Let’s have some fun this Christmas- a red shoe and a green shoe!!
Yep some call it crazy, some quirky, I call it Christmas. And why not! It’s always a lot of fun to do things differently!
I can almost hear you ask me, so did you buy it as a pair or two pairs of shoes? Well two pairs!! I tried my best to ask for one red, one green shoe. The store keeper despite being impressed with the idea didn’t budge. I thought what the hell, let me buy both the pairs and have fun!! (I am skipping dinner these days though, but that’s besides the point, hehe.)
And if you are still not sure with different colored shoes, try laces! It’s safer. Take any pair of laced shoes (preferably black or white!), string in a red lace in one and a green in the other and lo! you are ready to turn heads!!
PK
Director- Rajkumar Hirani
Actors- Aamir Khan, Anushka Sharma, Saurabh Shukla, Boman Irani and Sushant Singh Rajput.
Rating- Because numbers sometimes don’t do justice to a genuine effort.
No the review doesn’t have any spoilers, nor does it state if PK is mentally challenged or comes from a different planet. Now that we have got that out of the way, you can sit back, relax and read on.
After giving us hooks like ‘Jadu ki Jhappi’, ‘Gandhigiri’, ‘Aal Iz well’, Rajkumar Hirani and fellow writer Abhijat Joshi make a comeback with another phrase that will soon become a household phrase, ‘wrong number’ in PK. If you look closely, there is a certain pattern in all Hirani films; a socially relevant issue (medical system/honesty/education system), awkward underdogs as characters (a goon or scared students) and a happy irreverent tone that not only evokes laughter but also drives home the message without sounding too preachy.
Similarly PK questions people’s blind faith in God and attacks the so called business of God men and hence it becomes Hirani’s most challenging and bravest film. Also his weakest. And weak doesn’t always mean a bad film.
Hirani and Joshi are clever writers. A film that attacks religious vices must have the protagonist without any baggage, with a clean slate. It was a flute bearing Akshay Kumar as god in Oh My God, in PK, the hero is (how do I say this without spoiling it) umm a buzzed bozo, sans name or religion.
Like all Hirani central characters, PK is an awkward simpleton. He asks seemingly innocent questions about god and god men, but doesn’t offend or preach instead entertains and drives home the point pretty successfully. The film does make a profound point about different rules in different religions but somehow loses the impact in its repetition. The sequences around the practices of a temple/mosque or a church are smart, written brilliantly but become painfully long. They even insert a God GPS song bhagwaan hain kaha re tu thatmade me cry in pain ‘ok ok, I get it, let’s move on now.’
In an attempt to address religious rituals, dhongi babas, a love story, another love story, media sensationalism, papa-beti relationship, the film derails. The director Hirani indulges his footage and beats the editor Hirani at the edit table which is one of the biggest concerns of the movie.
The film also works because the hero of the film is the issue and not any star. Instead of showing a Salman Khan dodging a speeding train on a cycle in the name of heroism and dealing with some cancer patients for exactly one and a half minutes in a film that made me kick I mean sick to the core, PK (mostly) focuses on the issue. ‘Mostly’ because it’s a Hindi film and hence the need to insert a love story (no matter how contrived) and a selfless sacrificial friend looms large. Hence enter Anushka Sharma and (tada!!!) Sanjay Dutt. (Pun hell intended). These sub plots not only paced down the film but diluted its narrative too. Just when the religious debate reaches to a crescendo, Jaggu (Anushka) starts a my-papa-doesn’t-love-me rant, he used to clap and whistle even at my lamest poems in school (aww) and now when I am doing some sensible work, he is ashamed of me. BAHHHH!! PK lends patient ears and counsels ummm with a monkey dance. And then? Then nothing, it rains and they both start singing and dancing to bhaste of time which was exactly that, a colossal bhashte of time.
Aamir-Ihave-lived-in-a-wax-bottle-for-this-role-Khan is undoubtedly a fine actor. His drive for perfection is evident. But half the battle is won if the character is written well. Kudos not only to the actor but the writers too for pulling off the endearing character of PK so beautifully.
