts to carrying people around in rickshaws to sweeping the streets to making paraanthas in roadside restaurants. And the sounds- the sounds were loud and ceaseless- people calling out loud greetings to each other as they passed, the rickshaw-wallahs shouting ‘Raasta!’ at the top of their voices to clear the way ahead of bodies, motorcyclers hurling profanities at the rickshaw-wallahs and the handcart-wallahs, who in their turn flung them them back even louder, shopkeepers advertising their wares, hawkers attracting customers for goods ranging from jalebis to digital watches.

The sights, sounds and smells of Old Delhi were beggining to sink into me. And sitting uncomfortably on the back of a rickshaw, holding on for dear life, I felt a little bit like Shantaram on his first tour of Bombay. But reality struck hard moments later. There was a big bump on the road ahead. The equilibrium of the vehicle, precariously tipped towards the back already, gave way when the rickshaw attemted to negotiate the bump. There was a moment when I thought I was floating in mid-air, and a split-second later, the rickshaw went down on its backside, much like a tipsy elephant. And as I mentioned, my brother and I were perched on this backside, so the weight of the rickshaw, with mum and dad and the rickshaw wallah still on it fell flat onto our (my brother’s and mine) stomachs, which, thankfully, acted rather like shock absorbers. I hit my shoulder on a rock and bruised the back of my thigh. I didn’t really see what happened above, but Dad told me later that Mum and he jumped out, and Mum ran towards us screaming ‘Mere bacche! Mere bacche!’ The poor rickshaw-wallah was a good six feet above the ground pressing down on the pedals trying to level the vehicle. It was quite a spectacle. Bystanders came to help us, suppressing their laughs, commenting on our indecision of opting to travel four in a rickshaw. We thanked them and told them we were okay, paid off the rickshaw-wallah and now with the wisdom of hindsight, decided to walk the rest of the way, as the market was not very far.

After and hour of uneventful shopping, we set off to find Paraanthe waali galli. Basing our route on directins given by shopkeepers en route, each of whom insisted ‘bas aage hi hai, do minute,” we plodded on for about half an hour and finally, four shaken, famished people reached a veritable oasis in the sweltering desert that Chandni Chowk was. There were several paraantha joints in the galli, but one of them came with strong reccomendations, and luckily as we entered, four people were just leaving. We sat down to our collective relief, and had a long draught of water each and slowly glanced toward the menu.

It was a huge of assortment of paraanthas made out of anything you can imagine- from kela to karela. We ordered the Mewa, Kaju, Paneer, Rabri, Khurchan, Paapad and Matar paraanthas and a lassi each to go with them. They took some time to bring our food, and I got time to look around. It was a very small place, seated about thirty cramped people. The witers jostled their way through the diners to serve paraanthas that were made outside the place in tens and hundreds. A certificate hanging on the wall indicated that the little establishment was over a hundred years old. A few photographs of the owner of the place with various dignitaries like a few MPs and MLAs were hung in places, although I suspect that the one with the Prime Minister is fake.

Anyhow, lunch was served in ten minutes and we fell upon it and ate it in earnest, and very few words were exchanged. It was totally worth the money, which wasn’t much by any standards. We finished it off in ten minutes, paid the bill and walked to the Chandni Chowk metro station, which wasn’t far away (we got off at Chawri bazaar earlier, which is the stop before Chandni Chowk). The metro ride to the car and the drive home were refreshingly uneventful, and the long sleep afterward felt extremely well deserved.

I woke up a few hours later with a sore shoulder and a bruised thigh. I had visited ‘asli’ Delhi and lived to tell the tale.

It’s 2008 finally. I had been given a clear heads up about the coming ocassion by the constant chiming of my cellphone, about a dozen e-cards, a couple of refreshing, actually personal, e-mails, and of course a scrap from each orkut contact which said “click to send scrap to entire friends list” in big, bold letters and “wish you a happy and prosperous new year” in tiny, undecipherable hieroglyphics.

I spent a major amount of the festive week from christmas to new year under two, sometimes three blankets as Delhi temperature hit the lowest recorded in the last six years. I would get up once in three or four hours to eat and charge my laptop before I would curl up again. So, all in all, the whole week was was pretty uneventful. I passed my time playing NBAlive, listening to music and watching tv.

