India on My Platter

by Saransh Goila

  Meal done, friendship struck, lessons learnt and soon, it was time to leave. My next destination was Gwalior, the home of the Scindias.

  DAY 67

  Travelling from one region with a royal past, Bhopal, to another erstwhile royal kingdom, Gwalior.

  DAY 68

  12 October/ Gwalior

  Gwalior is one of the most popular cities of Madhya Pradesh, because of its historical significance. The city and its fortress have been ruled by several Indian dynasties: the Mughals, Marathas and the Scindias. I wanted to experience both history and culture together so I picked a destination where I could find a bit of both; I went to see the Scindia School, situated within the Gwalior Fort. On my way, I also explored the fort and the very famous Telli Ka Mandir. Literally translated, it means oil man’s temple; the story goes that it was built by an oil dealer.

  The fort overlooked the city and was quite expansive. The Scindia School is an Indian boarding school for boys, established in 1897, for children of the royal families. Presently headed by Jyotiraditya Scindia, it is still considered to be one of the 10 best boarding schools in India.

  Before I met the principal, I headed straight for the mess. You will be surprised to know that this mess is unlike others and serves food that is fun for the children and is nutritious as well. I happened to arrive on the day when samosa was being served in the form of a money bag, thus making it visually appealing for the youngsters. The kachori was similar to the one available on the street, as they were stuffed with dals, but the saada aloo was a 150-year-old recipe. It is potato lightly coated in a special sauce made of tomatoes, turmeric, ghee and asafoetida. The alumni of the school still return to taste this dish; such is the power of food! It was good to see that the children were well fed and were happy to eat mess food; they ate anything from dals and biryani, to butter chicken. On speaking with the mess in charge I found out that as jalebi (sweet made of a coil of batter, fried, and steeped in syrup) and rabri (a mixture of thickened creamy milk and bits of cream that is sweetened with sugar and flavoured with saffron and cardamom powder) are extremely popular in Gwalior, they are served in school on the weekends as a treat.

  After having a heavy breakfast, I went for a long walk and saw the polo grounds and cricket field. How I secretly wished I had studied here! On meeting the principal, Mr. Sainik Ghosh, I got to know that students were also encouraged to cook and try their own recipes sometimes in the mess. He believed that the real fun of living in a boarding school was to be able to cook those midnight meals, on your own, using all the innovation one could! They had provided each dormitory with ovens and stoves to facilitate the midnight cooking. I was thinking about my college days and how I must have made 100 recipes out of Maggi alone.

  I saw the brass band perform after meeting the principal. Very nice and tuneful. I spent the afternoon with students and walking around the grounds. Education in India has so much potential, why can’t all children be educated like this? I was thinking to myself, if every little child of India had these facilities, learning environment and food, we would be the most powerful country in the world.

  My Gwalior trip was a short one and I squeezed in all the little visits we had planned.

  I now moved on to Agra, 120 km from where we were.

  DAY 69

  13 October / Agra

  Gwalior to Agra was not a very long journey. I began my day with one of the Seven Wonders of the World in modern times. This wasn’t my first visit, but I was excited and anxious as if it was the first time around. Before I weigh you down with facts that you might not remember, I want to give you a few personal recommendations for your visit. If you can manage to visit the Taj Mahal at night and see its beauty being reflected in the moonlight, then that image will remain with you for the rest of your life. It appears pink in the morning, white in the day and becomes ethereal in the moonlight. An identical Taj Mahal was supposed to be built in black marble instead of white. The base of it can still be seen across the river. However, after the completion of the Taj, emperor Shah Jahan ordered the right hand of the chief mason to be cut off so that no one could ever recreate the monument. Of course, there isn’t any proof about this theory. According to one of the many other myths, the Taj Mahal is apparently sinking!

