
Auld Lang Syne (Days Gone By) ~ Andy Stewart http://t.co/uiXuk0ae



Hon'ble Shri Jyoti Basu - An Interview
Whenever I travel I try to soak in as much of the local culture, scenery and of course food as possible. I recently undertook what some would say an arduous journey from Calcutta to Nainital. I had to travel 4 days by train to spend 2 nights at Nainital. The reason I agreed to this gruelling travel schedule was the company of good friends which made 4 days in carriages of Indian Railways feel less dreary.
I took an overnight train to Lucknow via the Punjab (Now renamed Amritsar) Mail from Calcutta. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the 1st A.C. Compartments (i
ncluding the toilets) had been done up recently. It's been given a more contemporary look and a comfortable feel. We reached Lucknow in the evening of the following day. I interject here to add a commentary about a personal quirk. I am in the habit of making pilgrimages to certain places or eateries of different cities whenever I flit by. To me the experience isn't complete without a visit to these places. In Lucknow for example, there are the Imambaras, the Residency and of course Tunday Kebabi. I confess I couldn't make it to the Imambaras or the Residency this time due to paucity of time between connecting trains. But I did jump into an Auto-Rickshaw and headed straight for Aminabad. The drive in a Lucknow Auto from the Lucknow Station to Aminabad and from there to the Aishbag Station (where we took the train to Lalkuan), was akin to a high speed chase from in a Robert Langdon starrer Dan Brown Novel with an equal measure of thrills thrown in. It took me 35 minutes to get to Tunday Kebabi, another 30 minutes to get Mutton Tunday Kebabs and Mutton Dum Biryani packed (although I still regret not getting th
e whole Tandoori Chicken packed). A 30 minutes dash back and we were on the train in an ordinary 1st Class Compartment. I confess this was an experience hitherto unknown to me. However, in congenial company aided by the aroma and heavenly flavour of Tunday's delicacies, it didn't seem that bad after all. The 'Tunday’ (or Tunde) Kebab is actually a spiced version of the Galouti Kebab although much slimmer. It is crispy on the outside and melt-in-your mouth soft on the inside. Although we had it with the Mutton Dum Biryani, I feel it always goes a lot better with a Naan or a Roomali Roti. I did not rate the Dum Biryani too high. The unseemly usage of vanaspati or dalda marred the lucknavi flavour of the Biryani. However, the Kebabs more than made up for this lacuna.
We arrived at Lalkuan at 6 AM and it was bitterly cold. A khullar of masala chai offered comfort at the railway station. We took a car to Nainital, the climb was steep yet scenic. We also managed to get twenty if not forty winks on the way. It took us about an hour and a half to get to Nainital and our hotel Armadale. The hotel did not quite live upto my expectations or it’s advertisements on the Website, and we quickly
changed from our so-called ‘Executive Rooms’ to the ‘Majestic’ Suite, which was a tad more comfortable. To our dismay we were informed that the chef had taken a week’s leave, so all the hotel could offer was Parathas and Toast. We took a stroll down Mallital and had lunch at a nondescript restaurant which served rather nice cheese-chicken sandwiches. The dinner was at a hotel called Vintage Inn and was on the whole forgettable. The next day we ventured to the Mall and had lunch at Sackley’s Pastry Shop and Restaurant. This was quite the find. Sackley’s is a tastefully decorated eatery which serves Continental, Italian, Chinese and Thai food with equal élan. We tried a combination of Chinese and Thai which proved most satisfactory. The Tom Yum soup was very well prepared. The Chicken Chowmein and Chicken Fried Rice were also quite well prepared. But they excelled themselves at the Chilli Minced Lamb and Kung Pao Chicken (a Cantonese Version which I’ve never tried before). Dinner that night was at the Hotel Armadale and was predominantly vegetarian. The next day, we set out sightseeing in and around Nainital, visited the Naina Devi Temple and did some shopping on the Mall. The
‘Machan’ restaurant for lunch. It did live upto it’s reputation in the variety and quality of the fare it had on offer. We ordered Onion Kulchas, Gobi Mutter, Mutton Seekh Kebab, Murgh Kali Mirch and Kali Dal. Except the Seekh Kebab which appeared to be undercooked, the rest of the fare was extremely well prepared. I particularly enjoyed the Murgh Kali Mirch with the Onion Kulcha. After a stroll down the Mall we realised that we needed to have dinner packed for the train…so it was back to Sackley’s . They packed a wonderful basket of Chicken and Cheese Sandwiches, Chicken Rissoles, Mushroom & Chicken Pizza, Chocolate Eclairs and Chocolate Tarts. The Pizza and the tarts were simply exquisite.
