Suddenly missing Chennai a lot today.
Close eyes... Dream...
Down the TIDEL-Park Road on my scooter, zooooooooming...
Snotty-nosed due to mizhaga bajji at Elliots
Xerox-copying everything under the sun
Awesome coffee/tea for Rs 5
Jobless at CCD
Birdwatching at Spencers
Jobless at Ascendas with my favorite female friend
Idlis at Murugan Idly Shop with my best friends
Midnight beach visits to Thiruvanmyur
Walking in the rain in the AU campus
Ice-cream on a hot sweaty day
Watching a cricket match on tv with family
Yelling, screaming and almost weeping over a tight finish in the same match
The green green MAC stadium turf
The rule-free roads and the ease of driving
Mango season
Parathas on the beach at midnight
Frankies!
Free SMS
Oily oily chola puri after boring classes
Ubiquitously hearing "machan"
Walks to and from Gurunath's
Paying through the teeth to watch movies at Sathyam
Spontaneous street dabbangkoothu
Local Arun Ice-cream at Anu Bakery
Wake up... Go back to work...
Monday, October 27, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Spilt Beverages
I spilled my coffee seven times in the two-minute walk between my cubicle and the coffee machine.
Seven times. Hot coffee.
All over my hand.
First time: F***, that hurt...
Second time: Not again...
Third time: I'm really clumsy...
Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh times: Hmm, you know the coffee spilling is not the worst thing happening right now? Get your a** to the cubicle and blog.
Coffee dearest, spillest thou on my hand and scaldeth me! Thy awful taste I forbeareth, thy caffeine I lusteth for and thy mere existence in my hand well nigh before the sun dawneth, doth it not show thee the cravenness of my existence?
Doth thou hurt more than the lover that trusteth not? Or the friend that wanteth not? Or the momma and dadda, who for great things waiteth? Or will thee hurt more than the exalted expectations of mine own self?
Spill, coffee dearest, thy pain is welcome. Thou art all that is wrong with my world and all that is right too.
Seven times. Hot coffee.
All over my hand.
First time: F***, that hurt...
Second time: Not again...
Third time: I'm really clumsy...
Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh times: Hmm, you know the coffee spilling is not the worst thing happening right now? Get your a** to the cubicle and blog.
Coffee dearest, spillest thou on my hand and scaldeth me! Thy awful taste I forbeareth, thy caffeine I lusteth for and thy mere existence in my hand well nigh before the sun dawneth, doth it not show thee the cravenness of my existence?
Doth thou hurt more than the lover that trusteth not? Or the friend that wanteth not? Or the momma and dadda, who for great things waiteth? Or will thee hurt more than the exalted expectations of mine own self?
Spill, coffee dearest, thy pain is welcome. Thou art all that is wrong with my world and all that is right too.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Sports
There was a Coke ad in India sometime ago. I think it was during the previous World Cup. It went "Eat cricket. Sleep cricket. Drink only Coca-Cola." People who know yours truly know how hardcore a fan of cricket I am. Eat cricket, sleep cricket, get drunk on cricket. Rejoice in paroxysms of ecstasy when India beats Australia. Spend hours on YouTube searching for highlights, great catches, great wickets and Sachin's old innings. Waste an entire day watching ODIs. And once, I even watched 5 entire days of Test cricket.
India is well and truly cricket-crazy. Sachin is, for all intents and purposes, a divine and venerated being. Yes, there are other sports in India too. But somehow we are never too good at them. There are these occasional heroes in tennis, athletics, weightlifting and shooting. But no sport steals mass hysteria like cricket does.
We were once extremely good at hockey. But now we're getting worse and worse. Hockey has lost the first place to cricket in the hearts of my countrymen. Mainly because of one idiotic moron named KPS Gill.
And then, I come to Pittsburgh...
America...
A country that does not know cricket.
Worse, a country with baseball! And where they carry the ball during football!
Americans love their sport. Baseball, American football, basketball and ice-hockey. But the only problem is that almost all their sports are restricted exclusively to the Northern American continent. Their greatest "international event" would probably be facing Canada in a one-off.
Sport is followed at the college level and at the franchise-level. But almost never at the international level. Drives me mad, but that's America for you. Hawaii is the furthermost any average American would want to know about. In the sports world, America is probably the most insular of any country on earth. It took me a long time to get used to this perspective.
The two big colleges in Pittsburgh, Pitt and CMU, home to the Pitt Panthers and the CMU Tartans. These are generic team names given to college teams in all sports. The Panthers are decent in basketball, but the Tartans suck at pretty much everything.
