Saturday, December 18, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Punjab's Little Jackie Chan
PUNJAB'S LITTLE JACKIE CHAN
A GATKA GROUP from Tarn Tarun caused quite a stir with their performance on
reality TV show India's Got Talent. Khushwant Singh fills us in.
Ireally hadn't attached much importance to the news about the occurence at
the reality show, India's ot Talent on Colors TV, simply for the reason that
I assumed it was just another case of overreaction by Sikh organisations.
But when a friend sent a link and suggested I have a look, I was convinced
that the Sikhs had a strong case this time. The ignorant ramble of one of
the judges, Sajid Khan, had stirred the sensibilities of even those Sikhs
who loved cracking the Santa Singh Banta Singh jokes.
For the benefit of readers who do not know the background of this incident,
Tarn Taran-based Bir Khalsa Group led by Kamaljeet Singh had performed a
yudh shaili (mock battle scene) at a TV reality show on July 31. In the
group, the oldest member was aged 30, while the youngest was 7. The gatka
act had started with seven-year-old Manpreet Singh dressed in Nihang attire
displaying his martial art skills by wielding his kiddie sword after which
the rest of the troupe had taken charge, displaying their skills.
That it was a performance not for the weak-hearted was soon visible when it
was time for the judges to deliver the judgement. The three judges were
Kiron Kher, Sajid Khan and the hot looking Sonali Bendre.
Sajid Khan, who voted against the act while the performance was still on,
said this act was akin to rioting and promoted violence. Efforts by the not
so erudite, Kamaljeet Singh to explain that this was a traditional art
whereby Sikhs were trained for self-defence had no bearing on the judge.
Carrying on his scoff at the performance, Sajid had added that the act also
promoted violence in children and would encourage children watching this
programme in India as well as abroad, to wield the sword.
Wow! Where did this come from, I asked myself. Dude, this was just an act
like any other theatre act. Just chill and stop bullying! Look at what your
industry is producing and promoting!
Without getting into the religious background of the judges, I reckon,
Sajid's comments come from his lack of knowledge on the very subject he was
judging. Kiron Kher, who saved the day and tried to explain to Sajid the
background of this act, could react the way she did, because she was
equipped to handle what she was judging. Sonali Bendre, who had no idea what
was going on, in her state of shock and awe voted for the performance,
terming it beautiful.
Viewers who thought Sajid had a point perhaps just need to see the video
games their children play on which they have spent thousands. I promise you,
majority of the games have killing missions that include blowing up bridges,
shooting people and all forms of unthinkable violence. The research centres
where this software is prepared seem to conjure up more violent ideas than
the Al-Qaida men discussing their next operation in some cave in
Afghanistan. Wait, there's one heck of a story idea Al-Qaida hires video
game software engineers for more violent ideas! Right on.
And what about kung fu and karate?
Chandigarh's well-silhouetted mommies can often be spotted dropping children
at karate training centres. The aim is not only to prepare the child for
self-defence but also give him confidence, agility and physical grace.
So what's the big deal if a child is taught a selfdefence martial art skill,
which draws its inspiration from the times of the Aryans, 4000 years ago?
And if the child is not being deprived of his basic education, there is no
reason why seven-year-old Manpreet, Punjab's little Jackie Chan, should not
be allowed to participate in the next round.
In the end, it was Sajid who seemed the most rankled and aggressive, not the
troupe or its leader. On second thought, a bit of gatka training might help
Sajid when he judges the next round, for his advice doesn't seem to have cut
any ice with the group.
Hum toe aise he hain, Kamaljeet had said.
http://epaper.hindustantimes.com/PUBLICATIONS/HT/HC/2010/08/15/ArticleHtmls/
A GATKA GROUP from Tarn Tarun caused quite a stir with their performance on
reality TV show India's Got Talent. Khushwant Singh fills us in.
Ireally hadn't attached much importance to the news about the occurence at
the reality show, India's ot Talent on Colors TV, simply for the reason that
I assumed it was just another case of overreaction by Sikh organisations.
But when a friend sent a link and suggested I have a look, I was convinced
that the Sikhs had a strong case this time. The ignorant ramble of one of
the judges, Sajid Khan, had stirred the sensibilities of even those Sikhs
who loved cracking the Santa Singh Banta Singh jokes.
