Posts Tagged ‘spdp’

UMAMI

July 15, 2010

UMAMI

Short Fiction – A Delicious Love Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Part 1 – SPDP

SPDP.

That’s right – SPDP…!

You know what SPDP is, don’t you…?

You don’t? Don’t tell me you don’t know what SPDP is…!

Oh. I’m sorry.

Maybe you are not a Punekar.

And if you do live in Pune and still don’t even know what SPDP is, it’s a pity…a real pity…!

SPDP – Sev Potato Dahi Puri – that’s what the acronym SPDP stands for.

Why ‘Potato’ and not ‘Batata’…?

I do not know – you’ll have to ask the guys at Vaishali.

Now don’t tell me you don’t know what Vaishali is…?

That’s being real daft and clueless, isn’t it…?

Well, Vaishali is the landmark restaurant on Fergusson College Road which serves the best and tastiest SPDP in the world – no doubt about it…!

And talking about taste, do you know how many basic tastes there are…?

“Four…!” you will rattle out, and you will proudly tell me as if you were a know-it-all: “Sweet, Sour, Salty, Bitter.”

“Well, my dear reader, you’re wrong…!

There are five primary tastes – Sweet, Sour, Salt, Bitter, and Umami.”

Umami…?

You’ve never heard of it…?

Well I can tell you one thing: “Besides being a lost case, you’re no ardent foodie for sure…!”

Umami is the unique tingling ‘savouriness’ or ‘deliciousness’ of Oriental Cuisines.

Well let’s forget all that mumbo-jumbo. If you really want to know what Umami is, just go down to Vaishali, order an SPDP, gently put a portion in your mouth, close your eyes, roll the delectable SPDP till it dissolves on your tongue, and you will experience what Umami tastes like…!

Now talking of rolling the SPDP on your tongue – have you noticed that as you roll your food on your tongue its taste changes and flavour varies as the food interacts with different regions of your tongue…?

The ‘Tongue Map’ – ever heard of it…?

You haven’t…?

Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the Tongue Map…?

Hey, you are a real dumbo, aren’t you…?

Then try this yummy scrummy mouth-watering game.

Take some spicy chatpatta stuff, like Bhel, Chaat, or SPDP, and put some on your tongue.

Never heard of these things…?

I knew it.

But not to worry, it doesn’t matter. Relax. It’s okay. It just doesn’t matter…!

You can do this eating experiment with Chopsuey – yes, yes, the usual American Chopsuey you get at these ubiquitous Chinese eateries proliferating like hobgoblins all over the place.

Close your eyes.

Yes, you must close your eyes to heighten your awareness, your mindfulness.

Now focus inwards to accentuate your gustatory, kinaesthetic and olfactory sensations, and gently press the rich juicy scrumptious Chopsuey against your palate with the tip of your tongue.

It tastes heavenly doesn’t it…?

That’s Umami…yes… the taste you are experiencing is called UMAMI…!

Now slowly roll the chopsuey backwards to the right side of your tongue and notice how its sweetness enhances, and it moves back the relish the tangy sweetish-sourness, the inimitable sweet and sour flavour – to the left – a tinge of delicious subtle bitter flavour – and as you move the delectable melange forward on the left side of your tongue, soak up the tingling vitalizing scrummy saltiness, till once again you experience the intense lip-smacking luscious flavoursome savouriness of Umami.

That’s exactly what I am doing here right now, sitting on a lovely rainy evening at my favourite table in Vaishali restaurant on Fergusson College road in Pune.

Dissolving exquisite tingling mouth-watering portions of SPDP on my tongue, my eyes closed, senses focussed inwards, luxuriating in sheer epicurean bliss, trancelike ecstasy, epiphany, when suddenly, unwittingly, on the spur of the moment, I open my eyes, and I am totally astonished, shocked out of my wits, baffled and dazed, to see her standing at the entrance.

Instantaneously, I avert my eyes, try to hide myself in the SPDP in front of me, wishing, hoping against hope, that it is not her, and slowly, furtively, with tremors of trepidation, glance, through the corner of my eyes, a fleeting look, and my hopes are dashed, my worst fears come true, the delicious zesty SPDP turns tasteless in my mouth, like cud, and I wish the ground beneath me opens up and swallows me in.

I wish she doesn’t see me, so I look away, try to hide.

I do not want to meet her.

Tell me, which loser wants to meet a winner…!

Have you ever seen a failure attending a reunion, and enjoying it…?

At this stage of my life, I avoid people who are more successful than me.

The company of those less accomplished than you is always more comforting… at least for losers and “failures” like me.

