JAD

When the alarm rang today morn, I still hadn't got Aaaar Seeeeee Beeeee, Gayle & the whacking he gave the 11 hapless punjabi boys out of my system (thx Ali, u totally like....rock man). And that match will always remind me of the rasam or shathamdu as its called in my house....o that tangy, spicy Tam/Kan delicacy was simply sublime, and who'd have thought I'd run into such exemplary culinary expertise at the Chinna stadium!

Anyway...um..err... Moving on... I opened my eyes to find texts telling me the ever-punctual Kafi was ready to hit the gym. So I scoot to the gym to find him there with that look which says....."Again?" But Im a master of my art too... All I had to do was give him my trademark disarming goofy laugh and greet him with some hyderabadi "kya miyaan aisa dekh re tum mere ku?" & good times were back again. Once we inside we were joined by Vika & a certain stranger. This guy is a droll I tell you. Never a dull moment when he's around. Every couple of minutes he would yell at the top of his voice one of the following 3....ummmm....what-should-I-call-'ems:
1. "Come on Jockey!" Dont ask me who jockey is.
2. "Come on India! Josh maaa!" Dont ask me why the nation needs to get itself worked up for his workout.
3. "Barli maaa.... josh barli!" The closest I can get to translating that accurately is "let it come... Let the adrenalin flow"

Well all that motivation was a good thing... We promptly folded up & hit the nearest Idly-vade outlet, no bigger than a single room in size but with a huge heart when it came to keeping those streams of sambhar steadily flowing & devoured countless steaming hot idlys with dollops of chetney & sambhar or kozhambu as its called in my house. Which reminds me... I must write a piece on what is the ideal accompaniment to idlys...chutney or kozhambu? And likewise for the more premium..vade or vadeyyy as its called in my house. I have very strong views on the matter. I must also write separately about why I keep saying "as its called in my house". That post will be called iyengar tamizh 101.

Yannyhow, after that spiffing start to the day, with a whistle on my lips I scooted back home expecting a grand welcome....for no reason. But I was greeted by locked gates. Why? Because our hallowed house-maid leaves at 9 & it was now 9.30. Gates are locked at 9 to prevent unwanted people from entering. Everyone except the maid is unwanted in the morning. So i clanked the gate & yelled Amma!......Annnaaaa! & you'd expect the parental love flowing & them running to let their son in, apologizing profusely for making me wait in the sun ouside. Instead there was silence. I was not the maid... I was not wanted. That left me with no other choice. The master mimic in me rose to his zenith... and I mustered the best middle-aged maid voice I could & yelled...... "ANTIIIIIIII!......ANTIIIIII!" its actually "Aunty" but must be pronounced as "Anti" for the correct "maid-in-a-hurry-in-the-morning" effect & it produced instant results. Both my ancestors were at the door before I could say Yepppadi! I had claimed victory. Although all they said when they saw me was "eevan aaaaa?" i was still not the maid you see.

And that was Sat morn!

P.S. Thx Ms Anonymous for those comments on my previous post. Brought the spice back into my life ;)