Serendipity, Saunter and Faux paz

It was the early 2000s and away on the East Coast Road in Chennai, by the bay, there wasn't a library nearby to borrow magazines. We missed our regular quota of Reader's Digest, Chandamama, Champak, Outlook, The Week and other reads. New to the area, I went around asking everyone if they knew of a library nearby, where did they get their books from? I discovered that there was a librarian who visited homes and delivered books. You could keep them for a fortnight and then on his next visit, he would collect those back and leave new ones for you. He charged a nominal sum that we could easily afford to pay and was a very tiny fraction of what it would cost to buy the magazines. The first time we met Mama ( maternal Uncle - it is the usual form of addressing gentlemen much older than you) we realised that he cycled around delivering books and magazines. The cycle was a trusted big, black hero cycle and he carried the books in colourful bags made of thick plastic, that would hand fr...

The dawn of the new year Gudi Padwa is the Maharashtrian new year’s day. In the early hours of the morning, the Gudi was set up and worshipped. Just after the regular puja was completed. The gathis (sugar wafers that are threaded together to form a garland) were bought the previous evening. This goes with the neem leaves as part of the gudi but there were extra ones to give to any children who would come and also for anyone who would like to eat them. Once the pooja was complete, the house resounded with Kumar Gandharva’s voice and the cassette we had would play through the morning. There was a lavish meal as usual – either shrikhand – puri or pooran poli along with aluchi paatal bhaji, bhaat, varan, bhaji, koshimbir, chutney, lonchi, papad for the family. In the afternoon there would often be music performances nearby and depending on what the plans for the evening were we would go to listen to some classical music. All the day through friends and family would drop by to seek Aji'...

  (Photo by Doina Gavrilov: https://www.pexels.com/photo/delicate-pink-rose-17637049/ ) Gulkanda As the temperatures soar, the warm, seasonal food that was served through the winter changed. Suddenly, butter milk and lemonade became the go to drinks to keep cool through the day. Curries were made with raw mango. But the most interesting was to eat a spoonful of gulkand in the mornings. At other times of the year, gulkand was an essential ingredient of meetha paan (betel leaf with sweet gulkand filling) but in summers you could eat it everyday to ward off heat related ailments. And it was home made! Our tiny rose garden was our pride. It had about 20 variety of roses including climbers in our small front yard! But the ones that Aji took pride in were tucked away towards the backyard, near the bananas. They were the ‘desi’ or local ones in white, pink and pearl. The pearly one known as motiya in Marathi was particularly pretty! It is a delicate creamy rose with just a hint of pink...

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I am writing about Puran poli in the context of Holi because of the popular chant –  Holi re holi, purnachi poli ... Pooran poli is otherwise very important as well. As an offering to the Gods during other festivals and because my Aji made really amazing puranpolis according to everyone! As a kid, I didn’t like them at all. I'm not sure but it must have something to do with grinding all that pooran though I did like eating the puran and while one was grinding it, eating bits of it was totally prohibited. But thinking back and now having developed a liking for them I do prefer the soft ones, stuffed with a lot of pooran  like she made them. And then drizzled with ghee! The soft flavour of nutmeg playing hide and seek with the tastebuds as one took a morsel.  Amongst the festivals purannpoli was made at were Gudi Padva, Navratri – first day and ninth day and just a little bit of pooran on the eight day as well for the aarti. Then we had it for Holi and Gudi Padva and in bet...

Linguistic negotiations  I found the words from the chapter ‘Exile’ from  'In Other Words' by Jhumpa Lahiri, lingering in my thoughts. Even as I read it my mind was running ahead of me in a parallel universe that houses my own experiences. I feel total empathy  for her estrangement with her mother tongue, Bengali and her comment that her mother tongue feels like a foreign tongue. Having spent several years in non- Marathi speaking regions, I am reminded of the struggle to keep my mother tongue alive. Trying to keep it flowing for my daughter CC; she may not have yearned for it as she had the resilience and the innocent adaptability of the very young to adopt another language and make it her own with remarkable speed. But for me my mother tongue was the bridge between being a young, bumbling parent and my own happy childhood. Language of course formed a large part of it. So with enthusiasm I got her CDs of Marathi plays and story books and sang her songs from the language ...

Discovering Chicory and Fava Virtual travelling during the pandemic, I kept making lists of what to see and what to do and what to taste on the next real trip. Researching Puglia, looking at various top 10 suggestions, what caught my attention was  ‘chicory and fava.’ A puree of fava beans soaked overnight and chicory leaves. It sounded wholesome and comforting but I had never heard of chicory leaves being eaten before. Chicory! My association with chicory is it's presence in coffee and endless debates about whether coffee is better with it or without it. My grandmother, dressed in her voile saree, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, standing under the arched doorway that separated the dining room from the kitchen and strongly advocating chicory in coffee in her warm, cultured Maharashtrian manner. Grandmother refused to have coffee that did not contain chicory as according to her it was the chicory that brought out the flavours  of coffee.  The way she said it chi- ko...