Suddenly I sense she is near me.

Hesitantly, I look up.

We look at each other.

Priyamvada has blossomed. She looks exquisite, even more beautiful than before – radiant, slick, chic, booming with confidence – all the things that I am not.

“Hi, Praveen,” she says excitedly, “what a surprise…!”

“Yes,” I say nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s the matter?  You’re not happy to see me…? Won’t you ask me to sit down…?” she says.

“Of course I am happy to see you. I’m sorry, but I was lost in my thoughts…do sit down and please do join me,” I say.

“Wow…! Having SPDP…? I too will have an SPDP,” she says cheerfully the moment she sits down opposite me.

“You like SPDP…?”

“I love it. SPDP in Vaishali – it brings back nostalgic memories too…!”

“Nostalgic memories…?”

“Vilas saw me for the first time right here – while I was having SPDP with my college gang.”

“So…?”

“He fell in love with me – love at first sight.”

“So…?”

“So he told his parents.”

“What…?”

“That he wanted to get married to me.”

“And…?”

“He told his parents that if at all he ever got married it would be to me and to no one else.”

“Oh…”

“His parents were delighted as he’d been rejecting proposals for years, avoiding marriage on some pretext or the other. So they found out about me from my college and landed up at my place to ask for my hand in marriage.”

“And you jumped…?”

“Jumped…?”

“Jumped with joy at the golden opportunity and dumped me without a thought and married a man twice your age…!”

“Twice my age…? What nonsense. Vilas wasn’t twice my age, just 30.”

“And you…? You were just a teenager then. Bloody cradle-snatcher…!”

“I wasn’t a teenager. I was 20.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Praveen. Tell me, why are you still so bitter even today…? Just forget it…!”

“Forget it…? I can’t. You broke my heart.”

“Broke you heart…? I broke your heart…?”

“I was in love with you. We were in love with each other.”

“Love…? Come on, Praveen. It was just infatuation – one sided inchoate infatuation.”

“One sided infatuation…? I am sorry to hear that. I am really sorry to hear that. And then it was not only that. You made me the laughing stock of society. Not only me, my whole family…!”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? You know what I mean!”

“What?”

“You know how it was then. A boy rejecting a girl is okay, but a girl rejecting a boy? That too in Madiwale Colony – you can’t even imagine the unimaginable agony I suffered. I became the laughing stock of town – not me alone, our whole family. I couldn’t even walk the streets peacefully without sensing those unspoken taunts and unseen jeers. It was terrible – really cruel of you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I never wanted to marry you.”

“Then why did you say ‘yes’?”

“I don’t know. My parents were in a hurry. They showed me your photograph – it was all so confusing,” she says taking a sip of water, “please let’s talk something else.”

“No. I want to know why you ditched me for that richie-rich tycoon. Was it just money?”

“No. It’s not that. You were too mediocre.”

“Mediocre…? I’d passed out from an IIT…!”

“So what…? Remember when I asked you what your plans were…and do you know what you said…? The way you told me your philosophy of life…”

“Philosophy of life…? I think I just said that I never plan anything, that I just flow along, and take life as it comes.”

“Oh yes, just flow along. No ambitions. No aspirations. No dreams. No desire to achieve anything in life. Well I always wanted to get out of the middle class, have success, prosperity, see the world, enjoy the good things in life, and not spend my entire life going nowhere with an apathetic husband like you with no plans in life, listening to sermons on thrift and frugality.”

Priyamvada pauses for a moment, and then continues speaking, “I’m so sorry, but in life one has to be rational isn’t it…? One has to have plans in life.”

“Oh, yes. Plans in life…!” I say caustically, “And looking at you it’s evident that all your plans seem to have worked pretty well…”

I stop speaking at once, for seeing the sudden transformation in the expression on her face I instantly know that I have said something terribly wrong.

(To be continued…)

UMAMI

Short Fiction – A Delicious Love Story

Part 1 -SPDP

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

vikramkarve@sify.com

MATE SOULMATE SPDP – A TASTY STORY

November 22, 2009

Mate Soulmate SPDP  

Short Fiction – A Tasty Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

 

Pune. Fergusson College Road. Vaishali Restaurant. 5 PM on a Sunday evening.

Crowded. Crammed full. Jam-packed. All tables occupied chock-a-block. Aisles teeming with people waiting with watchful eyes for signs of someone finishing their refreshments.

Suddenly I see a woman waving to me, beckoning me with her hand. Her face seems familiar – oh yes, she is Ravi’s wife. She is sitting all alone on a table for two with a half eaten masala dosa in front of her.

