Fading Façades

It feels like am almost on the verge of treading the beaten track, what with no blog posts for almost a year, and what’s the only reason? My son? How typical, right? That’s what all you guys and gals out there are mouthing mentally, I know. Well, I can even see a wry (rather triumphant) grin on a lot of faces that challenge my feminism and yea, there are an equal number of welcome back smiles. Anyway, this blog post is another birthing of sorts, if some of you can get what I am getting at. :)

Ok, in trying to steer into the unbeaten track, unbeaten, am gonna attempt things that I have never done before. One of them is writing about some of my facades, such as how I hate Gautham Menon movies (which I do, but only with some reservations), how I love shopping at the big malls, how I really do break down when I watch young moms beg on the street with very young babies, how I have a thing for very dark men (yes, dark men make my knees go weak and fair men don’t even stir me), and how I am the world’s biggest shallow, narcissist! I know by saying all this, I have miffed a lot of you out there, especially those of you who have had great ‘hopes’ for me or didn’t know me enough to have looked through the façade! 

Let’s look at the first façade. Yes, I like Gautham Menon movies, despite their clichés, their stupid nationalism, and chivalry. Let’s get to why or what I like about them. Firstly, he kind of somewhere manages to get the idea of ‘understated’ into Tamil movies. But, only kind of, because he really doesn’t make the cut; he’s perhaps too busy or distracted by the packaging, the beautiful locales, the doling up of his ladies (who are these very educated, English-speaking, all womanly women waiting to be swept off their dainty feet by rugged self-made metrosexuals in their bikes/jeeps and teaching them how to kiss! As if, kissing is something only a man can teach a woman), or panning his camera a wee bit on the higher side. Secondly, I believe he manages to create some sort of a ‘space’ for the woman, however flawed it may be. Yes, it’s quite nerve racking to see all these so-called independent women waiting to be kissed by this absolute male for the first time (Jo in Khaka Khaka) and all that. However, it was lovely to see a woman of 24 stay all by herself in a nice cozy apartment and also go out with male friends late in the night to watch a movie. Such touches can come only from a mind that believes in a truly ‘safe’ world where men and women interact as individuals with identities that go beyond the ones defined by biology. On the other hand, Gautham, it was a dagger straight to my heart when this woman was reduced to a lunch-packing housewife in one of the two endings. Now, you know, which one I chose. 

I know, a lot of you might do an internal eye-rolling, daring me to go on a similar rambling about another of his movies, vettaiyadu vilayadu! Mmm...I hated the movie totally, and this is no façade and I also don’t think it was a director’s movie at all; it was something that probably crawled out of one of the hero, Raghavan’s orifices!

Ok, now, it’s VTV’s turn now. I refused to watch it for a very long time only to stop an internal puke hemorrhage that happens to me each time I see at that illustrious son of a bear, Simbu! But, then, after NEP (neethane en ponvasantham), I took a chance just for the director’s sake. And, truth be told, it wasn’t very bad, actually. Perhaps, the authenticity of the shallowness in the characters appealed to me. I guess it takes some effort to deftly capture the depth of shallowness in characters like Jessy or even Karthik. Isn’t this how ‘real’ (or should I say, urban) love stories happen? Yes, there are problems like the language they speak in the film. But, beyond that, the movie is set in a certain ‘class,’ which is even more problematic. This legitimizes or rather essentializes the ‘success’ of love relationships to have them happen only within a restricted class (which is a just a sanitized version of caste). That’s perhaps why movies as these will never become classics like may be a Julie or a Bobby, which were also love stories that tugged at one’s heart strings, but yes, they got a little down and dirty! Something prevents Gautham from pushing the boundaries and he seems rather too happy to work within the confines of class. Me thinks, he works only for the paisa, and he goes just as far it takes to rake in the moolah and no further. After all, he’s not out to change the world or like a real artist shock it at least. However, what he effectively does is get all the single (unkissing; ugh! so catholic) women (we get your convent hangover, director) to not engage or interrogate their own independence, but wait for their princes in shining armor and slide without complaints into roles dictated by patriarchy and their particular caste. 