Saurabh Shukla doesn’t miss a note playing the conniving god man. Oh he is such a wicked delight.
Anushka-roop-mahal-prem-nagar-KOHLI-number-420-Sharma is a natural and effortless. She plays Jagat Janani, an apt name for the character that narrates the film based on religion. The film scores well with such subtlety. Like the song, ‘aasman pe hain khuda aur zameen par hum, aaj kal who is taraf dekhta hain kum’ starts playing in the background when a bomb blast takes place in the film. Even the line, ‘ho rahi hain loot maar, phut rahe hain bum’ of the song is so aptly used in that scene. Beautiful.
The film’s release has an uncanny timing keeping the recent Sydney and Peshawar news in mind. However matters of faith/god and religion are tricky territories to terrain in. Fear, faith and hope are all so interlinked. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And who are we really to judge? The film makes a fair attempt to question the commercial practices of religion and its ‘managers’ alas it falls prey to clichés it sets out to challenge. It treats all god men in the same light and judges them furiously. Telling a helpless husband whose wife is dying to visit a temple in some godforsaken land is cruel, agreed. But equally pointless is to tell him to do the obvious, ‘spend time with your wife.’
The film bravely mentions in the first half that the need of helpful good people is far bigger than the need of any God but alas it chickens out towards the end.
To believe in God or not is a lifelong debate. But let me end the review with refreshing words of Pope Francis- It’s not necessary to believe in God to be a good person. One can be spiritual but not religious. It is not necessary to go the Church and give money- for many, nature can be a church. Some of the best people in history did not believe in God, while some of the worst deeds were done in His name.
I won’t rate the film because to capture genuine efforts of a genuine filmmaker like Hirani in numbers will be unfair. So go watch the film. Like it or dislike it. But be fearless to question it as well, just like PK does, unapologetically, unabashedly in the film.
So what do you call someone who takes you shopping right on the first day you meet him?
A PSYCHO!
Whoopsydaisies, maybe I shouldn’t have asked that question. I have been guilty of doing exactly that when I met quote unquote my Facebook friend recently for the first time. Yes I helped him shop.
Meet Sahil Gour, a fun loving dashing young man from India. He worked in the online team of a radio station in Mumbai and used to stalk City’s Facebook page. (And for the record, we at City 1016, love stalkers!!) He sent us a message, I replied and we added each other on Facebook. And the next thing I know he has got a job here in Dubai at an office that’s sneeze away from my house. WOAH!!
So he landed and suggested we met. I dodged. He whatsapped again and I made an excuse again (I am just assuming that Sahil is NOT reading this, teehee.) And then he dropped the Brahmastra. He used the biggest bait ever. He said he wanted to SHOP!!! He wanted help. JUST THAT MOMENT I dropped everything I was doing, picked him up from the Metro station and drove him straight to the closest mall.
His requirements; simple- A formal full suit. Monochromatic colors, preferably dark blue, black or grey.
His budget– 500/600 AED.
Tough job, yet I happily, willingly and most excitedly accepted the challenge. I was so excited I could give that Duracell bunny a run for his battery!!
As we drove, my mind made an excel sheet, ticking the stores we could try, keeping both requirements and budget in mind. We went to Sacoor Brothers, G2000 and a couple of more stores. Sahil has a lean frame and none of the shops had his size.
The second last shop we entered (Next), we almost, unwillingly picked a black blazer. Just before we paid at the counter, I heard a sound in my pocket!
Ping!!!
My phone beeped.
‘75% discount on New Look’ it read. Govinda’s timing could take a walk in Safa Park, teehee. We both ran to the New Look store like it was the last day of the sale, (actually it was!!) leaving the Filipino salesman at Next flustered and zapped. At New Look, we checked, we tried and we bought; two blazers, one black, the other grey. Slim fit, smart cut and great stitch too (one of my biggest concerns in clothes!). And best of all they fitted Sahil pretty well too.
And wait till I share how much we shelled out. We managed both the blazers at a meager 310 AED (yes including BOTH the jackets!!)
Here’s presenting Sahil-dapper-Gour.
