Book Review: The Wildings by Nilanjana Roy

The Wildings by Nilanjana Roy A small band of cats lives in the labyrinthine alleys and ruins of Nizamuddin, an old neighbourhood in Delhi. Miao, the clan elder, a wise, grave Siamese; Katar, a cat loved by his followers and feared by his enemies; Hulo, the great warrior tom; Beraal, the beautiful queen, swift and deadly when challenged; Southpaw, the kitten whose curiosity can always be counted on to get him into trouble… Unfettered and wild, these and the other members of the tribe fear no one, go where they will, and do as they please. Until, one day, a terrified orange-coloured kitten with monsoon green eyes and remarkable powers, lands in their midst—setting off a series of extraordinary events that will change their world forever.

That terrified cat is Mara, a tiny orange furball who lives with the Bigfeet. Rescued from a drain, her first message to the rest of the cats is: “Mara is worried! Mara is all alone with the Bigfeet! They are scary and they talk all the time, and I do not like being picked up and turned upside down!”

That powerful sending makes Beraal almost fall off her perch and set the rest of the Nizzamuddin cats’ whisker’s on edge. For Mara is special; she’s a Sender. While all cats can link up and talk to one another, only a Sender is capable of sending strong transmissions, where its fur seems to brush by the listener, its words and scents touching the listeners’ whiskers. But none of the cats except Miao can remember a Sender among them, and even she wasn’t this strong. Since the Nizamuddin cats cannot place the Sender’s scent, they decide to kill her. Beraal is tasked with the job, but when she locates Mara, she finds herself unable to land the killing blow. Because apart from being a powerful Sender, Mara is also a charmer; everyone who meets her soon falls under her spell.

An illustration from The Wildings by Nilanajana Roy So Beraal takes Mara under her wing to teach her how to control her powers. On one of her experiments, to see how far she can send, Mara travels all the way to the Delhi Zoo, where she meets Ozzy – a Ranthambore tiger, his mate Rani and their cub Rudra. Needless to say, even the tigers fall for Mara’s charms.

But Senders don’t come along that often – they typically come during times of dire need. The cats can’t figure out why the Sender’s here now, because the going has been really good. Little do they know the danger that lurks around the corner, just biding its time. For when the Shuttered House opens, the ferals will come out. This is a band of cats, led by Datura, who live in the house with an ailing man. Having never stepped out of the house, never smelt the outside, these cats have gone rouge. And it’s just a matter of time before their worlds collide.

The Wildings is a stunning, richly imagined debut by columnist and editor Nilanjana Roy. By now I’m sure you’ve figured out that the main characters are the cats and the other animals and birds that live in Nizamuddin. The story is told from their perspective, in their voice and language. And it’s so well done that you’d be forgiven for thinking that a cat learnt how to write and spun this yarn for us Bigfeet!

I found myself staying up well beyond bedtime devouring this book. Then, as I reached the last two-thirds, I started getting distracted – setting the book aside and playing a game of Solitaire or checking my Twitter and Facebook feeds obsessively. Not because the book lost pace, but because I didn’t want it to end! In fact, as I was flipping through the pages looking for an illustration that I’d like to share in this review, I found myself getting pulled into the story again! I have a sneaky suspicion that I’m going to start re-reading the book very soon.

I can’t end the review without mentioning the wonderful illustrations by Prabha Mallya. Her beautiful work echoes the tone of the story without giving much away if you just causally flip through the book. Apparently, she undertook a textured, tactile illustration process, in which constructing, cutting, taping, splotching, stonewashing and layering featured prominently. And it shows. One of my favourite illustrations is the diagrams depicting a cat’s grooming process – I’ve seen all these actions multiple times a day courtesy my very own furball Pepo!

My cat, Pepo

If you’re a cat lover or cat-owed, you’ll love this book. If you’re not, chances are you’ll find yourself falling in love with (or at the very least, developing a soft spot for) cats. But whichever camp you fall in, go out and buy this book. Now! You will not regret it!

