The Caffeinated Joys of Filter Coffee

Growing up in a Telugu household, this is only predictable. One develops a deep rooted love for filter coffee. One tends to get irritated if the early morning shout of, "Amma, coffee!" is not complied with alacrity. One might even say, one is addicted to it.

I got hooked on to coffee at a tender age of I-don't-remember-when. That occasional drop of decoction in my daily glass of milk was a reward - a reward for being a good kid, or perhaps for having completed the necessary homework without too much prodding. I don't recall the exact day when my big glass of milk laced with decoction was substituted for a steaming glass of filter coffee. I can only imagine it must've been a big deal for me. Almost like an acceptance into adult society, that one.

Pictured: Little glasses of heaven.

Tea for me was always the poor country cousin - only drunk under extreme circumstances (meaning, when coffee isn't available).

College was hard. I was in the heart of Orissa, no relatives for miles on end, and the few hotels that served coffee had only the Instant kind. Yuck. FYI, Instant Coffee isn't coffee. Just another hot beverage. After four years of making disgruntled faces at the chai-wallahs, my luck made this abrupt U-turn, kind of like what the auto-wallahs do when they see a potential customer.

I came to Hyderabad.

Life did a full circle when I camped at the same aunt's place with whom I grew up, and - surprise, surprise! - her entire family were coffee people, just like yours truly. Ah, those magical stainless steel filters, they should be a part of Hogwarts studies! Another stint of coffee drinking followed, which went unhampered for several years. I got completely hooked onto it - I woke up to the smell of coffee everyday; and when I came back from office a steaming glass of the magical brew would be waiting for me.

Fast forward to the present day - married to this great guy who loves black coffee, and what's more, even makes it for me every morning. I know, I know, black coffee is filter coffee too, and what if he makes it with brown sugar? Isn't it kinda like Irish Coffee, with just the cream and whiskey missing? I could live with that!

But that little imp in the back of my head nags at me, "Itsss not the same, preciousss!"

I've found a workaround though - weekdays are dedicated to my husband's recipe; and I make my beloved filter coffee on weekends. On the days when I visit my aunt, she looks at me with an unspoken understanding, and makes sure that I am plied with all the filter coffee I want. Hell, the tummy can take care of itself later.

Daruvu - Movie Review

I was fortunate enough to watch this insanely awesome movie this weekend.

Move over Bala Krishna, you with your almost impossible fight sequences, laughably silly dialogues, and improbably young heroines! Ravi Teja is here to make you quiver in your shoes and give you a run for your money.

So, we have Bullet Raja (played by Ravi Teja) who falls in love with a girl, Swetha (played by Taapsee). She is a dancer, and is learning her dance moves from her Guru, Vidya Balan. No, not Vidya Balan the actress, it is our very own king-of-comedy Brahmanandam. His name is Vidya Balan, and his male assistant is named Neetha Menon. Duh, not funny! Alright, it is a little bit.

Just look at those buffoons!

Long story short, Swetha cares tuppence about our Bullet Raja and loathes the very sight of him. One fine day - just about a week after he knows her, that is - they go to a club and some guy tries to manhandle Swetha. Bullet Raja leaps to the rescue and - we did not see this coming - Swetha falls for him immediately.

Where there's a hero there is a villian, and for Telugu heroes one villian is simply not enough, they get insulted and refuse to sign. The first villian of this lovely movie is this goonda who wants to marry Swetha (why, is a mystery to me). He descends on the hero with some hundred sidekicks, who turn to dust in Bullet Raja's hands. Finally, some serious shit happens and our hero falls off a cliff, and as if that wasn't enough this bigass SUV falls on him and explodes. The writers were adamant that even Rajnikanth couldn't survive this kind of shit and so the director reluctantly kills Bullet Raja off.

End of story.

Ha-ha, you wish! Bullet Raja goes straight to hell, where after a series of stupid scenes involving Lord Yama's son and Mr. Chitragupta he is sent back to earth into the Home Minister's body. Who also happens to be - surprise, surprise! - Ravi Teja. Now the second, third, and fourth villians make their entry and we are treated to a series of cringe-worthy incidents where they try to kill Ravindra (Bullet Raja's soul, Home Minister's body) and fail horribly.

