Happy (Tamizh) New Year

Iniya Putthandu Vaazthukkal – Happy Tamil New Years Day.

As the easter weekend meandered to a dull close and having returned from the humble abode of one's cousins, a dull boring evening appeared to be on the cards for the madrasi. Given that the bird was hosting dinner to other birds and having spent a good deal of time and effort in unpacking and arranging empty vessels in the kitchen of the new tenement, themadrasi felt it was time that the vessels were put to some use. The cry or rather the shrill cooker whistle went around, themadrasi is cooking. Excursion trains were to be run to witness this great event in the history of mankind but then Colonel Murphy in the form of Sunday timetables on Easter Monday as well as planned engineering works struck.

Given that the paparazzi wasn't around and the glorious sunshine at 5:30 p.m., themadrasi decided to put paid to the rumour that there was another South Asian store around by going out for a jog and exploring the neighbourhood in mufti . It turned out that this was also run by a fellow Tamilian from Sri Lanka and having said Omam to him themadrasi returned with all the ingredients required for successfully stocking the kitchen of a respectable TamBrahm inclusive of the famous LG Perungaayam.

At this point of time there was a flash of light and enlightenment dawned on themadrasi. Cook Ven Pongal, the supreme dish to celebrate all Tambrahm occasions. One must ofcourse point out that the w. had also reminded him that it was the new year the next day and there were no satisfactory answers to questions posed about how the occasion was to be celebrated. Beginning the task at hand themadrasi realized that if this was to be done there were a few matters of chronology to be sorted out. There was help was at hand in the form of the iphone call to the cousin to help out.There were approximations made including substituting Gingelly Oil (Nalla Ennai ) with Vegetable Oil, (the supreme act towards national integrity by substituting) Basmati Rice for Ponni or Nellai Super. The proportions mixed, the tadka made, the cooker put in, the chimney turned on (with the LG Perungaaya dabba on top) for good luck it was time to wait . Drat but where were the cashews. Whilst the cooker shrilled themadrasi pattered down to the good old Tesco found just a bag of cashews , came back up – opened the fridge for the pat of butter to fry the cashew in ( No half measures – note the jogging bit above)

A reasonable approximation to the Pongal was prepared and consumed – Dr. Onken supplied the necessary yoghurt, the entertainment was provided by SPB on the blower going on about Maarugo Maarugo Maarugazhi (Chittirai) and to hand were Bertie and Jeeves preparing for their next escapade at Market Snodsbury. All in all capital one would say and to paraphrase the bird – it was time to put on the silk hat , find the pipe and write this blog.

P.S. Rumour has it that the new year in Tamilnadu will not be celebrated on the 14^th of April because an old man wants Pongal to signify this event in January. It's time I fedex'd some of the basmati ven pongal to him.

The Laptop Crisis of 2009

There is something about laptops and the family this year. First my cousin's laptop blew up , then I followed suit by stress testing my pride and joy by upsetting a glass of water in a eureka moment on discovering how a particular bit of the compiler worked. Now, its the turn of the sister in the family to go and blow her laptop up. Other than my act of putting the proverbial leg on the axe ( Kulhadi pey pair maarna !), the other 2 were acts of nature , wear and tear and resulting in an explosion of cataclysmic proportions.

Currently the sister's laptop is down and she's busy with writing odes from a netcafe. The first I heard about this was a frantic call at 2:30 in the afternoon - "drop everything find me HP's number in Bombay so that I may contact them". Such tasks were duly completed and then 3-4 hours later one gets a call about how ham-handed one feels with the laptop down etc. It appears as though storm clouds are on you, the world is torn apart and you are crippled without your main course of "facebooking", "tweeting", "blogging" and "orkutting". The entertainment channel of watching dvd's or getting on youtube is out . If you are a techie, the side business of following your community's IRC chat is out. What is it about this dependence on technology and such inane devices that make them a part of you. When things stop working the way you are used to , you feel totally hamstrung as though a part of you has been cut off. One now owns an iphone, a laptop and an ipod and not having any of these would leave one like Lord Emsworth from Blandings worrying about the Empress's eating habits .

These are the occasions for the proverbial cuppa coffee, a snug blanket (definitely a thin one for an Indian Summer) and a good book.

Clapham ho.

'The first thing to do,' said Psmith, 'is to ascertain that such a place as Clapham Common really exists. One has heard of it, of course, but has its existence ever been proved? I think not. Having accomplished that, we must then try to find out how to get to it. I should say at a venture that it would necessitate a sea-voyage. On the other hand, Comrade Waller, who is a native of the spot, seems to find no difficulty in rolling to the office every morning. Therefore--you follow me, Jackson?--it must be in England. In that case, we will take a taximeter cab, and go out into the unknown, hand in hand, trusting to luck.' [1]


So it's been one of those things with moving to the UK and wanting to find places like Ickenham, Clapham, Market Snodsbury, (an equivalent of) The Drones Club etc. being a huge PG Wodehouse afficionado. Given that one was to travel across the country to the lovely city of Sutton for a day trip, one didn't expect to spot Wodehousian names or be reminded of Wodehousian prose with events that transpired on the way.

The only difference between this expedition and the one referred to above, was that one had a bird for company who after a long winded preamble (which included choice epithets on how yours truly's sincere and honest efforts at figuring out the right platform for the tube) pushed you into a train that pushed us back nearly 1/3rd of the way back to Cambridge. Blame it on the birds being out of place underground or the weather brilliant today. All the angst against the delays were excused once, ( after the minor process of getting on to the correct t was completed,) one passed through Clapham Junction and realized that this would probably lead to Clapham Common in the scene where Mike does the Jijutsu on Bill and proves to be the saviour of Comrade Waller.


[1] : Psmith from Psmith and the City by P.G. Wodehouse.