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Delhi Lens: Andhra Bhavan, CP – restaurant review

I’ve heard rave reviews about Andhra Bhavan from friends and even from the husband, but never had the opportunity to go there myself until recently. And boy, was I in for a treat!

Located in the quiet, tree-lined Ahsoka Road in the Connaught Place area, inside the Andhra Bhavan, is this small little foodie paradise. It scores high on food and low on ambience – be warned, it is a canteen. It is crowded. And noisy. There are plastic tables and chairs. You have to wait for a table. But it is so worth it!

We reached there around 3:00 pm on a Saturday. Most of the other patrons looked like local Andhraites, an excellent indicator of the quality of the food. And the food is cheap. I mean, seriously cheap. The thali is pure vegetarian, meats are ordered as a side dish. Since both my friend and I are light eaters, we opted for one side dish each – a mutton fry and a chicken fry – along with our thalis. And that set us back by a grand total of INR 460. Which is what a single dish costs at most establishments. Oh, and did I mention it’s an unlimited thali?

Since we arrived for lunch at 3:00, we were able to get a table immediately and the crowd started thinning soon, so overall, I’d say that’s a good time to visit. Just have a slightly heavy breakfast so you don’t faint on your way there and you’re set!

The thali has 3 vegetables, rasam, sambhar, dal (lentils), 2 poppadams, puris, rice and a sweet dish. On that particular Saturday we had pumpkin, which was nicely mashed up and retained its sweetness; a tomato, onion and courgette vegetable, which almost tasted like a chutney – the tanginess of the tomatoes complemented perfectly with the slight sweetness of the onions; and potatoes, which were quite similar in taste to the potato filling in dosas – not a taste I am particularly fond of. The rasam was piping hot and spicy without burning the tongue. The sambhar was very flavourful, not like the tamarind-heavy concoction that most run-of-the-mill South Indian restaurants serve. You could taste the flavours of the dal with the tamarind and other spices and the individual sweetness of the vegetables. And the mutton fry was simply to die for! Soft, melt in your mouth bite-sized pieces of mutton flavoured to perfection with the spices, coconut and curry leaves that Andhra cuisine is famous for. The chicken fry also had its own distinctive look and taste – a perfect melding of the spices and the meat.

There are also a number of pickles on the table, but I didn’t try any. What you must have, though, is gunpowder (also kept on the table). It’s made with a number of dals and spices, including split gram, moong dal, chana dal, red chilli powder, black pepper, asafoetida, cumin seeds and salt dry roasted and ground together into a powder. You take a couple of spoons of gunpowder, put 1–2 teaspoons of ghee over it and make it into a paste. Have it with rice. Yummy!! I had it in copious quantities – and unlike what I feared, it wasn’t unbearably fiery. Or maybe my palette has evolved!

Once we started eating, all conversation stopped, so engrossed were we in the flavours and the food. The staff was courteous, and they came around with re-fills as soon as we could ask for them.

All-in-all, if you can ignore the ambience, this place is a must-visit for the food. I know I will be going back for more soon!

Book review: The Prague Cemetery by Umberto Eco

The Prague Cemetery by Umberto Eco (book cover) 19th century Europe, from Turin to Prague to Paris, abounds with the ghastly and the mysterious. Conspiracies rule history. Jesuits plot against Freemasons. Italian priests are strangled with their own intestines. French criminals plan bombings by day and celebrate black masses by night. every nation has its own secret service, perpetrating forgeries, plots, and massacres. From the unification of Italy to the Paris Commune to the Dreyfus Affair to the notorious forgery The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, Europe is in tumult and everyone needs a scapegoat. But what if, behind both these conspiracies both real and imagined, lay just one man? What if that evil genius created the most infamous document of all?

That, then, is the premise of The Prague Cemetery.

