B+F Open Flame Kitchen

Word spread quickly about this new joint in Kuwait – B+F Open Flame Kitchen. Opened in 360⁰ mall OFK comes from the group that operates two of the best food joints (Slider Station and Burger Boutique) – both my favourites.

We managed to get into the waiting list and 90 minutes later got a call. The Indian guy with long hair at the entrance was smartly dressed and for once I thought there are good looking Indians in Kuwait. We were escorted to our table next to the bar counter. I guess Dark, Gold and lots of Metal was the brief given to the interior designers’. The golden dome shaped chimneys – 3 of them were aesthetically placed within the seating area. The chimneys looked like 3 huge furnaces with kitchen counters alive under them. The maze of circular metal rods that run atop between the domes add to the ‘black’ theme.

After sipping the complementary drink we were greeted with ‘Shrimp balls’ (coated in fried thin noodles) rolled at the end of sugarcane sticks and ‘Wild fire Burger’. The balls were juicy and it was fun chewing the sugarcane sticks (memories of childhood at mama’s home in the Island). The slider burger was so-so; I have had better ones at ‘Slider Station’. 

Medium done mutton ribs and ‘Ostrich’ lean meat accompanied with Portobello mushroom sauce, baby tomatoes in penne sauce and sautéed spinach. Will definitely recommend the mutton ribs but would have preferred the ‘Ostrich’ to left in the Australian wildlife. 

We got ourselves drowned in the Brownie chocolate pudding (a must try) before leaving the table for someone else who had already clocked 90 minutes. 

P.S. you may not find all of the dishes listed in the menu available. We lost out on our first 6 choices.

Romancing Jaipur!

Drive from Delhi to Jaipur in the wee hours of a cold foggy December morning was interrupted intermittently by a mammoth caterpillar of trucks trailing for kilometers. I had never seen so many trucks in my life. Nothing noteworthy regarding the drive…though loved the parathas from the highway dhabas.

We had just 3 days to immerse in this kaleidoscope of magnificent historical sights, culture, art forms, exotic food and electric mix of people and elephants. For the past few weeks we have been wanting to be in Jaipur….to feel and experience the magic of its medieval charm.

The walled pink city was crowded with people, cars, rickshaws, two wheelers, jaywalkers and what not. The shops lining the sides of this ocean of traffic looked straight out of a bollywood film set. I knew what I had to do in Jaipur….get to see the not to be missed sights, eat as much I can and romance Jaipur – the way I haven’t romanced any other place; and i did.

‘Jal Mahal’ was like a landscape painted in water colour…the wavery reflection of the palace in the midst of the lake was like a morning dream. 

A 20 minutes drive later ’Amber Fort’ (pronounced as Amer) was in sight – built in the 16th century, its a beautiful complex of palaces, halls, pavilions and temples – immortalised in the epic drama ‘Jodha Akbar’. We walked through the maze of hallways and narrow steps that crisscross the complex and was 10 minutes late to reach the foot hill of the complex for the 50 min ‘light and sound’ show that started at 6pm (instead of 6.30 pm). The open air theatre set against the majestic fort was the ideal setting for a cold winter evening show. The fort, the sole actor brought to life in shades of yellow, red and Prussian blue the vibrant history of rajputs and the fort.

On our way back we dropped in at ‘Chokhi Dhani’ – a wholesome package on Rajasthan culture. Ambience was that of a fair with magic shows, puppet show, antique shops, traditional eateries, play areas, mud houses (will never forget what happened inside) and chalets complete this resort. We went for a drink and had karkori kebabs – it just melted. The night was getting colder and we waited in a queue for the traditional Rajasthan thali. Everything about the thali was spicy except the plate and side plates that were made of leaves. Water was served in mud mugs. We had our pictures taken with the turban.

Started day 2 with a visit of the City palace. Didn’t find it special. Outside amongst the chaos of people and traffic there was an old ambassador car parked in the middle of the road with a ‘gori’ model in designer labels lying seductively on the bonnet and cameras flashing while hundreds reined in by ‘Jaipur bouncers’ walled the ambassador. Surprisingly the crowd behaved – am told in Delhi the same shoot would have been greeted with sleazy comments.