After buying the jackets, I decided to style him too. Armed with my three wardrobe collection of ties, a pair of shoes and a waist coat, I met him.
He looked like he came straight from Men in Black sets. (He looked dapper none the less!)
Just thought I should add some colors to his mundane official monotones. So I lent him my favorite orange tie that I picked up from our very own Splash. (Price- 45 AED)
One can even throw the tie once in a while or sport a slightly casual/funky waist coat under your formal coat at work. (Cavalli has the best range of waist coats by the way!)
I decided to add four colors with Sahil’s grey coat. He has never tried a different colored blazer with his black pants and was pleasantly surprised at the possibility. A bright orange tweed tie (that I picked up from Aldo, somewhere close to 40 AED) looked perfect for a wintry morning at work!
And just before we wrapped up the quick shoot, I asked him to throw the tie, fold the sleeves of both his shirt and his blazer, fold the pants too and slip into my favorite pair of red Tom’s (Close to 300 AED). We also sported a pair of funky shades (that I picked up {shh…don’t tell anyone} from Janpath in Delhi for a jaw dropping 100 bucks) and my Harry Potter (power) glasses (Armani’s, 1200 AED) to add that touch of fun. In a heartbeat the formal office going Sahil was ready to hit the club!!
I don’t want to sound too patronizing, but one must experiment. Try new colors, new styles, new cuts and you will see the difference. The only trick is to be just fearless!!
Let’s meet soon only if you need help in shopping!! Hehehe.
(By the way Sahil is a model as well. If you are a fashion designer/model agency/anything-realted-to-fashion and looking for a model, do get in touch with him. Drop in a comment below and I will share his details! Or look up for Sahil Gour on Facebook.)
The new JBR beach walk has been the flavor of the season. My friends and I have been spending most of our weekends there like struggling actors thronging Costa at Yari road in Mumbai. We decided week by week we should explore all the breakfast joints at the walk. More than the food, it’s the pleasure of soaking up the sun, people watching, spending time with friends and the idea of waking up at 7 am on the weekend that excited me. Coz let’s face it, these places don’t offer much to the lesser mortals vegetarians like me. When you place the order, they look you up and down like air-hostesses on Air India, so disapprovingly like you are not Homo sapiens but Bos Taurus. So when my meat munching mitr (oh I love these alliterations) went nuts looking at the Eggspectations menu that screamed of lamb, eggs, chicken and everything flesh, I squinted hard to spot a waffle or a pancake in some remote corner (left unattended like a step child) and ended up ordering a bagel that refused to yield under my teeth. The bread was a bit too hard so I ended up polishing mashed potatoes that came as a side dish to all non vegetarian dishes that my friends had ordered. We were at Eat Greek the other day and under a microscope I finally managed to spot something leafy that I can’t even phonetically articulate; Gemista. It turned out to be traditional bell peppers stuffed with rice and herbs at a price that could buy the entire sabzi mandi in India. Just a week ago I came to know that House Of Curry at the walk (the only Indian restaurant there) was serving breakfasts on the weekends. Hell we had to try it. House Of Curry is always such a delight to go to. Not for food but for its interiors. I spent a substantial part of my life in Chandani Chowk. My father had a sari shop in one of those romantic katras. There was so much of charm in those chaotic lanes of old Delhi. House Of Curry reminds me of Chandani Chowk. It houses beautiful old lamps, a cycle here, an old clock there, paintings of kings and queens and cane and wrought iron chairs in whites and blues; enough to get my good old nostalgic heart racing. There is even a tree right in the bang smack of the restaurant and the colors on the wall are pale and wearing off like good old houses in Old Delhi waiting for their annual Diwali white wash. Charming. Very very charming. And then there is an Indian Mona Lisa that has shed her boring black gown for a silk sari with a nose ring and a teeka, peeping shyly from behind a wooden window. Soooo pretty!! We reached there well at 9 am and they had a pre plated breakfast menu. I had literally starved myself for two days in sweet anticipation of bedmi pooris and alloo ke parathe for breakfast at House of Curry, alas they had none to offer. They had mixed South Indian and North Indian delicacies; Masala Dosa, Idli Vada, Aloo tikkis and Jalebis. They even had egg bhurchi for non vegetarians. It wasn’t bad if not droolingly spectacular. The Vadas were nice and crispy, the dosa was good too, tikkis just about passable and the saambar tasted much like tomato soup. But it wasn’t bad considering it all came at a meager 50 dhms, full value for money. I wish they hadn’t mixed the two menus and included Poha and Upma in the menu too. Anyway Indian Breakfast has so much to offer. Go there for the experience. The Arabian sea stretching unabashedly like a sexy siren, the kids prancing around in the distance, bikini boxer clad westerners hungrily soaking up the sun, new parents pushing their babies prams, hot bods running like the day is the last day of all marathons and the smoke whirling from the ‘unlimited’ supply of cutting masala chai that comes with the breakfast will make it one of the most memorable experiences of your life.
