Focal Point

A very desi Christmas?

 

24 December 2007, 6.30pm, Princeton, New Jersey

I ask this with a laugh because every desi family I know of has a different routine for Christmas. My mom loved decorating the house when we were kids; she laments that she stopped once we got older. My childhood best friend has loved putting up a tree with presents since we were kids; she married into a family that really does Christmas and it suits her perfectly. Other friends only acknowledge Christmas as the day plan out their Boxing Day shopping schedule.

As different as our celebrations may be around this time of year, we do share a common love of holiday lights. As our days become shorter and our nights grow darker, the multicoloured strings of light seem to magically appear wrapped around our windows and porches, glowing even as the cold winter winds blow. I love it, which brings me to the photo above.

We called it the Chandelier. Strings of light threaded through the bare branches of a tree in the front yard of my uncle's place in Princeton, NJ. We're proud to call it a work of art, because people from far and wide (also known as neighbours), came by to admire and remark on the creativeness of it all. As per the definition of art, it also had its share of critics but we won't discuss those. (Also, because it makes my uncle laugh and we're still not quite sure what his original intention was when he put up these lights.)

This photo reminds me of one of the loveliest Christmas holidays I've enjoyed with my extended family. Simple moments, much laughter, aloo tikki burgers for lunch, chocolate and Broadway in Manhattan, and having this as our Christmas tree are a reminder of how decor and entertaining need not be complicated.

Joy can be found in the simplest things. Wishing you all a safe and happy holiday season, and a very Merry Christmas, if it's yours to celebrate.

Best wishes to one and all

2 February 2009, 11.40am, entrance to the Golden Temple Complex, Amritsar

October and November are busy months on the South Asian calendar. Religion and culture become mixed as Diwali, Eid, and Gurpurab celebrations occur globally, allowing family and friends to share in each other's happiness and offer best wishes. On these occasions, the desire for religious pilgrimmages can intensify, and those who are spiritually inclined may embark on such a trip, knowing that crowds and lineups at these places of worship may make the notion of a solitary visit for reflection and contemplation a lost dream. 

The photo above was not taken during a trip for a specific pilgrimmage. Rather, I was visiting India for two weeks, and in Amritsar for a three-day visit with my dad's side. My adventurous plans had effectively been kaiboshed by the terrorist attacks in November 2008. Terrorism aside, a visit to the Golden Temple can never be taken off my Indian agenda. Given that there was nothing special marked on the calendar, I had been naively hoping for a quietly spiritual visit.

There are many entrances into the marble complex of the Golden Temple, but only one walkway across the sarovar into the temple itself. While patiently waiting in line on the walkway, I became aware of whispers and sideways glances, interrupting the soothing hum of the hymns. A certain politician's name was being whispered and then we saw him stride past the waiting lineup, with a few clearly non-Indian visitors cautiously following in his wake.

Immediately I became irritated that these people were able to cut in front of all the rest who were baking in the increasingly stronger midday sun for their turn to enter the temple. Foreign-born NRI that I am, I also began to voice my displeasure in loudly whispered Punjabi and English, while my uncle tried to shush me. But seriously, why did my prayers have to be put on hold while some politicians breezed through on a photo-op in a sacred and spiritual place?

(One could argue that where my prayers are said is not as important as the fact that they are said, but I digress. I was pissed at that moment, and not just because I was sweating and tanning more than I cared to. A funny coincidence of life though, I now have reason to believe those visitors were Canadian dignitaries after a conversation I had with a certain Federal Minister as he commented on my photo exhibition during the 2009 SWFF at the ROM.)

After the political delegates had departed, I had my chance to enter the temple, along with the rest who had been waiting with me. Because of the delay, I reached the inner step just as the noon-time Ardas began, requiring me to stay inside until it was over - a blessed event because I was actually able to sit and savour being inside the temple. (Yes, I know, it all worked out to my advantage, but I couldn't have known that 15 minutes earlier, right?)

Still, is it fair for visitors at a holy shrine to have to wait for political photo ops before being able to say their prayers and pay their respects? Can you imagine the chaos that would have ensued if President Obama (and the Secret Service) had proceeded with a visit to the Golden Temple, as reported in the media? I think I prefer press releases for conveying best wishes. I leave it with you.

Wishing you all a Happy Gurpurab on the anniversary of Guru Nanak's birth.

Of Maharajas and Maharanis

16 November 2010, Entrance to the Maharaja Exhibit, AGO, Toronto

For those who have memories of India and for those who haven't had the chance to visit India, a walk through the Maharaja exhibit at the AGO offers more than a glimpse into the Indian subcontinent's history and its royalty. A visit to these galleries truly is a beautiful experience, delivering more than just the exotic, even as the viewer is dazzled by the light reflected off the jewels and metals.

The journey begins soothingly, with muted tones, soft music and simple walls encouraging us to leave the modern world and travel back to the 1700s. Moving through each gallery, the eras change as do the artifacts representing them. We begin with elephant accessories, then look with longing at embroidered lenghas and jewelry so heavy, it's a good thing a Maharani had a bevy servants to do everything for her as she reclined on her velvet pillows into the 1800s.

Then came the 1850s with the fights for independence that changed everything. Walk too quickly and we'll miss the elegant letter from 1853, handwritten in Urdu by the Rani of Jhansi, imploring the English East India Company to recognize her husband's adopted son as the next heir of Jhansi. (It didn't.) She went on to lead her troops on horseback into battle in the 1857 rebellion.

Moving on, we enter the era of the British Raj, and the trinkets and treasures begin to visibly change. Glancing at the doors of a silver carriage, it feels as though a princess should be peeking out to wave from the window. Then, as we circle the carriage, the gleam of chrome beckons from the next gallery...