I’ve always been attracted to Umberto Eco’s books, but never really had the courage to actually read one. So when I got an opportunity to review this book, I jumped at the chance.

But it wasn’t an easy read. In fact, within the first 10 pages I was cursing myself for taking it on . It starts with such hatred – for Jews, Italians, Germans, French, women, that it’s hard to read. Until you realize that Simonini, the architect of the entire conspiracy, is an evil man. Pure evil. It takes that to do what he did – create a forgery that led to the persecution of the Jews, of which he was actually proud! Then, once I managed to get through that part, it started to become confusing, what with the Carbonaras, Garibaldi, Piedmont and The Kingdom of Two Sicilies. This is a part of history I wasn’t too familiar with.

A 1934 edition by the Patriotic Publishing Company of Chicago. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Then, remembering something I had read once about Eco – that he sets off into history confident that the reader will be able to keep up with him – I took a deep breath, set my horror aside, and jumped right into the book. And realized just what that comment meant.

I referred to the guide at the back of the book where Eco lists the relationship between the plot and the story to ensure I got the time periods right, and I was sailing right through it.

The entire novel is told through Simonini’s diary. When he seems to forget some events, the mysterious Abbe Dalla Picolla pops onto the scene to fill out the gaps. These gentlemen live in adjoining flats and are quite oblivious that they are neighbors, occasionally finding traces of each other in their apartment. So while Simonini is confused about who he really is, he locks himself in his house and scribbles away in his diary to get to the root of his problem, as was recommend to him once by Dr. Freud. When Simonini and Dalla Picolla’s accounts get confusing, the Narrator steps in to clear things out.

And so you set off on a journey through the unification of Italy, Garibaldi’s campaign, and the French revolution. It’s not always easy, considering the numerous conspiracies and espionage and counter-espionage and treason woven through the book, and given that it’s all true, except for the character of Simonini. In fact, some of those truths are very relevant today.

Like this conspiracy attributed to the Jews:

Old Jewish Cemetery, Prague (Photo credit: GothPhil)

We shall bring about a universal economic crisis using all secret means possible, with the help of gold, which is all in our hands. We will reduce vast hordes of workers throughout Europe to ruin. These masses will then throw themselves with alacrity upon those who, in their ignorance, have been prudent since their childhood, and will plunder their possessions and spill their blood.

The Eurozone debt crisis, anyone? Isn’t that what this, in a way, is?

And Simonini’s observation about the population in 1860 are probably even more relevant today:

I’ve heard it said that over a billion people inhabit this earth. I don’t know how anyone could count them but from one look around Palermo it’s quote clear that there are too many of us and that we’re already stepping on each other’s toes.

I liked the way Eco built up Simonini’s character. As you read the book, you realize his triggers, the factors that shaped his ideology, and the way he justified everything that he does. The book is also richly populated with historical characters – from Dr. Freud to Dumas and even a guest appearance by Monet. Gives you a real feel for the place and the time, and raises your curiosity, making you want to read more history – which is a great thing for a historical novel to accomplish.

An illustration from The Prague Cemetery

More chilling is the portrait of man – of the depravity and scheming that goes on behind the scenes of every political regime, of the selling of morals just for a few francs. Most chilling, perhaps, is the picture of the secret service, who

is lost when he has to deal with something that has already happened. It’s our job to make it happen first. We’re spending substantial amounts of money organizing riots on the boulevards…To ensure that decent citizens are kept in a state of fear, and to convince everyone that tough measures are needed.

This made me wonder if maybe modern day politicians have read this book and taken this paragraph to heart.

Oh, and the many illustrations in the book – a majority of which are from Eco’s own collection, are excellent – helping you to more richly imagine the people and settings Eco describes in the book.

All-in-all, if you’re willing to put in some effort, you will be richly rewarded for reading this book.

Disclaimer: I got a copy of this book from Random House India, but the review and opinions expressed are my own.

