Besan Ka Halwa

[Parapluie is the French word for 'Umbrella'. Why should you know this? To shield yourself from a 'downpour of lingual trivia.'] Paris announced the arrival of Autumn last week with an eight day continuous spell of very rainy rain and very windy wind. The spell continues as I write this. As I write this, the clock in India has struck 12 and my mother has turned a year older. In Paris, she remains 3 hours 30 minutes younger but I have to make do by only hugging the parapluie that I have just found. The parapluie that she had packed in my cargo luggage over a month ago when I was about to leave Delhi for Paris on my first posting. The four weeks that I had spent here were quite comfortable. Shifting to new places, meeting new faces- is like second nature to me (with masks, it is definitely a first. Living abroad is another first). My luggage arrived just 10 hours after Autumn in Paris.  28 cartons. According to immediate need, priorities were clear: Umbrella, rolling pin,

Here is a compilation of words that went astray in my diary.  But 'all those who wander are not lost..'   'Bawaal' Woh bina miley poochte hain kya haal accha hai, Hum bina kahe kehte hain sawaal accha hai. Yun toh keh dein ki sab hai khairiyat  Magar ae Haraf! Chup rehne mein bawaal achha hai. 'Bawandar' Main rehta hoon us talaab mein Jahaan kabhi samandar hota tha Jahaan taare gote khaate the Aur sooraj andar sota tha. Jahaan kabhi kshitij hi kinara tha Woh khud ab kinara hai Jo mook pada hai khud abhi  Wahaan kabhi bawandar hota hai. 'A Teetotaler's Alibi'   Ab agar piyein bhi toh jaam bhara ho paani se... Ye ehsaas-e-maut ke zikr ki koshish mein Kaheen swaad-e-zindagi na bhool jayein.   'Snitch' Mera astitva meri kalam se hai Ye paagalpan picchle janam se hai Abhi waqt nahi mujhe khojne ka Meri shuruwaat khatam se hai.  'Malaal Redux' Malaal toh mujhe bhi nahin Ab jo khud ko tabaah kiya, Par ae Haraf! Tu Haraf hai wahi  Aur woh tha

 Today it's been one year since I joined the civil services. As a history student I tend to give some importance to dates and 'historical causation.' Would like to share something thought provoking with you all. In the photo, that is my Great Grandfather seated between my Grandfather and me. I call him 'budhe dada.'  He could never read or write, but back in 1950s, he decided that even though he had never gone outside his village, his son would have an education. His son (my Dadaji) sent his children to study beyond the district, across the state. His son (my father) took me across the country to receive an education.  And when someone asks me what was the 'turning point' in your life, I think it was that one day in the 1950s when budhe dada decided to send dadaji to school. Now that I explain my Great-Grandfather that I will be working for the country abroad, he doesn't understand. He doesn't even remember my name and mostly forgets even his son'

Let this be very clear. Director Thiagarajan Kumararaja's 'Super Deluxe' is not Tarantino's 'Pulp Fiction.' The latter was a film that came out in 1994 and was considered to be 'a great film about nothing in particular'- the former came out in 2019 and is 'a great film about everything in particular.' Pulp Fiction aged really well and turned out to be a cult classic about 'many things', Super Deluxe is bound to build that status for itself with time and it might go on to be considered a cult classic about 'perhaps nothing.' And that makes both the films some kind of remotely related identical cousins of each other. If that sounds weird to you, then I think you haven't really gotten used to the films.    Both the films have been built from a similar mould. Multiple character ensemble. Genre-defying. Parallel storylines. Crude dialogue. Lot of local travel. And of course, the considerable length of the film.  The opening credits

A book that you must read (if you must read) this year is: 'A Confederacy of Dunces'. If there were anyone who would be able to put in words the frustrations, insecurities, paranoia and instabilities of 2020- the year that pushed the world into a self-imposed sloth - it would be Ignatius J. Reilly, the protagonist of John Kennedy Toole's cult classic posthumous publication 'A Confederacy of Dunces'. It was published after over 17 years of being written and was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1981 for its accurate description of the city and society of New Orleans- but more so the Uptown human condition. It is clearly a timeless novel, as it remains excessively relevant today.  Not going into the tragic story of its creator (which makes for an insightful commentary of its own), we shall talk about the central character of the book and how we relate to him this year more than ever- on a rather spiritual level.  In the book, 'The lengthy indictment' that Ignatius

