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In this series, I will write about South Indian Food – Typically Telugu food.

#SouthieSaga – Zunnu

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Zunnu is a delicacy

Making it requires loads of efficacy

Procure the milk of a lactating cow or a buffalo

To make it in a jiffy, this recipe you should follow

Keep a flat bottomed vessel in a cooker

Add a glass of milk and two glasses of sugar

And powdered cardamom for flavor

Else substitute Jaggery for Sugar

Cardamom will be replaced by pepper

Give it two whistles and then simmer for minutes five

Plate this thick cake, eat loads, don’t self deprive


Mind your language

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

English is a language that is close to my heart as I learnt it pretty late in the day and I am still all at sea with it’s usage.

We have Indianised English so beautifully. Don’t believe?

Some ROFL samplers :

“I want to gift you a ‘Rapidex English Speaking course’ ” moment is when pati parmeshwar’s dearest saddi dilli friend declares in all earnestness,

‘You sleep WITH him right now, both of you are so tired’

in front of family and friends. Everybody nods in vehement agreement, as if that will lessen tiredness 😉

English is indeed an assault on our sanskriti.

India is a country with diverse languages. Heck you don’t want my article to tell you that. But having a native language as your mother tongue and another language to bond across or to communicate, can give rise to many colorful interpretations.

English, that way is a very tricky language.

Many people want to ‘loose’ weight. Many during exam time study ‘hardly’. Some don’t have a cook so they ‘cook themselves’.

HUDA continues to build a batter future.

Can we ever forget “Dear Dairy, I had a great day!”

Or “Respected Principle,…” Weather we like it or not 😛

How can we ever forget the Dilli favourite…

” Come to the backside ” !!!!

or “Where is the shop please “”If you go from my front side you will find it on my backside”

“What is your good name?” Well do we have bad ones too? 😀

“It was raining so hard, that it was not taking the name of stopping.”
And the clincher….
“For your above
See my below”

( sent as a reply for an official communique! Not messing with ya)

In spite of all these howlers around, the quest to master this beautiful language is never ending.


Y-Yam Curry

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In this series, I will write about South Indian Food – Typically Telugu food.

#SouthieSaga – Yam Curry or Kanda Koora

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Yam can be fried or cooked with mustard sauce or with malabar spinach

Always eat hot, else it leaves a taste of starch

Peel the yam, cut into manageable squares

In a cooker, add yam, water, salt and turmeric and give it three blares

In a wok, add oil,  red chillies, chana and udad dal

mustard, curry-leaves and hing, but that is not all

To this seasoning, add the yam

Mash it soft, real bam

Cook, add a dash of lime and serve with Rice

Finish in a trice


X-Xtra Spicy GunPowder

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In this series, I will write about South Indian Food – Typically Telugu food

#SouthieSaga – Xtra Spicy GunPowder

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Sedate Idly, Dosa, Ootappam get colourful and tastier

When you add to the fare, this Spicy Gunpowder

Ditch the ready made

Sharing my fave, out of the many versions made

Dry Roast equal portions of  Tuvvar, Moong, Udad, Bengal Gram

With Jeera, fiery Guntur Red Chillies and a bit of Hing, chanting ‘Hey Ram’

Cool, pound to a coarse powder, serve with ghee

It is your anytime taste enhancer, eat with absolute glee


W-Wood Apple or Velakkaya

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In this series, I will write about South Indian Food – Typically Telugu food

#SouthieSaga – Welakkai Pacchadi

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Select a ripe wood apple by sniffing

Scoop the pulp inside, by shell breaking

Add some oil to a hot pan

Fry some red chillies, Chana Dal and Udad, till they tan

Now add mustard seeds, hing  and curry leaves

Also keep aside some chopped coriander leaves

When the seasoning splutters, grind to a coarse paste

Add the scoop of wood apple and blend again, after adding salt to taste

Take it out in a small jar and add chopped coriander

Serve with hot rice, you just sampled a forgotten dish dear!