Outside the palace we did a bit of shopping and took a guided tour of the ‘Hawa Mahal’. The ‘guide’ came in as a record player (the size of a pin pad) and headphones for Rs 80. The girl at the counter spoke impeccable english with a refined disposition and looked out of place for a medieval Jaipur. We walked around like Siamese twins as we had to share the player - we didn’t complain. A magnificent 5 storey pyramidal building crowned with latticed balconies and miniature domes and covered with delicately sculpted stone jalis – 953 in all. Built in 1799 for the women of the royal household to watch the royal and religious processions without being seen. The King was the only male who was allowed entry. That explains why the structure did not have an entrance from the main road. 

We had time only for Nahargarh fort. Set on the densely forested hill top offers a stunning view of the city. The plasterwork on the walls were noteworthy as the finish was so smooth that its indistinguishable from marble. I have lasting memories of the time we spend in the palace corridors, hallways, rooms that looked over the city and the long rocky fort pathways running down the hills. We were indeed romancing …may be just like the Rajputs did centuries ago in the silent cold breezy corners….away from the footsteps echoing in the corridors.

We saw sunset from the fort walls and soon the palace wrapped up in thick darkness. There was not a single light in the palace except the choolas that were lit by the labourers at the basement of the palace to cook their dinner. On our way down the hill, at a distance ‘Jal Mahal’ glittered in the still lake waters. We dined at “Peshawari” at the Sheraton and called it a day.

Jaipur will always remain close to my heart. I romanced like never before - in the unkempt palaces, amidst the noisy and chaotic pink city and while gorging the spicilicious food that Jaipur offered.

Shakespeare Cafe - Jumeirah, Dubai

It was an unassuming evening drive that turned out to be a memorable lazing over coffee. We were out for a late night drive on Jumeirah road and were looking for a café. I remembered Jaishree taking me to ‘Shakespeare Café’ a few weeks back. It was just around the corner. In a few minutes we reached the café. The café is spread over what seems to look like a living room, verandah and an adjoining room – all of which is part of a two storey commercial building that houses among other shops an antique shop, cafes and a pizzeria.  

The exterior room built with wooden walls and huge glass windows with flower pots hung on them overlooking the parking space is the most welcoming.  Shakespeare’s café is one of its kinds in terms of interiors.  There are no tables and chairs – only sofa’s and sofa tables that are gaudy and seems like straight out of a high school Shakespeare play. But then that’s what makes it special and magical amidst the multi flavoured sheesha smoke that bubbles from the tobacco molasses.

Each sofa is distinct from the other and layered with satin cushions – even though it makes a great Shakespearean backdrop but does not work so much for your back. We thought the style quotient didn’t match up to its comfort counterpart. 

The menu is largely Mediterranean and owing to a low appetite we shared a chicken and grilled vegetable sandwich. The latte and cappuccino kept us going while we bubbled the ‘mixed berry’ sheesha for over an hour. It was a cold night and we had a memorable rendezvous.

The crowd was a handful of young Emiratis  -   girls and boys rattling merrily into the wee hours and two loners reading books with sheesha  joining them for company. The staff was extra courteous and attentive. The place exudes a lot of style. We promised ourselves another visit….looking forward to it.

Kamala Das - One last love!

Kamala Das’s embrace of Islam was widely covered in the media. Most of them (media and the literary circle) knew the reasons for her conversion even though she did feign an attempt to explain that she felt protection in a ‘purdha’, liked the discipline of the religion and wanted a Master to guide her!.

For someone who had romanticised her love for Lord Krishna through numerous writings and a literary icon who embodifies Hindu cultural symbols, her sudden metamorphosis to a burqa clad ‘Suraiya’ was like the Pope swapping his costume with Sri Sri Ravi Shankar.