For the epic final scene, all the four villians get together and plant a bomb under the stage where the CM, HM, and other big guns are giving speeches. The time bomb ticks closer to exploding and killing the hero a second time, when the Home Minister gives a moving speech and what the fck! All villians have a change of heart and become good citizens. They even run to the stage and warn everyone about the bomb and everything. Ravindra (formerly Bullet Raja) leaps off the stage, but not before clutching a small kid and saving him. Because you know, he is such a noble man.

The. End. Whew.

This was when the end credits started rolling, and my brother yelled loudly demanding a refund.

I've read a couple of reviews on the internet, and I have to say I was surprised to see them praise it. I know, Ravi Teja has got impeccable comic timing, but jesus! I am so sick of seeing the same comedy over and over and over again! He seriously needs to try something different. Then the whole shebang of Yamalok is also something we've seen countless times before - and nicely done, as well. In this movie it was plain creepy. God knows what Taapsee was doing in this movie - she seemed to be there just for the occasional navel glimpse and song sequences. She dances well, but looks yuck.

The only highlight of the movie was that "Dhinkachika" devotion move by fake Swami Pavitrananda, played superbly by actor Raghu Babu. That guy never fails to impress.

Bottom line, Daruvu has some laughs, but the sheer absurdness of the movie will leave you wincing. Watch it if you absolutely must; or wait for the DVD.

Tsongmo Lake: Sikkim Diaries

Having visited Gurudongmar Lake at 17100 feet, anyone would think Lake Tsongmo would be a piece of cake. At least, we did. And we were wrong.

Road to Tsongmo Lake. Piece of cake.

Tsongmo Lake is around 40 kms from Gangtok, and stands at a proud 12,400 feet above sea level. The road is treacherous, and that is if you can call that a road at all. Frequent mudslides in recent times have caused the road to be really bumpy, and if it rains even slightly, it gets muddier than a mud hill.

That said, almost all drivers there are experts at navigating this road; they know each nook and cranny, and they know each bump and turn. So fear not if you are not able to view the road because a huge cloud decided to make its presence known just then - the driver will just race into and past the cloud without blinking an eyelid.

Anyway, finally, we were there, we had our rubber boots on, and we were making the tricky little climb up the slope from the parking lot to the lake when, suddenly, our nostrils were assaulted with a strong, overwhelming smell of poop.

"I just pooped all over this place. Hope that's okay."

The next minute we were face to face with the yaks. The yaks are there duly earning their daily bread and studiously pooping it all back. For a few hundred rupees you can have a yak carry you around the lake and get you back to where you started. Unless you're a raging lazybones who is simply not bothered to make the 1km walk, I wouldn't recommend riding the yak - firstly, you won't be able to enjoy the view of the lake because you're holding on tightly to the yak and trying not to fall; secondly, the yak smells so bad that you frankly can't wait to get the ride over with.

Pictured: Heaven.

We stepped gingerly onto the snow; the first few yards the snow was completely brown in color, and by this point I am sure you know the reason why. I was reminded of Calvin somehow - maybe because brown snow is just the kind of thing he loves.

Slowly, slowly, as we made our way up towards the lake we could see the pristine landscape taking shape.Oh, it is beautiful! The stark black and white landscape, coupled with the crowd in their colorful sweaters screaming with excitement made for a really pretty setting.We spent a lot of time throwing snowballs at each other, sliding in the snow, and basically acting like children.

Everyone had this huge patch of wet on the back of their pants - the result of trying to slide down. Aw hell, we didn't mind! The only thing we minded were our wet gloves which we heedlessly used to make our snowballs - they didn't dry for several hours.

After a couple of hours of crazy time we came back, returned the rubber boots, and sat down for some yummy wai wai noodles. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

No wait, we then went to the Institute of Tibetology, and were looking at books at their in-house store when the lady in charge told us there was a huge snake loitering inside somewhere, and would we please keep an eye on our legs from time to time. But that's another story for another day.

Gurudongmar Lake: Sikkim Diaries

To put it quite bluntly, Gurudongmar Lake is the Big Daddy of all lakes.

