Nagappa Special Tea at 11:00 am

My office had a coffee vending machine. And I and my colleagues often made endless trips to the enticing machine to get varieties of tea and coffee.  

Well, the greatest advantage of this vending machine was that it was always there for us; whenever we felt the need for a beverage, be it at 9 am, as soon as we reach office, at 1 pm as we head into a meeting; postponing lunch, at 5 pm chai-time with friends or just before heading home at 7 pm. Also, the vending machine gave us the luxury of choice. We could have Latte, Espresso, Mocha, Ginger Tea, Lemon Tea, Masala Tea, Soup etc. And of course, for me, the mere presence of the vending machine and its constant buzz was a reminder to take a break from my otherwise break-free thinking and writing.

So, a coffee vending machine in the office is always a good company to have.

Then suddenly one day, the good old machine was gone. I haven’t bothered to find out why and how, but what I do know for sure is that no coffee machine meant no more unlimited coffee breaks and definitely no varieties of coffee and tea!

Nagappa Special Tea sitting pretty on my desk

However, luckily for us, in place of the vending machine, we now have Nagappa - the polite and extremely humble watchman cum care taker of the three-storied building where my office is located to serve us tea and coffee. Nagappa prepares tea and or coffee twice a day – at 11 am and at 3 pm. Of course, it’s just one type of tea or coffee that he serves – the Nagappa special. But no one is complaining.

We all simply love the tea that he prepares. I like it so that every day by 10:30 am, I start craving for Nagappa’s tea. Soon, I hear delightful sounds from the pantry – of glasses being washed, stove being lighted and cups being arranged on the tray, which reassure me that my favourite tea is on the way.

In no time, Nagappa is beside my chair, with a faint smile on his face and holding a cup of tea.

Tea thagolli madam (Take your tea, madam) he says and hands me that delicious cuppa. I thank him; he nods, appreciating my gratitude and then goes to my colleagues.

One sip of that wonderful mixture and its an absolutely bliss!

What makes Nagappa’s tea so special is that it has all the right ingredients in the right quantities – lots of tea leaves, a little milk and water, just the right quantity of sugar. It is brewed perfectly that served with utmost humility.

Nagappa’s 11 am tea makes my day. Every day.

Thank you Nagappa.

Prawns Sukka – My Style

I love prawns. Who doesn’t?

And I love prawns in all its form – curry, fried, cutlets, Manchurian, fried rice and most of all the Sukka (dry curry). I also love dried baby prawns chutney and dried baby prawns curry!

So, last Sunday when I went to the fish market I was delighted to see two large basketfuls of white prawns – fresh and succulent. I immediately decided the menu – Prawns and Spinach Curry with Mackerel Fry and bought half a kilo of prawns and 3 large Mackerels.

When I came home my gastronomic husband was delighted to see the fresh sea food and started having cravings for all things prawns. Yes, I am married to a lover of prawns! So, when I told him what the menu for lunch was, he changed it to suit his palette and satiate his cravings. His menu was this – Mackeral Curry and Prawns Sukka.

It was a good menu and I love Prawns Sukka, but there was a slight problem. I was terribly short on onions and tomatoes – two ingredients very essential for preparing a nice Sukka. Nevertheless, I decided to go ahead and prepare the Sukka without the two core ingredients. The tanginess of the tomatoes can always be created using lots and lots of tamarind paste. For the sweetness of the onions, I decided to use the natural sweetness of the fresh prawns by stir frying it for some time and get the delicious prawns to release its natural sweet flavors.

And there was a magic ingredient – the Sukka Powder. It was a spice mix that my aunt taught me. This spice mix has such a spicily earthy flavour that it can accentuate any dish. I use it a lot when I’m preparing chicken, prawns or clams Sukkas and also in Potato, Mushroom or Cauliflower sabjis.

So here goes the recipe to Prawns Sukka Sans Onion and Tomato.

Ingredients:

White Prawns (peeled and cleaned) – ½ kg

Turmeric Powder – 1 teaspoon

Jeera Powder – ½ tea spoon

Red Chilli powder – 1 tea spoon

Tamarind paste – 4 table spoon (I like a lot of tanginess, so use a lot of tamarind. You reduce or increase the quantity to suit your taste).