"Have you seen the car yet?"

His Highness Yuvraj Saheb, the Mandhatasinhji of Rajkot asked me the question with a boyish grin during  the Maharaja Gala. The one-of-a-kind saffron-coloured 1934 Rolls Royce Phantom II is a family heirloom, custom built for his grandfather His Majesty Thakore Sahib Dharmendrasinhji Lakhajiraj of Rajkot. It shares space with the Patiala necklace by Cartier, photographs by Man Ray, and exquisitely delicate cut-work saris that could fly away in the breeze.

History is often thought to be dull, art can be incomprehensible, and fashion is another matter entirely. That the AGO has brought together over 200 of these items spanning 250 years to share India's royal story, and managed to keep one captivated throughout the entire visit is an impressive feat. Of course, that our culture is rich in art, spirit and tradition must make the AGO's task a bit easier; lucky are we that we can now proudly share all that with our neighbours.

Details

Maharaja: The Splendour of India’s Royal Court, at the Art Gallery of Ontario from Nov 20 to April 3

Admission: 25 and under free, family packages available

Origins: the Victoria & Albert Museum, London

Next stop: The Asian Art Museum, San Francisco

Yum yum in d'tum tum

30 July 2010, 2.42pm, Charlotte Street, Nassau, Bahamas

Heading down a random side street, away from the honking madness of the market on Bay Street in Nassau, I walked past this place, then turned around and came back to confirm the window at which I had casually glanced actually said "Euro Tandoor". Tandoor? Indian? Really? Here? Yay!

Peering in through the open door, I could see the menu board that proclaimed today's special: "Palak Chicken - Yum Yum in d'Tum Tum". Samosas and Ice Cold Local Beer rounded out the menu. Alas, my friends had already turned the corner towards the pier and back to our cruise ship so I had to rush to catch up and not get left behind (always a possibility with me). This is my sad excuse for not staying and sampling the samosas.(That and my super-sensitive stomach.)

This isn't supposed to be a food blog but has anyone seen/been/tried this place? If so, I'd love to know your thoughts on it.

Indian Style

8 July 2010, 5:49pm, Irish Embassy Pub & Grill, Yonge & Wellington, Toronto

Chicken Curry - Indian Style.

Really? Duh. What other style could a curry be? 

I'm being mean. Props to the Irish Embassy for having desi dishes on the menu. Never having been to Ireland myself, I was surprised to learn - during an after-work session at Fionn MacCool's on University & Adelaide a few years ago - that South Asian food served in Irish pubs was quite normal. 

(That evening I also locked eyes with a very hot desi guy as he was leaving the pub with his friends and I was entering with my friends. A very filmi moment, but without the filmi ending since I never did find out who he was. Sigh.)

But I digress. I love that Irish pubs in Canada carry on their traditions of keeping delicious desi dishes on the menu. Too bad for me, most of those dishes involve some form of chicken while I'm a vegetarian. And, on this particular evening at the Irish Embassy with my girlfriends, I was craving fries in the forbidden-food way that only a 30-something-old metabolism can crave a-thing.

The Irish obliged, offering me poutine, but not the traditional French-Canadian version of hot fresh fries smothered with gravy and cheese curds. No, they offered me an Irish Poutine of hot fresh fries covered with mayo and melted cheddar. How to resist that? I didn't even try. I even added ketchup on the side.

Which leads me to wondering...what if there was a Poutine - Indian Style? How would that work? Hot fresh fries - check. Instead of gravy, which chutney would work better: mint, mango, imlie, tomato, coconut or a create-your-own mixture? Should we try substituting crumbled paneer for cheese curds, since the paneer likely wouldn't melt the right way? Or, what about scrapping the chutney and cheese altogether and just drowning the fries in a very thick and creamy version of the malai kofta/butter chicken sauce?

Hm, next step: establishing an Indian pub in Toronto to serve it...

If anyone's up for that idea, I've got a whole menu planned out. Cheers.

GOOOOAALL!!!! [insert your cheers/curses here]

2 July 2010, 9:15pm, William Ashley China, Bloor Street West, Yorkville, Toronto

Who was playing? Doesn't matter. When was the game? Doesn't matter.
Who won? Ah, that always matters.

When the World Cup started, I didn't know who to cheer for. My friends and family, the South Asian ones at least, were all stubbornly rooting for England. Even if they couldn't have named the English players, it was England all the way, judging by the status updates on their Facebook pages. (Because one way or another, all desis have got ties to someone or something British and apparently that alone should be good enough for our collective loyalty.)

Me, I'm different, I need a reason to cheer. Blind faith in the Three Lions just wouldn't do it. (Turns out I saved myself the heartache.) My solution for finding the perfect team would have to come from following the FIFA.com updates on Twitter and watching all the matches - good, bad and mediocre - to find the team worthy of my loyalty, like a truly dedicated sports fan would do. 

Alas, I'm not a dedicated sports fan. Just an appreciative one. I actually shushed my mom during those tense moments of the Paraguay vs Spain match on Saturday when penalty kicks for both teams failed to break the solid 0-0 score. I felt bad for Paraguay when it was over, but had to cheer for Spain's victory. (It's so much easier when you have no real loyalty.)

Come Sunday afternoon, though, it'll be easier to decide just where my loyalty lies between the final two teams. I'm already leaning towards the Netherlands though if Spain wins against Germany, I might have to flip a coin. (Now there's a tried-and-true technique, eh?) Maybe I'll just follow my heart once the match starts. Either way, I'll be watching till the end, cheering or cursing along with the players when the commentators' voices ring out: GOOOOAALL!!!