  Built in 1653, even after more than 300 years, millions of people flock to this symbol of love every year. I revisited the tombs inside and the garden. I took a short break to rest against the cold marble of the structure and watched the world go by. Another point I want to make while we are on the subject is that everyone thinks of the Taj Mahal when they think of India, but just a few kilometres away is the equally grand Agra Fort. I didn’t stop for a visit this time, I drove by one of the outer walls of this 94 acre historical monument, that was first built in the eleventh century.

  Kalakriti, a store on V.I.P. Road, caught my attention and I just had to stop to have a look. It resembled an old fort, designed specifically to set pace with the mood of the city. The entire building resembled the famous Buland Darvaza; the door was studded with semi-precious stones set in intricate patterns. A very aesthetically designed handicraft emporium, this art gallery also housed jewellery, Taj-miniatures, furniture, and marble table-tops. The store was also the very proud owner of the Mini Taj. By that, I not only mean in comparison to the original one, albeit, it came with a sound and light show of its own. This Taj came out of the floor and took part in a very theatrical display, surrounding the original love story behind the monument. It took 10 years and 20 people to build this monument, and was not up for sale. I also learnt, while there, that pacchakari was the art of setting colourful stones inside intricate carvings on marble. Introduced to India by the Mughals in the seventeenth century, it was the name given to the carvings on the walls of Taj Mahal. Kalakriti had this same marble work done on table-tops, coffee tables and display pieces. I never got a chance to cook at the Taj Mahal, so I found an opportunity to cook for and serve the owner and his wife a special valentine platter. I wanted an excuse to sit at one of the beautiful marble dinner tables. I thought I could be a good son and send my parents a gift from Agra. However, it seemed I needed to work for a few more years before I could shop at Kalakriti.

  DAY 70

  14 October / Agra-Mathura

  After a night filled with dreams about kings and palaces, I shook off the love cloud and headed out to eat.

  I have had relatives who lived in Agra, so the roads were familiar to me. Every time they visited us in Delhi, they would bring the famous Agra ka petha (transparent soft candy, rectangular or cylindrical in shape, made from white pumpkin). I have a distinct memory of the colourful cardboard box bound by red string, with the words Panchhi Petha written in Hindi. Incidentally, fate had brought me to that very sweet shop today. Here, I met the third generation of the Goel family. I belong to the same caste as that of the Goel’s, and I took an instant liking to them. This store that I was in was the original Panchhi Petha and there were many other imitations as well. According to Ankit Goel, the great grandson, the original stores always had a picture of his great grandfather, Mr. Panchhi Lal; hence, the name. The first store was set up in 1952, in a small space at Noori Darwaza. They believed that whoever came to see the Taj, wouldn’t leave without a box of their famous petha.

  It was finally time to eat and revisit childhood memories. I tasted the candied pumpkin in its full range of colours and flavours. The plain petha was a cloudy sugary white and was made in big squares. The first bite was what all Indian children loved about the sweet. It felt like a glutinous fleshy fruit and the sugar rush quickly kicked in. The petha industry has certainly become very creative; the sweets are now sandwiched with flavours like chocolate, coconut and kesar pista. My favourite was the gulab laddu, which had candied rose petals in its centre. There was an angoori petha, shaped like angoor (grapes). The shop was a bright island of colours, light and attractive displays.

  After this stop, it was time to get on the road for Mathura. I bid farewe
ll and took lots of pictures to show to my sister.

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  Mathura is not very far from Delhi; the driving time is only about three hours. Mathura is a holy city for the Hindus and is also called Braj Bhumi after the birth place of Lord Krishna. Again, this is a city I had been to many times, throughout my childhood. Narrow lanes, crowded markets, big temples; it paints an ancient picture of India. The city is filled with sounds of chanting from the temples, lending a very spiritual aura to the place. Since life in Mathura is best experienced in its tiny lanes, the only option I had was to walk and experience what the streets had to offer. Mathura is quite high up on the food quotient. Nearly everyone I know has a favourite from here, be it a samosa, kachoris for breakfast, or bedmi (stuffed lentil puri) aloo for lunch or lassi and dairy-rich desserts in the evening. You can get all these under one roof and that is the Brijwasi store. It is, without doubt, the largest food store in Mathura.

