Tag Archives: Pune

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My friend Kunaal has gone back to New York for his last semester at Parsons and I miss him even though he pokes fun at me and calls me the quintessential don’s girlfriend. He (and Anoushka) took firedancing lessons before he left Pune and I’ve been learning the darbuka, so we’ve decided when he comes back that I can play the drum while he dances. We’ve also made plans to take over lookbook. We’ll shoot on his beautiful hotel rooftop. He tried teaching me how to poi dance up there but I lack coordination in the worst way. If you ever are in Pune, you have to have a gin and tonic and watch the sunset from the terrace at The O Hotel. It’s super lush.

Dario’s

Sometimes deciding where to hang out can be difficult but back in Pune, it’s my new fave spot Dario’s. Tucked into Lane 1 (the same place  the old Barista was), Italian restaurateur Dario Dezio has recently opened this namesake haunt with good food and drinks and a killer vibe. The courtyard and garden really do it for me. They’re so pretty. I love the super heavy duty wooden furniture and purple additions. Very Kerala inspired and very chilled out. I’ve had the pasta, the bruschetta, waffles, wine and a salty fresh lime soda there and they were all wonderful. As was the service. And the peacock that paid us a visit.

Avanti likes Dario’s also!

Diwholi

Today is technically the third day of Diwali and although it has ruined my body, what a three days it’s been. There has been much drunken revelry, good company, barbecues on high terraces, poker, neighbours bringing over homemade sweets, dressing up.

Pune smells like gunpowder though, which can’t be good. It’s really loud and polluted and I’ve seen too many horrid accidents. Last night, somebody in my street lit a tree on fire with their irresponsible rocket lighting and the fire brigade had to put it out. As the wise @ashwinpande said ‘I need to find a one-armed man to teach these fucking kids a lesson about not playing with firecrackers.’

So in a great big fuck you to firecrackers, Shaunit and I threw ourselves a Diw-holi party. We decided to make a rangoli, light tiny diyas and play holi which we both missed this year(and myself since the 90s) and we drank whisky and and ate chocolate cake and lemon tarts and stayed up till dawn.

Rangoli is actually more difficult to do than it looks. Add alcohol to the mix and it’s near impossible. But we did okay.

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Blue Nile

One love of my life is my childhood friend Rijul and he and I were reminiscing the other day about dinners from Blue Nile, a Pune institution with an Iranian flair famed for its delicious biryani. So we decided to go and almost got mauled by a winged bat on the back of Rijul’s motorcycle in the process. We get there and like any night, the place is busy. We had to wait for a table on plastic chairs amid crates of Thumbs Up and Coke. It is airy and unpretentious and filled with the fragrant aromas of their specialties. The tandoori chicken and mutton biryani in particular. Inside, we were joined by Daniel for spicy seekh kebabs, succulent reshmi kebabs, and the signature Blue Nile mutton curry. The nostalgic biryani, delicious but greasy had me in a daze. Nothing that couldn’t be washed down with a cold maaza. Or a caramel custard, another thing they do well except not on this particular night. I still love the bustle in their expansive dining room – fans quietly whirring on high ceilings, arched windows and tall pillars. It’s unfortunate that the quality is slightly less remarkable to what it was when I was a child, and everybody agrees. It’s still tasty as hell though. And the efficient service is bar none.

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Blue Nile. 4, Bund Garden Road, opposite Pune Club, Pune – 411 001

DIY: Dilapidated

Strolled down with Daniel to my family’s old printing press today, decrepit and desolate as it may be. But the building is wearing so beautifully, I decided to take a few pictures of the paint, walls and shutters chipping, rusting and fraying to make some virtual origami paper of sorts.

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Lightshape

I’ve heard a lot of live music since I moved here – a drum circle, jazz bands, alternative, classic rock covers but nothing like what I heard last night. We went to a beautiful villa for a party with a keyboardist and bunch of percussionists all making raucous, heart thumping music. It was so absolutely brilliant, I wished my camera could have recorded sound clips to share. Eccentric crowd and an assortment of instruments. We danced till sweat poured down our faces and then one of the girls firedanced. And this was just the prelude to our night.

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Rickshaw wale

Late last night, Kunaal, my favourite person on set and I hijacked the rickshaw and using a tripod and camera, had a silly impromptu photoshoot. <3 

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Pateti

Pateti marks Parsi New Year and like all good auspicious occasions, food is pivotal to celebration. So for lunch yesterday, we went to Zamu’s, a Pune restaurant owned and run by a couple of my friends for a traditional patra lunch. The set meal included dishes like sali gosht which is a chicken curry with potato crisps and great lamb, beer battered chicken, breads and rotis and a delicious mutton pulao all served on a banana leaf for a plate plus bottomless beer and an eggy custard for dessert.

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Children

I was initially a little bit reluctant to share these photographs but okay here goes. These are some of the street children that have approached me begging for money in the last few weeks. I don’t give them money, it breaks my heart that they’re begging when they should be at school or out playing but I don’t want to encourage it, I will often times buy or give them something to eat if I can and I will ask them if I can take their photo. It was really interesting to me that although all four of these kids knew I was taking their pictures, not a single one of them smiled for it. They don’t associate snapshots with cheesy grins and I wouldn’t be surprised if one or two of them hadn’t been photographed before although they all knew what cameras were. It was all solemn faces and desperate pleas till I brought out my camera and shot them. But when I showed each of them their pictures on the LCD screen, they all broke out in beautiful smiles, the little girl in blue beaming and nodding (from side to side as Indians do) her head so hard I thought it might fall off.

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New tattoo, beer and Bombay sandwiches

Ashaal and I got tattooed this week, it’s a little kitsch, a name we call each other, and actually something you’d see it on the side of a bus, you have to get it to get it I guess. He got the same one plus a huge tattoo of his old dog on his calf. Mine hurt like a bitch for all of fifteen minutes and then I doused myself in beer and later on, binged on street stall sandwiches. I had my first Bombay sandwich, it’s this mad amalgamation of mashed potato and diced onion and grated cheese and mint chutney and beetroot and cucumber and chilli and seasonings between three slices of bread toasted to perfection. It gave me a huge girl boner with all its goodness.

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And this is Shweta. She’s an old friend who likes sandwiches as much as I do.