An Ode to the Forgotten Art of Letter Writing

When was the last time you wrote a letter? Or received one?

I received two in the span of two weeks. The first was from @raghavmodi along with a book that I won at the end of The Sunday Book Club Twitter chat. (More details on the chat to come soon, so watch this space for more!) The second was from Random House India, with a really cute jute bag they sent me.

shallow focus of letter paper — Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

And both times, I felt an irrational urge to sit down with paper and pen and write a letter back. But in this digital age, when I’m connected with everyone “real time” through email, What’s App, Facebook and Twitter, there’s no real need to write anymore.

Lost are the joys of receiving letters…of watching out for the mailman to drop the mail off…of sitting down with a pen poised over a blank sheet of paper, gathering my thoughts before I begin to draft a response. Now things are immediate. As soon as something of note happens, my sister in New York knows about it through What’s App, my parents in Pune are given all the details breathlessly over the phone or via SMS, and friends get updates through Facebook and Twitter.

In a few years more, letter writing may indeed be a lost art. And wouldn’t that be a shame?

But there are some noteworthy initiatives out there. Like the Daily Rumpus’ Letters in the Mail, through which subscribers get letters from famous people three to four times a month for a fee. Some of the letters were typed, others handwritten. Some include illustrations, all were signed. They are then photo-copied and sent to subscribers.

The real nostalgia that I feel is for actual letter exchanges. The ones where you can see where the writer hesitated, where they crossed out an unformed thought, where their pen ran out of ink, or leaked out and blotted the paper. Spots where tears were shed or water was spilled. Little flourishes like a quick sketch or a trellis decorating the margins.

In my nostalgia, I sat down and went through the letters I exchanged with my boyfriend (now the husband) when we were dating. I was in Mumbai he was in Delhi and those letters were our primary way of keeping in touch – along with phone calls and emails – but the letters were still diligently written. Each one was sent with something – a pressed flower, a card, small mementos such as key chains and once even a box of potpourri.

Then there were the letters I used to write to my father, a Chief Engineer in the merchant navy. Little girl’s letters, young teen’s letters, young adult’s letters, until finally these were also replaced by emails.

Then there were pen pals. People I met on my travels abroad who were fascinated with the little girl from India. A few letters were exchanged. Some friendships were forged and then forgotten in the sands of time and due to the faulty Indian postal system.

But now I can’t remember the last time I wrote a letter or received one. Until I got these two notes after a gap of years and years and years.

What about you – do you still write and receive letters? Or do you, like me, sometimes feel nostalgic for old fashioned, hand written letters?

Book review: How About A Sin Tonight? By Novoneel Chakraborty

Set in the glamorous world of Bollywood, the book traces the lives of four main characters as their lives intersect one another.

The premise of the novel is interesting – a casting coup that brings together the biggest Bollywood star Saharan Ali Bakshi, his wife Reva Gupta, newcomer Neev, celebrity kid Nishani and her childhood friend Kaash. All of their lives are interwoven – Reva and Neel began their struggle to enter the industry together. As they interacted with one another, they fell in love and started living together. But Neel was a Casanova and Reva had a sexual relationship with another man she never saw (they met in dark rooms, apparently) to get back at him. Then, a chance encounter with Saharan opened new doors for Reva, and she left Neel for her shot at stardom.

Ever since Nishani kissed him when they were children, Kaash has secretly loved her and would do anything for her. Although they were in the same school, Kaash’s family moved suddenly and they lost touch with one another. Through a few chance encounters, Kaash ended up with a role in a low budget movie that went on to do really well, and happened to bump into Nishani at a Bollywood party.

Nishani is the daughter of forgotten superstar Shekhar Rai. During a shooting with then newcomer Saharan, a freak accident left him paralyzed – both physically and emotionally. He was never a father to Nishani, and for that she blames Saharan and vows to destroy him.