And, finally, NEP, the game changer for me! Firstly, yes, the setting gets straight As. Secondly, what was so endearing was the glimpse of female desire. Of course, it’s not really anywhere close to the real thing. The fact that the girl was in control of the relationship was nice for a change, but the pukey scenes/dialogues where he says I’ll only pay for us! (Barf! Who paid for her car that you drive around, dude?) and, yea, the faltu tension he so desperately tries to create after his brother’s bride-viewing actually seemed a wee bit comical! But, yea, something I liked was the fact that the heroine had two sisters, which is a welcome change to see in Tamil movies, where most of the houses will have only a boy-girl combination for siblings. And, yes, the sister bonding, something so precious and so incomparable and so rare was so deftly captured. Yes, it was simply irritating (read mortifying) to see the woman do nothing much than  wait around till the prince in shining armor could put away enough money to buy his horse to sweep her off her feet! Of course, it was unbelievable that one would carry a candle for over 4 years! I wouldn’t; not even for a month, especially after such a ghastly breakup! Despite all this, I liked the movie because the woman had some semblance of individuality and independence. 

So, ok, the verdict, I do like Gautham Menon movies, especially when viewing them in the backdrop of some milestone Tamil movies like Nadodigal, Sundarapandian, or even Sethu!

More Fading Façades later...

At My Garden, Today

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.

William Wordsworth

Even as a 10-year-old when I first learned this by heart to be recited at a competition, I knew deep within that these words were meant to travel with me forever. Though I didn’t know how a couch looked like, or what being vacant or pensive meant, the words had the power to capture a child’s imagination. Thus, they stayed with me and have returned on and off. And, today, is one such day.

About 2 years ago, on an impromptu trip to Trichur, I had collected some balsam seeds. Now, for those of you who think balsam is some fancy plant, it’s a small, ornamental plant native to India (at least that’s what the Internet says!). It grows to only about 1 to 2 feet and has some most beautifully colored flowers. Bright pink, white, and muted pink are its common colors. But, in Trichur I saw this brilliant violet that took me by surprise and what happened next is of course anybody’s guess: I was on my fours collecting the seeds to grow them closer home.

It’s almost 2 years since that day. Only a couple of months ago, I cleaned out an old bag and threw some aster seeds I had bought in a store. In just about two days, I saw familiar little leaves sprouting. In a week’s time, I knew they were balsam seeds; did the shop guy give me balsam instead of asters, I thought. I waited for some more days, and in the morning today, on our (my son and I) garden stroll, we spotted the bright violet balsam smiling at us. Kavin smiled, gave one his rare focused stares, almost asking me the story behind my ear-to-ear grin. Maybe one day, he will read this post and get his answer. Until then, he may have to wait…

Balsams were introduced to us by mom, who ensured that there was at least one tiny plant, could be anything (an onion, roses, chrysanthamums, etc.) growing in the vicinity. And, she swore that it was dad who had a green thumb, and the poor man was always egged on to plant the seeds, which he did with at least a particle of annoyance, but also with a secret thrill that the plants will definitely come out. So, at one such gardening activity, daddy planted some balsam seeds and in just few days, there were hundreds (ok, am exaggerating) pink and white balsam flowers. Dad and I grinned ear-to-ear on that day. Just the way I grinned today as Kavin smiled. Was it the same handsome smile of daddy that often comes to the inward eye when I on my couch lie in a vacant and pensive mood? Maybe yes…dad lives, his memories return in ever so many beautiful ways.

This balsam is for you, daddy. Will call it the Tom Balsam. 

And, I saw Ilish in Chennai…

Ilish, for the uninitiated, is a fish from the bangla hinterland. But she is not another fish in the sea to be simply dealt with; say with some sesame oil or tamarind (god, forbid!) or some onions or even tomatoes! Ilish, at least to me, is the queen among fishes. And, therefore, should be treated like one; with minimal seasoning and very little cooking so that her inner glow simply shines through and a mere brush with your lips can transport you to worlds that you only dreamt of. 

Ilish to the bongs and hilsa to all non-bongs swims upstream during the monsoon to spawn. Though some dismiss her as a fish with just bones, it’s the discerning tongue that knows what it’s talking about or tasting! Ok, so much for fawning over the Ilish. Let’s get to the real story…

Though a lover of sea food, I don’t much care for the south Indian way of cooking fish, especially with gallons of tamarind and onions and what not! I think this way of cooking completely denatures the flesh and strips fish of its natural juices. It’s of course a different matter that I am also a lover of the Kerala cuisine thanks to my partner’s eternal love affair with Kerala. We’ll deal with that obsession on a different day.