Director- Prabhudheva (Yes a new ‘h’ has been added!)
Actors- Ajay Devgn (Yes ‘a’ has been removed!) Sonakshi Sinha
Rating- 1.5 stars
You might like to believe that Action Jackson is a film about Ajay Devgn’s action and Sonakshi Sinha’s histrionics. Well, that’s just secondary.
Action Jackson is an emotional story that raises a pertinent question — ‘how far will you go for a maniac sister who has such unrealistic yet so innocent demands?’
The film is about a gangster, a badass bald brother (Anand Raj) who has a sultry, sexy (forever) seductive sister Marina. (yeh ladki hain ya kisi ka address). Marina is special. She doesn’t breathe. She only heaves. She doesn’t speak. She only gasps. Even if she wants to fetch a glass water, she will look at you seductively and say, “(heavy panting) Heyyyyyy, I waaaannnttt…watterrr…(gasps). Pleaaaaseee get me a glass offff waaaateerrr.” The amount of hot air that has escaped that pair of nostrils has melted a million glaciers around the world.
Madam Seduction has fallen for the Brooding Boy AJ (Ajay-intensity-ki-wholesale-market-Devgn) who is married, hence not available.
The crazy sister doesn’t yield. She is stubborn, like a kid in a fair demanding a balloon. She insists on being married to AJ. Bald bhaiyya’s heart breaks at sister’s misery. He indulges her and diligently sends men to kill AJ’s wife every month, like a dedicated expat in Dubai sending money back home.
Action Jackson is a tribute to Salman Khan films. The writers have lazily tweaked Sallu bhai’s famous dialogues and given their sad versions to Ajay Devgn. Hence “ek baar maine commitment kar di…becomes no commitment, no appointment, only punishment.” And “main dil mein aata hoon, samajh main nahi…” becomes “aaya toh dil mein, warna dimaag mein bhi nahi.”
Prabhu Deva is very consistent, with his heroine (Sonakshi-100-crore-ki-guarantee-ke-saath-Sinha), his action sequences and mind-numbing lines. (Refer previous para!)
So actors keep changing but the setting of Wanted remains unchanged, untouched. It’s like filling in a template with new actors; Salman (Wanted), Akshay (Rowdy Rathore), Shahid Kapoor (R Raajkumar) and now Ajay Devgn (Action Jackson). The stencil that has been so reserved for the Prabhu Devas, Rohit Shettys of the world remains as is; a garage, cars aching to be set ablaze, glass panes of buildings dying to be crashed and bhade ke tattoo waiting to be punched.
In Prabhu Deva’s films, the sound department guys are paid more than the writers. (And I am assuming that he hires writers.) The overpaid sound guys work overtime. The knives and swords cling clang and cling clang some more, the rains pitter patter and pitter patter some more, the hero’s jacket swings and cuts the wind and makes a sound like someone is being beheaded. There is ample background score for every move, every moment. When Khushi (Sonakshi Sinha) comes on screen, someone sings in the background, “Ooooo Khushiiiii.” Ditto for Vishi (Ajay Devgn), “Ooooo Vishi.” They even tell us when the action shifts to foreign locales. Someone whispers in a foreign accent, “Bannngggkookkk!!”
