from ifood.tv

Delhi is a much nicer place to be in. Cold nippy winds have replaced hot blasts of air, sweat is a distant (though still terrible) memory, being outdoors at 1pm is now feasible and not suicidal, and most importantly the thought of food is now exciting and not nauseating!

After months (May to September to be precise) of being unable to stomach anything apart from salad or yoghurt, I have celebrated the return of my appetite with unabashed indulgence in Mughlai food.

Mutton seekh kababs with soft romali roti, chicken (or beef) tikka, the unbelievable melt-in-the-mouth kakori kababs and chicken kali mirch now constitute a major portion of my diet and will be the main reason behind well meaning friends and relations telling me that I look “rounded” or that I have “put on” when I go home for Christmas. Read more…

The FRRO and the MHA. A double whammy abbreviation guaranteed to reduce any Indian expat to a whimpering mass of nerves. You know the little clause on your visa that says “register within 14 days of arrival?” what it really means is; “You think exotic India is going to be fun? Take THAT (a visit to the FRRO) and THAT (a visit to the MHA) and THAT (the inevitable repeat visit to either or both).  Call it an initiation ceremony of sorts — the ultimate reality check. Read more…

I’m back in Delhi after a three-month visit with my family in the US, and the nights are just getting chilly and smoky the way I love. It feels good to be back, feels like I’m home.

But I have to put aside all my warm, happy feelings for the place. I promised Jose, one of my commentators, a blog post. And I never like to disappoint my readers. I know, I am Mother Teresa nice.

A few months back, in the midst of my self-imposed exile from India, I wrote (here) about why I loved the country so much, why I missed it and why I couldn’t wait to come back. Jose said I would be negligent in my duties if I didn’t write the flip side: what I don’t like about the place. Read more…

Perhaps because I love to read, love the written word, I’ve always been entranced by the way the world warps its words. I remember, at the age of 8, listening to my older sister and her friends retell a conversation: “And then she’s all, ‘I did not do that!’ And he’s all, ‘You did!’” Read more…

Three years ago I interviewed the Head of Research for a $44 billion Silicon Valley company. Born and educated in India, he had immigrated to the United States for grad school and remained there ever since. When I asked why, he said simply that America taught him innovation. At the time, I did not grasp what he meant.

But I thought of those words last Thursday when the newspapers here touted “India’s son,” Noble Prize winner Venkatraman Ramakrishnan. Born in Tamil Nadu, Ramakrishnan made his prize-winning discovery in the US, not in India. This also comes after yet another report that 60 percent of the CEOs in Silicon Valley are Indian; while nary a major technological company seems to be doing much in the way of innovation here. Read more…