[Greetings to all on the National Handloom Day.]  "बंधगला" - विक्रम ग्रेवाल भीतर से यह नीव श्वेत मेरी शान का परचम काला है।   निरंतर ड्राई क्लीन कर नाज़ों से इसे संभाला है। अतीत ने इसके बटन सींचे वर्तमान ने धूळ को झाड़ा है। भविष्य ने कंधे सँवारे और अब बहुत कुछ बदलने वाला है। सर से पाँव तक संघर्ष इसको धारण करना भी एक कला है। अपारदर्शी पर गौरव का दर्पण ऐसा यह मेरा बंधगला है। पसीने से हुआ पावन इसमे ताप से तेज ढला है। शुरुआत में गर्दन पे चुभन है परन्तु कंठ भला तो सब भला है। 'शीलम परम भूषणम' के प्रतीक इसकी सादगी ने दिखाए हैं। काल में इसकी बसी रश्मि ने कई अंधकार हटाए हैं। शासन, प्रशासन, अनुशासन इसके धागों में समाए हैं। धागों ने नहीं, देश की आकाँक्षाओं ने ऐसे हज़ारों बंधगले बनाए हैं।

- Vikram Grewal Is it me scratching the grains of sand against my nails Or is it her giggle that jiggles on my submerged ear as I lay on the shore? Is it my lungs crackling with muddy gusts through my nostrils Or is it her giggle that wriggles to break free from my ribs as I lay there half-dissolved? Is it the dry breeze from the sails that makes my choking maw gulp Or is it her giggle that tickles my fragile nerves from toe to tuft as I lay there half-resolved? Is it the threads of my ripped ends swinging with each tide Or is it her giggle that trickles down my lips to hug the horizon as I lay on the threshold? Is it my salt soaked hair that sting like plucked weeds Or is it her giggle that snuggles under my head like a pillow as I lay- a  shipwrecked sunflower? Do I hear the giggle still that toppled the boat and made the swimmer in me decide to drown?  

- by Vikram Grewal (I typed this write-up over a year ago and many of you might have read it before but I would like to share it with you- again- on this platform as well...not because I think it's a great piece or anything, but because YOLO- and so does your blog*) *Not Really. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   In times of distress I search for refuge in poetry. The preparation for UPSC Civil Services Exam 2018 was a journey that needed a song that I could hum along the way. A journey that needed pointers spread across my way to assure myself that I was on the right path. It was a period in my life that needed words of inspiration on a daily basis. And I found strength in the words of Kipling:    “If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wi

Days UnderDoubt  #1 16th March 2020 There's an ominous silence in the entire town that was a bustling centre of activity when I visited it last. We are about to have lunch at Café LehVenda (the only Cafe that is still open in the Main Bazaar at Leh) when Kanishka clicks this photo after asking me to pose- and I don't - but I sort of do. I don't remember what I was thinking at that point but I do remember making do with hot water after the cafe attendant said that they were out of Sprite. At minus 7 degrees in the noon everyone had asked for hot chocolate, but I wanted Sprite in the middle of a 'desert'. They were out of cold drink stocks (and tourists apparently). 10 of us had arrived in the non-tourist frozen-Pangong hungry-dogs season in Ladakh one day before. Sipping the hot water in a cold desert I was perhaps thinking about temperature. We'd heard a certain virus was quite fussy when it came to temperature. "Origin, symptoms, cure? Cle

(The Absolutely True) Minute to Minute Schedule of an Officer Trainee’s Day* * subject to the vagaries of space and time. Conditions apply. --by Vikram Grewal 5:00 am - RING RING! Deliberately set ambitious Alarm. Snooze. Back to sleep. 5:20 am - Wake up. Realize that your Roommate is in the Bathroom and hence the pointlessness of your waking up. Back to sleep. 5:40 am - Wake up. Reduce the ‘to-do’ list from “Brushing, Shaving, ‘Freshing up’” to just- “Washing Face”.  5:45 am - Changing to Track Suit? No worries. You went to bed wearing it last night! 5:50 am - Check FC 94 Whatsapp group hoping against hope for a “PT has been cancelled” message. Look at the sky- you no longer relate clouds to rain. You now believe that it rains only during exams (no, Geography Optional did not teach you enough).   5:55 am - Run/ Jog/ Walk/ Crawl to Polo Ground. Occasional heaps of cow dung keep you awake. The cold winds keep telling you “Yoga le lete bhai”. 6