I walk towards her and give her a smile.

“Sit down, sit down,” she says to me, gesturing with her hand towards the empty chair opposite her, “Sit down here with me, otherwise you will have to wait for hours.”

I sit down opposite her and say, “Thanks.”

She summons a waiter and orders peremptorily, “SPDP.”

“Two?” the waiter asks.

“No, one SPDP for Madam,” she says pointing to the empty plate in front of me without even bothering to ask me, then she pauses for a moment and tells the waiter, “and get one Kachori for me.”

Before I can recover my wits, she says, “You like SPDP don’t you? Ravi told me.”

“Yes, I love the SPDP at Vaishali. In fact I come all the way here every Sunday…”

“To spend the day reading in the library opposite followed by an SPDP at Vaishali,” she completes my sentence.

“Ravi told you all this?”

“Of course. He’s told me everything about you. Ravi admires you so much, he always talks about you.”

“Really? But he never tells me anything about you.”

“What’s there to tell? I am only his housewife, you are his office wife.”

“Come on. Please don’t say that. There is nothing like that between me and Ravi. We are just colleagues – workmates…”

“Workmates?” Ravi’s wife interrupts, and then says with a hint of sarcasm, “I think you are his true soulmate – and I am only his mate!”

I am struck dumb, feel a bit uneasy, but suddenly the plate of SPDP is kept in front of me, so I look down and begin to eat.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Don’t get angry. I was just teasing. I want you to be Ravi’s friend. He likes you so much. That’s why he is so happy in office and doing so well in his work.”

I stop eating; look up at her vacuously, wondering what to say.

“Ravi appreciates you so much he even brings you home to me every evening in his thoughts and talks…that’s why I wanted to meet you.”

“We’ve met before…”

“Only once, that too only an introduction, at the Office Annual Day get-together…we are hardly married for three months, you know, and you all are so busy, with your targets and all, so I decided to meet you, talk to you, get to know you better, make a friendship…”

“You mean…”

“Yes, I contrived this coincidence. I came to the library also, but you were so busy browsing that I did not want to disturb you, so I waited here in Vaishali knowing you would surely come for your SPDP.”

“You’re not eating your Kachori,” I say, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

“Here, you eat,” she says pushing her untouched plate of Kachori and katori of whipped curds towards me, “I am all full – I ate an Uttapam, Idli-Vada Sambar, god-knows-what, waiting for you to come…”

She leans forward and casually picks up a Sev Potato Dahi Puri from my plate, pops into her mouth and says, “Wow. I love the chatpata flavour of SPDP – you call it Umami taste or something – that’s what you told Ravi, isn’t it?”

“I think I’ll go now,” I say, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, making up my mind to have a long talk with Ravi the moment I meet him in the morning at work.

“No, no, don’t go, I want to show you something.”

“Show me something?”

“Yes, that’s why I came all the way here to meet you.”

We finish the SPDP and Kachori, I insist on paying the bill, she doesn’t object too much, and then she takes me to the drapery section of the Shopping Mall nearby.

“We are furnishing our new house,” she says, pointing at the curtain cloth on display.

I look at her clueless.

“I like yellow, you like blue, and since you have told him about the aesthetic cool tranquil beauty of the blue colour, Ravi is besotted with everything blue – blue shirts, blue trousers, blue table-covers, blue bed-sheets, blue napkins, the sober blue everything that you make him buy…”

I look furtively and self-consciously at the blue dress I am wearing, and say, “Okay, tell me which curtains you like.”

She points to a bright yellow floral print and says, “I like that one, I love yellow, so lively and cheerful… I hate sober gloomy colours, especially blue, it depresses me.”

Next morning at the office, Ravi says to me, “Hey, keep yourself free in the evening. We’ll go to Deccan for some shopping. You’ve got to help me select curtains for our new home. Then we’ll have SPDP at Vaishali.”

“Sure, Ravi, I’ll love to come with you,” I say.

Now I’ve got till evening to decide one thing – which colour curtains should I tell Ravi to buy – Yellow Curtains or Blue Curtains?

 

VIKRAM KARVE

 Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

 

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com 

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve 

Appetite for a Stroll

vikramkarve@sify.com

SPDP Sev Potato Dahi Puri

October 11, 2009

SEV POTATO DAHI PURI


Short Fiction – A Tasty Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Pune. Fergusson College Road. Vaishali Restaurant. 5 PM on a Sunday evening.

Crowded. Crammed full. Jam-packed. All tables occupied chock-a-block. Aisles teeming with people waiting with watchful eyes for signs of someone finishing their refreshments.