And Saharan is in still haunted by this first love Mehfil, a prostitute whom he met while he was still struggling to get a toehold in Bollywood. As their stories take center stage, the industry’s underbelly is left exposed and the gossip-hungry media has enough on it’s plate to last a lifetime.

First, the good: The basic story is interesting – love and hate and lust and revenge all set in Bollywood. There are some interesting reflections on love and relationships. The letters Kaash writes (but never posts) to Nishani are nice, though sometimes it’s hard to believe that those deep reflections could come from the pen of a young man.

The story starts well, but the writing starts getting on your nerves very soon. I’ll never understand why most Indian authors can’t write simple prose. Why does everything have to be forced and convoluted? Like this:

It was raining morning, noon, and night. Streets, along with their numerous dimples of potholes, were filled with water most of the times. From a bird’s eye view, Bombay would have looked like an omnivore’s digestive tract with everything – from snakes to human infants – swimming in water filled lanes, streets and roads.

Then there’s the forced dirty language, and just the horrible grammar. Like this:

Nishani could have stripped him of his pretence and spit on his pathetic nude self, but she played on because all she was interested in knowing was why they were sharing time when neither wanted to get married. And one didn’t want the sex part either.

This didn’t need the stripping and nude and spitting on anyone bits. It could have been just as effective if it had been kept simple. Maybe something like: Nishani saw through his excuses, but allowed him to try and justify himself.

Then, there are parts of the novel that could just have been cut off – some of the earlier lives of the charterers are unnecessarily long and don’t really contribute anything to the story.

Some of the key characters are a collection of cliches. Think of a starlet who is trying to get into the movies without a godfather. Chances are she would be willing to do anything – even be part of the casting couch – to get a break in the industry. That’s Reva for you. She’s confused about love, will do anything to get into Bollywood, treats sex casually and still has guilt issues attached to it. That’s about all you know about her, really.

All-in-all, the book could have used some serious editing, with portions of it needing a rewrite. Read this one at your own risk!

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Random House India. I was not financially compensated for posting this review, nor are my reviews influenced by the publisher. The opinions expressed are my own and are based on my observations while reading this novel.

My top three travel memories

The Competition is organized and conducted by www.lowcostholidays.com. From July 30th, team Captains of the participating blogger groups will start their leg of the Blogger Relay race by sharing the top three memories of their favourite travel destinations and ranking them 1st, 2nd and 3rd, before passing the Travel Baton on to a fellow blogger, who will then also list their top 3 travel memories. They too will then pass the baton. The Team in the longest chain by the end of the competition all win the Blogger Relay! (And, more importantly, a prize!)

As I take hold of the #TeamPurple #BloggerRelay baton from Sudhagee, I am immersed in my past. I’ve traveled a lot, and not much. I’ve been to most parts of the world, though a lot of those travels are dim memories from my childhood.

Having a father in the merchant navy meant that we traveled a lot – almost every summer vacation was spent on the ship, traveling to numerous destinations both near and far. That exposure to the huge world out there gave me a serious travel bug, but alas, that bug can only be indulged properly about once a year.

Since I got married 10 years ago, the husband and I have traveled to a lot of places around India. There’s so much to be explored in our country, so many cities I had not visited as I spent most of my childhood traveling to countries far and wide. And while I do remember a lot from my various trips abroad as a child, my top three memories are from holidays that I took as an adult.

#3: Nawalgarh, Rajasthan

On the third spot with the Bronze medal I’d rate my trip to Nawalgarh in Rajasthan. Still off the beaten track, it was a pleasure to explore the city. Located in the Shekhawati region, it is known as Rajastahan’s outdoor art gallery. The old havelis (large houses) in this region have got some fantastic murals, both outside on the walls and within the houses. Some of the havelis are very well maintained, others are sadly ignored, but the paintings are lovely. Wandering through one of the havelis will take you through Indian history, from the first railway station to the courts of the king; through European cities; and Indian mythology. The sheer novelty and laid back pace of that vacation makes it one of my cherished travel memories.