For the benefit of readers who do not know the background of this incident,
Tarn Taran-based Bir Khalsa Group led by Kamaljeet Singh had performed a
yudh shaili (mock battle scene) at a TV reality show on July 31. In the
group, the oldest member was aged 30, while the youngest was 7. The gatka
act had started with seven-year-old Manpreet Singh dressed in Nihang attire
displaying his martial art skills by wielding his kiddie sword after which
the rest of the troupe had taken charge, displaying their skills.
That it was a performance not for the weak-hearted was soon visible when it
was time for the judges to deliver the judgement. The three judges were
Kiron Kher, Sajid Khan and the hot looking Sonali Bendre.
Sajid Khan, who voted against the act while the performance was still on,
said this act was akin to rioting and promoted violence. Efforts by the not
so erudite, Kamaljeet Singh to explain that this was a traditional art
whereby Sikhs were trained for self-defence had no bearing on the judge.
Carrying on his scoff at the performance, Sajid had added that the act also
promoted violence in children and would encourage children watching this
programme in India as well as abroad, to wield the sword.
Wow! Where did this come from, I asked myself. Dude, this was just an act
like any other theatre act. Just chill and stop bullying! Look at what your
industry is producing and promoting!
Without getting into the religious background of the judges, I reckon,
Sajid's comments come from his lack of knowledge on the very subject he was
judging. Kiron Kher, who saved the day and tried to explain to Sajid the
background of this act, could react the way she did, because she was
equipped to handle what she was judging. Sonali Bendre, who had no idea what
was going on, in her state of shock and awe voted for the performance,
terming it beautiful.
Viewers who thought Sajid had a point perhaps just need to see the video
games their children play on which they have spent thousands. I promise you,
majority of the games have killing missions that include blowing up bridges,
shooting people and all forms of unthinkable violence. The research centres
where this software is prepared seem to conjure up more violent ideas than
the Al-Qaida men discussing their next operation in some cave in
Afghanistan. Wait, there's one heck of a story idea Al-Qaida hires video
game software engineers for more violent ideas! Right on.
And what about kung fu and karate?
Chandigarh's well-silhouetted mommies can often be spotted dropping children
at karate training centres. The aim is not only to prepare the child for
self-defence but also give him confidence, agility and physical grace.
So what's the big deal if a child is taught a selfdefence martial art skill,
which draws its inspiration from the times of the Aryans, 4000 years ago?
And if the child is not being deprived of his basic education, there is no
reason why seven-year-old Manpreet, Punjab's little Jackie Chan, should not
be allowed to participate in the next round.
In the end, it was Sajid who seemed the most rankled and aggressive, not the
troupe or its leader. On second thought, a bit of gatka training might help
Sajid when he judges the next round, for his advice doesn't seem to have cut
any ice with the group.
Hum toe aise he hain, Kamaljeet had said.
http://epaper.hindustantimes.com/PUBLICATIONS/HT/HC/2010/08/15/ArticleHtmls/
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Cock-A-Doodle-Do ! The Hoshiarpur Trail
Right since childhood I have lived a very nomadic life. Though the foreign travel is a later addition, most of the travelling hours (miles are of no consequence on Indian highways) have been clocked on the Hoshiarpur –Chandigarh road.
So frequent are the visits, since my son studies in Chandigarh, anybody who has to send pappads, achaar or mineral water for their kin in Chandigarh makes sure to call me up and ask when is the next shuttle service leaving for Chandigarh?
The point I wanted to make was that along the highway, and in Hoshiarpur town itself, there are a few landmarks that not only have amusement value but depict the social character of the area.
While driving from Chandigarh when you cross Garhshankar and reach village Dansiwal, on your left is a huge country house- The Sahota Ranch. You simply can’t miss it, for perched on the roof of Sahota Sahib’s house is a big fat cement rooster.
Though almost every household roof in the area has interesting items, the combination a manifestation of the collective personality of the area, this Kookad intrigues me no bound.
For example an airplane denotes the phoren craze, a football the favourite sport, oxen or tractor the favoured pulling power, what did this rooster stand for I always wondered? Was it a display of the owner’s favourite food or was he a Poultry king somewhere abroad?
Lo and behold, the kookad is there for a different purpose. With its desi counterparts getting lazy like the Punjabis itself, this rooster I was told has a job on hand- to wake up the lazy Punjabis at sunrise. One loud speaker and a tape recorder have been especially fixed under its legs to carry out the task of the cock-a-doodle-do and sometimes Gurbani is played for soothing the souls of villagers.