The truth was that she once again found love in her late years in a politician who was 20 years younger to her. She believed in total surrender in love (as true to her writings) and declared to the whole world her plans to convert. The politician who was madly in love with her chickened out in the last minute. He was worried about his career; may be his worry had more to do with the public perception of him making love to a 60 plus year old literary icon.

He withdrew and she never revealed his identity. She wrote about their love …at times describing it as a love that was secretly unveiled in moonlight. A few poems later she left the world.

Love bite bites!

Is that a bed bug bite? A 6 year old girl hushed to her mom while staring agonizingly at a lady seated across in the metro. The lady in her mid 40's revealed a furious 'love bite' above her collar bone. The mother agreed to her child's inference. She was glad that her child knew about bed bugs and thankfully that she is too young to know that love bites!

Love making is a private affair. Every day millions of couples married or not, whether they are entitled or legally allowed to or not, indulge in it.  Some carry the 'wear and tear' for the next few days. I do not know if its cool to carry around love bites while in a metro or at work. Though its a positive indication of an active sex life, it can cause unease for atleast a few in conservative societies who happen to see it escpecially when accompanied with children.

The sight of it can raise a pair of accusing eyes to a husband suddenly caught off guard, 'when was the last time I had one?' 

At work there have been a few men and women who used to flaunt it - 'you bet...last night was entertainment entrainment entertainment'. But then some would attempt to weakly hide it with a slippery shawl or a high neck collar - 'yes it was really good...hope you guys didn't see it'. Thats all about the good part of the 'bite'.

What about the bites that come from stolen moments?  Those who didn't get from their partners have a tough time with concealers and googling for more tips to hide it. There are many...not to be disappointed. I  have checked it :-).

Its Valentine around the corner. Those who cant afford to flaunt a 'love bite', Def Leppard song comes as a statutory warning:

If you've got love in your sights 
Watch out, love bites 
Yes it does 
It will be hell!

The Indian Story Telling - A Tragic End

Its the time of Rajshri brand of movies (remember Maine pyar kiya, Hum aap ke hai kaun, Vivaah). Every body ought to be in love with each other. No hate, no evil; may be a thin slice of jealousy could be squeezed in during the narrative (just to lead the story to a logical conclusion). But then it shouldn't  hurt anyone's sensitivity - be it in the North or South, Hindu or Muslim, Priest or Sanyasins, Upper Caste or Lower Caste, Weaker sex or those in sex trade,  Tribals or Maoists, the list is endless in our democratic country. 

Its tiring times for writers. Their characters can no longer be bad or with grey shades. More so the grey ones should not be identified with any community, religion or political background. They need to speak the language in neutral accent and should be an aetheist with no political affiliations (an accent trained chinese might fit the bill). Thats the democratic stage allowed for characters in India, while in the real democratic world where we live we know people do kill in the name of religion, God men leading lustrous lives, fringe political outfits into moral policing, and many more that would inadvertently offend someone somewhere if depicted on screen or in a book.

Lets forget that once writers had the freedom to reflect the society. Disney fairy tales do sell anyways. The villains are mostly witches- who cares, thankfully they are not a vote bank!

Sunset days....someone to care.

In the last one week I spend some memorable time with 4 Octogenarians. They are a stark reminder of what's in store beyond the busy schedules, the glitzy night life, the voyeuristic shopping and the ensemble of relationships that define each day. 

Some are lucky to spend the sunset days with a dear one. Among these 4, just one of them is blessed to live with her daughter. The rest of them where even more blessed to have found caretakers who are taking care of them than their children would have.  In HIS big plans no one goes unnoticed. There seem to have someone somewhere to be with us during our final days.

A big salute to that particular child or care taker who takes care of them as its not an easy task. There's one thing in common in all of these aging grandparents. They are child like. Childlike laughter, sleeping more during the day and less during night and childlike selfishness out of helplessness. Dementia and early signs of Alzheimer's makes the going even tougher for both. One fights with an aging memory that struggles to hold together the pieces of their being while the other garnering strength and patience to love them. 