#2: Disneyland, Orlando

In second position, claiming the Silver medal, is my trip to Disneyland, Orlando, with my parents last year. What can I say about Disneyland? It’s absolutely fantastic, something that everyone must do at least once in their lives. Plus, you’re really never too old to be swept off your feet by the magic of Disney! The attention to detail, the passion of the people working there, the vibrancy in the air, getting my photo clicked with some of my favorite Disney characters (yes, really!) are memories to be treasured. The five days I spent there were truly magical. They made me feel like a kid once again! Some awesome rides, lovely stage shows, the Disney parade, the fireworks, and the exhilaration I felt there with my parents are etched into my memory forever.

#1: New York City

The winner by far, claiming the Gold medal, is my visit to New York City. The vibrancy, the shopping, the people, the museums…just the thought of it brings a smile to my lips. The major highlight of the trip has to be my visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s a place that has been on my must-visit list since I was a teen. I was unprepared for it’s vastness…but the experience was mind-blowing! Actually seeing masterpieces by some of my favorite artists was surreal. Taking in the gorgeous sculptures, the Temple of Dendur, the fine Japanese artwork, the pottery…and ending the evening on the steps of the Met as I processed the entire experience was a dream come true.

As I emerge from these daydreams of trips past, I pass the #TeamPurple baton on to Becki…

Neil Barnes of Backpacks and Bunkbeds, is the captain of #TeamPurple and you can read the posts of the other team members here.

Now it’s your turn. What is your top travel memory?

I wish someone told me…

I wish someone told me…
That the sun and moon wouldn’t really rise with his smile
That life isn’t really a dream that you dream with the one you love
That just believing I could wouldn’t help me to fly
That a hero doesn’t always lie in me, there is a coward lurking in there too…

This post is dedicated to those incurable romantics, who believe the songs and the movies and the books…who believe that what is sung and shown and written is literal…and are heartbroken when they realize that it isn’t.

Come on! How can you think that love would be so all-consuming that it would seem like a utopian dream from which you’d never wake up, or that just a smile from the person you love would light up your life, never mind their words and their actions? If it really was like that, life would be so exhausting! You wouldn’t be able to get anything done, because you’d just be melting into the other person. Not to mention that you would lose your identity – lose YOU. And seriously, that isn’t healthy. A relationship requires hard work. There are nasty fights and heartbreaks along the way. If you’re going to breakdown at the first sign of disagreement you’re going to be a mess!

Replace that narrative with this empowering thought:

Can you really be so naive as to believe that just thinking is going to attract what you want into your life? Really now! The Secret may be great and all, but it’s very simplistic. Thoughts turn into things, sure, but it’s not magic. A lot of hard work goes on behind the scenes. You cannot just think yourself into a new job, for instance. You need to create or update your CV, send it out to multiple people, attend interviews, and only then might you find yourself with a job. And given the economy in most parts of the world, that isn’t even guaranteed! What thoughts do is help you focus on what you want, and give you the necessary inspiration to put in the hard work required to “attract” it into your life.

Replace that narrative with this empowering piece of advice, given to me by my teacher at school:

Do you believe that you will eventually find the hero within you? That you can always rise to every challenge thrown at you? That you can face anything and everything that comes your way? Listen to the lyrics carefully – all of them. To those lovely lyrics, I’d like to add this: It takes a great deal of courage… and before you can find the hero within you, you have to confront the coward lurking in you. Your fears and anxieties. You need to calm that coward down and reason with it. At times, you just have to downright ignore it. That is hard. Very hard. To listen to the fears and insecurities and go ahead anyway. Not everyone can do it all of the time and in all circumstances. And that’s OK, too. Instead, learn your limitations. Work on what you can, accept what you cannot, and take your decisions accordingly.