It stands on a really cool altitude of 17100 feet, a feat very few other lakes can boast of. It is considered sacred, so people cannot really go and take baths and do other unspeakable things that the other lakes have to endure. Oh, and yeah, you can't find any kind of vegetation around the lake; not a single plant, not a single bush. The land there is as barren as a slate. It is all mud and stones, my friend. Plus the occasional block of muddy ice.

The Journey
The road from Lachen to Gurudongmar is like an ever winding coil of rope, and the Avomin tablets weren't helping; within an hour into our journey I started retching violently and puked my guts out. This delightful episode repeated itself a couple of times, and thankfully, as a result, I went into a weakness-induced sleep that I did not come out of till we reached the lake.

We were mid-way when the driver told us that if I felt any worse we were to turn back; the pukes could be the result of me not being able to adjust to the altitude. He grimly pointed out that first-aid options at the Lake would be minimal, and if any of us had even a headache, we were to turn back immediately or it would get real risky, real soon.

The Lake
The lake is pure awesomeness. You could sit there for ages, just marveling at the picture before you - a perfectly blue, cloudless sky (the clouds are all around you), a beautiful frozen lake, snow covered peaks, and the utter serenity of the place renders you almost speechless. We didn't have much time though - barely enough to glance around and take it all in, and yes, just enough to click a couple of pictures.

The army
Within no time at all we were on our way back, and I had to fight the urge to wave to the army guys as we passed. It was a new found respect I had for the army - braving such adverse weather conditions away from their families... not easy! Not to mention the Chinese border sitting prettily just about 3 kms away - as if the bitter cold and the scarce Oxygen weren't enough.

Getting there
We had to submit 4 passport photographs, along with our ID proofs and address proofs to get a permit to reach the lake. The army divisions there have strict rules about this, and a vehicle cannot pass beyond their checkpoint if the travelers are not prepared with these beforehand.

I can go on and on about this, but I see that this has become quite a lengthy post already.

The Sikkim Diaries

The taxi was waiting for us even as we got out of Bagdogra airport - within a span of a couple of minutes the driver had whisked our luggage into the Qualis and started at full speed towards Gangtok, our first stop.

Somehow, when we decided on this trip, the matter of mountainous roads and motion sickness escaped my notice. In my naivety, I asked the driver some time after the ghat road started - "Bhaiyya, ye ghat road kab khatam hoga?" He looked at me with some amusement and replied that the road is going to stay this way for the reminder of the trip. My heart sank a little.

Luckily for me our friends had a never ending supply of Avomin.

And so our trip started. We had signed on for a tour of North Sikkim, and our tour guide, Mr. Deepak Rai of Omega tours did not disappoint. The entire tour might become one lengthy post if I write down everything here, so I've decided to break it down into parts -


Lachen

Gurudongmar Lake

Lachung

Tsongmo Lake

Gangtok

If you would like to have specific details about cost, or the contact details of the tour operator, you can contact me or leave a comment on this post.

The Calcutta Diaries

Calcutta has always high on my travel to-do list, and by the time I finally got around to visiting it, it was Calcutta no more.

The first thing I noticed after reaching the city is the hospitality - we received a warm welcome from the groom's uncle (we were there for a friend's wedding), and the moment my husband responded to his welcome in Bengali, he stopped trying to communicate in Hindi and turned on Bengali, full on. I nodded my head vigorously to everything he said, trying to understand the language through my knowledge of Oriya.

There was a vehicle waiting for us, and we started for the hotel. The part of the city near Dum Dum airport has got an old world feel to it and the word that stuck in my mind was laid-back. The city made me want to sit back and be lazy. Nothing of this kind can be found in the peoples' actions, though - the driver was dashing ahead at a breakneck speed and I wondered how our hosts could sit placidly and look so nonchalant. I clutched onto the nearest handle, hoping we'd reach the hotel soon.