So when we are not turning deaf with the sound design of the film, we are shown such amazing bonding between different characters. Khushi suffers from terrible luck; like not getting tickets for her favourite film (awww, so sad!) or getting late to work (Gosh, that’s heartbreaking!). She redefines the first world tragedies. Bad luck is not hungry kids dying around the world but that extra pinch of salt in Khushi’s soup. I cried at her situation and added some more NaCl to my popcorns and to her salty soup. She soon realises her luck is directly proportional to Vishi’s (Ummm, how do I say this?) crotch. Yes, when she sees a full-Monty-Vishi, she gets lucky at work and elsewhere. The first half of the movie hence comprises of Khushi’s relentless efforts to trick Vishi into a ‘pants down’ moment!!
There is an important scene where AJ goes to meet an injured Anusha (Yami-the-former-donor-banker-remember-Gautam) in the hospital. Khushi comes to console AJ. She assures him, with a don’t-worry-all-will-be-okay-smile. At this moment, I am thinking someone will cry. Someone HAS to cry. Violins have to play. Lata aunty has to croon in the background. And cut. An item number creeps up on us; Sonakshi Sinha in a yellow number, shaking her belly and singing, “Chichora Piya.” See this is our answer to international cinema. You boggle us with a certain Interstellar and we will keep you guessing with a Chichora Piya.
Equally perplexing is the film’s title and the titular casting. Poor Jackson must be painfully moonwalking in his grave every time Ajay Devgn tried air punching and stomping the ground in the name of dancing. It’s interesting how Ajay and Attitude both begin with ‘A’, and so does Awkwardness.
So if your idea of good action is shoving a sharp knife into someone’s mouth, down his throat cutting his intestines. If your idea of good humour is a Sonakshi Sinha desperate to see a naked Ajay Devgn. And your idea of good music is songs likeKeeda, Chichora Piya and Surya ast Punjabi mast, then, one, I am FURIOUSLY judging you. Two, I AM STILL JUDGING YOU!!
WHAT THE RATINGS MEAN
5 stars: Loved it. (This could make to top ten movies you must watch before you die!) 4 stars: Liked it. Recommend it. (This will help you sound intellectual and give you stuff to add at water cooler conversations.) 3 stars: Didn’t hurt. Watch it once. 2 stars: It put me to sleep. Watch it if you are an insomniac or a newly wedded couple. Winks! 1 star: Do I even need to explain this?
This is my weekly review on Masala! website- http://www.masala.com/movies/reviews
“I WILL EAT HEALTHY.” I almost screamed in the morning, resolving to hit the gym and follow a special diet called- STOP STUFFING YOUR FACE WITH JUNK!!
Tring Tring, my phone buzzed. (Ok phones these days don’t tring tring, but I can’t quite describe my iPhone tune.)
“Listen I have a food review at Tresind tonight. Free food!! Will you come?” suggested Manju.
It took exactly those two quick words and even quicker two seconds to break my fragile resolve into a million pieces. Free food!! That has not happened in a long time and I was anyway sick and tired of shelling out at fancy restaurants so I was like what the heck, why not! Anyway I had been following a ‘kal pakka’ diet so a day of binging wouldn’t hurt.
I happily postponed my plan of eating less, eating right, to another day and zipped to Tresind. The crazy traffic on Sheikh Zayed Road helped build our appetites. We met the assistant manager Mr. Kevin, smiled, small talked and smiled some more, furiously hoping he would get us some food fast. He did. He was really sweet and luckily swift as well.
Despite this being a free dinner, the desi in me(oh hell it’s global) was deeply interested in their complimentary dishes. I usually judge a restaurant by what they offer free; mint shooters/basket of breads with olive oil and butter/sundry. If the get the complimentary bit right, they usually get the paid dishes right too. (That reminds me. Try the free breads that come at Armani Deli. I have NOT HAD SOFTER breads that CRUMBLE and MELT even before entering your mouths.)
Sorry distracted. Back to my Tresind table.
The first dish to land on our table was ‘Deconstructed Pani Puri.’