Suddenly I see a woman waving to me, beckoning me with her hand. Her face seems familiar – oh yes, she is Ravi’s wife. She is sitting all alone on a table for two with a half eaten masala dosa in front of her.

I walk towards her and give her a smile.

“Sit down, sit down,” she says to me, gesturing with her hand towards the empty chair opposite her, “Sit down here with me, otherwise you will have to wait for hours.”

I sit down opposite her and say, “Thanks.”

She summons a waiter and orders peremptorily, “SPDP.”

“Two?” the waiter asks.

“No, one SPDP for Madam,” she says pointing to the empty plate in front of me without even bothering to ask me, “and get one Kachori for me.”

Before I can recover my wits, she says, “You like SPDP don’t you? Ravi told me.”

“Yes, I love the SPDP at Vaishali. In fact I come all the way here every Sunday…”

“To spend the day reading in the library opposite followed by an SPDP at Vaishali,” she completes my sentence.

“Ravi told you all this?”

“Of course. He’s told me everything about you. Ravi admires you so much, he always talks about you.”

“Really? But he never tells me anything about you.”

“What’s there to tell? I am only his housewife, you are his office wife.”

“Come on. Please don’t say that. There is nothing like that between me and Ravi. We are just colleagues – workmates. That’s all.”

“Workmates? I think you are his soulmate – and I am only his mate!”

I am struck dumb, feel a bit uneasy, but suddenly the plate of SPDP is kept in front of me, so I look down and begin to eat.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Don’t get angry. I was just teasing. I want you to be Ravi’s friend. He likes you so much. That’s why he is so happy in office and doing so well in his work.”

I stop eating; look up at her vacuously, wondering what to say.

“Ravi appreciates you so much he even brings you home to me every evening in his thoughts and talks…that’s why I wanted to meet you.”

“We’ve met before…”

“Only once, that too only an introduction, at the Office Annual Day get-together…we are hardly married for three months, you know, and you all are so busy, with your targets and all, so I decided to meet you, talk to you, get to know you better, make a friendship…”

“You mean…”

“Yes, I contrived this coincidence. I came to the library also, but you were so busy browsing that I did not want to disturb you, so I waited here in Vaishali knowing you would surely come for your SPDP.”

“You’re not eating your Kachori,” I say, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

“Here, you eat,” she says pushing her untouched plate of Kachori and katori of whipped curds towards me, “I am all full – I ate an Uttapam, Idli-Vada Sambar, god-knows-what, waiting for you to come…”

She leans forward and casually picks up a Sev Potato Dahi Puri from my plate, pops into her mouth and says, “Wow. I love the chatpata flavour of SPDP – you call it Umami taste or something – that’s what you told Ravi, isn’t it?”

“I think I’ll go now,” I say, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, making up my mind to have a long talk with Ravi the moment I meet him in the morning at work.

“No, no, don’t go, I want to show you something.”

“Show me something?”

“Yes, that’s why I came all the way here to meet you.”

We finish the SPDP and Kachori, I insist on paying the bill, she doesn’t object too much, and then she takes me to the drapery section of the Shopping Mall nearby.

“We are furnishing our new house,” she says, pointing at the curtain cloth on display.

I look at her clueless.

“I like yellow, you like blue, and since you have told him about the aesthetic cool tranquil beauty of the blue colour, Ravi is besotted with everything blue – blue shirts, blue trousers, blue table-covers, blue bed-sheets, blue napkins, the sober blue everything that you make him buy…”

I look furtively and self-consciously at the blue dress I am wearing, and say, “Okay, tell me which curtains you like.”

She points to a bright yellow floral print and says, “I like that one, I love yellow, so lively and cheerful… I hate sober gloomy colours, especially blue, it depresses me.”

Next morning at the office, Ravi says to me, “Hey, keep yourself free in the evening. We’ll go to Deccan for some shopping. You’ve got to help me select curtains for our new home. Then we’ll have SPDP at Vaishali.”

“Sure, Ravi, I’ll love to come with you,” I say.

Now I’ve got till evening to decide one thing – which colour curtains should I tell Ravi to buy – Yellow Curtains or Blue Curtains?

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

Appetite for a Stroll

vikramkarve@sify.com

PUNE FICTION – CURTAINS

June 16, 2009

CURTAINS 

Short Fiction – A Love Story 

By 

VIKRAM KARVE 

Pune. Fergusson College Road. Vaishali Restaurant. 5 PM on a Sunday evening. Crowded. Crammed full. Jam-packed. All tables occupied chock-a-block. Aisles teeming with people waiting with watchful eyes for signs of someone finishing their refreshments. 