Coffee was served to us in little earthen jars that instantly reminded me of mishti doi and rosogullas. Uncle ji took us out for lunch at a nearby restaurant. I opted for a vegetarian thali; my husband needed only a little prodding to take the fish thali which he pronounced was absolutely delicious. Veg thali had an assortment of tasty stuff - dal, rice, potol posto (yummy!!), drumsticks in gravy (don't know the Bengali name for this), sweet pineapple chutney (again, don't know the Bengali name), and, finally, rosogullas. What a fitting end to our meal! Rosogullas! Just the name is enough :P

Soon friends from Bangalore, and other parts of Calcutta began to arrive, and when the group was complete we decided to take the Metro to Esplanade station. I had heard enough about New Market from my friends back in Hyderabad that I was adamant I would visit that place. I had visions of myself with lots of shopping bags and a contented expression, but unfortunately, New Market fell short for me. Whether it was the time constraint, or whether I didn't like the goods, I cannot tell. Within a short time of us reaching New Market we started for Free School Street where we checked out the second hand bookstores and walked around the block till our legs gave out.

The Kolkata Metro deserves a special mention - the sheer speed of the trains, the crowds, the short stops of 10 seconds at each station... I have no clue if Hyderabad will ever be able to reach that level of perfect rhythm. I loved it all, and I would love to visit again, if I could.

We did not visit all the places we should have - we were there, after all, for a wedding. We left the next morning for Bagdogra, and from there, on to Gangtok for our Sikkim trip.

Agent "The Dud" Vinod

::Warning - Contains spoilers::

The entire family was in town, and Agent Vinod seemed to be the only option available (we had already watched Kahaani, and somehow we decided to skip Paan Singh Tomar. Bad decision, dammit!)

I must admit we went to the movie with very low expectations. Agent Vinod surpassed all of them in the worst way possible.

The story starts with Vinod in a prison from where he makes his daring escape, James Bond style. Imagine this - he is fleeing terrorists blazing their guns from all sides, in the middle of the desert, when suddenly he notices a gunny bag wriggling around. He cuts it open, and lo and behold! Just like a fairy tale, out pops a maiden, sexy dress and all, makeup intact, and whatnot. Score one for heights of improbability!

This is what BORING looks like.

Quite some bullshittery later we reach the main plot which revolves around the number 242. Many crime overlords are using this number in their secret conversations, and the task obviously falls to Agent Vinod to check the whole damn thing out. Vinod goes to one country after another in pursuit of the truth, gets caught by the bad guys a zillion times like the perfect nincompoop he is, and escapes an equal number of times like the James Bond he is.

Kareena Kapoor somehow enters the whole shebang as a certain Dr. Irum Bilal, actually a good guy but masquerading as a bad guy. Agent Vinod tags her along for the adventure, GOD knows why. He could simply have left her behind to live her life in peace, hell, she isn't even a goddamn agent, she's a doctor, and she even tells him all she wants is a clinic and some patients. Unfortunately, the director had other plans for her.

Yet another thing that hits you is the way Agent Vinod lets the masterminds go scot-free. He has no compulsions killing scores of nameless goondas who are the extras, but where it really matters, the big guys, he lets go. In the first scene he lets the Pakistani police officer go; the same thing happens with Prem Chopra, though the Colonel finishes the job for him; and then when the main baddie, the Colonel, is helpless before him, he just... lets him go! Of course, this comes back and bites him in the ass, since the Colonel promptly repays him for this act of kindness a few scenes later by shooting Kareena Kapoor. Even that scene is handled like shit -

Vinod: Hello Irum, is everything okay?
Irum: Hii Vinod, wassup, no ya, that bastard shot me! Two times in the liver! I am not gonna make it!
<dies>

Sriram Raghavan ji, what were you thinking?!

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (Movie)

What a movie! One of the finest espionage thrillers I have seen in a long time.

The story starts with Mr. Smiley (Gary Oldman), a retired intelligence officer being assigned to find a mole in the British Intelligence Agency, a mole who is right at the top of the ladder, supplying information under the table to the Soviets. The movie features a perfect cast - apart from my personal dislike of the actor Ciaran Hinds, that is. I just don't like that guy, somehow!


There are no car chasing scenes in the movie, guns blazing, or any other James Bond-esque shenanigans. The story brings a simple point home - you don't really need all those theatrics to have a nail biting thriller on your hands. Yes, that means Gary Oldman doesn't pout his lips either. Take the hint, Daniel Craig. You might get nominated for an Oscar too, if you stopped that awful pout.