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In this series, I will write about South Indian Food – Typically Telugu food

#SouthieSaga – Vada


Vada for me is always the Masala Chana-Dal Fries

Stuffed with fresh spices, this is a yummy vice

Soak the dal for about an hour

Grind it to a coarse flour

Along with lots of  fragrant mint leaves

also some jeera, salt, ginger and some curry leaves

Now add some finely chopped onions and chillies

Mix all these into a dough and heat some oil in a pan

pat the dough into small rounds, flatten and fry them to a brown tan

Serve hot with chutney, sambar or ginger pickle

I like it plain and eating them always gives me the tickle



A Half Story

She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue scarf.

A tear drop threatened to roll down her cheek. She rubbed it off violently almost angry with the tear drop. Almost on cue, the past came back rushing, to haunt her. When did it ever leave?

In an instant she was transported back to that quadrangle, where it all began. The very first day of college…

They were all rounded up and made to introduce themselves. She carried the unmistakable stamp of affluence, her clothes, purse everything screaming Top Dollar! Her introduction was over in a jiffy. The seniors wouldn’t trouble a monied lissome lass much!! 

And then in that milling crowd, she spotted him. It was obvious he was from the districts. He wore those typical Jhatak clothes, but with a dripping Swag. He started off with a “Myself  **** from ***”

He had that raw cocky confidence! He enjoyed the jokes at his expense, the leers, fending them off  with his native chutzpah and rustic humor. In a short time, he had the seniors and the entire audience eating off his hands while he charmed their pants off. She, with all her silver spoon upbringing, did not have 1/10 of his confidence.

She accosted him later privately, “What gives?”

“Maaf kijeye ga Behenji!”

“Behenji? Holy @#$%!”

That’s how their skewed friendship had started and it just went zooming further. They fed off each other. She gained confidence from his bindass attitude.

“Behenji kal kisne dekha? Aaj jee bharke jeelo! Bas aur kya?”

It took herculean efforts on her part to move him from Behenji to Sona.  Sona Bakshi.

How could she explain to him that there were far too many skeletons in her closet, gnawing steadily at her psyche, muting her, stunting her? That he was a breath of fresh air for her and that now she could dare to break free of her emotional shackles!!

Whereas Chintan BhaaGol took to his new environment like a fish to water, soaking up like a sponge, absorbing every little gift it had to offer.  He was nakedly ambitious. All his childhood, he was a big fish in a small pond. He was definitely not going to settle for being the second best now! Chintan aimed to be the big fish in the big bad ocean!

He begged Sona to teach him the intricacies of english, while he educated her on  the rustic survival skills. This strange bond  slowly morphed into a nascent romance. It was as if Sona wanted to adopt him, protect and nurture him, mother him( something that she had never experienced, given that her mother was busy sowing her wild oats else where) If Chintan thought Sona was the stepping stone for greater things in life, he never showed it. He was extremely affectionate towards her.

They were literally joined at the hips. Her hi-society friends, warned her not to get too emotionally entangled and to just enjoy her unique “slumming-it-up” experience.  The heart had it’s own reasons

Chintan’s friends from similar backgrounds as his, found his friendship with the milky white memsaab terribly exciting  and egged him on to take his relationship to the next level. – To bed her – To show his virility, to test Sona’s love, thereby her emotional dependence on him!!

At first Chitan rubbished the idea, but the ‘friends’ kept at it. Each time Chintan saw Sona, the worm of this idea became bigger in his head, till it became his raison d’etre.  To regain peace, he decided to put his friend’s idea into action.

As was usual, Sona trooped into Chintan’s threadbare room after her classes, to unwind before she went back to her cloistered, suffocating and closing-in mansion with too many dark secrets buried within it’s four walls. Sona felt freer, uncomplicated in his stinking room. He was her stuffy oxygen.

Today the room seemed almost bearable. Chintan was bursting with excitement and was almost immediately all over her, on her, overpowering her. Sona pushed him away angrily, slapping him calling him names but froze when he said,

“Deti hai kya? Varna?


“Varna Tumhara Mera Rishta Khatam! It is not new to you anyways, having done it with all and sundry!!”

It was as if a knife had been plunged into her core. She had shared her darkest secrets with him, trusting him. He chose those very secrets as his trump card to hurt her deep, to subjugate her. Sona’s stunned silence  was taken to be her acquiescence and she was violated. Yet again..