The second object that amuses is the, California International Dhaba, you see on your right while entering Hoshiarpur. Despite the horrible food it serves, no other monument in the town has become more representative of the phoren attachment of the area.
Though hardly any locals’ book its kitty halls, but it attracts NRIs as they feel familiar with name- By the Californians, for the Californians kind of syndrome.
Drive a little further up and you will see a statue of a man with a raised hand. It’s a statue of one of India’s most famous revolutionary Bhagat Singh; but it’s also the ugliest looking Bhagat Singh statue you’d ever see and teenage girls have a serious problem with its looks. They think Bhagat Singh was a handsome man and not the puny fellow the sculptor has made him out to be. Interestingly, when Bhagat Singh was being dressed via the medium of paint, I had asked the painter what colours he proposed to have for Bhagat Singh’s shirt and trousers. A Punjabi expletive had followed and he asked me to shut-up. Apparently every passerby had recommended a combination.
Whatever the issues, Bhagat Singh’s statue symbolises the sudden respect for revolutionaries of the Indian Freedom movement, after Bollywood scripted a couple of movies on them.
Nowhere in India, will you find a sign board inviting men for gossip. Well, Hoshiarpur has its own Gossip club and I have had the opportunity to sit with its members and gossip officially. Yes, officially! And the topics have varied from Monica Bedi’s comeback to her village to the corruption in the government. The idea to set up this gossip club was floated by a retired government servant RK Sud who offered his place and put a board inviting retired men to officially gossip. Do I need to elaborate further on this habit of the Hoshiarpuris?
The other landmark is a barber shop near the Session chowk, it’s sign reading -Educated Hair Dresser. Now don’t rush to the shop because the barber, a man in his eighties, has no clue of hygiene, and to make both ends meet, also sells boiled eggs , the smell of which is not very pleasant. The education bit comes in because he can speak fluent English, the sign, symbolic of two aspects of society- one which respected education and the other who thought speaking English was education.
For, how else do you explain the goof ups of the public school educated guys who are at the helm of affairs? You don’t need to go far.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
The Indo-Pak virtual Partition.
Ronnie Kairon from Patiala is a school mate and now a Facebook friend. Definitely addicted to FB more than I am, I got this early morning call from him the day Pakistan had banned Facebook.
“What the hell”, he said his voice a mix of anger and lament.
“Ki hoya”, was my retort to his early morning burst, to which he replied, “Yaar the ban will mean that I am out of touch with my friend, Seema, from across the border.
Replying the way boys replied to each other when such matters are discussed, I told him to chill and make do with Indian women till then. He has a long list of them on his FB.
Jokes apart, despite the crap that we had talked, Ronnie’s lament had seemed to bother me in more ways than one after which I pushed him to spill the beans.
While Ronnie pondered over whether to share the details or not, I went looking on my FB chat for one Ahmad Fraz Khan. He as expected was missing. A journalist with the newspaper DAWN, I had met Ahmad a couple of years ago during his visit to Punjab. He was accompanying a farmers’ delegation from Pakistan and my family had the privilege of hosting the delegation. Not that I chatted with him regularly on FB ever but like familiar neighbours, I passed by his name everyday on the chat window and would think about the interesting conversations we had about the commonalities and the differences which make India and Pakistan alike, and yet so apart . When will I get to see him again was the thought that was crossing my mind, when a ping sound on my Blackberry distracted me.
Ronnie had decided to share his story which started from- once upon a time- on a cold December evening- a typical big fat Punjabi wedding was taking place. A young unmarried boy meets this very beautiful Punjabi looking girl and takes an instant liking for her but he has no idea she is from Pakistan and belongs to a family that owns Habib Bank.
Not that our Kairon Saab was weak- 120 kilos and carrying the name Kairon means a lot of weight in Punjab, but it was a pleasant surprise for him to know she is a Pakistani when they met the next day in Delhi. She was attending the wedding as part of an old deal amongst her elders that whenever a wedding took place in either of the families, the other would attend the wedding to celebrate the Lahore bond. Damn with the cross border tensions.
To cut the long story short, Seema after years of the brief meeting had sent him a FB request with the line do you recognise me Kairon Bhai? That’s not good for a Punjabi ego but nevertheless, Ronnie accepted her request and the FB revolution had re-connected them.That it would disconnect the two families again, wasn’t an option they had considered as they went about sharing their moments, like life would have been as neighbours in Lahore or Amritsar.