Seems this is the first generation of Octogenarians since the global migration started. The population of parents whose children and grandchildren have been living in various parts of the world are increasing every day. The generations behind mine are fortunate to have larger families and to have a family house that is not always emptied by the last child packing his/her bag to move across the seas or in a bustling city in India that they choose to build a life and career. 

An occasional get together at the family home on a christmas day or a birthday marking a milestone happens as long as the parents are alive. Thereafter…. there is no reason to visit the family home which may have been passed on to one of the sibling. The framed memories on the stained walls remain endlessly waiting for a footstep on the dusty floors.

Its common these days for people to console their inner worry for the unknown sunset days with the thought of having enough money to find shelter in a old age home that provides all the comforts that may be required to have a peaceful exit. 

A prayer that someone somewhere cares everyone while the sun sets.

'CRY' to Kilimanjaro

Why do people trek to mountain peaks or to frozen poles for charity sake? Is it the call of the adrenalin or the affinity to a cause thats instrumental to do the unusual one fine day. Am not too sure what was the real reason for of a group of NRI bankers from across the middle east to group under the banner of 'CRY' to trek to Kilimanjaro. 

Its not something you would decide on a weekend friday morning out of the blue. My friend Vems who is part of this group, who has christened themselves as GMI - Group of Middle East Indians, has given up elevator months back. He climbs full six floors... a small change in routine as a first time trekker. I was a bit apprehensive that his veggie fed body pampered in the arabian sedentary life would commit to this 'call'. But then he seems to have taken it as a challenge.  

At the office, we had a laugh on dragging 'CRY' to this event. The general mood was, you publicity mongers! But seems like its been a tried and tested combo. It adds a purpose to the trek eventhough it may not have been an important thought at the planning stage. But eventually the purpose intertwines with the trek like two river-lets converging and flowing inseparable touching a lot of lives.

Wish all of them a once in a life time experience that they will cherish for a long long time. For some this may be a start for more trekking. For some this may unleash a blast of high altitude cold fresh air giving a whole new outlook to life. Among other things the experience may also prompt one of them to document the life changing moments and hit the print soon.

But then a lot of young lives will be touched by this experience. A 'CRY' from the peak.

How are you?

'How are you? ' comes so naturally to us to greet a stranger or to start a conversation. It must be the most abused 3 word phrase, only second to 'OMG' in the history of human speech.

On an average an office goer would utter the supposedly caring question with stoic siberian frostiness to a co passenger on the metro or while bumping on to colleagues in the elevator or as an opening line while placing an order at a cafe.

Each time one thing is common. Nobody expects an honest answer for the simple reason that people do not expect to hear anything other than 'FINE'. Or may be nobody expects one to confide in the environs of a metro, elevator or a cafe.

Just imagine the plight of a cafe steward. Hundreds of coffee freaks throw this line at him. He thinks: Damn, I have a low paid job which requires me to take orders for more than 10 different drink variants with 15 different flavours, where the milk could be skimmed, low fat or soya with the option to be served with or without froth or cream in different sizes further confused as Tall, Picolo, Primo & Masimo in take away cups or china. WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Next time wish him a good day and save your 'how are you's' for a meaningful moment to express your love and concern for the special someones in your life.

Lost in thirties

A feeling usually referred to as midlife crisis. Its been starring at me from a few early mornings when one such morning I woke up from a dream with the urge to quit my job, count the things I want to do, the places I want to be and the people for whom I want to spend more time with.

Its not easy if you have a mortgage, dependents and not so an account brimming with liquidity. But that's not an excuse to stop living the life you want to. There are no easy answers, else it would not have been termed as a 'crisis'.

My colleague was at a saloon for a haricut and wanted a different look. The stylist ran his fingers though his thin short unruly hair, half of which have switched their loyalties to the silver shade. The stylist figured it all; 'oh midlife crisis sir'. Its so easily defined these days and people spot it with a glee.

Life is precious and you dont want to wait to recover from an illness or tragedy to wake up and take notice of life. I still stare at the walls with lazy eyes these winter mornings...whats next? I think I know.