Weren’t they all just the same? She was asked to be the  good girl once again! This time by someone whom Sona had grown to love immensely, on whom she depended for her emotional sustenance. Her need for love became his basic instinct. A relationship was bought over once again by her submission. But the moot point was who bought whom?

After this, the relationship was never on an even keel. They went about their lives in the same routine fashion. A slight difference crept into their relationship. Chitan began to call the shots slowly but steadily. Why Sona chose to continue with Chitan, she could never answer truthfully. Was it because he was lesser of the evils that she had been exposed all through her life? Or was it just the comfort of continuance with the old familiar foe rather than the risk of unknown? Whatever the individual reasons were, they still were a couple. He never left her side though the frequency of “Deti hai Kya?” had become more regular.

Chitan grew in stature by becoming the student leader and then started penning his two pence thoughts in the college news rag. The number of his bakhts was multiplying exponentially. Chitan then penned a book on his college life, spicing it up with his romps with a Co-Ed. It was easy for him to find a willing  publisher as he was flirting with netagiri.

The book hit all the right spots. It was a runaway bestseller. Now there was no stopping him. He churned out one tripe after the other, the core point of each novel being some slice of his very happening life! He kept the mark up rate low, sticking to cow belt lexicon, humor and low brow grammar. He was suddenly the youth Icon! Sona’s family did not mind her hobnobbing with a country bumpkin as he had by now gained respectability by becoming a much published author.

Sona too found her moorings, graduated with reasonable grades. With her family name, it was not difficult for her to find gainful employment. She still put great efforts into her love life  though a thriving career beckoned. Chitan  still managed to squeeze time for Sona, though now he was literally reaching for the stars. He wore many hats – motivational speaker, columnist,  much cherished writer. He almost wore a halo, when he talked  about women empowerment, their necessity to be happy so that we could have a thriving nation and the redundancy of perfect round rotis. Whenever he talked about up liftment, “deti hai kya” came to rankle her, yet again.

Chitan was very excited one day, when he called her. He was about to take part in a dancing  competition. “Seriously?” Sona thought!  She tried to dissuade him and he refused to listen to her. He had already made up his mind. He was partnering with this new buxom starlet. They ended the conversation with her promising him to join their dance practice sessions.

Shortly it was Chintan’s birthday. Sona decided to surprise him by taking off from her work and dropping on his sets. She hadn’t  seen him for a while as he had become extremely busy. Sona was missing  Chintan terribly and hoped to spend some quality lovey-dovey time with him. At the set, she was met by Chintan’s assistant who seemed mortified at her unannounced, unscheduled presence. He almost didn’t let her go in. Sona was enraged, dismissed him on an errand and barged in.

She could hear faint, muffled sobbing

“Deti Hai kya? It’s my birthday girl! Where is my gift?”


“Tera Career Khatam!”

Sona opened the door and Chitan froze with surprise. The buxom starlet gathered her stuff in a jiffy and ran out of the room, almost thankful. No one was around in the near vicinity. He would have sent all away to keep his rendezvous a secret.

Chintan recovered his wits quickly, trying to give her a tight hug.

“Baby Sona! What a pleasant surprise!”

How many stories she had heard but had chosen to ignore! How many flings she had disregarded? How many times, she had turned a blind eye to his roving eye, his various peccadilloes, hoping that one day he would reciprocate the same ardent love that she had for him?  Why oh Why?

“Deti hai kya?” always brought her back to that stinky, musty room, where she was violated for the first time by someone whom she loved.

Presently he hugged her tightly, cooing softly, “Baby Sona, must be very tired! Let me make you relaxed and loved all over!”

She found herself melting in his arms, under those intoxicating words..

“Ma’am will that be all? Ma’am?”

Sona was jolted back to the present and managed a “ No thank you”

Sona was relieved that she had done the deed, putting the apple cutter to a better use when she plunged it into Chintan’s gut, thereby saving millions from his daily tripe, his horrific dance moves and general gen unleashed on the unsuspecting public at large, all in the garb of uplifting that miserable downtrodden species – The Great Indian Womanhood 

His signature  style of Transforming the ignorant Indians!!