Ginger-garlic paste - 1 teaspoon

Grated Coconut – 1 medium bowl. (Sukka is a coastal Karnataka delicacy and like all our dishes, uses a lot of coconut. However, you can replace the coconut gratings with Kopra, thinly cut slices of coconut, 2 tablespoons of coconut milk or completely skip this ingredient. The Sukka will taste well even without the coconut).

Coriander leaves – about a fist full for garnishing

Image coutesy: sashirecipes.com

Salt – to taste

Sugar – 1/2 teaspoon

Oil – 2 tablespoon

Water – 100 ml

Sukka Powder – 4 teaspoons.

Ingredients for Sukka Powder:

Dried red chillies – 15-20

Black pepper corns – 10-20

Cumin seeds (jeera) – 2 tea spoon

Coriander seeds (dhania) – 1 1/2 tablespoon

Dalchini – 1 inch long

Cardamom pods – 2-3

Fenugreek seeds (Methi) – 1 teaspoon

Method

Dry roast all the above ingredients for about 5 mins and grind them into a fine powder in a mixer. Do not use any water. Store the powder in an air tight container. You can use this powder as a taste enhancer in sabjis, dry curries and even in rasams.

Prawns Sukka Method

1. Into a tablespoon of tamarind paste add 1/2 teaspoon of turmeric powder, 1/2 teaspoon of red chilli powder and 1 teaspoon of Sukka powder and mix it well. Marinate the prawns in this mixture for about 15 minutes.

2. Heat oil in a deep pan or kadai, add the ginger-garlic paste and sauté for a minute.

3. Add the remaining Sukka powder, turmeric powder, red chilli powder and stir well for a minute or two.

4. Add the remaining tamarind paste. Stir well.

5. Add the marinated prawns. Mix well.

6. Add the sugar, salt and water and cook on low flame.

7. When the prawns are half cooked, add the coconut gratings and mix well.

8. When the prawns have cooked well and all the water has evaporated, garnish with chopped coriander leaves.

That’s it. Prawns Sukka is ready. It tasted well with Dal-Rice or Appams or Neer Dosas.

Do try this recipe and tell me how well you liked it.

Learning a Lesson in Contentment from Two Villages

Last weekend, on the eve of Makara Sankranthi, we went on a day trip to Innovative Film City, Bidadi in the outskirts of Bangalore. After pondering over whether to take the NICE road or the Shanumangala road, we decided to take the latter because my husband Pavan wanted try a different route and wanted the drive to be a little suspense filled and somewhat adventurous.

Well, the new (for us) route took us thorough some quaint little villages – two of them being Karenahalli and Shanumangala.

Karenahalli was kms from Bangalore and Shanumangala a little further off. The two little villages were actually pretty close to Bangalore, their metropolis neighbor, but they were completely unaffected by the rapid urbanization that Bangalore is witness to. Instead they actually have retained every bit of their true rustic charm.

I did not find any traces of anything city-like in these villages. Of course, we just passed by these villages – merely rode through its few lanes, never really explored it; but I’m sure even if we went on a search for city- influences, we wouldn’t find one. In fact, both Karenahalli and Shanumangala were beautiful – beautiful for their low roofed mud houses, vast green fields, narrow roads, bullock carts, healthy, well fed goats, sheeps, buffaloes and hybrid milch cows, innumerous water bodies and of course the villagers themselves – happy, innocent and busy at work.

That day being the eve of Makara Sankranthi, everyone in the village was involved in making arrangements for celebrating the harvest festival. Men were carrying home bundles of freshly cut sugar canes; the women were either vigorously cleaning and scrubbing the utensils or bathing the cows, bullocks and buffaloes. Some of them were also applying a plaster of cow dung paste to their front yards. The children were simply running about and seeing or hearing our bike approach, would stop their play and watch us pass by. Young girls were making rangoli designs and stringing flowers.

So, why am I saying all this? I mean, isn’t this how villages all over India are?

Yes, but what there is something that struck me when I saw the villagers and their simple way of life – contentment.