This is one sepia-tinted thriller that is a must watch.

Comics and kids

I started reading books when I was about eight to ten years old. My earliest memories of reading books include my Dad - he would buy stacks of Chacha Choudharys, Champaks, and Tinkles and hide them somewhere at home. Every time me or my brother did something constructive (could be as simple as walking on my Dad's back for five minutes) he would produce a book with a flourish, make us yell and scream for it a bit and then leave us in peace to read.

When I look back and think about my childhood, I am sure it wouldn't have been the same if all those books weren't in my life. I cannot imagine a world where I didn't know Chacha Choudhary and Sabu, or Billoo and his famous hair which always hid his eyes. I cannot imagine how it would have been if I didn't know who the Famous Five were, or how the Secret Seven won their battles. Half my childhood was spent in that world, a world where anything could happen - it was my world. Thus said, I want to stress that this habit of mine never adversely affected my studies. If and when my grades suffered they did because of various other reasons ;-)

I know several people who won't let their child read any book apart from what is in their academic syllabus. Maybe it is because they feel their children might score better if they spent the same time doing some math sums. I want to say to you, don't rob your children out of the incredible joy of reading. While they might enjoy watching the occasional Tom and Jerry on television, the happiness a kid gets when he reads a Tinkle, or a Calvin, is unparalleled.

For all you parents who might not be able to afford the costs of buying storybooks, that is what second hand bookstalls are for. You can easily get Tinkles, Amar Chitra Kathas, Chandamamas, etc. for as low as 10 rupees per book.


Perhaps this activity can be on your To-Do list for this weekend.

Dhobi Ghat Movie Review

There is no place for middle ground here - you either love Dhobi Ghat, or you hate it. Either way, you can't really ignore it.

I loved it, people. Hindi cinema is finally growing up. What's interesting is this movie isn't just about Aamir Khan, the superstar. The movie follows the lives of four people - Arun, Munna, Shai, and Yasmin.

The Cast

Arun is a reclusive painter, played to the hilt by Aamir. He gobbled up the part, easing into character like he were living it his entire life. Be it the careless way he makes his scrambled eggs, or the giddy happiness he feels when he looks at his work of art, Aamir is the master.

Munna is the dhobi, played by Prateik Babbar. The son of legendary actress Smita Patil, he does his mom proud. Endearing at times, curiously grown-up and matter-of-fact at others, Prateik is inching his way into Bollywood. He showed you don't need to bare your teeth to prove you are angry, or shed copious tears to prove you are sad. With a subtlety that most mainstream actors of today cannot dream of, Munna's role overshadows everyone else's.

Shai and Yasmin have been played by Monica Dogra and Kriti Malhotra respectively; Monica is like a breath of fresh air, and Kriti is, well, the lovely girl next door who no one can do without.

The Story

Unfortunately, I cannot write about the story without inadvertently spouting some spoilers - suffice it to say that Dhobi Ghat is the story of these four people, the story of a brief period in all of their lives. A brief period when their lives are entangled. Do they become better people afterwards? You are the judge. Do their lives change? Yes sir, very much.

The movie is completely based in Mumbai, doesn't have a single song, doesn't have a break, and wraps up in less than 100 minutes. Chew on that, Karan Johar and Bhansali.

I said the same thing about Inception, and I will say the same of Dhobi Ghat - don't miss it.

All India Silk Fair

I have this tendency to procrastinate almost everything - I really wanted to blog about the recent Hyderabad Book Fair that took place in December, but by the time I pulled up my socks and sat down to write, it was too late. For this one, I am on time.

Girls, moms, aunts, grans - this one is for you. The All India Silk Fair is on at Ameerpet, Hyderabad, and I had the good luck to visit it the other day. They have some impressive collections from all over the country - and boy oh boy, I had a hard time trying to keep my shopping instincts in check. I saw Pashmina saris for the first time, and was awed. Sambalpuri silks, beautiful patchworks and hand-embroidered silk saris that I've forgotten the real names of, real nice dupattas, stoles, and so much more.

