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!

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.

2005
and 2006

and the year of the goat

a city called Bombay and a country called India
a PDF file that goes to california or Portugal
a travel piece througn the bylanes of two whorehouses
cities coloured with paan
graphic books in hope of redemption
am I grumpy now that Caroline's gone
A graduate diploma that seeks my favourite poets and people
marshy legs sabreing perks
and that cunt from US of A

a
n
d

r

a

i

n

s

and the cows are wet
and the crows are wet and
the gulls are wet
don't forget the girls...they too
and the lovers are wet
and the political creatures are wet
and polite pc personnel are wet
immigrants are wet
and shivering
having arrived from warmer climes

and write
destress
distress

as the capital and the red fort and the jantar mantar
and the gandhi's loin clothed khadi hats and folded hands
to akbar's makbara and the distant taj dirty with pollution
and jamuna where moon bounced and lovers wanted to go beyond
the universe like the pacifika guided by the stars

new delhi

polite and the muslim joints on the street the paratha galli
and the spicy mutton and the chick pea kari and the smoke from oil
and ghee the clarified butter.

new delhi

the uinion jack is down and india awakens at midnight and sleeps
and glass bulletproofed against pakistan and planes circle like
the jain temple planes that throw coins lucky holy coins
and yellow flowere - no not daffodils - actually may be daffodils

new delhi
PC and believes in its own propoganda with punjabi women with mammoth boons
as insurgency and rape on the rise. nepalis pakistanis bangladeshis but indians

new delhi believes in its own propoganda believes in its own shit
believes in its own glory while bombay toils taxes like tigers on a warpath
Delhi is the capoital and everyone's uncle knows Indira Gandhi
and everyone's uncle is a war hero. Everyone's uncle hates bollywood in bombay

how did i know?

at a 1993 tea shop that did not accept
the new silver rupee to call her dad` after a few dozen kisses
on my dark mezanine floor and the brown train in a brown country
with brown sands rising.

I waited outside her singing lessons in Karnatik music
outside the Shreenathjee temple
under the yellow orange mercury lamp
outside the Bollywood God's apartment
she did not come as sages chased me
next night before she flew to California

death chased me as i sweated on the cotton duvet
and the polyester comforter and floral bedsheet
ran to Jelly's hid behind her skirt but death caught up as i
opened Uncle's drawers and showed Mr. Death her picture with a baby boy

"that is not you. that is someone else." she married two years later
but i knew as every dream i analysed told me a story

white church at Pitt st
niether manurewa mormon nor otara christian
sprung to sing a 1567 tune to perfection
as if ancient England had just arrived out of dark ages
the culture is there. the culture was always there
so why despair?

the aaa eee aaa keeps my thoughts away from the sa girl
and the maori girl singing tenors
i am lost in music and can hardly read the small print in the bible

but the door said all welcome and rob 's genuine smile
made up for the cold that heaters could not counter strike
the chandeliers dance like a hawaaiin girl shake shake shake
a dancing PI...four clover chandelier and the small brown bibles
that I can't read...
must surrender to specs
7 minutes and storms rains and stars

so i can see the specks and trifles and atoms and ants
the wood is 100 years old and the chinese sing hymns on the ground floor
the music still rings true as does the warmth in the white hearts

but the 14 year olds intoxicated by Hardy boys
and after facing a thorough interogation from Mrs iyer left
early morning for a hike

the pond was once a lake a brook a raging monsoon river
in the biggest jungle that Bombay has National Park
filled to the brim with foxes and panthers
early blue morning saw the ancient tribe of encroachers washing their clothes
in the summer pond

Those were bloody days for me as kidney stone kept urine red
but i had planned this adventure and we returned safe
after the train ride and teasing monkeys in the cage

and stealing dum aloo that mohan had created
it was a work of art and the iyers were big readers
but the railroad track was
burning the winds

was once the children rail road in waitakere kind train

and bollywood made most of it and tickets were always sold and we always there
on monday

when it was closed and i denounced it and wanted to keep the the picnic a hike

wild but some others jumped into the train
the iron tracks that we had walked and burned our skins
and summer had just begun
and cicadas made their sounds

grasshoppers and snake trails and caves that the train went through
but it was hot

and the tracks were red Iron turned red
and the dum aloo robbery that we indulged in
was not forgiven for three years