Coming to the city-based teams playing at the franchise level, Pittsburgh is home to the Steelers (American football), Penguins (ice-hockey) and Pirates (baseball). The Steelers command the largest fan-base and are the most successful of the three. Black and Gold are Steeler colours and you will find the entire populace dressed in black and gold if there's a Steelers game on. Pittsburghers are as mad about the Steelers as the Indians are about cricket. Don't say a bad word about the Steelers on the street. You are liable to get beaten up. Ultra-fanatics.
The Penguins (or Pens) command the next-largest fan base and have black and gold colours too. They are okay, I guess. Sometimes buses flash "Go Pens!" on their displays along with the bus number and route. But the Pirates are known to be awful. Once upon a time, they were good, I guess. But now, they take third place to the Steelers and the Penguins.
I've not yet immersed myself in American sports, mostly because I am obnoxiously supercilious about the superiority of cricket to all other sports. You would have known that if you'd read my other blog. An American friend asked me "What's cricket?". And I replied "It's just like baseball. Only better!".
I still spend vast amounts of time on Cricinfo and YouTube looking up cricket news and videos. I follow the IPL and I'm a supporter of YemYesDhoni's Chennai Super Kings (I kinda like Warne's Jaipur too). But once in a while, I do watch a game of Panther basketball. Or a Steelers game. The passion is not there, but that little part of me which craves for some version of sport keeps me interested. Maybe in a few years I might think of the Steelers as "my team". But that's still quite a long way off.
India is well and truly cricket-crazy. Sachin is, for all intents and purposes, a divine and venerated being. Yes, there are other sports in India too. But somehow we are never too good at them. There are these occasional heroes in tennis, athletics, weightlifting and shooting. But no sport steals mass hysteria like cricket does.
We were once extremely good at hockey. But now we're getting worse and worse. Hockey has lost the first place to cricket in the hearts of my countrymen. Mainly because of one idiotic moron named KPS Gill.
And then, I come to Pittsburgh...
America...
A country that does not know cricket.
Worse, a country with baseball! And where they carry the ball during football!
Americans love their sport. Baseball, American football, basketball and ice-hockey. But the only problem is that almost all their sports are restricted exclusively to the Northern American continent. Their greatest "international event" would probably be facing Canada in a one-off.
Sport is followed at the college level and at the franchise-level. But almost never at the international level. Drives me mad, but that's America for you. Hawaii is the furthermost any average American would want to know about. In the sports world, America is probably the most insular of any country on earth. It took me a long time to get used to this perspective.
The two big colleges in Pittsburgh, Pitt and CMU, home to the Pitt Panthers and the CMU Tartans. These are generic team names given to college teams in all sports. The Panthers are decent in basketball, but the Tartans suck at pretty much everything.
Coming to the city-based teams playing at the franchise level, Pittsburgh is home to the Steelers (American football), Penguins (ice-hockey) and Pirates (baseball). The Steelers command the largest fan-base and are the most successful of the three. Black and Gold are Steeler colours and you will find the entire populace dressed in black and gold if there's a Steelers game on. Pittsburghers are as mad about the Steelers as the Indians are about cricket. Don't say a bad word about the Steelers on the street. You are liable to get beaten up. Ultra-fanatics.
The Penguins (or Pens) command the next-largest fan base and have black and gold colours too. They are okay, I guess. Sometimes buses flash "Go Pens!" on their displays along with the bus number and route. But the Pirates are known to be awful. Once upon a time, they were good, I guess. But now, they take third place to the Steelers and the Penguins.
I've not yet immersed myself in American sports, mostly because I am obnoxiously supercilious about the superiority of cricket to all other sports. You would have known that if you'd read my other blog. An American friend asked me "What's cricket?". And I replied "It's just like baseball. Only better!".
I still spend vast amounts of time on Cricinfo and YouTube looking up cricket news and videos. I follow the IPL and I'm a supporter of YemYesDhoni's Chennai Super Kings (I kinda like Warne's Jaipur too). But once in a while, I do watch a game of Panther basketball. Or a Steelers game. The passion is not there, but that little part of me which craves for some version of sport keeps me interested. Maybe in a few years I might think of the Steelers as "my team". But that's still quite a long way off.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Chai Kaappi
Coffee and tea.
Is there anybody in the world who doesn't drink either or both?
I'm not too much a fan of coffee. As tea-drinkers say, Tea is Liquid Wisdom. I've been hooked to South-Indian teas for quite some time now, although it is the South-Indian coffee that is more famous. Coffee, I could tolerate in case tea was not available. And then one day, my dad bought Ceylon tea from Colombo. Probably the happiest day of my life, tea-wise. Of all the teas, I like Ceylon the best and then Nilgiri. I've never tried Assam or Chinese yet. But let me warn you, stay off the British teas! They are simply horrible. Earl Grey especially. Somehow I didn't like the Chinese green tea either. I'm planning to try out African red tea soon.