The people of Karenahalli and Shanumangala had no luxuries – no duplex houses, no fancy schools, no plush malls, no attaractive restaurants, no weekend getaway destinations. They did not even have proper basic amenities like a hospital or sanitation facilities. But they were happy. Happy with whatever they had – a tiny home, some agricultural land, some cattle and probably a large family. They were happy doing what they knew to do best – plough their fields, harvest crops and rear cattle for milk and wool. That was their life. That was their economy. And they were extremely content with whatever money they earned from this life. I couldn’t but help feel the complete contrast to life in Bangalore or any other urban centers of living.

We, urban inhabitants are never content, are we? We forever complain about the lack of everything –money, better job opportunities, space, water, infrastructure, facilities, essential services and the list goes on.

The problem with us is that we are spoilt for choices. There is so much of everything in the metropolitan cities that we do not know what to pick and what to let go. There are so many residential apartments and plots for sale, so many job offers piling up in your inbox, so many malls, pubs, restaurants and clubs beckoning you, so many buses plying, so many roads, underpasses and flyover, so many super specialty hospitals, so many educational institutions and so much technology at our disposal that we are unable to identify clearly what our wants are.

We are blinded by an insatiable urge to have everything or at least a little more than what currently exist, even if it is beyond our reach.

So, if we have a two BHK house, we still look for a bigger house in a better locality. If we have an Alto, we strive hard to upgrade to a Honda City. If our CTC is 5 lk per annum, we feel we are not getting our worth. We have enough options for entertainment – we have a nice family, we have friends, we have play stations, smart phones, 3D movies; yet we go in search of some “fake cities” (like we did) to have more fun!

Of course, there is nothing wrong in having higher aspirations and ambitions. Dreams and hopes for things better and brighter are always good. They help us set goals and strive hard to achieve it. But why is that our aspirations, our wants are always limitless? Why can’t we exercise restraint over our wishes?

We didn't stop to click photos, but this is how a typical house in  the two villages look like.
Photo Coutesy: panoramio.com

I think we have a lesson to learn from the villagers of Karenahalli and Shanumangala – a lesson in contentment, a lesson in being happy with what we have.

Remembering the Good Old Hande

A Hande is a bathing container and one of the largest utensils you would find in a traditional south-Indian home. It is a huge cauldron that is placed on an earthen stove in the bathroom and used to heat large quantities of water (up to 100 liters or more) for bath.

Made of copper this simple giant of a utensil was the pride of every hold in the good old days of joint families. Then, the women of the house filled the Hande with water at daybreak and lighted its stove using firewood and dried leaves. Soon a fiery fire would blaze, the water would heat up and a Hande-full of hot water would be ready for the entire household’s bath. In fact, the Hande-stove was always kept burning and the water level always kept to the brim until everyone in the house had finished their bath! The extent of heat was such that the water in the Hande remained warm till late afternoon, even after the fire had long died down!

The Hande fixed on a high platform.
Photo courtesy: Sharmila Vinayak

My association with the Hande goes a long way. Ours was a nuclear family, yet our home had a Hande; albeit an aluminum one and smaller in size. And yes, every morning dad filled it with water drawn from the well and mom went about the process of lighting a fire and heating the water. My grandparents’ house had bigger and more than one Handes. But, my maternal grandma’s home had the biggest Hande.

To be honest, when I was little, I was scared of this Hande. Why? One, because it was so big that it towered over my small body and I couldn’t even reach its mouth! Two, bathrooms were poorly lit and the Hande in itself was jet black with soot which created an eerie darkness around the Hande. Three, my older cousins got me to believe that there are creepy creatures like frogs, scorpions and snakes lurking inside the Hande! So every time I had to put my hands into the Hande, I did it very cautiously, taking care not to dip my hands too deep into the water, lest some horrible creature grab my hand and gobble me up!

In spite of all these irrational fears, bathing from the Hande was always an experience in itself. It was a leisurely activity, always soothing on the nerves and relaxing on the muscles. And this experience only became better during festivals, especially Deepavali.

The day before the festival, the Hande was scrubbed and cleaned with a mixture of ash, rock salt and tamarind paste to get rid of the thick soot and make it look like new. In the evening, it was decorated with marigold garlands and earthen lamp designs were painted on its surface. Then, after a short pooja to the well, would begin the ritual of filling the Hande with water amidst the sounds of the crackers, pooja bells, conch and cymbals. After the pooja to it, both the Hande and the water in it were now considered sacred and no one was allowed to use this water till the next morning.

