Adhi Potoba

For students in Pune, especially those that have passed their SSC, the ones that are in the final year of their degree courses and everyone in between, hanging around spending entire evenings doing nothing is a big part of life. My immediate circle of 40 odd vagabonds such as myself had chosen a particular corner of town when we were 16 where we would waste a major part of the next 12 years of our lives. It was a small “ paanwala ”. For those unfamiliar with the concept of a paanwala , it is a shack, which sells beetle leaves and loose cigarettes. , a staple for said age group. Our Paan Tapri stood proudly next to a run down hotel, Village Corner. Village Corner had changed hands faster than coalition governments in Delhi till it finally shut down one day. The little cigarette shop however stands proudly to this day as the hotel that would’ve given it business stands in a state of utter disrepair. We would park our respective two wheelers next to the Paan shop and blowing hot air that ...

I was always intrigued by the old ads for Monaco biscuits with their nicely decorated toppings. I, on the other hand, dipped my Monacos in my tea till my cup became a soggy, salty, inedible mess. I wasn't aware that Monaco was a salty cracker and didn't always have to be consumed with one's tea. (Of course, when you drink your tea on a two-wheeler parked under a tree, you dunk whatever is available in your tea.) In the ads the Monacos were usually decorated with strange, colourful toppings, although I had never really seen one pass by on a tray of hors d'oeuvres at a party. Not so long ago, I happened to be on the Parle Monaco website where they featured Monaco wallpapers for your computer. Why? I had to take a peek and I must share this ad / wallpaper with everyone. And as a professional in advertising I couldn't help but laugh at it. Considering the fact that no one outside of India would've even heard of Monaco, this ad must be for Indian audiences. It fea...

Keli chya baaga maama chya. Pivlya ghaada ni vakaychya. If you were in an English medium school and Marathi was a second language, you'd remember this poem from your Bal Bharati text book in Std II. It was a poem about the poet's uncle who apparently had some large banana plantations. The poem goes on to describe the how each member of the family tended to the banana plants and it all climaxed in a domestic orgy of Shikran. One may conclude that the uncle's family really, really loved their bananas. Had this poem come in at a slightly later year I am sure one of the pupils would have surely questioned such a banana centric lifestyle. Actually, it was a very sweet poem and whenever I think of Shikran, I cannot help but think of the nicely illustrated yet slightly exaggerated banana plants weighed down by large clusters of ripe yellow bananas. A well prepared bowl of Shikran never fails to transport me back to my mom's kitchen where she'd serve me Shikran and chapatt...

At the far end of Apte Road lies a tin shed that looks like the aftermath of an eager pyromaniac's unsuccessful experiments. This is the legendary Santosh bakery and the last time I saw it, the walls inside were black from being baked all day, everyday for the last couple of decades. I have fond memories of Santosh Bakery growing up. I remember my dad on his way back from work would make a stop at Santosh Bakery to bring home some hot vegetable pattice. The evening batch would come out at exactly 5:00 p.m. and there would be a huge line to get your hands on a dozen of these bad boys. The veg pattice (not to be confused with meat patties) is a spicy vegetable mixture in a puff pastry. The one thing I absolutely loved about Santosh Bakery was that it appealed to all classes. It was really nice to see a bullock cart parked behind a Mercedes. And their respective drivers standing close to the furnace in the hot Indian sun, in a line where they are all the same. Santosh Bakery serves so...

If there's one thing the great city of Pune lacks, it's a beach and an abundance of fresh seafood. Sure there are a few fish markets and some scattered fish mongers , but the seafood is always expensive and unless you're really tight with the fish monger, not really that great. This would also explain the lack of good seafood restaurants in Pune. Growing up, I couldn't recall a single restaurant that was known for great fish. But in the last two years that I still lived in Pune, a restaurant by the name of Kalinga had just opened it's doors on the small road whose only claim to fame was a quick access to the Mhatre Bridge . A restaurant that tried too hard with a seating capacity of 500 and was decorated with baroquean excess . Hopefully they've toned down the decorations a bit. The only saving grace to this eyesore was the great food. And great seafood. During my limited number of visits to Kalinga I had the only acceptable prawn curry served to me in any res...

In Maharashtra the word Pavta is slang for a village simpleton. Or more precisely a term used by city folk to describe a simple person from a village who has moved to the city. Someone who sticks out like a sore thumb. Much like the wonderful people in Times Square who are not locals. Moving at their own pace, always looking up in awe at the tall buildings. It is also the Marathi word for Lima Bean. The Lima Bean we get at home is much smaller than the one found here in the US. Each bean is no bigger than the nail on your little finger. It also packs more flavour. Probably because most of the vegetables available in our markets in India are locally grown. Pavta was a staple in my mother's kitchen and she'd always a maintain a bag of fresh beans in her fridge. Pavta usal (stir-fried Lima Bean) was something she cooked very often. It was a quick, easy and delicious meal and I found it in my tiffin almost every week. For some reason none of the restaurants I know served Lima Bean...

I followed the one day international between India and England all day today and once again in true Indian fashion the 'Men in Blue' snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. If I had a dime for every time the Indian team let me down this way, I wouldn't be here writing this blog. Back home, news like is taken seriously and involves hours of pointless analysis over tea, rum or some comfort food. This analysis is usually done by people whose latest cricketing experience has been stumps drawn on a wall by means of a broken brick. A bat with a bare handle because the rubber went missing within the first week. And an MRI faux tennis ball that used to be some some what white when it was bought. And yes—the grand rule of 'one tuppa out'. Ah, I miss being a drawing room cricketeer. The absence of someone who even knows what cricket is, leave alone understands it, is really hard on a depressed fan such as myself. So today, I decided to make some comfort food for myself tha...