Me and my aunt finally ended up with damages of 3.5K - two silk chudidar suits, and one pretty silk kalamkari sari. Beautiful stuff, folks. Quite affordable, too. Alright, enough praises sung.

The fair is on till 21st of January. In case anyone wants to go take a look, the address is - Kamma Sangham, Beside Chandana Brothers, Ameerpet. No way can you miss it.

Let me know if you buy anything. :-)

The One With The Dentist

I had been putting off going to the dentist for weeks; one of my incisors had decided to stain itself brown, a stain that made people wince every time I smiled. I was driving away from Hyderabad Central this weekend when I chanced upon a tiny dental clinic. What the hell. I went in bravely, paid a consultation fee to the receptionist before I changed my mind, and barged into the inner sanctum.

"Hi!"
"Helll-lllo!" *Nervous laughter*
"So, what is your problem?"
"One of my teeth has stained just a tiny little bit. On second thoughts, it's probably nothing a good vigorous brushing won't cure." *More nervous laughter*

The lady graciously asked me to lie down on the whatever-they-call-it patients' couch and instructed me to open my mouth.

"Good lord, you call this a little stain? There, there, tell me about your smoking habits."
"What the! Lady, I don't smoke!"
"Drink lots of tea and coffee, perhaps?"
"If two cups of tea a day count as lots, then yeah."

She then proceeded to poke my teeth one by one with a dangerous looking instrument that I cannot remember right now. That finished, she sighed, busily wrote something on my card, and  started rambling about how I needed atleast ten different kinds of procedures done to my teeth if I did not want to end up a toothless hag by the time I reached thirty five. Oh, and let's not forget the outrageous amount she nonchalantly rolled off  her tongue.

I stared at her, nonplussed.

"Remember, money is not important. Would you rather save a few bucks and watch your teeth fall off?"

"Err, no. The thing is, I've got this urgent appointment elsewhere... I need to go there pronto. So perhaps I can come back next week..."

She was shaking her head already. "Polishing and scaling will take just 15 minutes. It is completely painless, and you will walk out of here with ultra-white teeth. You can come back for the other procedures next week."

Hmm, time to do some quick thinking.

"15 minutes, you say? 15 minutes of ultra-painless dental thingummy to get my teeth white again? Let's do it!"

It took one hour. One hour of painful writhing and helpless squeaks from my side, and authoritative "You should bear the pain!!!" grunts from hers.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to me, she pronounced I was good to go. I shot out of that place like my behind was on fire. Since then, I have been diligently taking care of my teeth - brushing twice a day without fail, rinsing ten times even while just drinking water, and going to the extent of considering taking my toothbrush in my handbag to use it after every meal.

Anything, anything at all to keep away from having to make another dreaded visit to the dentist.

Inception Review

Reviewing Inception is sure going to be difficult.

Am no stranger to Christopher Nolan - I've seen The Prestige and cried for Hugh Jackman; and I've lost count of how many umpteen times I watched The Dark Knight, each time with the same fascination. So, ahem, my expectations of Inception were huge. I hoped fervently that it wouldn't be an Avatar repeat.

The movie starts out innocently enough; slowly, with each passing frame, it starts sucking you in. What Nolan did was let his imagination run rampant, no bars whatsoever, and then strived to mold that imagination into reality. The end result is nothing short of amazing.

Dom Cobb can extract a person's thoughts from his subconscious. He can enter a person's dream and steal his innermost secrets. He faces the challenge of his life when, instead of extraction, he is required to plant an idea in a person's mind. Inception. A team of expert extractors have to travel therefore, into the subconscious of the subject - go through multiple layers of dreams so they can plant that single thread of thought flawlessly. What follows is a masterpiece of creativity, stunning visuals, and multi-dimensional complexity, the core of which is so simple, it boggles the mind.

I saw Ellen Page for the first time after Juno, and was struck by how young she really is. Cillian Murphy, I've had a mild crush on him since his Red Eye days, and he didn't disappoint. Di Caprio is a master, though I wish he had more of that boyish look from Titanic.

