Category Archives: Travel, Food & Heritage

On a warm sunny day, I find myself navigating the by lanes of Dongri. They’re dotted with old hardware shops, new medicine shops and closed Parsi cafes. In a quest for a very special dessert that is numbered in its authentic presence in the country, I ask around for the ‘Kunafa Point’ until a strong sugary aroma hits me. The whiff in the air leads me to a small office and before I can even contemplate entering, a man peeps out.

Needless to say, it all begins deep down in the sea. Hundreds of them are born every few months and thousands of them swim in our oceans. For a few, life ends where it first begins. But for most, there’s a longer afterlife. From a slithery, slimy, light pink, lizard-like existence to a crispy golden, curried and fried

On an empty street in a quiet by-lane, trees sway in the mild breeze shadowing an old man that rests on a bench below it. A grandma sheepishly knits on her balcony; a teenager reads a book by a window.

I had always heard fantastical stories about the Konkan belt from hardbound travellers. They described its beauty with utmost passion, that there was nothing like it. Its turquoise blue waters that gently caress the virgin beaches, beautifully enveloped by the lush green Sahyadris.

Raashid Abdul Hakim is quick to point out that their kitchen only employs cooks, not chefs. As I try to unravel the complexity of his statement, he adds almost as an afterthought, “our fathers made sure that we learned to cook these family recipes before we took over the business.

The first thing I notice when I walk into D Samson’s Soda joint is a group of old men drowning themselves in fervorous laughter and glasses of ice cream soda. It is late in the afternoon and the rays of the setting sun filter through the end-to-end grilled window of the tiny space, throwing light on their wrinkled, happy faces. They occupy the corner table just beside the picture of Moses that hangs on a blue wall inscribed with a pretty, pink Star of David — perhaps the only remnant of a time that once was.

There are two ways to truly sample the best of this country’s flavours, as overwhelming as the sheer size of the challenge seems. Either you activate the hyper-extrovert in yourself and make friends with as many people from as many different places as you can in the hopes that you’re invited over for a hearty, home-cooked meal.

It was a crimson sunset that evening. The waves lashed at the shore in the distance and the birds took their final flight back home. The coconut trees swayed above me and the narrow, muddy path went far beyond what I could see

It was a crimson sunset that evening. The waves lashed at the shore in the distance and the birds took their final flight back home. The coconut trees swayed above me and the narrow, muddy path went far beyond what I could see. I smiled back at a few village folk who cycled past me with an equally warm smile.

“I have so many stories, where do I even begin,” laughs Rama Khandwala heartily as she throws her head back. The 91-year-old is India’s oldest tour guide and a former freedom fighter, with a razor sharp memory and fitness level that will make today’s millennials cringe.