Did I hear the word neighbour and another friend cringe about the ban? “Shit, I had this neighbour on Farmville and she used to send me gifts like elephants, camels, and even fertilize my crop. Farmville has gone boring without her as FB is banned in Pakistan, he said.
What was going on I thought? People in India complaining about losing out on communication with friends from Pakistan. Why make such a big deal about it?
So, had Facebook redefined relationships at some level making these people from two hostile nations co-exist as neighbours on a chat window or at Farmville?
Heck, yes. Because another friend, who though a Pakistan hater, was suddenly missing his best Scrabble game challenger. A Karachi woman would play online the game of words with him all night and also discuss social, political and personal issues with him. “She was one quirky and an intelligent woman,” said merchant-navy Captain Ravi Chaudhary who spends a lot of time of FB once he is back from the ship.
If 1947 was the year of physical partition, is 2010 the year of virtual partition?
This was published in Sunday Hindustan Times as part of my column-Punjabi by Nature.
Link-http://epaper.hindustantimes.com//artMailDisp.aspx?article=30_05_2010_583_003&typ=1&pub=722
“What the hell”, he said his voice a mix of anger and lament.
“Ki hoya”, was my retort to his early morning burst, to which he replied, “Yaar the ban will mean that I am out of touch with my friend, Seema, from across the border.
Replying the way boys replied to each other when such matters are discussed, I told him to chill and make do with Indian women till then. He has a long list of them on his FB.
Jokes apart, despite the crap that we had talked, Ronnie’s lament had seemed to bother me in more ways than one after which I pushed him to spill the beans.
While Ronnie pondered over whether to share the details or not, I went looking on my FB chat for one Ahmad Fraz Khan. He as expected was missing. A journalist with the newspaper DAWN, I had met Ahmad a couple of years ago during his visit to Punjab. He was accompanying a farmers’ delegation from Pakistan and my family had the privilege of hosting the delegation. Not that I chatted with him regularly on FB ever but like familiar neighbours, I passed by his name everyday on the chat window and would think about the interesting conversations we had about the commonalities and the differences which make India and Pakistan alike, and yet so apart . When will I get to see him again was the thought that was crossing my mind, when a ping sound on my Blackberry distracted me.
Ronnie had decided to share his story which started from- once upon a time- on a cold December evening- a typical big fat Punjabi wedding was taking place. A young unmarried boy meets this very beautiful Punjabi looking girl and takes an instant liking for her but he has no idea she is from Pakistan and belongs to a family that owns Habib Bank.
Not that our Kairon Saab was weak- 120 kilos and carrying the name Kairon means a lot of weight in Punjab, but it was a pleasant surprise for him to know she is a Pakistani when they met the next day in Delhi. She was attending the wedding as part of an old deal amongst her elders that whenever a wedding took place in either of the families, the other would attend the wedding to celebrate the Lahore bond. Damn with the cross border tensions.
To cut the long story short, Seema after years of the brief meeting had sent him a FB request with the line do you recognise me Kairon Bhai? That’s not good for a Punjabi ego but nevertheless, Ronnie accepted her request and the FB revolution had re-connected them.That it would disconnect the two families again, wasn’t an option they had considered as they went about sharing their moments, like life would have been as neighbours in Lahore or Amritsar.
Did I hear the word neighbour and another friend cringe about the ban? “Shit, I had this neighbour on Farmville and she used to send me gifts like elephants, camels, and even fertilize my crop. Farmville has gone boring without her as FB is banned in Pakistan, he said.
What was going on I thought? People in India complaining about losing out on communication with friends from Pakistan. Why make such a big deal about it?
So, had Facebook redefined relationships at some level making these people from two hostile nations co-exist as neighbours on a chat window or at Farmville?
Heck, yes. Because another friend, who though a Pakistan hater, was suddenly missing his best Scrabble game challenger. A Karachi woman would play online the game of words with him all night and also discuss social, political and personal issues with him. “She was one quirky and an intelligent woman,” said merchant-navy Captain Ravi Chaudhary who spends a lot of time of FB once he is back from the ship.
If 1947 was the year of physical partition, is 2010 the year of virtual partition?
This was published in Sunday Hindustan Times as part of my column-Punjabi by Nature.