Tea should be prepared black without any spices. Steepled (not in a stupid tea-bag) for the right time. And then milk and sugar. Anything else is simply a no-no.
This culture of tea and coffee is quite ubiquitous in Chennai. There is always a mukku-tea-kadai, a corner tea-shop at nearly every other corner selling hot, hot tea and coffee. If you're travelling by train, you know a station's arrived when you hear the chaai chaai kaapi kaapi from the vendors. Tea-shops are open from quite early in the morning to quite late in the night.
And then there was the tiny little coffee shop next to my department in college, selling pathetic coffee. However, to us students, that was the only source of the necessary dosage of caffeine required to stay awake in classes, so we flocked to it. Great intellectual discussions were accomplished over that coffee... Sigh!
And then, as you will find repeated in this blog often, I came to Pitt. And horror of horrors, there's no tea here! Whatever tea you get (from those stupid bags I never really cared about) were pathetic and vomit-inducing. Everywhere I go, you would hear me whine "What country is this? Not even a decent cup of tea." Yes, that's me. Evaluating the greatness of a country on the strength of its teas.
The only solace was Indian tea from the Indian grocery store. The bloody chap sells everything Indian at a premium, knowing we Indians are just such suckers for Indian goods. Plus, I made my parents bring some tea when they visited me. Still, where's the time to make tea when I wake up?
So I switched to coffee. Which is okay, 'cuz the coffee's decent here. Not as good as Nilgiri coffee though. But just good enough to survive on. This is, of course, referring to coffee from Starbucks and Caribou. A couple of bottled brands are better, though I can't pick the names off my head, right now.
And then one day, I walked in to Caribou, a coffee-shop and saw somewhere in the corner "Ceylon Tea". Considering my previous experiences with specialty teas in this country, I was highly skeptical. But ordered it nevertheless. And finally, heaven answered my prayers. A decent tea, similar to the one found at home, now available a block from where I work. And yes, fellas, I switched again! Even now, I'm seated at Caribou, supposed to have an exam tomorrow, but drinking Ceylon tea... and blogging about it...
Life sucks, but at least, there's still tea.
:-)
Is there anybody in the world who doesn't drink either or both?
I'm not too much a fan of coffee. As tea-drinkers say, Tea is Liquid Wisdom. I've been hooked to South-Indian teas for quite some time now, although it is the South-Indian coffee that is more famous. Coffee, I could tolerate in case tea was not available. And then one day, my dad bought Ceylon tea from Colombo. Probably the happiest day of my life, tea-wise. Of all the teas, I like Ceylon the best and then Nilgiri. I've never tried Assam or Chinese yet. But let me warn you, stay off the British teas! They are simply horrible. Earl Grey especially. Somehow I didn't like the Chinese green tea either. I'm planning to try out African red tea soon.
Tea should be prepared black without any spices. Steepled (not in a stupid tea-bag) for the right time. And then milk and sugar. Anything else is simply a no-no.
This culture of tea and coffee is quite ubiquitous in Chennai. There is always a mukku-tea-kadai, a corner tea-shop at nearly every other corner selling hot, hot tea and coffee. If you're travelling by train, you know a station's arrived when you hear the chaai chaai kaapi kaapi from the vendors. Tea-shops are open from quite early in the morning to quite late in the night.
And then there was the tiny little coffee shop next to my department in college, selling pathetic coffee. However, to us students, that was the only source of the necessary dosage of caffeine required to stay awake in classes, so we flocked to it. Great intellectual discussions were accomplished over that coffee... Sigh!
And then, as you will find repeated in this blog often, I came to Pitt. And horror of horrors, there's no tea here! Whatever tea you get (from those stupid bags I never really cared about) were pathetic and vomit-inducing. Everywhere I go, you would hear me whine "What country is this? Not even a decent cup of tea." Yes, that's me. Evaluating the greatness of a country on the strength of its teas.
The only solace was Indian tea from the Indian grocery store. The bloody chap sells everything Indian at a premium, knowing we Indians are just such suckers for Indian goods. Plus, I made my parents bring some tea when they visited me. Still, where's the time to make tea when I wake up?
So I switched to coffee. Which is okay, 'cuz the coffee's decent here. Not as good as Nilgiri coffee though. But just good enough to survive on. This is, of course, referring to coffee from Starbucks and Caribou. A couple of bottled brands are better, though I can't pick the names off my head, right now.
And then one day, I walked in to Caribou, a coffee-shop and saw somewhere in the corner "Ceylon Tea". Considering my previous experiences with specialty teas in this country, I was highly skeptical. But ordered it nevertheless. And finally, heaven answered my prayers. A decent tea, similar to the one found at home, now available a block from where I work. And yes, fellas, I switched again! Even now, I'm seated at Caribou, supposed to have an exam tomorrow, but drinking Ceylon tea... and blogging about it...