People do not really make what this movie really is; it probably wouldn't have mattered if Nolan cast a bunch of unknown faces - the movie would still be awe-inspiring. It's the kind of psychological thriller that will make you question reality, and re-play scenes of the movie in your mind long after you step out of the theater.

Summing up - edge of the seat narrative, nail-biting pace, and a gripping plot - I can say I got my money's worth, and then some. Go watch it, people.

Wake Up Sid

I cannot think of any reason why I put off seeing this movie for so long! I also cannot imagine why I steadfastly refused to watch a Ranbir Kapoor movie. Maybe the long line of flop star sons we have been forced to endure freaked me out; I didn't want to take the risk of watching yet another Uday Chopra go, "Kya Mummy!" Folks, I'm happy that I was wrong about Ranbir Kapoor - he is genuine, offbeat and a natural.

Coming to the story, Sid Mehra is the spoiled son of a rich business magnate (aren't they all!) who doesn't care what might happen tomorrow. He is happy to let Daddy foot the bills, while he is carousing with his friends till the wee hours. On his farewell party (he's an engineering student) he meets a girl about 7 years his senior, and they hit it off. The girl is Aisha Banerjee, a creative writer. The character is played by Konkana Sen Sharma to the hilt; she outruns the other, so-called sexy actresses by a huge margin. Anyway, Sid and Aisha become platonic friends, and one fine day after having royally flunked his exams and kicked out of the house by his Dad, Sid lands up at Aisha's place.

Live-in relationship doesn't quite define it, since their friendship was strictly platonic. What I liked was the way the movie portrayed their neighbourhood accepting it, and Sid's mom accepting it. It showed that society these days has loosened up quite a bit, become more liberal in it's thinking. Also, the gradual change in Sid - from a prodigal son to a responsible person who finally learns how to cook an omelette and clean up after himself - is done so very subtly, that in every frame you see something changing in him. Just a little bit, but a little bit nevertheless.

However, the movie is not all about Sid; it is equally about Aisha, and I loved her role, more so cos I could relate to her completely. Hell, tons of girls must relate to her! A single girl, away from her hometown, seeking independence, seeking an identity - yep, I love her! The way she takes Sid under her wing, patiently tolerating his nonsense, while at the same time trying to make her mark - I cannot think of another actress who can fit the bill better than Konkona Sen Sharma.

When finally Sid makes his career as a photographer, and patches things back with Dad, Aisha realizes she is in love with him - and she has no idea if he feels the same about her. Sid is back at his place, it's raining, and he reads her article on Mumbai Beat. How she came to Mumbai with high hopes, how she fell in love with the city. It's not just about the city, she writes, she fell in love with the city due to one person, that one person who was able to show her how special it all was. It's not hard to guess how the movie ends. It is, after all, a romantic comedy.

I am sure everyone out there has already seen this movie - if you haven't, run, run like the wind! To your DVD store, your laptop, wherever. For a full list of the characters, and other trivia on the movie, go to IMDB.

A typical weekend in Hyderabad

Weekends in Hyderabad begin long before they actually do. Confused? Let me put it in a better way. We sit fantasizing and drooling over thoughts of the impending weekend from mid week itself. Work rarely gets done, everyone is in a frenzy checking out the hot spots, booking tickets, making appointments with friends, or, for the ones who stay away from family, planning a trip home. Loud cursing and the use of the F word is not uncommon when a new movie is in town; all tickets get miraculously sold out just before you say, "Two tickets, please!" Yeah, this is life at Hyderabad.

To the less fortunate, like us, who act on spur of the moment impulses, weekends are a series of disappointments. Like the time we went to PVR Cinemas and stood in the queue for one and a half hours, only to be greeted by the red blaring sign which we absolutely hate - Sold Out. Or the time when we got to know that there was an Aviation Exhibition going on at the Begumpet Airport, and a friend got hold of three passes; we ran without thinking twice. As a result, we were caught up in a traffic jam so huge, it might easily be mistaken for Caesar's army. Needless to say, we spent hours traversing the roads, sweating profusely, and a ride which normally takes five minutes took us more than two hours. Pathetic. Tragic. And any other adjective you can think of, along the same lines.