So, back to ilish for now. Back in Delhi when I first heard of cooking fish with mustard, I was a little surprised by the novelty. And that’s because the poor mustard in the south doesn’t get beyond being sputtered or used as a filler in pickles. And of course I was filled with stories (by southies of course) about the strong, revolting flavor of the mustard. So, when presented with the Ilish in mustard sauce (slightly burned though…lovingly of course), I took my first bite rather gingerly. To say that I was in love with the woman who cooked that dish for me is of course an understatement! I was conquered! I couldn’t believe how just some mustard paste, mustard oil, and green chillies put together in a cooker could produce something so out of this world. That day, I was initiated into the beauty that was Ilish. Then, I slowly learned to cook it myself and cooked it at least a 100 times before leaving Delhi for good. And, Ilish joined the list of the many things, besides khadi kurtas, janpath, palika, kebabs, NSD plays, and winters, that I miss in Chennai.

After searching for Ilish  for almost 3 long years, yesterday, at the fish shop, as my eyes fell upon the glittering scales, I almost shrieked at the guy and said, this is Ilish!. He just waved me off absentmindedly and said, yeah, so, you want it? For a split second, I stood there motionless suspended between reality and fantasy (reality being the price and fantasy, holding Ilish in my own hands!). I took it bracing up for jaw-dropping responses back home about the price. Well, that’s just a small price to pay for Ilish. Ain’t it?

So, humming a happy tune, I set off to the kitchen to make ilish. I had to use the sad weikfield mustard powder because white mustard is not available in Chennai, and I don’t quite like using the black mustard. The dishes I finally made were Ilish bhapa, Ilish  paturi, and Ilish  fry. Ilish bhapa is a gravy made with just mustard; paturi is made by wrapping Ilish in a banana leaf (from my garden ;)) and steaming it on a tawa or hot girdle, and the fry of course is with just turmeric and salt and importantly in mustard oil. After a long time, I found myself happy just cooking. It perhaps means good times are ahead…

A small note on the recipes…

Ilish bhapa

Ingredients

Few pieces of Ilish

Some mustard powder (I used weikfield mustard sauce powder)

Few green chillies

Turmeric

Few tablespoons of mustard oil

Method

Wash the fish, pat dry, and keep aside. In a bowl mix a generous amount of mustard powder (you should find this powder in nilgiris, the department store), turmeric, and salt. Take a couple of green chillies and grind them along with this powder, adding some water and some mustard oil. Use this mixture to marinate the fish well and keep aside. Taste the salt. (if you feel yucky tasting raw fish, you are on the wrong page…;)). Then, in a pressure cooker, add some mustard and sputter some finely chopped green chillies, then arrange the fish pieces neatly followed by two slit green chillies and very little water. Shut the lid, simmer, and leave for about 5-10 minutes and switch off.

Ilish  paturi

Ingredients

Few pieces of Ilish

Some mustard powder (I used weikfield mustard sauce powder)

Few green chillies

Turmeric

Few pieces of coconut

Banana leaves

Few tablespoons of mustard oil

Method

Wash the fish, pat dry, and keep aside. In a bowl mix a generous amount of mustard powder, turmeric, and salt. Take a couple of green chillies and some pieces of coconut and grind them along with this powder, and some mustard oil. Do not add any water. Smear this on the fish and wrap them in banana leaves (if you have lots of banana leaf, you can simply fold them into each other or if you don’t have enough banana leaves, just secure them with tooth picks. You could also use turmeric leaves if you do not have banana leaves). Heat a tawa and arrange the banana packets, simmer, and keep turning them over sprinkling some mustard oil on all sides. It shouldn’t take anything more than 5-7 minutes to cook. What signals complete cooking is of course the shriveled look of the banana leaf packets.

Image courtesy

1.       http://www.cityofmine.in/shorse-ilish-a-finger-liking-bengali-dish-of-monsoon

2.       Photos by Saravana Raja (http://saravanaraja.in/)