The next morning, on the day of the Deepavali, mom would add Tulsi, Neem and Saaguvani (Teak tree) leaves to the water in the Hande before heating it. These leaves would release its medicinal properties into the water and soon the entire Hande would be filled with a special aroma. Taking large mug-fulls of this special water and indulging in a leisurely oil bath was the best part of Deepavali.

But alas, times have changed. Today Handes are a rarity and found in only very few houses and most among them don’t even make use of it. There are no wells and no firewood available. In the present days of taps and geysers and scare water supply, the Hande has made way for plastic buckets and tubs. In the morning rush, bathing now is only a 5-7 minutes affair and limited to just a bucket-full of water.

I miss the Hande and the Hande Bath. Sob.

Sparrows in My Frontyard

Photo courtesy: Wikimedia Commons

I love sparrows. So does my 3 year old son and his grand dad. I love the Sparrows because they are small and adorable. I love their antics and their pleasing chirps. As a child, I always coaxed dad to read out this particular Russian tale about a Sparrow named Thyupa. Though I cannot recollect the story now, I loved to listen to this story again and again simply because there was a Sparrow in it. So much was the admiration for the Sparrows in our home that, according to a popular family tale, when I was born, dad wanted to name me Chikka-Kuruvi (Malayalam for small sparrow).

Not long ago, these Sparrows (also called House Sparrows) were found everywhere – footpaths bus stands, front yards, gardens, on the roofs of the houses, in front of the flour mills, granaries of grocery shops and any other place that offered them abundant food and shelter.

But sadly today, the Sparrows are a rare sight. Thanks to rapid urbanization and encroachment of large open spaces, individual houses with spacious front yards making way for cramped multistoried apartments, commercial complexes replacing every stretch of available greenery, the Sparrows are fast losing their natural habitat and thus left homeless.

It’s heartening, however, to know that there are many dedicated organizations and individuals working towards saving the Sparrow and restoring its natural habitats. Even more heartening is the fact that in spite of losing their homes, the Sparrows are still found, albeit sparsely, in many towns and even in certain areas within the cities.

My home in Udupi, the coastal town of Karnataka is one such place. A flock of Sparrows live somewhere near our home and they are our regular visitors; coming to our frontyard all throughout the day.

But, they come here for a definite reason – food.

No, we don’t scatter grains of rice or any other pulses/cereals in our frontyard. All that we do is give a plate full of food to our dog, Cookie. And Cookie’s kennel is also in our frontyard. And Cookie never finishes her food! There are always a few morsels of rice, pieces of bread or anything else always in her plate.

So the Sparrows come – exactly at Cookie’s breakfast and lunch time in particular and then, as and when they please, throughout the day, to eat Cookie’s food. First they sit on the Hibiscus shrubs nearby and as they wait, get into a chirpy banter. That’s exactly what they are doing as I write this line. It’s a cacophony of chirps and more chirps in our garden at this moment.

When Cookie is served food, she is let out of the kennel. As she starts eating, the Sparrows slowly and very, very cautiously fly towards her plate, sit a little distance away and wait for Cookie to get engrossed in her food. Then the drama unfolds.

The Sparrows, one by one, will hop – one tiny Sparrow step at a time – to reach Cookie’s plate and then start pecking at her food. You will hear no chirping during this time. When the first Sparrow has picked enough for itself, it will fly to a safe distance (usually near the flower pots or under Dad’s bike) and start eating. Then the second Sparrow takes its turn. In this way, like disciplined soldiers, they wait for their turn to arrive, go to Cookie’s plate without disturbing her in the process, pick up as much food as possible ion their little beaks, fly away and eat to their heart’s content. For me, my 3 year old son and his granddad, it’s a delightful sight.

When the Sparrows first started this routine, it enraged Cookie. She would bark at the Sparrows and even chase them occasionally. But now she has given up. She doesn’t mind the Sparrows presence around her anymore and the brave birds are only too happy about it. Frankly speaking, they were never scared of her at any point of point. In fact, there were times when they would fly into Cookie’s kennel and grab left over tidbits from her plate, even as she looked on.