We reached Lucknow very early and our connecting train to Calcutta was delayed by 3 hours. I was not in the mood to dash to Aminabad so early in the morning. So after a nap at ‘Indradhanush’ the Lucknow Station’s bijou Air-Conditioned guest rooms (you guessed it – the rooms bear names like Hara, Peela, Neela and so on…), I went out hunting for books on Urdu Shayari and Hindi Sahitya. The only interesting books I found were a compilation of the works of Nida Fazli and another of Bahadur Shah Zafar. Unfortunately nobody had a copy of Diwan-E-Ghalib or the works of Meer Taqi Meer. But most strikingly, the city of
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"The condition of Oude soon attracted his (Dalhousie's) attention, not because the Government was bad and its people were wretched, but because that the country might either be a bulwark of safety to our own dominions, or a sea of danger which might overflow and destroy us". -Sir John Kaye: History of the Indian Mutiny, volume one (London 1888) The Nawab was exiled to Garden Reach in Metiabruz. Even in his exile in Metiabruz, he survived for many long years, all the while trying to keep the sweet memories of his Lucknow-era alive by recreating the musical ambience of his Kaisarbagh Baradari. The banished king had been given a number of fine houses with vast grounds stretching along the banks of the River Hooghly, three or four miles south of Calcutta. Because of an Earthen Dome (raised platform), people called it "Matiya Burj". The king spent lavishly out of his income of twelve lakhs of rupees per annum and soon a “Second Lucknow” arose in this area. There was the same bustle and activity, same language, art, poetry, style of conversation - the same pomp and splendour, the same opulent style of living. Troupes of artistes congregated in his court, the best singers were enlisted into his service and there was a larger concourse of musicians in Metiabruz than could be found anywhere else in India. He learnt Hindustani vocal with Basit Khan, Pyar Khan and Jaffar Khan and underwent Kathak training under Thakur Prasadji and Bindadin Maharaj. Although his pen name was Qaisar, be used the pseudonym Akhtarpiya for his numerous compositions. Under this pen- name, he wrote over 40 works, poems, prose and Thumris. Diwani-Akhtar and Husn-i-Akhtar contain his Ghazals. There were great musical assemblies in the Darbar Hall of Matiyaburj where the great musicians and music-lovers of Calcutta gathered to hear Wajid Ali Shah sing his favourite Lucknow-Thumris, and to marvel at his dance-performances. The Durbar Hall was lavishly and opulently decorated just as the Lucknow Baradari used to be. |
It took a handful of terrorists and hundreds of lost lives to bring down the myth of security and complacency that we in our country had lulled ourselves into. It took 60 hours to bring down the 60 year old fascade of Indian Democracy and it's effectiveness. It took just 3 days to unmask some politicians and bring them out for what they really are. But more than all that it took an attack on our nations' collective pride to awaken us and make us raise our voices. What happened to government of the people, for the people and by the people? Was that a myth as well? Was the feudal system and Kingdoms abolished so that these uncouth, uncaring, un-educated, in most cases, politicians could rule over us? So what has changed? 540 something members of parliament, most of who have some criminal record or the other have replaced the 516 principalities which once formed India. The difference is that these principalities were lead by Kings and Courtiers who were educated and well versed with the problems of their state. Now it is very much the opposite, in more ways than one. Terrorism existed then, as it exists now, then we had the Abdalis and the Lodi's who threatened India. Now we have LeT's and Mujahideen's. True, they didn't have AK-47's, grenades or petrol bombs back then, still they didn't fight with wooden batons (as most of our constabulary still do, even when faced with an AK-47).
