Caramel (and some cheese)

It is said by the movies (and psychology textbooks, presumably) that women tend to go for men who remind them of their fathers. Being a middle-aged Bengali man with a love for Discovery and National Geographic, Ayan definitely fits the bill. But he also reminds me of other members of my family. He is as finicky as my sister, balking when I fall in bed while still wearing clothes, I have gone out in. He reminds me of my mother when he is being chatty with random strangers in the metro, at the mall, or in the voting queue. Sometimes, he even reminds me of my grandmother.

My memories of her, Dida, are inextricably linked to the seasons. And, as in any self-respecting Bengali family, with food. It isn’t even the elaborate cooked meals that come to mind now – except her prawn malai curry perhaps, but just the snacks we shared over evenings of adda and laughter, and the afternoons that went in preparing them.

Summers were spent sitting next to her as she sliced mangoes over her bothi, while I assiduously finished up the fruit on the seed. Later, when guests came around, plates of the diced fruit would be served up with glasses of Coke.

Monsoons were sweetened ‘labour tea’, with the milk boiled to an inadvisable extent, along with crispy shingara or chop supplied from VIP Sweets. Sometimes there was batter covered slices of onions and cauliflowers she fried at home.

Winters, mild as they were in Calcutta, involved more work. There was a whole process of boiling jaggery with water, then when it cooled down, using it to bind crisp puffed rice, into her famous moa. To be honest, it wasn’t a hit because of the taste. The USP was that tins of the moa could be brought back to Delhi, at the end of the winter break. And then nibbled at through the weeks, with milk in the evening, or offered up as proshad during the Saraswati Pujo my mother performed at home.

Eventually, Dida’s health deteriorated, the adda diminished, and the moa became store bought. I rarely sought one out to eat and thought about it even less.

Till one day at the movies. As I sat bored, munching on salted butter popcorn, my hands touched a sticky piece and I looked down, to notice a caramelized piece that had entered my tub by mistake. Unthinkingly, I put it in my mouth and immediately fell in love. The deliberate purchase of tubs of mixed caramelized and cheese popcorn is a movie going ritual now. But I didn’t make the connection with the homely comfort of moa for a few more months.

I was working from home in Bangalore on a listless summer afternoon, missing home, and dreading the multiple calendar-blocks I still had to cross before calling it a day. Ayan asked me if I wanted to eat a snack to ward off the boredom – that reliable way of putting back all the kilos lost at the gym. I agreed, but then shrugged at all the options he listed – grapes, makhana, momos. Finally, he saw my unenthused face and left me alone. But came back in 15 minutes with a bowl of –

“Popcorn”, he said.

I frowned ungratefully in response.

Then he placed the bowl in my hands, and it was not the usual pressure-cooker popped corns we had at home. He had decided to caramelize sugar and then lather the regular popcorn in that brown, gooey syrup. For caramel popcorn at home.

Things that made me happy

A beautiful bunch of litchi

A super stunning sunrise

(In descending order of happiness caused)

I saw Into the Spiderverse last weekend, and wept copiously at a scene where Miles Morales's mother tells him that his parents are always concerned about him because in the real world, there is no one who might be rooting for Miles the way they do. She lets him go away if he promised that he would take care of that little child in him, like his parents. I think my weeping was because of the fact that it hit me that I had not loved myself as parents would. But also that I probably never had a family unit looking out for me that way. Or may did at one point - Baba, Dida, but do not have anymore. Honestly, though, I might be just finding new things to be sad about, because who has that system anyway?

(I mean I can't even say 'the Movies!' anymore, once Bollywood grew up).

Catching up

I haven't blogged here in three years. I always assume nothing even happens in my life, unless I actually take stock this way. Though to be honest, not much has changed at a fundamental level.

I'm in the same job as before, and complain about it just as much. I keep having epiphanies about how I can completely change things (including my attitude) but it comes and goes. I'm still overweight, and constantly struggling with it. And my phone conversations with my mom are still of the yes-no-don't ask me so many questions variety.

This is all happening in a different city though - Bangalore - where I have been living since December 2021. I got married in November of that year, to the man I was bellyaching about in the drafts of this blog. Then suddenly towards the end of 2020, I started feeling comfortable about the idea of marriage. I remember the exact moment actually. I had just started a diet and kept admirable restraint on myself all day, especially in the face of a tough work-day. At night, I had piled on a carefully prepared and assiduously measured meal of rice and chicken, and was just settling down into a video call with A, my partner in the then 'situationship'*, when I fully dropped my meal on the floor. And promptly burst into tears. 

I think the fact that he didn't laugh at me (I know I might have if the situation were reversed) suddenly made me feel that I could do marriage. I didn't admit it aloud immediately of course, and went back on it many times in my head. But I guess realizing that a moment is all it takes for things (including you) to change, can be weirdly empowering?