  The best thing that happened, while I was there, was that I met up with Pulkit, a college friend of mine; he happens to be the third generation of the Brijwasi family. His grandfather began this business in the 1930s, on the banks of the river Yamuna. Today, that shop was one of their many manufacturing units. Most famous for their pedas (made from milk solids that are strained away from the whey, and cooked in sugar), Brijwasi now had a wide range of sweets and savouries. Pedas have a caramel colour that comes from the sugar being cooked. The main flavours added are cardamom, saffron and pistachio. It is said that pedas have been on the dessert table from the nineteenth century, and originated somewhere outside Mathura. The density, colour, sweetness, and milk content all depend on the person making it. This is explained by the fact that it is usually offered as prasad to the Gods. Each person has his or her own way of worshiping. Creativity sets apart different pedas in the city, however, all varieties instantly melt in your mouth, leaving behind a caramel milky flavour.

  Pulkit didn’t wait for me to ask; he lined up all the varieties for me to taste. The plain one was the best. I asked him what was the secret behind the taste, to which he replied, ‘Blessings of Lord Krishna.’ I drank a whole glass of the saffron pistachio milk and I could not believe how creamy the milk was and how pure the saffron. It was like an instant energy shot in one tall glass.

  The first floor was a food court where they served me a thali. The food was vegetarian, cooked without onion and garlic. It had an assortment of dal, vegetables, paneer and yoghurt. As a starter they served dhokla, a steamed gram flour cake and pakoras. Puris were served instead of rotis and the meal was more than substantial at a very reasonable cost. Pulkit made sure I had so much food that it could pull me through till dinner. It was one of those days where all I did was eat. Tomorrow would be dedicated to knowing about the religious leanings of Mathura.

  DAY 71

  15 October / Mathura

  I would like to believe that there are two ways of looking at religion: either with boring, objective eyes, or with an adventure and flair for story telling. My grandfather, a big Krishna devotee, was the reason I used to visit Mathura. I even went with him to a wedding once, where I (a fat 14-year-old) was dressed up as Lord Krishna, surrounded by girls who were much too pretty for me, dancing to the chants. I had saved that picture in my head for a very long time.

  The Raas dance is part of the traditional story telling of Krishna. It is known as Raas Leela and katha (story telling form) is believed to have evolved from here. Raas means aesthetics and leela means storytelling. The dance originally has Krishna surrounded by gopis (women who herd cows) devoted to him. Today, extracts from the original Raas Leela are performed by dancers at temples. At one such temple I met a pandit who arranged a dance performance for me, which was enacted by the dancers while the panditji sang. The dancers had painted their skin in various colours and their dresses were adorned with peacock feathers. They danced and swayed to the chants and songs; after a while I felt serene. I had a moment with panditji where we talked about beliefs and the meaning of being devoted to Lord Krishna. The only way I felt like I could do my part was by cooking, even if it was just for my grandfather’s sake. I made his favourite, Saffron Pakwaan.

  SAFFRON PAKWAAN

  (Traditional flatbread from Sindh, flavoured with saffron.)

  Ingredients

  10-12 saffron (kesar) strands

  2 tbsp milk

  ½ cup whole wheat flour (atta)

  1½ cup all purpose flour (maida)

  1 tsp cumin (jeera) seeds

  1 tsp carom (ajwain) seeds

  A pinch of asafoetida (hing)

  ½ tsp crushed black pepper (sabut kali mirch)

  Salt to taste

  Water to knead the dough

  2 tbsp clarified butter (ghee)

  Oil to fry

  Method

  1. Soak the saffron in warm milk.

  2. Sieve both, the whole wheat flour and all-purpose flour together.

  3. Mix the flour with cumin seeds, carom seeds, asafoetida, crushed peppercorns and salt.

  4. Rub the flour with ghee, just like we do for short crust. It’ll have a coarse breadcrumb-like texture now.

  5. Add saffron milk with sufficient water to knead a semi-soft dough. Let it rest for 15-20 minutes.

  6. Divide into small equal portions (roti-size dough balls).

  7. Roll it out like rotis. With the help of a knife or a fork make tiny impressions on it. Please do not miss this important step.