Deconstructed Pani Puri
It was served in a spoon and all I could see was a bubble of jaljeera, peppered with little balls of suji (like boondi raita balls). ‘Molecular Gastronomy’ read my thought ‘bubble’. It’s interesting how the dying trend in Europe and the US is now finding its roots in Indian cuisine. Why not, I mused and emptied the spoon into my mouth. The bubble burst, the pani puri ka pani gently mixed with the saliva in my mouth and the puri balls crunched under my teeth. Same taste served so so differently. I knew the chef hadn’t compromised on the flavors.
With deconstructed Pani Puri, they also served Zaatar Pau with humus made of Pindi chana. (Usually humus is made of chickpeas but the Pindi chana humus smartly pickled with sun dried tomatoes and olives tasted so much better.)
What followed was nothing less than a food feat, a culinary performance. When was the last time that a chef came to you and made his dishes dance in front of you to magically turn into a gastronomical delight? Yeah THAT! So chef Himanshu Saini came with a trolley that he called Modernist Chat Trolley and without any delay started preparing a chat for us. His hands swiftly fished three bottles of chutneys like a professional juggler and within no time he spread artistic lines of tamarind, mint and yogurt on the dish, the colors of our Indian flag, I thought. This chat consisted of crisp crunchy ‘Palak’ pakodas (my fav in the dish btw), Maththi, Bhujia and hold your breath for this one- Dhokla dipped in liquid nitrogen. ‘The idea behind preparing a live chat for my guests’, said Chef Himanshu, ‘is to give them nice crunchy chat that usually gets all soggy by the time it comes from the kitchen and lands on the table.’ I think he was lying. He just wanted to show off. Hehe. And he hell achieved his goal well.
We were then served some good old Minestrone soup. Familiar, yayy, I thought. Hardly. See everything (Ok most of the things) served at Tresind were well thought out and came with an interesting twist. This wasn’t your regular Italian minestrone soup with vegetables or pasta. This was your desi take on the soup with Pau Bhaji as its base.
Bhaji Minestrone Soup
One spoon of it and I could feel my tongue being tantalized by the bhau bhaji masala flavors. What Chef Himanshu had done was simply incredible. He had squeezed the rassa of Pau Bhaji and mixed it with tomato soup and then added the finely chopped pau bhaji veggies to the soup. Yes there were carrots, cauliflower and beans. And then it was garnished with roasted vermicelli. Wait let me wipe off the drool that has fallen all over my keyboard right now. The soup not to forget was served with chilli chese toast that had molecular gastronomy generated dots of peas!
By this time I was full. Nothing in the world could make me take another bite.
And then they brought my favoritestestestestestest dish in the world, Dahi Kebabs. And suddenly I felt hungry all over again. Equally skeptical too. Now this could be a game changer. Why would you serve me Dahi Kebabs when everything is going so well. I know how cumbersome it is to make them. No matter how much you try, the kebabs usually crumble as you fry them and it all gets too messy. Also the ratio of chana/peanut powder in kebabs is very important. Curiously, anxiously and very hungrily I feasted my eyes on the kebabs. They were caged in mesh of brown strings-sphere that wrapped around it. There you go, another twist. These were special Potato Sphere Dahi Kebabs. The Chef had made strings out of potatoes, wrapped them around the kebabs and fried them all. D.I.V.I.N.E. If that didn’t explain how it all tasted, well then nothing else would really do the trick!! The kebabs were served with smoked Muhammara chutney. Lucknow and Syria had never come SO CLOSE!
At one point both Manju and I held our spoons for a moment without any motion. Still. We were so full, we couldn’t even move, not even scoop off the divine potions into our mouths. The Chef read that. No he didn’t stop serving. He decided to cleanse our taste buds. In came a hearty scoop of sorbet. Wait. Twist alert. Khandavi Sorbet. Errr what??? Ok I admit I didn’t like it much in the first bite. I told chef as was. But by the third bite I started enjoying it. It was salty, sweet and even spicy. The chef as again had smartly retained all the flavors of Khandvi.