Suddenly I see a woman waving to me, beckoning me with her hand. Her face seems familiar – oh yes, she is Ravi’s wife. She is sitting all alone on a table for two with a half eaten masala dosa in front of her.

I walk towards her and give her a smile. 

“Sit down, sit down,” she says to me, gesturing with her hand towards the empty chair opposite her, “Sit down here with me, otherwise you will have to wait for hours.” 

I sit down opposite her and say, “Thanks.” 

She summons a waiter and orders peremptorily, “SPDP.” 

“Two?” the waiter asks. 

“No, one SPDP for Madam,” she says pointing to the empty plate in front of me without even bothering to ask me, “and get one Kachori for me.”

 Before I can recover my wits, she says, “You like SPDP don’t you? Ravi told me.” 

“Yes, I love the SPDP at Vaishali. In fact I come all the way here every Sunday…” 

“To spend the day reading in the library opposite followed by an SPDP at Vaishali,” she completes my sentence. 

“Ravi told you all this?” 

“Of course. He’s told me everything about you. Ravi admires you so much, he always talks about you.” 

“Really? But he never tells me anything about you.” 

“What’s there to tell? I am only his housewife, you are his office wife.” 

“Come on. Please don’t say that. There is nothing like that between me and Ravi. We are just colleagues – workmates. That’s all.” 

“Workmates? I think you are his soulmate – and I am only his mate!” 

I am struck dumb, feel a bit uneasy, but suddenly the plate of SPDP is kept in front of me, so I look down and begin to eat. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Don’t get angry. I was just teasing. I want you to be Ravi’s friend. He likes you so much. That’s why he is so happy in office and doing so well in his work.” 

I stop eating; look up at her vacuously, wondering what to say. 

“Ravi appreciates you so much he even brings you home to me every evening in his thoughts and talks…that’s why I wanted to meet you.”

 “We’ve met before…” 

“Only once, that too only an introduction, at the Office Annual Day get-together…we are hardly married for three months, you know, and you all are so busy, with your targets and all, so I decided to meet you, talk to you, get to know you better, make a friendship…” 

“You mean…” 

“Yes, I contrived this coincidence. I came to the library also, but you were so busy browsing that I did not want to disturb you, so I waited here in Vaishali knowing you would surely come for your SPDP.” 

“You’re not eating your Kachori,” I say, trying to change the direction of the conversation. 

“Here, you eat,” she says pushing her untouched plate of Kachori and katori of whipped curds towards me, “I am all full – I ate an Uttapam, Idli-Vada Sambar, god-knows-what, waiting for you to come…” she leans forward and casually picks up a Sev Potato Dahi Puri from my plate, pops into her mouth and says, “Wow. I love the chatpata flavour of SPDP – you call it Umami taste or something – that’s what you told Ravi, isn’t it?” 

“I think I’ll go now,” I say, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, making up my mind to have a long talk with Ravi the moment I meet him in the morning at work. 

“No, no, don’t go, I want to show you something.” 

“Show me something?” 

“Yes, that’s why I came all the way here to meet you.”

 We finish the SPDP and Kachori, I insist on paying the bill, she doesn’t object too much, and then she takes me to the drapery section of the Shopping Mall nearby.

 “We are furnishing our new house,” she says, pointing at the curtain cloth on display. 

I look at her clueless. 

“I like yellow, you like blue, and since you have told him about the aesthetic cool tranquil beauty of the blue colour, Ravi is besotted with everything blue – blue shirts, blue trousers, blue table-covers, blue bed-sheets, blue napkins, the sober blue everything that you make him buy…” 

I look furtively and self-consciously at the blue dress I was wearing, and say, “Okay, tell me which curtains you like.” 

She points to a bright yellow floral print and says, “I like that one, I love yellow, so lively and cheerful… I hate sober gloomy colours, especially blue, it depresses me.” 

Next morning at the office, Ravi says to me, “Hey, keep yourself free in the evening. We’ll go to Deccan for some shopping. You’ve got to help me select curtains for our new home. Then we’ll have SPDP at Vaishali.” 

“Sure, Ravi, I’ll love to come with you,” I say. 

Now I’ve got till evening to decide one thing – which colour curtains should I tell Ravi to buy – Yellow Curtains or Blue Curtains?

 VIKRAM KARVE 

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

 vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com 

http://www.ryze.com/go/karve 

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve 

http://www.indiaplaza.in/finalpage.aspx?storename=books&sku=9788190690096&ct=2 

http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o 

http://books.sulekha.com/book/appetite-for-a-stroll/default.htm

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