“Deti hai kya? Varna?”

Diya ji Diya! Chaaku se  diya!!

A NO always meant NO! If only she had reiterated that far more vehemently!

And the coffee? It never tasted better!

What happened next? It was her karmic justice. Maybe Sona’s closure too.


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In this series, I will write about South Indian Food – Typically Telugu food

#SouthieSaga – Upma


A mouth watering semolina preparation is this Upma

Not an easy dish to ace, Oh By Ma,

Got to get the texture and flavor absolutely right

Team the Onion Upma with a Pesarattu to make your day bright

Chop some Onions, Chillies, Curry Leaves and Ginger

In a pan, add some oil, add a spoonful of Chana and Udad, Rai and stir

Add the chopped vegetables of choice to the seasoning

I tell you, this is just the beginning

When the onions are translucent, add semolina gently

After a quick roast, add water while stirring quickly

Make sure there are no lumps and Upma is an even mix

Adding a dash of oil, at this point, is the secret taste fix

Squeeze in a lemon and Upma is ready

In a jiffy, with Achar it is finished already

T-Tamarind Rice

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In this series, I will write about South Indian Food – Typically Telugu food

#SouthieSaga – Tamarind Rice

A Tangy, Spicy, a bit sweet, an eternal Andhra Rice Speciality

No festival is ever complete without this dish ‘oh tasty’

Take super Sona-Masuri rice, boil to perfection, adding salt and oil

Squeeze some tamarind juice, give a quick boil

Now comes the perfect seasoning

A test of your deft cooking

Add some oil to pan, then Chillies, Cashews, MoongPhali

Stir them and add little Chana, Udad, Rai and stir carefully

The final twist is the fragrant Hing and fresh Curry-leaves

Add this hot tadka, tamarind juice to rice grains

Eat hot or cold

“It tastes Yum” You will be told

A Dog’s life

screen-shot-2017-02-14-at-12-26-08-amThis post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda’.

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It is almost midmorning. I haven’t seen Momma yet.

Daddy had left for office, at his usual time, giving me a mighty kick, on his way out.

Momma’s bedroom door is still tightly shut. Seasoned as I am, I don’t disturb her. But my sixth sense says, she is Ok, just hurting. A lot! But that is nothing out of the ordinary.

Suddenly the door opens, Momma comes out, scoops me up and mutters incoherently.

“Come on Sheru, let us go and indulge ourselves in a much needed mani-pedi session.” She then bundles me up and starts the car.

I look at her. Behind those gigantic glares, I know that her eyes would be puffed up, carefully camouflaged with eyeliner and mascara. Her quivering lips sporting a blood red, start muttering again.

“You know Sheru, he isn’t a bad guy. He provides for me.  He never hits me. He just loses his temper and says vile things. But that is stress you know, all his work makes him volatile!”

I say nothing. The incongruity of calling a pint sized me, a Sheru, hasn’t hit her so far. When will she see the truth that stares at her, right in the face?

My mother, Moti, Momma’s earlier pet, used to tell me that Momma was the life of her family, raised as a princess. Momma’s father and Daddy’s father were business acquaintances who wanted to take their friendship to the next level. They solemnized  their children’s marriage, in a grand ceremony, which became the talk of the town. Daddy wanted to marry someone else but when his father threatened disinheritance, quietly married Momma. He now takes his anger out on Momma.

But what I fail to understand is why does she take it? What terrible fate is she afraid of? Does the fear of unknown make one settle for known misery? Why does she not leave him and go back to her parents’ place? I remember, Momma talking to her parents, who suggested to her to work on her marriage, use her charms, win Daddy over. He was a catch you see. Daddy lost his cool at times, that’s it. No big deal! Daddy was to be Momma’s only goal.

After this sermon, vivacious Momma had become very quiet.

Her parents would often send costly gifts to fill up her home.

Instead, they could given her the needed courage to walk out and rebuild her life.

I am an animal, I can understand this much. Why don’t humans then?

And they call mine, a Dog’s life!

I am loyal. So, I go silently with Momma to all her mani-pedi sessions, hoping one day, she will wake up and walk away from this mess and find her destiny.

Till then Wuff Wuff!