Easy Charcoal BBQ Chicken at Home

The Other Side of the Coin

Prologue

I lay in my bed most of the time. Rather, time has made me remain so. I keep watching the rotating fans. I keep listening to the ticking time every night. I usually 'kill' time. Sometimes I feel, "Why doesn't the time kill me once for all and end the story?"

They say, "God has made everyone on this earth for a purpose". What was His purpose in making me? What was His purpose of making me a 'special' child? A child who was abandoned by his parents. A child who lives in an orphanage waiting for his day. How do I know what purpose God has made me for?.... My mind races several thoughts while I simply lay down on my bed.

Who am I?

For people who don't know me - I am Pavan. Pavan means ‘breeze’. What an irony that I can't even stand on my own feet? I have been cursed by God as "physically challenged". Earlier, people used to call the same as "physically handicapped". What difference does it make to listeners like me? For strange reasons, people pity the physically challenged like me. I don't need their sympathy. I am hungry for love. I yearn for a friend or relative whom I can call my own. Someone I can play with. Someone who can share my ups & downs in life. I hardly remember any ups in my life. The only "up" is this orphanage that has given me shelter, food & all basic things to keep me going. There are also "ups" when I have visitors coming to see me. Sorry, see us. There are many more in this orphanage who are either physically or mentally challenged.

I spent around a decade in this orphanage. 'Family' is a word I heard of. But never experienced it. Many times, I imagine what my parents must be looking like? Do they ever think about me? If so, don't they feel like meeting me? I could atleast ask them why they actually gave birth to me when they had to finally abandon me? These questions hit me hard each day & night.

Visiting hours

Nevertheless, I have some 'others' who like to visit. I wait patiently for their monthly visit which they call a "TSA Trip". I see young software engineers in groups, dressed in their usual best. Confidence that gives me an inspiration to achieve something in life. Perhaps, this inspiration could lead me to the purpose of my life.

Some are accompanied with their children. How lucky these visiting children are to have everything they need in life to kick-start & zoom into a journey called life. They just have to enjoy their childhood to the fullest. While I feel happy seeing them, I also realize what I have been missing in my own life.

My hands waved in the air to catch their attention. I wish I could get up on my own & greet them. Play with them. Laugh & giggle as much as I can. But, this 'curse' God has given me, doesn't allow me to do so.

The moments

Incidentally, a guy came near my bed. Not so good looking. Yet he had the universal expression called 'smile' to get along. He waved his hand at me saying "Hiiii!!, My name is Deepak. How are you?" I instantly kept my thoughts aside & raised my hand. He shook my hand & asked "What's your name?!". I uttered my name. Due to my abnormal voice, I had to repeat it 3 times before he got it.

He took the efforts of breaking ice & kept talking to me. I raised both hands signaling him to lift me from my bed. For his built, he could actually take me in his arms & lift me. Apart from the caretakers, I hardly remember the last time a visitor had carried a bulky me. He took me to different rooms & tried his energy in swinging me while humming some vague tune. It felt so good to zoom past other beds & objects in the hall. I tried talking to him. Most of it could not be understood by him. I enjoyed so much being with him for those few minutes. I developed a bond with him that made me ask for a little more. I tried getting down on the ground. He understood I wanted to walk. He made me forget my handicap & supported me while I tried to walk. Soon I tried to run. Poor guy, he continued holding me tight so I don't fall. I could feel the breeze out of the still air while he was swinging me. Laughter escaped my mouth. I saw myself living the moment with him.

Time was up & he had to place me back on my bed. A place that brings all the same thoughts I had kept aside few moments back. I didn't want to part from him. This insatiable desire in me made me go wild as he was getting ready to leave. I cried loud to get his attention. He did turn back. But only to wave a goodbye to me. For some reason, his eyes went moist. I realized he too felt for me. He lifted me again for some more time. I could see that he was tired carrying a grown up kid like me. This time while he was placing me back, I tried the same to get hold of him. But, he left me & didn't come back. Had I been physically fit, that moment I probably would've ran for him & clasped him tight.

I still lay down in my bed & think about him & those moments I spent with him. Does he ever think about me? Does he know that I still wait to see him again?

Perhaps, he is too busy leading his own life…

(This is partly a work of fiction based on a 10 minutes interaction I had with Pavan during one of the TSA trips MindTree organizes regularly. Sincere thanks to MindTree & all the volunteers who help the old age home & orphanage run successfully. The TSA trip also makes the visitors realize some deep facts of life. These facts also make us a better human being whether at home or at work. My heartfelt thanks to all the caretakers of the old age home & orphanage for their selfless & continuous efforts in taking care of the inmates in a best possible way.)

