Renu goes to Raglan

Now if the horseride was not enough where Renu was bouncing like a rubber ball on a hard wicket, wait till you hear this.
I should be studying but I am wtiting memoirs. I am hopeless.

Well after I met the EsSalaam Aleikum gang (Arabic language Club by Yahya: Not yasseer I had got his name wrong) and discussed the Arabic women’s legs. We are both in the danger of being shot. But Yahya has a big heart that he gives to the most cruel women as you do and loses romance out of life. Anyway the food was great and next day chooks and me decided to go to a hot springs pool south of auckland near Hamilton.
Incidently that’s where Gaurav and gang live. Now renu is a cook of high acclaim with her initial flirtations with garlic so powerful that Natalie my firstr crush who lived on top of the Ramavat family could have died of Ramavat Garlic syndrome. So high were they in use of garlic and onion that as a child gaurav ate onions like we eat apple. Slurp Crunch Yum.
But then hey Renu is a great cook in line with Neeta Mamee and my mom who is no longer a cook.
I told Chookee if she enjoyed the Arabic feast which was a delight (sorry to repeat myself) She would love Renu’s home cooking. Anyway, we went.
It was a sunny day and than started drizzling and then lightning and than downright stormy. Priya gold the famous daughter-in-law was seated on the couch and thinking of assignment. Capture this Kodak moment please. She looked as if she was eating cotton soaked in kerosene because the assignment date was due. It is a pain in the ass, these bloody assignments and i have around 40 to do in a journal but I am writing the adventures of renu.
The meal was sensational and Chooks (all 5.9 kissed all of them, on the cheeks) and the food that tasted like mung was bean seed and bloody sensational plus the dal that grandmaa specialised in.
The ginger was perfect and the fenugreek seed and Kokum. You may ask what the F is KOKUM?
Kokum is made from Ratamba (Garcinia indica), a fruit from the plum family. The pulp and peels of the Ratamba are separated. The peels are soaked or smeared in its juices and sun dried. This is repeated often till the skin shrivels up but retains the red/purple colour and the slightly astringent flavour. This is now kokum, which is used as a souring agent in cooking.
Yes so the dal was perfect and thus we decided to go for a drive around the country may be to a hot sulphur spa pool. However, I explained to Chookie the slight problem of Baby and Renu and a public spa and swimming costumes and Chooks understood since her father used to call her a slut if she put perfume and thus her Maori mentality caught up with Indian modesty. Lets call it Culture.
We went off to Raglan after setting out in the opposite direction for 60 Kms. And the countryside was filled with sheep on hills and the horses (yes, horses, the ones that you ride on) and than we went in the right direction thanks to Mukeshbhai, a gujju dairy owner setting us right.
Raglan in the Maori legend is a healing place and I know it for sure. We were racing against sunset and storm and the hilly ways were very much like Piha beach pathway (Kaho naa pyaar hai) where Ms patel danced in a skimpy and looked gorgeous. It was spectacular and chooks was careful since we had precious cargo: Baby nad Renu. It was a beautiful drive and luckily my duvet was there in the boot that they used. NZ is having bad weather and rumours of a coming Tsunami.
And thus, mom had called up to find out if i was OK. It was heartlessly cold and i decided to invite them outside in two of my jackets also in the boot. It was a Tornado-ish wind and both started running in the jacket and before we could reach the bridge, a small white monument that looked like something out of Saagar the movie in which Dimple showed her true self. These two wear shivering and thus tried running with the oversized jacket looking like small sheep and then finally we felt sorry.
We ran back to the car and bought some chips, cooked in Veg Oil not Beef Talo. I ensured that since Mcdonal had a huge backlash from the Jains of NYC. the jains in New York and the US are the second richest community after Jews.
There they were in raglan running on the slippery path and screaming and happy after $8 chips on their lap from the Chinese who looked half Maori but than due to NZ Sun Kiwi Chinese do look peculiarly brown.
Raglan is a healing place for Maoris and the black sand beach combined with Stella’s weed smoking that makes her kidnapped by Alieans. notice how aliens only kidnap the maddest human beings for anal inspection.
But the weather was suddenly clear and colder and the stars came out in a crisp night and Gaurav’s Veg Makhanwala was great as was the rotis who cooked. Now gaurav may not be a lot of things but good cook he is. I had once tried butter chicken in a Maori household that had cute daughters and forgot to put cream and butter and burned their mouths and noses.
Gaurav cooking was great and the heater stopped B & R from shivering. Chooks and the ramavats loved eachother and we drove back late leaving them shivering. But if rumours are to be believed they enjoyed the trip but i still cant get over them shivering and screaming and running like ants in a bugs life.

Renu Goes Riding

It is 2:37 in the morning of 4th October 2007. It’s somebody’s birthday but I don’t know…wait it’s Kim Red’s birthday. But never mind. Write(?) now I have more green tea in my veins that Lalit Ramavat has alcohol. I am intoxicated.