And thank god for good tv. Typically, I would wake up at 7:30 am (pretty early, huh?) and switch on the tv. My day would start with ‘Rodney’ and ‘Hope and Faith’ on Star world. Though these can never hope to achieve the success of Seinfeld or Friends, they’re pretty good to just pass time. Later, I’d watch EPL highlights on ESPN, followed by certain other stuff, followed by certain other stuff…

About six or seven hours of tv, and I’m worn out. I switch on the computer and browse through arbit stuff. Listen to the radio, watch some videos, and so on and so on.

But the highlight of the whole week was the 31st of December. I went to watch ‘Taare Zameen Par” with my family. Though the journey was chilling, the theatre was warm and the movie was excellent. A thorough recommendation. We had a new year’s eve feast of shawarma, chicken legs, chilly paneer and lots of chocolate ice cream. I skipped the booze:P

And because of the totally shitty stuf they were showing on tv on new year’s eve, I slept off at the stroke of midnight.

So ended 2007.

I sign off now, hoping that 2008 would be a renaissance for all the lackadaisical, shabby, overweight(only slightly:D) people like me, so that we wake up into a year of determination, spirtit and constant hard work.

Hah! January fool!!!

I’ve been on an eating out spree lately, and have visited more than 15 different restaurants in the last 10 days (!). I’m going to write what I think about them, but let me first mention my personal habits. I’m a vegetarian, I don’t drink and  I’m not fond of cottage cheese (paneer). So here we go, One restaurant at a time:

1. Waterfront - Amazing view of Hussain Sagar lake. Perfect place for a romantic lunch or dinner. The service is a little laid back. (we had to ask for the menu 4 times, then my friend got angry, and we got free mock tails :) The food is good, and is not too spicy. They have Indian, Chinese and Thai too. The amazing ambiance makes this one one of the best restaurants in Hyderabad. Average meal for two: Rs 700. (They tell you at the entrance that you need to spend at least Rs 350 per person! )

2. Sahib Sindh Sultan: The flagship BJN group restaurant in the shape of the luxury train palace on wheels. They have the best vegetarian starters I’ve ever had. The best part is that they don’t mistreat the veggies by offering them just paneer - there is so much to choose from! The service is very good, and you can have a very relaxed dinner here. My favorite place for Indian food. Also try the Suntani Sherbat - just awesome. Average meal for two: Rs 800

3. Indijoes: If you want to have sizzlers, this is the place to hit! Awesome food, a great varieties of sauces on each table and like all BJN restaurants, great service. This restaurant has international cuisine, but has distinctly great sizzlers. Average meal for two: Rs 700

4. Aromas of China: The BJN’s chinese restaurant - with simple yet pretty interiors, this restaurant is good, but not as great as its siblings Indijoes and Sahib Sindh Sultan. The food was good, but we felt that Ohri’s Far East was better. Not bad at all, I must say, we had a good time! Average meal for two: Rs 600

5. Zafraan Exotica: The rooftop restaurant. A very pretty restaurant, fit for a date. They serve Indian. The service was overzealous, and felt intrusive - I mean they were too eager to serve you. I found myself trying to quickly pick up a piece of naan from the basket before one of the waiters comes and says - let me help you sir. The food was only average. For the price they charge, the food is not good enough. The ambiance sure is. Average meal for two: Rs 800

6. Zafraan Laguna: Zafraan’s international cuisine restaurant. It is like an assortment of food from all parts of the world. Little bit of Indian, Chinese, Italian, Mexican and so on. However, the quantity of food served was very sad. A starter that cost Rs 270 had nothing but 8 small pieces of fried vegetables. Beautiful interiors, but little value for your money. Average meal for two: Rs 1000

7. Tex Mex: This mexican restaurant was again a disappointment. The ambiance was very normal and did not justify the expensive menu. The service too, was ordinary. To top it all, we did not like the food. Average meal for two: Rs 800