An Unusual New Year's Resolution

Back to square nine

When you have a memorable time with guests, their departure brings a sense of emptiness, a sense of being left all alone.

I returned home after a hectic send-off. Closed the door. The home was upside-down with articles I had left in a helter-skelter. I felt everything at home motionlessly screaming at me - ‘Here you are, lonely again.’

I took a deep breath & hummed the lines to myself:

Unko ruqsat toh kiya lekin, mujhe malum na tha.

Saara ghar le gaya, ghar chhodke jaanewala.

The echo of my own voice sounded haunting. I dipped my hand in my wallet & stared at the piece of paper again. I smiled in disbelief.

How could it happen to me?! How could it happen this day?!

* * * * *

Dhanadhan daud

Rams had come to visit for the weekend-cum-new year’s eve. After having a good time celebrating the new year, meeting old friends, shopping & dining together in Bangalore, I had to drop him back at the railway station. It was a hurried attempt when my friend discovered that the train would depart an hour earlier than his ‘assumed’ time. Arrrrgh…

We somehow made it to the station, panting. He thanked me for the company & hospitality. We shook hands, hugged each other & wished each other a happy new year.

While waving him a goodbye, I realized how the last three days had gone past in a jiffy. I was recollecting all the chats, giggles, updates on other common friends etc…

The ordeal

I turned towards the exit & noticed the Ticket Collector standing at the gate. Being in a hurry, I had forgotten to buy a platform ticket! The angel in me made me feel guilty. The demon in me goaded me saying ‘Big deal. How long are they going to patrol the exit points?’ The better half convinced me. I found a place to sit & patiently waited for the TC to take a break.

For a moment, I was imagining my embarrassment in public, being caught and branded as a ticket-less traveler. A "TICKET-LESS TRAVELER" ?! I frequently looked at the TT. He didn’t seem to budge.

Tea tasted bitter. My brand new smartphone ditched me with a low battery. The thought of buying a newspaper and read made me go into an instant depression. On the screen, a beautiful lady cheered me by repeatedly smiling at me, asking me to buy a soap that could change my life. I wished she could change the prevailing moment for me. Another advertisement encouraged me to be a good citizen & buy platform tickets:

“Ticketless travelling is a serious offense. A fine of Rs.300/- with fare is applicable.”

I had to instantly change my focal length & look for the TC again. By then, he had hooked an erring citizen & was violently scribbling his challan book delivering words of wisdom. I got up & started wandering in pursuit of other exit points. I found one. While getting down the stairs I was conscious of every step. I said to myself, ‘Deeps, Just a few more steps & you are a free bird.”

At a turning point, I was caught by a TC whom I couldn’t notice. Unfortunately, he stood at a strategic place no one could have ever anticipated. I had reached a point of no return.

I tried to explain my reason for not possessing a ticket. He gave me a dirty look, interrupted me and said “Every single culprit gives me the same story.” He pointed at an old, battered board. It reflected what I had seen a few minutes ago on the screen.

I was asked to stand aside. I gulped. After the crowd lessened, he turned to me & wrote a challan of Rs.350/-. What would a man with a good bad luck & a bad good luck do? I cursed my fate the nth time & had let my wallet go thin.

While driving home, I was imagining what all I could have done with those 350 bucks. I realized, I could have shown an edited SMS/email from IRCTC to prove I was not a ticket-less traveler. Instead of looking at the lady selling soaps, I should have got a ticket booked online for a shortest possible distance. Nevertheless, the postmortem of ifs & buts don’t matter once you got stung.

* * * * *

The realization

For the money I paid as fine, I could have bought all the platform tickets I ever needed in my life. I had to append it to my long list of new year's resolution to not forget buying platform tickets hereafter.

After staring at the piece of paper for a long time, I recollected the TC wishing me a happy new year while handing me the challan. Sometimes life plays a joke at you & you can’t even laugh at it.

It indeed was a memorable kick-start to a new year ahead…

Madras Diary - My House owner, Marwadis & the Govt

(In Tamil 'P' is mostly pronounced as 'B' and 'K' as 'G'. For instance, 'Poori' becomes 'Boori' & 'Kulfi' becomes 'Gulfi'. So forth.)

It was an early morning breeze of a never-ending summer. I was standing on the verandah sipping coffee while looking at passersby. "Nalla kaatha varad! Enna Deebug? Ooty madri irukku illa?!". (Nice breeze. What do you say Deepak? Doesn't it feel like Ooty?) Here comes the most exaggerated comment from him - my ex House owner.