We were so full that we sat the chef down and indulged him in small talk, buying time before he smacked our faces with the main course. As it turned out Chef Himanshu had launched The Farzi Cafe (in Delhi), one of my all time favorites places. Ok I admit I have been there only twice. Hehe. But the food at Farzi Cafe is frigging awesome. And before I dropped my jaws in a complete dejavu-Chef-I-have-had-your-food-before-moment, he told me he had even interned at the Indian Accent (Delhi again). I was at the Indian accent, last month, with my best friend. Spooky!!!!
The main course finally arrived-
a) Papad Cannoli (papad ki subzi made in Rajasthani kadhi, served with kachori. Ummm nice.
Papad Canoli
b) Daal Makhani. Decent.
c) Sarson ka Saag except there were no Makki ki rotis but Makki roti pancakesfloating in saag. I liked how the saag was semi ground in the mixer, hence it was rough and leafy and nice. But I didn’t quite enjoy the pancakes.
Sarson Ka Saag with Makki Rotis Pancakes
d) They served the dishes with Mushroom Naans. Stand alone, they tasted decent. But I would rather have plain naans with such fancy delicacies. Or maybe I was just too full to enjoy it. Teehee.
Manju and I felt like logs at the end of it. My eyes were too droopy to drive. Leave alone driving, I wished if someone could wheel-chaire us to the car.
Before we could bid adieus, the chef swiftly walked towards us, precariously balancing a huge tray over his shoulder, under his right hand palm.
‘Woah, are you packing us food?’ I wondered.
The chef swung his hand 180 degrees spirally and placed the tray on the table. He smiled. The devilish smile, the-I-will-kill-you-with-food-smile, no-you-can’t-leave-without-desserts-smile.
Now here is the interesting bit. The dish looked like tacos so I wondered how on Earth it could be a dessert. It was called Jalebi tacos, with pistachio rabdi panna cotta. Wait wait wait. Let me break this down for you. In one scoop you have three countries; India (jalebi), Mexico (tacos) and Italy (panna cotta). InFuckingCredible.
Jalebi tacos
And last but not the least. We were also served Daulat ki Chat, that was basically crumbled Sohn Papdi garnished with hold your breath for this one, 24 carat gold dust. Of course!! After all we were dining in Dubai.
House Of Curry is always such a delight to go to. Not for food but for its interiors. I spent a substantial part of my life in Chandani Chowk. My father had a sari shop in one of those romantic katras. There was so much of charm in those chaotic lanes of old Delhi. House Of Curry reminds me of Chandani Chowk. It houses beautiful old lamps, a cycle here, an old clock there, paintings of kings and queens and cane and wrought iron chairs in whites and blues; enough to get my good old nostalgic heart racing. 
There is even a tree right in the bang smack of the restaurant and the colors on the wall are pale and wearing off like good old houses in Old Delhi waiting for their annual Diwali white wash. Charming. Very very charming. 
And then there is an Indian Mona Lisa that has shed her boring black gown for a silk sari with a nose ring and a teeka, peeping shyly from behind a wooden window. Soooo pretty!! 
We reached there well at 9 am and they had a pre plated breakfast menu. I had literally starved myself for two days in sweet anticipation of bedmi pooris and alloo ke parathe for breakfast at House of Curry, alas they had none to offer. They had mixed South Indian and North Indian delicacies; Masala Dosa, Idli Vada, Aloo tikkis and Jalebis. 
They even had egg bhurchi for non vegetarians. It wasn’t bad if not droolingly spectacular. The Vadas were nice and crispy, the dosa was good too, tikkis just about passable and the saambar tasted much like tomato soup. But it wasn’t bad considering it all came at a meager 50 dhms, full value for money. I wish they hadn’t mixed the two menus and included Poha and Upma in the menu too. Anyway Indian Breakfast has so much to offer. Go there for the experience. 
The Arabian sea stretching unabashedly like a sexy siren, the kids prancing around in the distance, bikini boxer clad westerners hungrily soaking up the sun, new parents pushing their babies prams, hot bods running like the day is the last day of all marathons and the smoke whirling from the ‘unlimited’ supply of cutting masala chai that comes with the breakfast will make it one of the most memorable experiences of your life. 
fByLokesh 