Replace the thought of always wanting to be the hero and beating yourself up when you aren’t with this little gem:

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

The prompt brought to mind my role as agony aunt with a friend who believes everything you tell her – literally – including these things I’ve listed above! If this helps you or someone you know, if you agree with the thoughts I’ve shared here, please feel free to share this post with your friends.

Now, it’s your turn. What do you wish someone had told you?

Delhi lens: 7 Degree Brauhaus – restaurant review

Welcome to a new series on Modern Gypsy – Delhi lens. As part of this series, I’ll be focusing on the Delhi-NCR region, bringing your posts on the eating out culture in the city, interesting shopping destinations and tourist spots.

What better way to kick off this series that with a restaurant review! I’m a self-confessed foodie. Though I am a reluctant cook, when I do step into the kitchen, I almost always step out of it with a masterpiece – unless I’ve been baking, then I just stomp out in tears!

But, what can I say? Good food just makes me happy! And I love experimenting. So, when I heard of a German micro-brewery that had opened up in Gurgaon, I just had to go and eat for myself!

7° Brauhaus claims to be an authentic Bavarian microbrewery and kitchen, and their interiors sure reflect it. The ambiance is really nice – they’ve tried to create an Oktoberfest kind of feel in the restaurant, with large Chestnut trees around which tables are strewn around.

7 degree brauhaus

Seeing as we were visiting a brewery, beer had to be ordered. But since neither of us are beer drinkers, we opted for a Shandy (light beer with lemonade). What can I say – the beer was kind of palatable, until we had a few bites of food, after which it was horrible. The bitter after taste I got from the beer initially was replaced by a bitter taste. Period. I don’t know – maybe the lemonade sank to the bottom after a while? But, please, don’t trust my judgement on the beer – I hate the brew! I just ordered it in the spirit of things!

Where you can trust me is on the food. And that, I have to say, was delicious!

We started with the 7º Brauhaus non-vegetarian platter that came with chicken fingers, calamari rings, prawn skewers, lamb balls and minced meat pie. All of which was pretty good. I guess it’s hard to go wrong when you fry things up!I generally am not too fond of calamari – I find it too rubbery and chewy – but these were quite good!

Next, we ordered the Flammenbrot, a light crispy pastry base topped with soft cheese, caramelized onions and forest mushrooms. Now this dish, it was brilliant! The pastry was soft and flaky, the mushrooms and onions were flavorful and the cheese had melted nicely into the topping.

For the main course, we chose the Nurnberg Bratwurst, which was served with pretzel, fries and a green salad. The sausages were soft and juicy and the balsamic reduction drizzled on them gave it that extra bit of oomph. The pretzel was nice and hard and salty, the fries were done to perfection and the house dressing on the salad was quite yummy.

Next up was desert – Home-made Vienna Apple Strudel served with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream in a cute little waffle cup. The Apple Strudel was the perfect end to our wonderful meal – not too sweet with a perfectly balanced cinnamon flavor.

Overall, this is a wonderful place for foodies. I know I’m going to be coming back here soon – I already know what I want to try next!

Book Review: The Confession by John Grisham

It’s been really long since I’ve read Grisham. I’ve always enjoyed his books, so I was looking forward to revisiting his writing.

The Confession tells the story of death row inmate Donte Drumm, who has been sentenced to death for murdering high school cheerleader Nichole Yarber. Though he always claimed he was innocent, the courts upheld his sentence based on his confession to the guilt, an admission that he was bullied into making. Four days before his execution, Travis Boyette, who has recently been released from prison and parole and is suffering from an inoperable brain tumor, reaches out to a Keith, a Lutheran minister, and admits that he had raped and killed Nichole. And so begins a last minute dash from Kansas to Slone, Texas, as Keith takes Travis to the offices of Robbie Flak, Donte’s lawyer. But will the courts listen to this last minute confession by a serial convict?