Oh yes, and how can I forget to mention beauty sleep here? In our personal dictionary, Weekends = Sleep. No questions asked. All my friends make it a habit not to wake up before 12 noon on weekends. No, its not because we party till dawn; it is because, my dear friends, like they say, we are the Gods and Goddesses of laziness. We just can't be bothered to get up and go visiting a mall just for the heck of it. We might be tempted, ofcourse, with the right inducement. Pre-booked tickets to a movie, for one; and a more than 50% sale at Hyderabad Central runs a close second. Some days, book lovers like me love taking a stroll inside the second hand book stalls that are scattered in the city. You might find quite a few masterpieces here, at unbelievable prices.

I usually go off alone, all by myself, and do whatever fancy takes me; go for a long drive on my Scooty Pep, or visit Hyderabad Central and loiter around; I also love going over to the Cafe Coffee Day in Somajiguda and spend a few minutes of bliss with one of the loves of my life - Coffee. This is not just about Hyderabad, it is the same, anywhere; the place doesn't matter, as long as you spend quality time you can cherish later; weekends are the time when you rejuvenate yourself, let go of all the steam accumulated from five continuous days of slogging. Do what you want, no holds barred. Stay within the limits, though. We want to be up and running for the next weekend, which is just five days away now, right!

My Sunday Luncheon at Barbecue Nation

Sunday morning. I woke up at around 11AM to the incessant ringing of my fone, and cursed. I absolutely hate waking up, period. I perked up somewhat when my cousin said we would be going out for lunch, and I could bring a couple of buddies if I liked. I was adamant that we would go to Barbecue Nation, cos I just love the barbecues they have to offer, and the drinks are on the house, too, hehe. Sunday being Friendship Day, we were unable to get a reservation and had to wait outside for more than an hour, which dampened our spirits somewhat. There is nothing worse than waiting with a hungry tummy, more so when you have already tasted the nose-tickling, tummy-rumbling, aromatic delicacies that are just within your reach, like sour grapes.

We were finally escorted to our table at around 3PM. Barbecue Nation is special in the fact that each table boasts of its own tiny barbecue, and you can have your meat just as you like it. Fresh veggies, marinated and coated liberally with spices, arrived. BBQ Nation have a lunch buffet, and these barbecues are merely starters. Red, green, and yellow capsicum, tiny potatoes baked in their skins, baby mushrooms, broccoli, and fresh paneer make up for the veggie palate; the non-veggies had a field day with chicken kebabs, fish, and prawns. The service is excellent, with the waiters keeping an eye on your plate at all times, replenishing it as soon as it gets empty.

Unfortunately for us, the place was filled to overcrowding, and we had to wait for a long time before the waiter topped up our barbeques; the buffet closes at 3:45, and we spent precious time just waiting for the kebabs and stuff. At around 3:30 our waiter came over to us with an apologetic expression and informed us, very politely, that we had around 15 min to finish our meal. We scrambled towards the buffet; predictably, I ran for the desserts counter. BBQ Nation serves excellent desserts, and the baby gulab jamuns are a real treat for taste buds. I served liberal helpings of pineapple souffle onto my plate, along with a couple of chocolate truffles, a few baby jamuns, and a couple of icecream dollops thrown in for good measure. By the time the waiter arrived again, I had finished my jamuns and was tucking into the souffle; we looked at the clock; it was nearing 4PM. We motioned him for the bill.

We had to look at the bill twice to believe it. Unlike other days, when its 250 bucks a head, the buffet was priced at 450 bucks per head, and we being 5, it totaled to somewhere around 2300 bucks, luxury taxes included. We had ordered drinks(welcome drinks are on the house at Barbeque Nation), but we were given a bill for those, too. It seems they don't offer welcome drinks on Sundays, and, they added a further 500 bucks to the bill. We paid without batting an eyelid(after all, it is deemed uncool if we exclaim over the bill) and went out, licking our wounds in silence. To sum it up very nicely, we paid 2800 bucks for a plate of roasted potatoes and capsicum, a few gulab jamuns, and some time in plush surroundings. Will you go there again, you might ask me. Ofcourse I will! But not on Sundays! No, sirree!!!