Link-http://epaper.hindustantimes.com//artMailDisp.aspx?article=30_05_2010_583_003&typ=1&pub=722
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Indian Preity League
y
First I was annoyed, then very annoyed but now I pity, Preity. I can imagine her frustration when the boys under perform. I guess I'm echoing the sentiment of the entire Punjabi community, though there are the dis- loyal who have been supporting or have shifted loyalty to other teams. If there weren'...t their kinds, would the Sikh Empire have ever collapsed? Oops. Am I sounding over the top, comparing the fall of the Sikh Empire with that of Kings XI, who has royally lost, eight battles out of 10?
I am also worried about Ness Wadia because he has been smoking too many cigarettes, under stress. The other day, at a post match party at hotel Mountview, I had to pass a hint to a couple of photographers to click his picture as he puffed cigarette after cig- arette, stumbling between cheerlead- ers, posing for photos. No, I wasn't jeal- ous of his Page 3 japphi with the women, because Shane Warne was also cuddling up, but because I was anxious about Ness's health. Maybe the smoking fine slapped on him for smoking in a smoke-free city would reduce his smoking, I thought.
That I have just clipped my post- match party invitations by revealing the inside story, is something I am not bothered about. Who cares!My worry is about our nak or nose in English. I'm not concerned whether Preity's team valuation has trebled or Wadia's has tumbled because of his team's performance. My grievance is that nowhere in the annals of Punjab's history have we gone down without a fight.
Sorry, I have just been corrected. I am told Punjab has nose-dived from being the number one state in the coun- try to a double-digit rank. Luckily, we don't have states running into three digits. So, when the politician is not bothered about the nak, why expect it out of bechare khidaris. Vaise vi the government's focus is kabaddi, kabad- di, kabaddi.Am I being too cynical, when I say there is a competition of sorts between the political honchos and the players - that who pins down the state's pride first?Or is it a combination of factors that are contributing to the slide.Imagine a situation.
My son is cry- ing because Yuvraj has just been caught and simultaneously somewhere in Punjab there is a wife crying who has just lost her farmer husband to farm debt? Nehar which chaal maarti, or he has consumed a few pegs of pesticide.It is because both of them have become lazy. Look at that Yuvraj's walk.
Sloppy, lazy and very unbecoming of a sportsman and Punjabi!Or is it that Punjab da puttar is not khush because of off-the-field reasons.
While the media accuses him of devel- oping an ego hassle after being axed from Kings XI captaincy, a charge that he has vehemently denied; the other buzz is that he just might be a tad upset after Preity called him 'younger broth- er'. Believe you me, both are reasons enough to puncture my big fat Punjabi ego, but I would have eaten humble pie and let my bat do the talking. Chauka, chakka, chak de.
And talking about the farmer, less said the better. The farmer is out- sourcing labour just as the Kings XI has outsourced players.No, I do not doubt the foreign crick- eters cricketing abilities, because the Sangakkaras, Bret Lees and Shauns are great players but upholding Bhagat Singh's legacy is a different ball game altogether.Thank god the advertisement comparing the Kings XI players with the legend has been withdrawn.
Bhagat Singh is safer off as a poster boy of Punjabi taxi and truck drivers, than of a bunch of an under perform- ing XI.
I am also worried about Ness Wadia because he has been smoking too many cigarettes, under stress. The other day, at a post match party at hotel Mountview, I had to pass a hint to a couple of photographers to click his picture as he puffed cigarette after cig- arette, stumbling between cheerlead- ers, posing for photos. No, I wasn't jeal- ous of his Page 3 japphi with the women, because Shane Warne was also cuddling up, but because I was anxious about Ness's health. Maybe the smoking fine slapped on him for smoking in a smoke-free city would reduce his smoking, I thought.
That I have just clipped my post- match party invitations by revealing the inside story, is something I am not bothered about. Who cares!My worry is about our nak or nose in English. I'm not concerned whether Preity's team valuation has trebled or Wadia's has tumbled because of his team's performance. My grievance is that nowhere in the annals of Punjab's history have we gone down without a fight.
Sorry, I have just been corrected. I am told Punjab has nose-dived from being the number one state in the coun- try to a double-digit rank. Luckily, we don't have states running into three digits. So, when the politician is not bothered about the nak, why expect it out of bechare khidaris. Vaise vi the government's focus is kabaddi, kabad- di, kabaddi.Am I being too cynical, when I say there is a competition of sorts between the political honchos and the players - that who pins down the state's pride first?Or is it a combination of factors that are contributing to the slide.Imagine a situation.