I hated Madras for its heat & humidity (I can talk about it some other time). Somehow for my House owner, it was his pleasant world, his ‘territory’. He also had a strong belief that Software engineers are born to be looted and hence his tenants should always be from an IT background. That's where I fit in.

The Knack

The daily news was his bible. Initially, I was amazed at his updates about the developments going in and around Velachery & Adambakkam. Within a few months I realized it was only to increase his brand value periodically (I mean hike in rentals). Otherwise, he genuinely followed news that potentially could help him make new business. I was curious to know more about him as his earnings were more than three times mine.

Initially, he started off working as a lorry driver. Soon he tried his luck making & selling local rasna during 1990s in the vicinity. He was also known as ‘Rasna Uncle’ among present local youngsters. The new millennium brought a trend of packaged drinking water. This guy started making/selling distilled water. Many around the house commented it was not fit for drinking. To his bad luck the government banned all unhygienic cans & made stringent regulations that were out of his reach. He settled in finance business where he had finally struck gold. He used to take the ration card & gas book as one of document proofs. As LPG prices shot up during mid 2000s this guy started issuing cylinders on their behalf & black marketing them. Coincidentally, the govt issued orders that almost stopped new connections. It came as a blessing in disguise for him. Slowly he developed ties with small time goondas in the area just to get a required muscle power.

The biggest achievement in his life was building a house with 7 portions. One storey each decade. The land was a slum originally distributed to the underprivileged by the then govt (obviously for votes). Somewhere the government again helped him make fortune as a land in a metro like Madras means owning a golden goose.

His fixed income through rent was close to INR 20K. Finance & black marketing brought another 30K. Tax to govt was unknown to him. He certainly had a knack to earn more money whether it was hard earned or not. Greed also brought wrong attitude.

I reduced standing on the verandah to escape long hearings about his wealth, new petty business ideas & government policies.

Nothing lasts forever

The govt had actually criss-crossed with his fortune in a long run. His only drawback was not knowing any other language than the native - Tamil. Since independence the ruling govt always discouraged use of non-tamil languages (even english). Consequently, the entire generation stuck to the same for decades in the name of protecting culture & heritage. Some who broke the shackles happened to get into better jobs & the likes. Expanding my houseowner's business also warranted for interacting with non-locals. He couldn't succeed & stagnated for a while.

Jahaan jaaye na gaadi, wahaan jaaye Marwadi

Meanwhile, (as with any other metro, town or village in India) the Marwadis invaded businesses in Velachery & Adambakkam too. Initially, they were only confined to North Madras. As time passed, I myself noticed every street mushrooming with pawn brokers, provisions stores & what not.

Their strategy was simple:

1. Spend as much time at the shop: Buy/lease/rent a house adjacent to any main street. Make the front room their shop, second room as godown. Last room, a bed room. An extra room would again be an extended godown. If otherwise used, means a wealthier Marwadi.
2. Involve family in business: In addition to the household work & studies, the women & children also help running business.
3. Acquire customer base by business acumen & behavior.
4. Capability to interact with Customers in more than two languages.
5. Strong network: Huge list of contacts/consultants within their own community for strategic decision & support. Know-how of sources of material & info.

My house owner lacked both strategy & attitude. For him, traveling outside the state was like being a fish out of water. He didn’t like outsiders. He started hating them more. I was also an outsider to him. Notwithstanding his brooding, I stopped spending time on the verandah.

In spite of the diaspora, the Marwadis maintain their own tradition & culture wherever they live, not getting too involved with localites. Ghagra-choli & Kurta is loved the same way my house owner loves his lungi. They too believe in marrying their daughters within the same community.

The entrepreneur in him took a back seat. Neither did he groom his next generation to face the competition. He ensured to marry off his daughter to his own brother-in-law just to make sure the property is contained within the family. He must be hoping his son to literally bring ‘lakshmi’  to home & add to stagnating wealth.

Story continues…

House owner: Waiting for the govt to take new measures that could help people like him.

Marwadis: Where would they go? The place they live is their motherland. Entrepreneurship is within them to stay forever, generations after generations.

Govt: Busy with ‘their’ own business. The best business in the world. Here & there, they continue to woo people who favor them. Otherwise, they know their fate.

Finally me: The house rent was hiked so much that I had to run away with my belongings. I'll remember my ex-house owner as an ambitious entrepreneur who lost site of his ambition.