Who is Lalit Ramavat? Well, Lalit Ramavat is the guy who wooed Renu, my maternal aunty in the years of 1976 to 1979 in Anand Society by acting cute on a small bicycle. A Lilliputian bicycle and disturbing her when she gave Tinnu(a boy who puts coconut oil in his hair) tuitions. And then of course, they fell in love and produced Gaurav and baby (everyone calls her that). Anyway, Renu is not the fastest on her feet. I remember once she took part in a race in Anand Society (an apartment with
three wings…not red bull but three buildings A B and C). She ran this race and borrowed a pink floral Salwar Kameez from Kishori Sharif (her sister, mother to Sameer, wife to late Abdul Rehman Sharif who wrote the movie burning train). Now Renu fell during the race as she tried running and Renu being Renu laughed. But Kishori was pissed off and the dress had to be darned since it was a pink Salwar Kameez with flowers. Renu once tried swimming in the Andheri Recreation Club where She
closed her eyes and flapped and flapped and flapped wild as a dolphin. Shobha was watching over her. Shobha is the youngest sister and a tough nut to crack and a lady with immense self control. Shobha once jumped into the pool from a height of two stories and hurt her hands but did not even budge. She got married at 29ish and yet she was pure if you know what I mean. Now I don’t know any white girl or black girl or brown girl with that kind of self restraint. Anyway. Renu was flapping all
this time and when she opened her eyes…she was in the same place…ladies and gentlemen…not a mean feat this. Most people would have reached the opposite end and back.
But Renu was right next to Shobha in the pool when she took a deep breath, flapped like hell and after 5 minutes was in THE SAME SPOT. Something similar happened at Nainital where she was so proud of her cheeks turned red that she wanted to catch a helicopter to Bombay Walkeshwar where we lived and show off. And once said look how fast I can walk. And she flapped and flapped and did not reach far. That’s Renu. Who once called prostrate ‘prostitute’ by mistake and the doctors and my grandpa
And my mama (Unky Pandey) were embarrassed in a Dadar Hospital where Grandpa had an operation. She barged in all 4.10 inches of her and asked if the ‘prostitute’ was done. That’s Renu. Now she went riding. Her daughter in law Priya Gold wanted her to ride and I could not give her adequate warning though I am on a free phone away. Priya thought that she should show her mom-in-law a good time. She was all excited the night before but I was not. I actually forgot to warn her though I did remark
One cannot trust animals giving the Christopher Reeve example but did not ask her not to go. Priya was thinking if I ask her not to come she will be offended and Renu was thinking if I don’t go, Priya would feel bad. Both waited on ceremony as Indian women do. Both waiting for the other person to back them out. Anyway. The day arrived and the horse was a huge madafaka. Huge. Taller than Renu. She was given a yellow helmet and words of encouragement by the white instructor and you know how
Polite and sweet they are. Ladies and gentlemen, don’t go away. Now this horse was a moody bastard and in India the horse-Cooley runs besides you but here you are given instructions and Off… you go. it’s like being given a manual to car driving and sends off on a long drive. No horse Cooley ran besides her and the horse vibrated off the ground like a spring toy on an electronic motor. The helmet was jumping and Renu thought this was it. END OF THE STORY. But It did not stop there.
The horse went faster and Renu was sweating in 10 degrees cold atmosphere over a hill route that was perilously closed to the valley and than the horse! Then the horse got into a bad temper and started fighting and competing with the other horse. Renu was closed to crying but the horse kept going to the other horse and FINALLY after an hour or so it was finished. And Renu was scared white. You see!

Meal at two palaces (aftermath of Ramzan)