It's a personal post this time, an outpouring of grief may sound a tad dramatic, but this is one nonetheless. Reggie, one of my Shelties passed away today. He became a part of our family 12 years and 2 months ago at the age of 12 years and 4 months. He brought us unconditional love and joy and was a loyal friend...till the very end. Mild-mannered and friendly, Reggie was an instant favourite even amongst those who didn't like pets. His affectionate nature endeared him to everyone. He didn't have a mean bone in his body and was never known to snap, let alone bite a living soul. He wasn't of a very strong constitution physically, and at the age of 6 months, broke his front left paw, still the effervescent spot of sunshine that he was, kept limping with a plaster cast attached to his leg. Despite this, Reggie went on to win 3 Local, 2 National and 1 International Dog Shows. His sober nature was always a credit to him, even at the Dog Shows. He was terrified of thunder and lightning, and in the event of either of them occurring, one would find him running at top speed to hide under my bed, or in desperate measures, behind the commode in one of the toilets.
Well, it's finally here. Winter, that is, or whatever semblance of the stuff we get down here. Still, there it is. Rummy thing about this season is, it creates activity. Everyone's either throwing parties, dinners, cocktails, or just packing off and going on a toot. An enormous percentage of the general population seems to find this season just the right time to jump off the dock (read get married). Perhaps it's the fallout of the activity epidemic or a realisation that all the days of the year have suddenly run out, so why not make the best of what's left and get hitched. I must confess at this point that I have the heart of an eternal bachelor, for it is I believe the only honourable estate which allows a man to preserve his mental equilibrium. But I digress, getting back to the nip in the air (and I use the expression loosely), it has it's pros and cons, but personally speaking, I think the pros outweigh the cons. True, one can sense the devious flu-bug flapping it's microscopic wings in the air, and one is gulping down copious amounts of Vitamin C and orange juice to ward off this killjoy; however, it is also the weather which heralds the advent of Christmas. Christmas in it's varied warm hues tends to uplift ones' spirits, gives a man hope and an inclination to look forward to the nicer things in life. Christmas Trees,Carols, Plum Puddings, Mistletoe, Stuffed Turkeys, Presents and of course good old Saint Nick, are thoughts which put a smile on the stiffest of stiff upper-lips. I may not believe there's an over-weight old gent clad in red nightwear swooping down the chimney with a sackful of goodies, but I have no shame in admitting that I do believe in Santa Claus. One has never forgotten writing letters to Santa, hanging Christmas stockings and waiting eagerly all night only to run out at the crack of dawn to unwrap the boxes beneath the Christmas Tree. Whatever emerged from those packages, be it ever so humble as a mechanical ladybug (one of my all time faves), it was magical. The festivities at home, the ever-running kitchen and the warmth of guests added to that magic. That, I believe still endures and that to me is the magic of Santa Claus and Christmas.
I know the past couple of my posts here have been a tad morbid, circumstances demanded they did. However, if I may be allowed to paraphrase, into each life some sun must shine. I'm not saying it is; I'm saying it might. I read P.G. Wodehouse when I'm down. His words have a habit of transporting one to a utopian paradise. A world which I grudgingly doubt existed even in his time, is brought to life is a lucid manner. It takes imagination, not only to write, but also to read a book. An art which sadly is slowly becoming extinct. To live in a world of Sir Watkyn Basset, Galahad Threepwood or Lord Ickenham (Uncle Fred), maybe an impossibility in today's dog eat dog world, but some still try to fashion some small nook of their lives in that manner. I certainly try, even if it is for a few hours.