The Point (not confined to Tamil Nadu alone)

Is talent gifted to a specific community? Can’t a competition be taken as a challenge? Do the state governments ever take any step to protect/encourage non-locals? Do we really need to form new states in the interest of a specific region? Do we become ‘outsiders’ by being a non-local? Should we consider language as a means of communication or a means of discrimination? Don’t others settle in our native in pursuit of their career or life? Don’t we marry off our sisters within same community who actually live outside our native? Don’t non-locals contribute to development of the town/metro/state/country they live in? Is it possible for us to leave everything at once & go back to where our ancestors belong?

O Pardesiiiiiiiii.....Dev D

Dev D - One of the best unconventional bollywood classics depicting characteristic recklessness coupled with heartbreak making the guy going berserk with his favorite passtime - Smoke, Drink & live with concubines. Great movie. Great music (national award winner!).

The film portrays the lifestyle & emotions of a guy who is a "Bade baap ka bigda aulaad". First half shows the guy falling & failing in love. The second half very well depicts the ill effects of the guy's deeds on himself & his own family. Towards the end, unlike the original 'Devdas' the guy realizes his mistake and decides to start a new life.

This song is well placed just before the interval. The guy faces utter lonliness & boredom. Choses his own routine in a city he is not much aware of. No typical 1000 tears & violins to highlight the sadness in his heart. Instead its a peppy number with meanignful lyrics.

The guy visits a bar during late hours. Gets his trademark - "Coke....Vodka ke saath". Wants more but its closing time. Walks out. Vaguely inquires with passerbys. Looking at the opportunity, Chunni - the pimp cum middleman lures him to a nearby bar. That's where this song starts fading in.

Music Video has some great lights & camera work. Not to forget the dance sequences starting from solo, then duo & finally triple. A visual delight. Gives a good appeal & feel inside the bar the guy is in.

There's a remarkable scene with camera revolving around him while he drinks his heart out. He takes a break to visit the restroom. Dips his head in water to cough blood for the first time. Realizes things turning from bad to worse. The music in the background muffles & for a while gives the feel you are actually with him inside the water, staring at him, feeling the pain within his body; within his heart, mind & soul. For a second you think he's dead. Suddenly he lifts his head out of water & you continue listening to the abridged version of remaining part of the song, unmuffled. The guy walks out of the bar struggling to maintain his senses to reach out to his den ending the 1st half of the movie.

The song has some nice lyrics (Shellee) with little hariyanvi accent sung by Tochi Raina. Not so famous artists but good work. Music from Amit Trivedi. This song has got a modern music arrangement with classical sitar bit. He shot to fame in the Hindi film music scene with his critically acclaimed work.

Somewhere there is also a message carried in the movie and this song in particular. "Excessive smoking & drinking is injurious to health". No gyan to the already intelligent people reading this review ;) . But its a fact even if you don't like it.

Here are the lyrics with translation.....Enjoy it.

o pardesi, o pardesi mitha sa chadha hai bukhaar
o foreigner (lover from other city), o foreigner, the sweet fever has spread over me

re re main thwaada pardesi
yes yes, I am your foreigner

o pardesi, o pardesi, raam ji karo beda paar
o foreigner, o foreigner, o Raamji (God) get me away from this trouble

re re main thwada pardesi
yes yes, I am your foreigner

waqt ne kar daala bantadhaar, ib ke hoyega ki agayye yaar
the time has created the mess, what will happen next

mann baawari baawari kuchh sa lage
my mind has gone mad/crazy

kabi ituk dole, kabhi utt bhaage
sometimes it is swinging here and sometimes its running over there

o pardesi o pardesi, naino mein sapane hajaar
o foreigner, o foreigner, thousands of dreams in my eyes

re re main thwada pardesi
yes yes, I am your foreigner/lover

laage mitha mitha chadeya bukhaar
seems like the sweet fever has spread over me

ishq mushkil na chhupe baawade yaar
love is difficult, we cant hide it

dil ki takhti pe naam likha tera gehara
your name is written deeply on my heart

kaatil aankhon pe julfon ka saje hai pehara
and hair are patrolling the killer eyes

huwa pardesi huwa pardesi mitha sa chadha hai bukhaar
i am the foreigner, the sweet fever has spread over me

re re main thwada pardesi
yes yes, I am your foreigner/lover

o pardesi, o pardesi, raam ji karo beda paar
o foreigner, o foreigner, o Raamji (God) get me away from this trouble

re re main thwada pardesi
yes yes i am your foreigner/lover

re re main thwada pardesi....
yes yes i am your foreigner/lover