My son is cry- ing because Yuvraj has just been caught and simultaneously somewhere in Punjab there is a wife crying who has just lost her farmer husband to farm debt? Nehar which chaal maarti, or he has consumed a few pegs of pesticide.It is because both of them have become lazy. Look at that Yuvraj's walk.
Sloppy, lazy and very unbecoming of a sportsman and Punjabi!Or is it that Punjab da puttar is not khush because of off-the-field reasons.
While the media accuses him of devel- oping an ego hassle after being axed from Kings XI captaincy, a charge that he has vehemently denied; the other buzz is that he just might be a tad upset after Preity called him 'younger broth- er'. Believe you me, both are reasons enough to puncture my big fat Punjabi ego, but I would have eaten humble pie and let my bat do the talking. Chauka, chakka, chak de.
And talking about the farmer, less said the better. The farmer is out- sourcing labour just as the Kings XI has outsourced players.No, I do not doubt the foreign crick- eters cricketing abilities, because the Sangakkaras, Bret Lees and Shauns are great players but upholding Bhagat Singh's legacy is a different ball game altogether.Thank god the advertisement comparing the Kings XI players with the legend has been withdrawn.
Bhagat Singh is safer off as a poster boy of Punjabi taxi and truck drivers, than of a bunch of an under perform- ing XI.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Food to Singh about!
By-Khushwant Singh
It is cent percent true when they say you can take a Punjabi out of Punjab but not Punjab out of him. Try separating his famed burrah from him, and you will know what I mean.
Jokes apart, those who have travelled abroad would vouch how welcoming is the feeling when while browsing through a menu of an Indian restaurant you find a dish named after your pind, city or state. I usually order an extra scotch promptly as thumbs up to the chef who has turned my obscure town into a global entity and for momentarily transporting me back to the hustle-bustle of apna Punjab.
Two of my relatives in Australia, who own separate restaurants, have some chicken dishes named after Hoshiarpur town.
A chef himself, Ashok Sikand my father’s first cousin runs a restaurant in Melbourne’s high-income suburb, Eltham, under the name Ginger Garlic and serves a chicken dish Hoshiarpur da Kukkarh.
A boneless marinated chicken cooked in a yoghurt-based curry sauce with methi, tomatoes, ginger and garlic, the dish as per my chachahas been inspired by his frequent visits to our farm. “You father would cook this most amazing finger-licking chicken and I couldn’t resist naming a non-vegetarian dish after Hoshiarpur,"he had said while explaining the evolution of Hoshiarpuri Kukkad in Australia.
Though Kukkadrecipes and Hoshiarpur have nothing in common as its prominence is only due to soothsayers or litigious people, the town yet again finds mention in the menu of a Sydney restaurant. Owned by two young boys from Hoshiarpur, Harman and Varun, Kings Restaurant and bar serves Hoshiarpuri Achari Chicken. Cooked with aromatic homemade flavours of spices in the Tandoor, the chicken is the Chef’s special on the menu.
Ask Harman why he named a chicken platter after his hometown- he squarely blames my incessant bar-be-cue parties for this. “Bro it’s a great way to keep connected with one’s roots, replied Harman when I reasoned that Hoshiarpur and chicken have no connection, whatsoever.
If you are done with Down Under and happen to be in Edinburgh in Scotland visit Roti on Morrison Street which has a Punjabi Duck on its menu. Initially started by Tony Singh, who was former chef of the Queen’s Ship, The Royal Yacht Britannia, the Punjabi duck is pan fried seared and served with ginger sauce, South Indian cabbage and croquettes.
Tony Singh despite having visited Punjab only once in his lifetime is a true-blue Punjabi.
“It is because the Scots and the Sikhs have an affinity for each other, he had said in his heavy Lothian accent as we sipped our scotch in his restaurant.
I was however saddened to learn that Tony Singh, who incidentally runs one of the best eclectic restaurants in Edinburgh under the name Oloroso, has sold Roti. Though the new owners are believed to have retained the old menu, I cannot vouch for the food quality anymore. I remember fondly the days when Roti was being set up and Tony and I would spend evenings tasting the chef’s preparations.