8. Ohri’s Tadka: Ohri’s is always good. Good Indian food, decent service even when the restaurant has a full house and good ambiance make this place good value for money. The place was a little loud because it was so full, but still a decent visit. Average meal for two: Rs 500

9. Ohri’s Havmor: If you want to have a snack (Indian Chaat / Pizza / Burger), and not proper dinner, this place rocks. A great menu and a huge collection of ice cream sundaes. And very economical too. Just the place for the time when you’re not hungry enough for a full meal but still want to eat. Average meal for two: Rs 250

10. Ohri’s Chaat: I don’t know of any other place to have good chaat in this part of the city, and so this is the one. Broad menu, and the chaat has that north Indian taste. A little expensive compared to the chaat one has on the friendly roadside thelas, but a must visit. Average chaat for two: Rs 150

11. Mc Donald’s: Good Ol McD’s. What can one say? The favorite of all, fastest fast food joint. When nothing else makes sense, McD’s it is! Average meal for two: Rs 175

12.  Pizza Hut: Their service is always bad, and no exception in Hyderabad too. The pizzas are good but more expensive compared to Dominos. Nothing to write home about. Average meal for two: Rs 350

13 Dominos: My favorite for home delivery. They have always served me within 25 minutes of placing my order. Totally satisfied. Their garlic bread with jalapeño dip makes my mouth water. Average meal for two: Rs 300

14 Basil: A vegetarian place, ideal for a visit with the family. They have a very broad menu, and as happens with places with broad menus, nothing is bad, but nothing is exceptionally good too. The nonalcoholic drinks menu looked impressive though. Average meal for two: Rs 700

15 Cafe Nandini (Madhapur): A typical south Indian cafe, super economical, clean and tasty food. Average meal for two: Rs 80

16. Punjabi Mess (Gachibowli Y junction): We love their aaloo paranthas, and so that the place to hit when we want them. Each parantha is Rs 30.

17. Rajasthani House (Kothaguda junction): Typical rajasthani food, but the place though cheap compared to any else, does not feel like value for money coz of its setting. Cleanliness is a bit of an issue too. Average meal for two: Rs 120

I’ve missed out a couple of the ones I visited, and will append them too. Believe me, I’ve been to all of them (and more) in the last 2 weeks. I know I’m crazy :)

Update: I left out 4 of them. Here are they -

18. Ginger Court (Madhapur): I like the food and the surroundings at this place - it is not like they want you to eat fast and run away! Its quiet on the ground floor though the first floor is quite noisy. The service is good, but the starters are not the best. Still, a great place to go if you stay in this part of the city. Average meal for two: Rs 500

19. Olive Garden (Madhapur): Went because I wanted to save some money. Very spicy food. And ended up not saving so much but had to take unappealing ambiance, normal service and normal food. Go to Ginger Court instead. Average meal for two: Rs 350

20. Tandoor: You need to eat their dal makhni with steamed rice. You just need to. Its really amazing. They are confident enought to write ‘the best you have ever had’ under their dal, and they are right. Other Indian food is also equally good, the sarson ka saag had that real taste so rarely found except at home. A must go. Average meal for two: Rs 650

I don’t remember the name of the 21st one - it was terrible. I haven’t put restaurants I’ve been to in the past but not in the last 20 or so days. Will put them in another list. Happy eating! :)

Our office food is giving me a lot of problems, as my doctor says. So, amma taught me how to do lemon rice. Simple and quick to do even after you wake up at 8.

First, get the rice ready. We have an electric cooker. So as soon as I wake up, I switch on the electric cooker, with rice. One cup of rice (with 2-3 cups of water) would do for a person. Just switch it on and forget it.

For the Lemon masala: Fry mustard(kadugu) and Black gram(ulunthu) in oil (Yes, we have gas stove).Add salt for taste. Add Channa Dal(kadala parupu) with green chilli (1 or 2) and fry it for a few minutes. Add turmeric(manjal) for color. Switch gas off and pour lemon in the masala. Mix it with rice.

Have (Fish) pickle along with it. OTOH, how ever worse it turns out, it is better than our office food.

PS:Writing a recipe is so difficult!

PPS: Wrote this post via Scribefire and I likes.