Anyway, I moved to Bangalore and hated the city with a lot of energy. Initially, I was completely working from home. Then these kids joined from a University here, so I started going to office more frequently. My colleagues are still kids though, so it's hard to be friends with them. I joined a writing workshop too which gave me structure to write, and an introduction to people I know, outside of work, who also don't know A. That is still not the same as friendship as all of us are never free at the same time, and more importantly, the safe space we had to talk about deep, dark things while we were still doing the workshop, is not available anymore. I miss that space.

This week I bought a car, another thing I didn't expect to happen. I am learning to drive, I would say,  more from a sense of competition than a genuine desire to take to the roads, despite the fact that I regularly have to bear the brunt of Bangalore's bad public transport and lack of cabs. Perhaps my reluctance is because of the fact that I also regularly bear the brunt of the terrible traffic situation here. Anyway this messy urbanisation has led me to believe that urban economics is my true calling. I'm watching some tutorial videos, let's see if that interest sustains.

Shruti and I have decided to start quizzing again. I'm not answering any questions yet, but we made and held one quiz which was a bit of a hit amongst the six of us. I'm hoping that continues. I am also working on a new story, though what I actually need is to rework some of my existing ones and send them off for publication. That would be a nice win, I think. [Ok will send at least one story today, SOMEWHERE].

I am also feeling something personally that I don't know how to articulate. Or probably don't want to articulate, for fear that it's incredibly childish. I think I am feeling used. In the sense, that I find people have a sense of entitlement towards my time and emotional and mental labour without me getting anything in return. I don't know if this feeling is fair, in the sense that I reflected on some of my own actions, and feel that I may have used (different) people too, without giving them much in return. So I guess what I am feeling is a mix of indignation at being used, and guilt at having used other people. 

Is this how life is? Do we all use each other?

*I did not know this word existed then. Google tells me it may refer to a sexual or romantic relationship that is not formally defined. I'm just choosing to assume that this holds for the arranged marriage - yes - no dynamic I was in.

Life in a Metro…in 2007

Life in a Metro released thirteen years ago, in May 2007. At the time, Deepika Padukone was still unheard of, waiting to make her debut in November.  The Big Three of Indian cricket were still active, and it was a “bold move” to name Dhoni as the Captain of the T-20 squad, which went on to win the inaugural World Cup in September. Twitter had started less than a year ago and the current Chief Beneficiary of Digital India was only starting his second term as the Chief Minister of Gujarat. And Anurag Basu, the director of Life…, was five years away from his career defining Barfi!  

For the most part, Life… has none of the light dreaminess of Barfi!, except a stretch with Nafisa Ali and Dharmendra who play Shivani and Amol – a couple who revive their romantic relationship in their last years. There is an undefinable sweetness in their romance, be it their reunion at the railway station, as Amol crosses the track between platforms to get to Shivani, their joyful traipsing across Bombay, or their quiet togetherness in bed. And the newness isn’t in that these people are old – we had already had Baghban (2003) and Pyaar Mein Twist (2005) ­­– but that they are familiar. Shivani could have been your retired-school teacher grandmother, playing truant from the old-age home with a portly man dressed in an untucked shirt, who was not your grandfather.

The other unusual bit about the film is its treatment of Shruti (Konkona Sen Sharma) who is about to turn 30, unmarried, and plain. She undergoes a realistic makeover about 20 minutes in (after she has met her eventual love interest, who likes her as she is), but at no point do you feel that the character herself has had a personality implant on account of that. Moreover, the filmmaker takes out time, in an otherwise frenetically paced screenplay, to show her spending time on the upkeep of her new appearance. And these are not the aesthetically pleasing shots of make-up being applied, but the ugly bits involving hair oil and face masks.

Some parts of Life… hark back to an older era of film storytelling. Sharman Joshi’s track ostensibly seems like an update of Shah Rukh Khan’s Yes Boss (1997) – even his character is called Rahul. Rahul’s love interest Neha (Kangana), sleeps with the Boss, in contrast with the earlier film where Juhi Chawla and the boss (Aditya Pancholi) were in an adequately 90s’ style platonic affair. Neha has a troubled past and mental health issues which she helpfully spells out for us in a terrible ‘offhand’ this happened – that happened sequence. Yet, Yes Boss, for all its well-lit frames, comedic subplots and cheerful music, is the darker (and better) film.

Shah Rukh Khan in Yes Boss had an independent, almost crazed ambition. Ensuring a certain lifestyle for his mother was only a part of that. Rahul of Life..., despite his questionable tactics, is primarily a ‘good son’ driven by his father’s dreams. While Yes Boss had the menacing Aditya Pancholi in the eponymous role, the boss in Life… is at most mildly threatening.  Moreover, in an unrealistic depiction of office life, he seems to go out of his way to help Rahul “meet investors”, while Pancholi’s character used everything from promises of career advancement, petty bribery, flattery and emotional manipulation to get his employee to do his bidding.