Bombay Palace restaurant, in New York City serves Lamb Bhuna Punjabi. Owned by Sant Singh Chatwal, whose biggest claim to fame is escorting the Clintons in and out of India, the dish does evoke a feeling of nostalgia, especially if you happen to be alone in New York City. The chunks of lamb, cooked with onion, tomatoes, fresh herbs and spices is described as a Punjabi delicacy and the chef does justice to the claim.
It was last year that some friends took me to an Indian restaurant in Cleveland city. Each one of us was about four Black label whiskies down when a man wearing an apron turned up on our table and asked if we were from Punjab.
“Yes,” I had replied.
“I knew it all along because nobody orders so many rounds of hard alcohol in America,” he had remarked.
After exchanging a few pleasantries he had bid us good bye but not before ordering to a waitress the following- “Jenny, three complimentary Amritsari Machis for the folks from The Poonjab.”
We got back home, Singhing.
It is cent percent true when they say you can take a Punjabi out of Punjab but not Punjab out of him. Try separating his famed burrah from him, and you will know what I mean.
Jokes apart, those who have travelled abroad would vouch how welcoming is the feeling when while browsing through a menu of an Indian restaurant you find a dish named after your pind, city or state. I usually order an extra scotch promptly as thumbs up to the chef who has turned my obscure town into a global entity and for momentarily transporting me back to the hustle-bustle of apna Punjab.
Two of my relatives in Australia, who own separate restaurants, have some chicken dishes named after Hoshiarpur town.
A chef himself, Ashok Sikand my father’s first cousin runs a restaurant in Melbourne’s high-income suburb, Eltham, under the name Ginger Garlic and serves a chicken dish Hoshiarpur da Kukkarh.
A boneless marinated chicken cooked in a yoghurt-based curry sauce with methi, tomatoes, ginger and garlic, the dish as per my chachahas been inspired by his frequent visits to our farm. “You father would cook this most amazing finger-licking chicken and I couldn’t resist naming a non-vegetarian dish after Hoshiarpur,"he had said while explaining the evolution of Hoshiarpuri Kukkad in Australia.
Though Kukkadrecipes and Hoshiarpur have nothing in common as its prominence is only due to soothsayers or litigious people, the town yet again finds mention in the menu of a Sydney restaurant. Owned by two young boys from Hoshiarpur, Harman and Varun, Kings Restaurant and bar serves Hoshiarpuri Achari Chicken. Cooked with aromatic homemade flavours of spices in the Tandoor, the chicken is the Chef’s special on the menu.
Ask Harman why he named a chicken platter after his hometown- he squarely blames my incessant bar-be-cue parties for this. “Bro it’s a great way to keep connected with one’s roots, replied Harman when I reasoned that Hoshiarpur and chicken have no connection, whatsoever.
If you are done with Down Under and happen to be in Edinburgh in Scotland visit Roti on Morrison Street which has a Punjabi Duck on its menu. Initially started by Tony Singh, who was former chef of the Queen’s Ship, The Royal Yacht Britannia, the Punjabi duck is pan fried seared and served with ginger sauce, South Indian cabbage and croquettes.
Tony Singh despite having visited Punjab only once in his lifetime is a true-blue Punjabi.
“It is because the Scots and the Sikhs have an affinity for each other, he had said in his heavy Lothian accent as we sipped our scotch in his restaurant.
I was however saddened to learn that Tony Singh, who incidentally runs one of the best eclectic restaurants in Edinburgh under the name Oloroso, has sold Roti. Though the new owners are believed to have retained the old menu, I cannot vouch for the food quality anymore. I remember fondly the days when Roti was being set up and Tony and I would spend evenings tasting the chef’s preparations.
Bombay Palace restaurant, in New York City serves Lamb Bhuna Punjabi. Owned by Sant Singh Chatwal, whose biggest claim to fame is escorting the Clintons in and out of India, the dish does evoke a feeling of nostalgia, especially if you happen to be alone in New York City. The chunks of lamb, cooked with onion, tomatoes, fresh herbs and spices is described as a Punjabi delicacy and the chef does justice to the claim.
It was last year that some friends took me to an Indian restaurant in Cleveland city. Each one of us was about four Black label whiskies down when a man wearing an apron turned up on our table and asked if we were from Punjab.
“Yes,” I had replied.
“I knew it all along because nobody orders so many rounds of hard alcohol in America,” he had remarked.
After exchanging a few pleasantries he had bid us good bye but not before ordering to a waitress the following- “Jenny, three complimentary Amritsari Machis for the folks from The Poonjab.”
We got back home, Singhing.
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