Tuesday, October 20, 2009

jab tak rahega samosey may aloo

Last night i had an argument with gman as he once again brought home this sorry potato-carrot-pea bhara samosa "acha so is this the potato samosa you are always hankering about"? and I had to repeat my chant of no no no , its boiled potato cut in cubes (NOT MASHED), zeera, chili flakes filling encased in a thick not flaky pastry. He shrugged his shoulders exasperated "I think tumharey imagination may hai, there is no such samosa". I fought back my tears. No its not a figment of my imagination. Just as
long summer evenings breathing in raat ki rani
motiya flowers at traffic signals and the fragrance filling up your car
twilight in summers marked by spraying water on the bricked courtyard, pulling out the GFC fan, dragging out the chairs turning the TV around so you watched it sitting outside, late night gup shup and listening to the BBC bulletin on the radio before turning in for the night.
winter evenings sprawled in front of the heater doing heater math. too close and my cheek burns move an inch and i feel cold. breathing in damp clothes set out to dry. Giggling at Razia Butt and A R Khatun novels....Rehaan Rehaan Rehaan. Somehow winters meant Ammi Jans and Bari Buas and Afshan, Farrukh and saunf supari. Summers were Queen's Library and the entire Louis L'Amour collection.
Childhood fears that the Russians will invade us. And it will not just be the cheap Russian air conditioners, sardine tins, chocolate raisins and notebooks flooding the market. Years afterwards someone asked me if I had ever thought all the cheap Russian food stuff was courtesy the toxic larders of Chernobyl. I am not glowing in the dark ..not yet, no...so I think not.
our annual CMH pilgrimage for our shots and our glee when the orderly said some God forsaken childhood disease had been eradicated.
IS NOT ALL A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION.
There is a couplet in Urdu:
Ab ke hum bichde to shaayad kabhi khwaabon mein mile
If we were to part today our only hope is to rendezvous in dreams (apologies for the translation. Never ask a Pashtun to translate Urdu)
Dear Alu Waley Samosey, I might dream the past which is another country but only when this current nightmare can end.

14 comments:

  1. hayeeeee what a post. and what timings. the kids of now have to witness so much more other happenings.

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  2. Samose to Meerut mein milte the, behen. Hai, dukhti rug (not carpet) par haath rakh diya.

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  3. now you've got me craving one of those samosay!

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  4. sonia: i hope the scrape through OK without any emotional or physical atyaachar.
    Parul: does the halvai in Meerut do DHL orders?
    Mona: I know its addictive right.

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  5. What your hubby brought for you is the 'shingara'...the Bengali cousin of the samosa. Personally, because of genetic structuring, I prefer the shingara myself, but just cross the border and hop into town, I will give you the samosas you crave!

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  6. You are not imagining it. I hate those flaky fake samosas. Ok I don't hate them, but they're not real samosas.

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  7. What culture shocks these zaalim samosas can give us! I bought some in Kochi and discovered curry leaves and whole garlic pods inside the potato filling. Ye gods- such heresy. Noida has gone all Punjoo, and some places insist on maro-ing tashan with one cube of paneer inside the alu. Bah:(

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  8. i hear you. i know that samosa. its what evening teas at my place are made of. i pick em up onmy way home from work. no peas, no carrot, just plain and pure alooo and spices in perfectly fried samosa casing.

    come visit!

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  9. I feel for you as last week i noticed our local grecerry chain claimed they are selling authentic punjabi samosas. I was sold on word fresh and as soon as i reached home i took one bite and i sreamed in pain on top my lungs. Man the outer shell was soggy and inside the filling was extremely mashy(like mashed potatoes).
    Similar thing happened when i went to a desi restaurant and wanted to eat kachori(the one looked like pooris but have daal stuffing inside) but what i was served was something like goolgappa(a big one though) with sev and dahi and imli chutney and when i said its not kachoori i was told its called kachoori in Bombay. Humph so kachori was got lost in translation in between in culinary journey from Pakistan to India :(
    Huma

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  10. Huma, what you were served was what is generally known as Raj kachori. Mumbai probably speaks a different language.
    Our normal kachoris are the dal stuffed ones.

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  11. aha i learnt something new today so Thanks dipali and by the way you have a nice blog.
    Huma

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  12. There's always going to be nostalgia even if there's aloo in the samosa! But yeah, it helps to have the right samosas along with nostalgia. I'm lucky like that!

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  13. those're the samosas i grew up with.. the thick ones with the boiled aloo and chilli flakes.. yummy

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