However, the thing that struck me the most last night, while watching the film was, how representative of 2007 Bollywood it is. And I’m not just talking about the presence of Shiney Ahuja, over-plucked eyebrows, the voice-overs or the ever-present background music. In 2020, would a filmmaker be compelled to give the otherwise unconventional Shruti and Monty such a rom-commy ending at the railway station*? Would a gay character’s only function be to play out a Madhur Bhandarkaresque twist, even if it is to give the heroine a character arc?

Or take Neha. She attempts suicide after her boyfriend-cum-boss humiliates her and spends barely a couple of days in recovery. She then resumes the affair and while en route to another secret rendezvous with said boyfriend, realizes that Rahul truly loves her. Her reaction is to get out of the car, and literally run after him, all the way to a happy ending. In 2020, Neha would go to therapy, quit her job and break up with her boss, and tell Rahul she needed some time to find herself before jumping into a relationship with him. In the interim, she would also school him on consent if he tried to kiss her while she was asleep – though my cautious optimism leads me to believe that 2020 Rahul would not have tried such a thing in the first place.

And finally, 2020 Shikha (Shilpa Shetty) wouldn’t have needed her husband to be such an asshole, to contemplate having an affair**. She would also belly-ache far less about sleeping with the handsome, gentle man she just happens to meet at bus-stop (She would have actively sought him out on Tinder). Though even 2020 Shikha would probably still choose her marriage over the chance at a fresh start.

*Irrfan’s deadpan “Lekin petticoat, blouse toh sab iske size ka sil gaya, tumne itna late kyun kar diya bataane mein”, to Konkona’s confession of love notwithstanding.  

** He misses his marriage anniversary party to sleep with the woman he has been seeing for two years already. Then yells at his wife when she asks him where he was.

Thinking about tech

The blogger interface has changed. I wonder if anyone else blogs anymore, but this makes me feel slightly more relevant. 

I'm committed to meeting my full life goals again. In lieu of having an actual full life. 

It's alarming how quickly human beings form emotional attachments, even now when we are all apparently self absorbed droids. I don't mean infatuation, or even love. Just intense co-dependence which makes you want to reach out to your phone, and tell the person you are attached to (the attachee?) about all the random things that happen to you through the day. Is it because most of us are disconnected from the people we physically spend the day with? And it's much easier to open up when the interaction is mediated by technology? 

On one hand it is. We are all funnier on chat when you can edit a message thrice before finally hitting send. When it's easier to hide behind privacy settings and take time to send out a more thoughtful reply. It's easier to hide the momentary irritation, the giveaway facial expressions that could open up a chasm between people. It also probably makes you braver in admitting things than you would otherwise because the fallout (good or bad) is not immediate. 

On the flipside, how do you know if the other person is even interested in you and your life? If you can't see their face, if you can't see how focussed they are on you as you talk, if their interest is taken up by other tabs, other chat windows? 

Notes on reading

Also known as ek teer se do nishaane (re meeting my real life goals) .

I was reading today how Germans, during their period of hyperinflation were afflicted with cipher stroke. Where they would unnecessarily tack on zeros when reporting numbers. So if someone was asked the time, they could respond with 3000. This ex boss of mine was affected similarly with the dollar stroke. If asked to convert 300 million people to lacs, he was wont to multiply the number with 70.

Basu (in Economist in a Real World) spends a lot of time explaining how inflation management policy may not be as straightforward as commonly understood. So while in general, raising policy rates is supposed to be a way for liquidity tightening, it may not necessarily help if distortions lead to the rate settling at a situation of deficit liquidity. Assuming regular downward sloping demand for credit and upward sloping supply of credit curves, a raising of rates may mean that demand falls but supply rises, thus only exacerbating the liquidity and inflation situation.

The Economist recently covered a related policy niggle - the measurement of inflation itself, in a modern economy. For one, goods being consumed change every year, so statisticians may be quite behind in tracking inflation. In fact they never quite catch the first fall in prices of a good or service, that in fact, enables mass consumption. CPI measures not accounting for quality change is again a problem that is more notable for digital access goods than others. Controlling for quality, it's likely that digital access prices are falling, though the index itself will reflect otherwise.

More fundamentally, the CPI measure may mean nothing if critical goods and services have a price of zero, as is true for most digital platforms. This is a non trivial issue if you consider the fact that imputed rent (with no actual transaction backing it) is a part of price indices.

The Indian government is planning to import bull semen from Brazil to impregnate desi cows, in a bid to increase the milk output but some cattle breeders are protesting this love jihad. (No, I'm being flippant.)

To bypass liquidity constraints that farmers face due to delayed cash transfers (for instance in the case of fertiliser subsidies), the Government is mulling e wallets that will be pre loaded with cash, and will only be redeemable at PoS at the input suppliers'. I feel pressured to use PayTM now.

Pixel 4 would have been a hit with all the bengali pipu pishu types. Had they released it in India and had any bengali the capacity to buy it.