  8. Heat the oil for frying. Fry the pakwaans on medium flame until they are crisp and have a nice golden colour.

  9. Serve the pakwaans with hot dal or a vegetable curry of your choice. Or you can eat them as it is.

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  It might sound clichéd, but the air made my pakwaan richer, more flavourful and definitely delicious. The other reason I decided to make this pakwaan was that it was used as prasad in my house, as an offering to the Gods; a tradition started by my grandfather. When it was time to eat, we sat together on the floor and panditji said a small prayer before we began. I never pray before I eat and I almost reached out for the food before I caught myself. Panditji had an acquired taste. He tasted the food at the place where he performed his rituals, and only then did he decide where he would pray. After the first bite, he smiled and approved. He told me my grandfather would be very proud, and I remember, at that moment, my eyes did moisten up a bit. I spent the rest of the day walking along the banks and wandering in the streets. I recalled my earlier visits and the things I had done then. I added this visit to my bank of memories for Mathura, as I had done with my earlier visits.

  DAY 72

  From the land of Krishna, I was now heading towards the hills and plains of Dehradun.

  DAY 73

  17 October/ Dehradun

  I had been in central India, on the plains, for a while. Throughout my journey, I had been reading Ruskin Bond and now as I headed to Doon Valley, the stories were almost coming to life. Dehradun lies on the foothills of the Himalayas, nestled between two of India’s mightiest rivers, the Ganga and the Yamuna. Located very close to Mussourie, Dehradun has inspired many artists, writers and poets into creativity. Of course, my interest lied in the culinary heritage of the area. As I walked the streets, I realised that since the British arrived in 1816, very little had changed. The corner shops still made jams, preserves and cheese, very much in the English style. My first stop was a cultural one. I went to Rio Resorts, where I met Mrs. Gosai who had arranged a cultural programme for me, followed by a Garhwali cooking lesson. She told me that she followed me on television and promised me that if I ever paid her a visit, she would teach me the lesser know techniques of the mountain cuisine.

  Her company had been set up with the aim of preserving their culture and cuisine. She was a small portly lady and her sari was a bright red that stood out against the dull green hills. The group of ladies, who were about to perform their traditional dance were all housewives from the area, who had come together to form a society to preserve
their dying culture. The dance revolved around Goddess Parvati and the song was sung in Garhwali, one of the 325 languages recognised in India. They wore a long skirt worn with a blouse and a chunni (a long scarf that women wear around their head and shoulders) draped over their heads. Around their necks they wore beautiful silver ornaments called hansuli. The area was rugged and mountainous, none the less, the flora and fauna that grew here, were suitable for the cuisine. The ladies had intricate knowledge about wild edible plants and their usage in the making of the food.

  The two popular cuisines of Uttaranchal were from the Garhwal region and the Kumaon region with lot of commonalities between them. The principles of fresh, local, organic and nutritional food have existed here throughout time. What I loved here was the generous amount of ghee used in the food. Being a cold area, the ghee provided the warmth that the winter chill took away. As we stood outside and cooked, I waited desperately for the food and some of that warmth. They ate thick rotis stuffed with dals, leafy greens and vegetables. Mrs. Gosai took time to tell me about a little grey seed, called jhangora, which they use to make a kheer. Apparently, this seed has the power to dispel the supernatural. It also has medicinal properties and provides a lot of energy to the person who eats it. Jhangora is a type of millet that grows in the region. She told me I was still a growing boy and I should eat this millet to be strong. She also showed me how to make a Moong Dal Pakora, made during an auspicious occasion or a festival and also the jhangoora kheer. This had to be my lucky day. The culture and cuisine here were new to me and Mrs. Gosai taught me well. I spent a long day enjoying the scenery, the weather and the food.