Life sucks, but at least, there's still tea.
:-)
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Food
Those who know me will tell you that I am NOT a foodie. I would eat my lunch for hours at a stretch aimlessly discussing anything under the sun or just staring into open space. Friends, neighbors, parents, siblings, cousins, ALL have tried quite unsuccessfully to increase the rate of my food intake. And failed miserably.
I used to drive Mom wild with my ultra-specific dietary preferences. Lemon rice and tamarind rice were a no-no. Chutneys had to be red or white, but not green. Biriyani too had to be red and not green. If dinner had to be some kind of rice, it HAD to be curd rice and nothing else. That too, plain curd and no thalichification. Omelettes shouldn't have pepper on them, but only salt, that too nothing less than a minimum specified amount. Appalams had to be plain. Pickles had to be mango. Dosa had to be paper-roast. Dal was allowed, but sambar wasn't. Okra had to be cut laterally but not vertically.
But give me pizzas and burgers and I could eat them any number of times a day. Pizza Hut and KFC were my frequent hangouts. No wonder people thought I would come to America and have fun with all the junk food here. Little did they (or I) know.
In Pitt, I was (and still am) too lazy to learn to cook. Plus, there are a zillion other pressures, that frankly, you don't wanna spend time in the kitchen. And worst of all, nothing I make can ever remotely resemble home food and that just sucks. How can you eat your own chappathi when you know you've tasted something gazillion times better at home? Of course, all these are a bunch of excuses for my laziness. But nevertheless, the fact remains that I was missing home food a lot and didn't want to eat anything that resembled it and tasted like crap. So I again ended up eating burgers and hoagies and pizzas and paving the way for cholesterol affliction in my later years. I'm sick and tired of them, but I eat them anyway. Why? 'Cuz they're cooked food and they're way better than what I make. Even the Indian restaurants disgust me. They never make the chicken the way they're supposed to make it.
And yes, you can sit and dream. Dream of all the hot, hot mizhaga bajjis on Elliotts Beach. Of the amazing chaat/parathas from Khana Khazana. And best of all, mom's idlis and dosas with podi and oil. And lovely chappathis. Even curd rice and dal are better at home. Not to forget the chicken, which is best cooked Indian-style and home-style. Samosas and puffs from Devi Sweets. Kothu parotta from the local bhai shop.
Yummm! Please, nobody pinch me. I don't wanna wake up to a half-eaten pizza reheated.
I used to drive Mom wild with my ultra-specific dietary preferences. Lemon rice and tamarind rice were a no-no. Chutneys had to be red or white, but not green. Biriyani too had to be red and not green. If dinner had to be some kind of rice, it HAD to be curd rice and nothing else. That too, plain curd and no thalichification. Omelettes shouldn't have pepper on them, but only salt, that too nothing less than a minimum specified amount. Appalams had to be plain. Pickles had to be mango. Dosa had to be paper-roast. Dal was allowed, but sambar wasn't. Okra had to be cut laterally but not vertically.
But give me pizzas and burgers and I could eat them any number of times a day. Pizza Hut and KFC were my frequent hangouts. No wonder people thought I would come to America and have fun with all the junk food here. Little did they (or I) know.
In Pitt, I was (and still am) too lazy to learn to cook. Plus, there are a zillion other pressures, that frankly, you don't wanna spend time in the kitchen. And worst of all, nothing I make can ever remotely resemble home food and that just sucks. How can you eat your own chappathi when you know you've tasted something gazillion times better at home? Of course, all these are a bunch of excuses for my laziness. But nevertheless, the fact remains that I was missing home food a lot and didn't want to eat anything that resembled it and tasted like crap. So I again ended up eating burgers and hoagies and pizzas and paving the way for cholesterol affliction in my later years. I'm sick and tired of them, but I eat them anyway. Why? 'Cuz they're cooked food and they're way better than what I make. Even the Indian restaurants disgust me. They never make the chicken the way they're supposed to make it.
And yes, you can sit and dream. Dream of all the hot, hot mizhaga bajjis on Elliotts Beach. Of the amazing chaat/parathas from Khana Khazana. And best of all, mom's idlis and dosas with podi and oil. And lovely chappathis. Even curd rice and dal are better at home. Not to forget the chicken, which is best cooked Indian-style and home-style. Samosas and puffs from Devi Sweets. Kothu parotta from the local bhai shop.
Yummm! Please, nobody pinch me. I don't wanna wake up to a half-eaten pizza reheated.
Why?
'Cuz that's what I am. A totally spoilt totally Madras boy living in Pitt. For a long time, I've wanted to write something on the transition from Chennai to Pittsburgh, but couldn't find the time or the inspiration. Now, hopefully, I will.
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