The Vistara Way of Life

New airlines make for great travel companions. They have spanking new aeroplanes, spiffy and smart air hostesses and great service. Vistara recently started its Delhi Mumbai services and I promptly booked myself on the premium dinner flight from Delhi. 

Check in was smooth at the T3 Terminal in Delhi and so was the timely take off. I waited patiently for the dinner service. 

Taj Sats is the best on air caterer and all leading airlines get their on board meals catered by them, including Jet Airways, which is a competitor of Vistara. 

Now here is the interesting twist. Taj Sats is a part of Tata's and so is Vistara in partnership with Singapore Airlines. So, there was no doubt that the food would be a Taj Sats meal. And with Indians, the better meal served is always a winner.

The meal was served on an envelope styled box with neat compartments for the hot meal. So, literally, no stirring the pot or the meal in the wake of air turbulence. As for the contents, the non veg meal with its anjeer pulao and labradar chicken was on a scale of 9 on 10. And they happily served seconds for people with more robust appetites, including your's truly. 

The exquisite food served, blankets and pillows were distributed by the thoughtful and alert crew. This reminded me of the good ole’ days when flying indeed was luxurious and one was pampered by the pretty and smiling air hostesses. A thoroughly satiating experience. Trust the Tata's to do it in style. 

The Chunkie Good Day

A return birthday gift for Zehn contained a box of Chunkie, and it said chocolate chip cookies. I hid it before she could lay her eyes on it.

Since a kid, I had fantasised about chocolate chip cookies, thanks to the books penned by Enid Blyton. Dunking them in milk was supposed to be the ultimate feast for the Famous Five kids. Since then, my hunt for the cookies started.

The coffee chains, the 5 star hotels, the various bakeries... I tried them all, but they never matched my expectations. 

Until I opened a Chunkie... Crunchy on the outside, crumbling as my teeth dug into the baked dough, and then the exquisite taste of melted chocolate chips mingled with the aroma of butter...all in one bite. 

Sweet heavens, my imagination began to finally see the cookie in technicolour. Thank you Good Day, for making a cookie that feeds the palate, the soul and the imagination...

The Swamy of Food

People say, I have shrunk. Not shrunk, like, Honey I Shrunk The Kids types, but by losing a few measly grams. Anyways, the story today is not about my weight, but of a caterer named Muthuswamy.

They cater to mostly ad shoots across Mumbai. Perhaps they are expensive, or they are elaborate in their menus, I have not really had any inclination to figure. Just as long as there is food served by them, I am happy. And so are the Mumbai celebrities. From director Balki to Mrs Jaya Bachchan, they all swear by his food.

So what's so great. Today I will take you on a short tour of the tea served today. Hot mini sized bhaturas are freshly fried in ghee. And served with chole.

 

For the dosa loving crowd, there is sada dosa, masala dosa, Mysore masala, uttapam... And look at the array of chutneys.

For the chatpata loving, the sev puri and pani puri is to die for. Fiery hot chutney sweetened by a tamarind sauce, mixed with boiled potatoes on a bed of papri, sprinkled lavishly with onions, coriander and bhujia or sev.

Today, the bill of fare, though is the hot hunk Salman Khan, himself. A self confessed foodie, the actor revealed that ever since Muthuswamy catered for his youngest sibling, Arpita's first birthday, the South Indian has been doing the honours for any family get together. And that's how Muthuswamy came to serve the ad and film fraternity of Mumbai.

So enjoy the pix, while I moan the calories I have consumed. Just imagine, carbs fried in ghee. 500 years on the treadmill.

To Live By The Bullet

Sitting on a hard wooden bench, sipping hot sweet tea with the Maratha Regiment, in the back of beyond remote area of Arunachal Pradesh, we exchange stories of our lives. One a soldier, another a com patriot. Listening to the heartbreak of their stories of losing their brethren to terrorism. The fear of their families when they don't hear from them in a week's time. Anything can happen. It's just the question of a bullet. 

Today when the world bereaves the death of these innocent children, I cannot help but wonder about the phrase, you reap what you sow. 

The fathers of these children have stood by and let their fellowmen cross their borders and enter into our country to kill our brothers, our children, our soldiers. Would an Indian army soldier ever open its borders to send terrorists to enter into any of our neighbouring countries to create death and destruction. 

These Pakistan army officers now know what it feels to see a coffin wrapped in the national flag.... Just like our brave mothers and wives, who have seen their sons, brothers, husbands leave home, only to return as a body. 

In Uri, we lost our family, our soldiers for our democracy. Like we do everyday, be it a attack on our parliament or our Taj hotel or our gallis in Lucknow, Badlapur or Guwahati. 

For the sake of humanity, for the sake of our future, give up the bullet. It only hurts one and all, someday or the other.

The Tea At Jaswantgarh

With the travelling genes running rampant, I along with my family decided to head for the picturesque locales of Tawang in Arunachal Pradesh. 

We drove from Guwahati to Bomdila,

and the next day to Tawang. Our first halt was at Baisakhi. An Army post where u can get snacks like Dosa, vacancies, Maggi and samosa, cooked by our very own jawans. Piping hot tea and coffee were also available. A necessary stop as it gives the body time to adjust to the altitude. 

Nourished body and soul, we head towards Sela Pass. It is at an altitude of 13,700 feet. Fresh snowfall meant that the roads were slippery and wet. Slowly and steadily, we crawled towards Jaswantgarh, a memorial dedicated by the Indian Army.