The palace is Herne bay and does not have any bus routes. Now, I got an invitation from Yasseer, the Arabic teacher (its a club not a course) and the food was plenty and thus, I went. Chookie came with me. She’s not my girlfriend and we reached Herne bay. I thought of amy. I should not have but I did. Anyway it was a huge house that these people the hosts, cooks and servers did not own. But it was like a white Saudi Arabian house that belongs to an egyptian and his chinese wife from malaysia!
Noo…Singapore. We removed out shoes outside and saw galeechaas spread on the floor and we were home. My granpa had a thing for galeechaas or the carpets that looked like flying carpets from Arabian nights but did not fly. Now this red carpet was in Andheri and it came out during diwali and i am glad it did not fly or we would have hurt the crackers and the rockets and the fireworks that Jetli, a mad bastard send from the floor and laughed. he drank too much Chivas Regal.
Anyway so we went to this palace and had koftas (no not of sweet gourd or dudhee but they were made of mince) and lentil soup also known as dal. There were too french girls who had come and i was talking to chrisbarretto@gmail.com. His real name is Chris Barrett but that was taken. Too BAD. Anyway he confirmed my theory that people on vodafone have vodafone friends and people with telecom have telecom friends. Both Cell phone companies that allow free text to ONLY their company. It’s like Airtel
vs Orange or now it has become maroon or purple or lavender. Anyway the food was gorgeous. Humus and baba humous and dates (not dry but fresh) tasted like leechee and the yellow small fruit the skin of which stuck to my tongue. The doctor woman was great and chookie pointed out only in hamilton where we went next day for another feed that I should have spoken to her. She was beautiful. Yasseer introduced me as a mentor and master as he thought I was a great poet. i think the guy who wrote
humpty dumpty was better than me. I told Yasseer, whom I call yahweh (Jehova in christian) that Arabic women were the best women on earth and he confirmed that they had lovely legs. and i wonder how one can see the legs through burkha and yasseer confirmed times had changed and i was happy for arabia and told Yasseer that he would never have a chance in taliban since he did not offer namaz and he confirmed that the prophet said food came before prayers just like the POTOBA_VITHOBA theory of the
Marathas. We went to renu’s house next day but that was great. By the way, renu went horse riding.
The horse was larger than an elephant and her helmet moved as the horse jumped and the horse went to fight with another horse. Reminds you of that fat girl in Hum Kisise se Kam nahi…Kajal Kiran. that’s the name. But renu was petrified. I will send the details soon.

Southland, ChristChurch, Queenstown…It’s all happening

I just returned in the blistering, rain-filled streets of Auckland and now having lived in 22 different parts of the city, I can safely say I hate Auckland. I am sick of the rush rush and construction concrete flying out as I have possibly just completed my Graduate Diploma in English and Drama and come to tie a few loose ends before I move somewhere, anywhere outta here. I have been Auckland’s proudest supporter as Auckland has been mine but it’s time to move.
The South Island is a different country altogether and before I went there I was toying with the idea of going to Wellington or Hamilton and working fulltime. I love relief teaching but to teach full time a bunch of thankless teenagers is not my idea of job satisfaction.
We flew into a red evening via Christchurch from Queenstown and I was deeply satisfied at my seven day trip and I will sending you bits and pieces of the travel journal through the night as I am inside graduate centre having been dropped by my cousin Gaurav Ramavat, who has drove us around South Island. I had a falling out with this particular cousin since I did not hear from him for a long, long, long time. My hostel office is closed and I am doing my last journal at the all night place which
is filled with people doing their academic shit.
Thus I am about to embark on my writing journey.

When my cousin Utkarsh left Proper Bombay

We always called it proper Bombay and heard names like CP Tank, Hanging Gardens , Gowalia Tank and Capitol Cinema. My first memory of Proper Bombay since I came fro what was then the last suburb Borivali, was the million pigeons eating grams on the roof of Third Bhoiwada, that’s were Utkarsh my cousin lived. For a while we had a charpaee or those beds that were made of wooden brackets and coir rope. Very comfartable and highly portable. We were both nine and eleven and Utkarsh (officially Utkarshbhai) had to get up to get milk. I went with him on some days and on other days I did not. I spent a few holidays in 3rd Bhoiwada in Swami Narayan building and as we walked into the row on houses in a square on the second floor with an almost clean dump where we played cricket. Utkarsh grew up in the mala and often we would go to buy kalakhatta and sugarcane juice and were secretly allowed to eat Pau Bhaji that had onions and garlic and potatoes that the Jains did not eat. We promised to go to one place and ended up in another and that was our source of deception that Utkarsh cherished. We were given some money and his kind mother and intelligent father often suggested where we should go. I got my first scooter from them. Scooter being the small petrol free thing that you swayed one leg and gathered momentum.
Something like this it was an old green one that mom had to carry for me with a love and dedication only a single mother (dad was away at that time and came back and forth and coming and going) could.
Right next to Masee’s (maternal aunty mother to Utkarsh) house was a colourless house with a a young girl that had severe head aches and water retention in the head that eventually killed her. But that apart we sometimes slept on the mezzanine floor that was huge and danced on it’s wooden base and the grandparents would get upset. The grandfather read with a huge magnifying glass and we brought Bakor Patel books (something akin to Brer Rabbit) except in this case the lead was a goat. When Utkarsh left Proper Bombay we lost an interesting part of the childhood that went back to Mahavir nagar and kite flying on the terraces and discussing Natalie my first crush and what a crush she was.

You are right, I am reading Shantaram by Gregory ‘Australian chap with an NZ passport’ and have forgotten Mohan Iyer’s birthday and which reminds me of throwing buckets full of water on innocent (notice how passersby are always innocent) passersby from Binto’s house who died in a bomb blast that happened in the Share Bazaar in 1993 where Utkarsh worked as a sub-broker but Utkarsh is safe, at least on that accord.