As usual, Grisham’s narrative is gripping. He builds up his story piece by piece, throwing in minor characters to paint the town of Slone as it is gripped by a race riot at the wrongful condemnation of an innocent man. Grisham always has been a master of courtroom drama, and he doesn’t disappoint.

The story is also many layered – “Texas style justice” juxtaposed with death penalty abolitionists; one mother’s love and grace under pressure contrasted with another’s desire for revenge and constant appearance in the media; and a minister’s predicament between his faith and the repercussions that his actions will have on his future in the Church. Add to the mix a flamboyant lawyer, dirty politics and a detective who is convinced that what he did was right, and you have all the ingredients for a thrilling novel.

The book kept me up late at night, turning the pages, hoping for justice for Donte Drumm. If you’re a Grisham fan, this book is a must read. If you’ve never read him before, read this and you’re likely to become a fan

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Random House India. I was not financially compensated for posting this review, nor are my reviews influenced by the publisher. The opinions expressed are my own and are based on my observations while reading this novel.

Book review: Colossus: Stone & Steel by David Blixt

Set in Judea in 66 AD, Colossus details the Judean uprising against Nero’s Rome through the eyes of two brothers – Judah and Asher.

Judea has been suffering under the greed of its Roman Consular General, but when their temple is desecrated, an angry mob rises up against and defeats the Roman legion. They know that this act of rebellion will set the stage swift and merciless action by Emperor Nero, and must prepare to defend themselves against the Roman invasion. Almost unwillingly caught up in the middle of all this turmoil is Judah, a stone mason and hero of the uprising at Beth Horon. Since he is unable to win approval to marry the woman of his dreams, he and his brother Asher devote all their energies to defending the besieged city of Jotapata.

This is the second book by David Blixt that I tried to read. The first, Her Majesty’s Will, left me cold – I couldn’t get past 50 pages. So it was with some trepidation that I approached this book. However, I was pleasantly surprised. The story drew me in, painting the cities and the people and the setting vividly in my imagination. The plot is taunt – it’s not a fast-paced book, but it will keep you engaged and eager to turn the page. When the book came to an end, I was a little sad to be leaving the brothers in Jotapata and coming back to my everyday life! He’s built up the characters and the time period very well. The story is set around the time when Christianity was still starting – it had few takers, and most followers of Christ had to be careful about when and where they would meet as the clergy at the time was not convinced that Jesus was The Christ that was spoken of in prophesy. Blixt brings to life the city of Judea and Emperor Nero and his court, as well as the customs and daily life of people during that time period through his vivid descriptions. The characters, especially the key players (but even the smaller cast) are well crafted – you know their motivations and their fears and hopes and dreams.

Interior of the Basilica di San Clemente, Rome, Italy. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This book is supposed to be the first in a series of books on Rome and the rise of Christianity, but it starts “small, almost intimately, with two Judean brothers at the siege of Jotapata.” Author David Blixt hit upon the idea for this novel after a visit to St Clement’s in Rome, where they have excavated and created a tour through the history of the city.

“As a city that’s always building up upon it self, it’s often hard to see ancient Rome in anything but the famous edifices and the shapes of the streets. But here is Rome encapsulated. You start in an 17th century church, then descend into an early 12th century church, then to a 4th century church, a 3rd century Mithraeum (temple to the god Mithras), then finally to a 1st century Roman street and insula (apartment). You can hear the Tiber running just under your feet through the ancient sewer system.
I never got past that 1st century street. Because I started looking into Saint Clement himself, and what was going on when he was living there – the fall of Jerusalem, the building of the Colosseum, the rise of Christianity in Rome. That was how the Colossus series was born.” – David Blixt, on the inspiration for the novel.

Blixt will widen the scope out in the next several book, keeping Judah and Asher as the central points, exploring how drastically the world changed in a short period of time.

I have to say that I’m looking forward to the rest of this series, though the book does excellently as a stand-alone novel as well.