There are two stories floating around this memorial. According to the Army, when the Chinese began attacking India in 1962, Rifleman Jaswant Singh, along with 2 officers, volunteered to capture an automatic machine gun. The 300 bullet a round gun, had almost wiped out the Indian Army. With fresh troops yet to make their way through the treacherous path, the heroics of Jaswant and his colleagues who captured the gun and therefore won that battle for us, made the Army name this place, Jaswantgarh.

However, the folklore has a somewhat different tale. The story is that the Indian troops were wiped out and with heavy snowfall, the troops found it tough to reach the battlefield. So for 3 days, Rifleman Jaswant Singh alongwith 2 local Arunachali sisters, Nura and Sela, fought the Chinese army with stealth and guile for 3 days, until troops could reach. The Chinese finally caught Jaswant Singh and beheaded him, and actually carried his severed head to show their Army Chiefs that it was the guile of one Indian that had prevented the Chinese army from entering Assam. 

The two girls committed suicide as they did not want to be tortured and killed. The battle has been named Battle of Nura while the pass was renamed Sela Pass, in tribute to these two courageous sisters. 

The significance of this battle is that the Indian army thereafter, was successful in pushing the Chinese back into China and reclaiming Arunachal Pradesh. 

As a tribute to the martyrs, a memorial by the Army has been installed and hot tea is served to everybody who drops in, by the Army. 

I really did not ponder much about what is folklore and what is factual, rather on the courage of our Indian brethren who laid their lives for our today. And it burns when anybody with eastern features are called Chinky. This is so unfair... India is about the Battle of Nura where a Garhwali took the help of Arunachalis to save our motherland... An Indian helping a fellow Indian

I was humbled by the efforts of the Indian army and their sacrifices, when I sat with the Maratha Regiment and they asked me about Mumbai, the new BJP government and how they miss their vada pavs.

The tea at Jaswantgarh, woke up a slumbering patriotic nerve in me. They proudly believe, " For your tomorrow, I sacrifice my today." Jai Hind, my brave Jawans. I salute you.

Goa, over the years...

Squeezing time between our business work, mom's schedule and my daughter's school, we managed to get a few days off to take a chill pill break to Goa.

Over the last 2 decades, I have made numerous trips to Goa. And each trip has had a different tale and experience to share.  I have also made the trip through every route... by ship, train, bus, taxi, car, air flight.. and with various companions. 

The first trip was with my room mates after I landed my first job, a rookie reporter with Plus Channel. The catamaran ride was long and luxurious. Soon after, the services were discontinued. As we were traveling first class, we were fed and feted all the way to the shores of Goa's lovely beach.

Seeing Goa for the first time was an eye opener. Sipping port wine on a moon kissed beach, with just the surf to keep you company, was soul searching. Solitude, with music of the waves and twinkling glittering light of the stars is an experience etched in time.

The most taxing time was covering the New Year celebrations in Goa for NDTV. From the 24th of December to the 2nd of January, me and my crew would be stationed in Goa covering the festivities. While the world around us drank and partied, we waited, stone sober to capture the ambience and get bytes of tipsy people.  

I have celebrated all my biggest occasions here. From my birthdays to my honeymoon, and each trip has brought out various flavours of Goa. From romancing in the rain, food fiesta as we discovered the various shacks, the crazy bike rides, shopping at the flea market, covering a naval plane crash, Goa kept flaunting her beauty.

This trip I discovered the joys of massage, by the beach side. The criteria for choosing a hotel has always been a good spa and and a good pool, and this year was no different. But, a good foot massage as you sip a chilled Breezer, and munch on golden fried prawns and masala fried squid, is best described as liquid pleasure. Ummm.. my version of reliving Cleopatra's lifestyle.

Each day, I would head to the shack to satiate an appetite for fresh fish and foot massage. Oh, you lovely Goa , you are my B12 booster shot.

The Royal Chinese Lunch

After a week of having vegetarian fare, as we had Ganpati in our house, we decided to have lunch out. Since we had a shoot in Bandra, we mulled over our choices and finally settled for Royal China. The eatery is on the expensive side, but as we had my mom visiting us, we headed for some exquisite Pan Asian cuisine. 

More than our stomachs, it's our eyes that are hungry, I have surmised. So as I made my way through the menu on the i-pad with the lovely pictures gracing each dish with elaborate descriptions, the mental imagery was deep at work. The eyes and mind ordered a fare that included crabs, prawns, pork and tenderloin. 

I experimented with a dish called Cheung Fun, which was

fried prawns rolled in rice paper, steamed, and served with a sweetened dark soya sauce. It was light on the palate. The crunchiness of the fried prawns in the sticky wrap, slightly smeared in the sauce, gave our appetite the lovely kick to get the gastric juices rolling. 

What we liked was that the freshly caught crab was first shown to us, before it was cooked. The 1kg fanged and clawed crab, was then presented to us on a bed of chilly tomato sauce, with a beetroot garnished and designed as a rose. I wonder why? 

While the pork spare ribs was barbecued in a honey pepper sauce, the tenderloin complimented the sweetness with a red chilly and spring onion spice. And it was served with egg fried rice, with small bits of ginger sprinkled, to give ample reason for the tongue to salivate. 

Pin drop silence reigned as we started eating. The nameless waiters disappeared as they realised that the patrons needed no assistance in serving.

Addled with all the good food, I went to the counter to pick up some of the restaurant's spicy red chilli oil. I saw a friend, who I thought was Zayed Khan, and greeted him as such, only to be gently told by him that he is Ranveer Singh. I died. 

Pondering about my mental state, I headed for the shoot, where Kareena Kapoor was shooting for an ad campaign. One look at my sleepy face, she asked me to come the next day for the interview. 

Without much ado, I sat in my car, cranked up the ac and the music, and was driven home, for a much deserved siesta. Saturday lunches are made of these... Good food and good friends...