Finally dad decided to intervene. Now there are two plates near Cookie’s kennel – one for her and another for the Sparrows and food is served separately. Yet, the Sparrows still indulge in their playful antics and peck at Cookie’s food. By the way, they still drink water from a common bowl!

The Sparrows share an unusual bond with Cookie – one built over mutual tolerance for sharing food.

Just an after thought-

Do you know the reason why the Sparrow population is diminishing?

Research has found that the radiations emitted from mobile network towers are extremely harmful for the Sparrows’ health. So, the next time you are faced with poor network, don’t complain. Less mobile towers mean better chances that the Sparrows will survive.

Other reasons include noise pollution (that impairs the adult Sparrow’s hearing of their offspring’s calls for food) and the introduction of unleaded petrol (its combustion kills tiny insects and worms that are the staple diet of young Sparrows). Also, as I pointed out earlier, large present day buildings are not ideal places for the Sparrows to build their nests. They usually prefer narrow spaces and roof corners which unfortunately are never present in modern high rise buildings.

Learn more about Sparrows and the reasons for their declining numbers at:

http://indiacurrentaffairs.org/house-sparrow%E2%80%93-declining-population-kalpana-palkhiwala/

Join others at conserving Sparrows at:

http://www.citizensparrow.in/index.php?r=site/page&view=howto

A Big Compliment from My Little Toddler

I have already told you that I’m not a great cook. I always try to make my dishes taste and look as they are supposed to; but most often than not end up failing at this attempt.

Making Chapattis was no different. Sometimes the dough was too hard, sometimes too soft and on very few times, it was perfect. And on those rare occasions, the chapattis also raised up nicely when I put it on the flame. But the fact is I was never proud of my efforts with Chapattis; nor did I think I was worthy of any compliments.

Until Panshul gave me one!

Yes, kids are amazing you know – they observe and take in everything around them.

Chef Panshul helping me make Banana Milshake

This is what happened – we were watching Doraemon (again!) together. In the commercial break was the Aashirvaad Atta ad, where the mother puts the Chapatti on the flame and it raises immediately to suggest that the Chapatti is absolutely soft, perfectly round and beautifully cooked.

The instant Panna saw that fluffy Chapatti on TV, he remarked delightedly, “Amma-du Chappati haage ala” (That Chapatti is like Mamma’s Chapattis, isn’t it?). That was his way of saying that his Mamma also does soft, round and delicious Chapattis! For me that was enough of a compliment! That one little moment made my day!

I may sound like I’m making a big deal out of a simple statement that a 2 year old said while watching TV, but who doesn’t like compliments and a little pat on the back? And if it’s coming from your son, then it’s the best that can happen to mother, isn’t it?

Innocent Questions

This happened about a month ago when this blog was not yet functional. Now that it is, I’d like to share this anecdote.

It was a lazy evening on a Saturday, but I was working – busy writing content for a client. Panna had just woken up from his afternoon nap and was still in his drowsy, irritable mood. So I asked my husband  Pavan  to take him to the park. The moment I said park, Panna instantly asked me, Amma, Park alli nandu chaddi unta? (Mamma, is my chaddi (all bottom wears, whether a bloomer or a shorts, are all referred to simply as chaddi in my home) in the park?)

Chaddi in the park?

What was he saying I wondered?

Then it dawned on me - the incident that happened the day before – I had put very nice white pajama shorts of Panna to dry on the balcony grill. My Panna, the playful naughty self that he is, in an impulsive instant, threw the said shorts down. It landed four floors below in the parking lot. 

Not having had his fill at throwing the shorts, Panna also wanted to take a look at the fallen shorts and see where it had landed. I picked him up and through the grills showed him the shorts and told him that it is lying in the PARKING LOT and that we’ll pick it up later. The word parking lot – with the park in it – registered in his mind.

And today when I said park, he put 2 and 2 together, associated park with his shorts and asked me that question, Are my shorts there in the park, Mamma?

Pavan and I had a nice laugh over it. Then I told Panna that the Parking Lot Park is different from playing Park. One has cars and bikes standing and the other has swings, see-saws and slides.

He seemed to get it.

“Naav eega Park hoguva“(Let’s go to park Pappa) he said and ran to the door.