beingdesh

Tag: Experience

  • Spicy Hot Summer, Served With Buffalo Dip

    There are summers, and then there is that idiotic summer.

    I was interning with an organization studying tribal arts in the Rathwa tribe dominated Chota Udaipur region of Gujarat. In a constantly sweltering Sun, which was seldom in mood to bend itself below 45 odd degrees, we roamed across villages exploring styles of Pithora Paintings and scouting opportunities to work on other tribal art forms.

    There are summers, and then there is that romantic summer.

    I remember squeezing out time to go through multiple books at the same time. I fell in love with Arwen from Lord of the Rings and the landscapes of Shire as described by Tolkien, before the book eventually consumed me. I fell in love with villages, with the way Indians lived, took pride in our deep heritage and diverse art forms, and developed a significant admiration for tribal women with their shiny skin and confident demeanor.

    There are summers, and then there is that delicious summer.

    From the 10 year old kid who took me behind his hut at night to mix Gin for me in a earthen pot, to the old uncle who showed me the distillation process for Mahua made liquor, I discovered the existence of Alcohol. I remember taking the first sip, and it was hot, as hot as the Sun on top, it burned my food pipe for a second, but left a deliciously hot aftertaste. Then there was my new found addiction for soft-drinks (the one I always regretted), to unbelievably and brightly colorful Re. 1 shaved-ice candies, popularly termed Jaundice flavored candies by my Professor. But the taste which stayed for me forever was having Huge Makai Rotlas (Maize-Flour Bread, almost 10 inches in diameter), served with spicy hot red-chili garlic dry chutney.

    There are summers, and there is the one that comes alive.

    “You look like a Yamraj”, my friend shouted.

    “I am one, bwhahahaha”, I replied.

    Here I was on one of those idiotic summer days sitting comfortably on a buffalo-back, rekindling my romance with my sense of freedom, with a couple of delicious drops of water flying from the pond and vaporizing of my parched tongue.

    Earlier in the day we had helped our host in the village with some clean-up of his house and then offered to help him take his buffalos for a cleanup. But as I cleaned the buffalos in the village nahar, I slowly soaked in the mood, and didn’t even realize when it became a little adventure involving me and my friend, our host’s son, his friends and the friendly buffalos. We all took a dip in the small pool which had formed at the side of the village stream, saving ourselves from the occasional burst of energy by the head banging buffalos. It was even better with them laying in pool with us climbing on backs, playing “desi” cowboys, or enacting Yamraj and feeling awesome about acting stupidly.

    And suddenly in that one moment everything I did that summer came together, all those images of intense summer heat, beautiful paintings, the earthen pot distillation unit, that spicy chili garlic chutney. And my summer came to life, with a bit of spice, and lovely Buffalo dip.

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    Have you ever gone dipping with Buffaloes in a village pond? Or Elephants, maybe?

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  • The First Sip

    Years ago when I was a kid, I had accidentally discovered and realized the existence of Alcohol. I had stumbled upon a bottle of Whiskey, while looking for something in my Father’s wardrobe. Till that point of time I had seen people drinking on-screen, but I certainly couldn’t imagine my father doing the same. There was something different about that moment when I held the bottle in my hands. Excitement, curiosity, or guilt? All I knew was that I will never drink alcohol when I grow up. There was something extremely repulsive about it back then.

    Slowly things around me were changing, I started noticing the bottles of VAT 69 more prominently than Helen Aunty’s cabaret numbers while watching a 70s movie; I realized that the reason Murali Bhaiya made those brilliant appetizers at Nucleus Club parties – the taste of those egg cutlets and smell of that fish fry still lingers vividly in my memory; I realized that drinking alcohol can be fun, can make uncles go mad in New Year Parties, can lead aunties to talk about behaviour of those uncles and can lead to kids getting excited about it. There was always that bit of excitement in class whenever our Chemistry teacher threw out the name of C2H5OH from his mouth. Few of my friends had taken up smoking and chewing tobacco but drinking alcohol was still faraway.  Alcohol in those days to me was a distant dream and I told to myself, I will never ever smoke. But drinking, yes will consider that for sure.

    Few years later engineering college presented the first opportunity to breakaway for many of us. Of course the stupid cinema of 90s had coloured our thoughts to such an extent that many of us still believed colleges to have sprawling lawns, a healthy sex ratio, more pyaar than padhai and those amazing costumes (girls wearing frocks with puffed shoulders and flowery belts and guys wearing tight jeans with Action shoes). Fortunately (much more than unfortunately) I landed up in a dry state. Although the presence of  lawns in my college was evident, I would rather not comment on the rest of parameters mentioned above.

    Gujarat has been a dry state because Gandhiji was born there. It would have been much more interesting if Gandhiji would have been born in Punjab, very very interesting.

    Despite being a dry state, in Gujarat alcohol is easily available. Be it petrol pumps, paan thelas, soda waalas, almost everyone is a supplier or claims to be one. During my engineering years I still thought about drinking sometimes, but the phattu me (or the law-abiding me) was scared to take the plunge. Maybe I was waiting for the right time, maybe I just found spending money from home on drinking an inappropriate thing. As always I was confused to take a call.

    It was in this state of confusion, (just before the placements, end of 3rd year) we set out on a trip to Abu. I had read about Dilwara temple in school textbooks, and heard stories about Abu Road station’s brilliant omlettes and rabdi from Delhi junta boarding the Ashram express. Although I had never realized that Mt. Abu was flocked by Gujarati tourists for another major reason, to get DRUNK. Legally that is.

    The trip was a memorable one for many reasons. 17 odd guys (and healthy ones) going for a trip packed in one Tempo Trax from Ahmedabad to Mt. Abu; one of my friend showing his ability to sleep anywhere, from railway station platform, to roads, to bus floors; visit to Dilwara temple on the final day of trip; all of us running out of money and a saviour coming up with 1000 Rs. But I will always remember this trip as the one I had my first sip. And what a sip it was!!!

    We gathered some money to buy a bottle of White Mischief (yes almost the cheapest Vodka available), a couple of bottles of Sprite, some lemon and Lays American Cheese and Onion chips. 8 of us sitting, 7 of them have had their first sips, and I was the only debutant. Visibly nervous, I was being constantly lectured by my friends about both the goods and bads of drinking. I was in no position to think that much, my motive was just to go for it. It was a mixture of emotions. Excitement, curiosity, or guilt?

    My friend passed me the glass, adding the caution, tera pehla hai, chota banaya hai. As I held the glass in my hand all those memories and thoughts which I have mentioned earlier passed before me. The strongest vision being of Dev Sahab drinking a Vat 69. Cheers they said and I gulped it.

    All I felt was warmth. I could trace the path through my oesophagus all the way to my stomach. I didn’t feel the sprite, neither did I feel the lemon, it was all warm. And I have had it in one shot.

    Hold the drink they said.

    And I kept on gulping them until I was four down. I was feeling warm in a so-called hill station. Slightly dizzy too. People were talking, and as always I was also talking. It was my first sip, and honestly it wasn’t anything special. It was something very normal. Not a big event as I had anticipated it to be. They asked me to go out for a walk so that I could feel better. But I told them I felt good. Or maybe I still didn’t know how I felt like.

    Was it excitement, curiosity, or guilt?

    As I recollect now this wasn’t actually my first sip. I had Mohua (an Indian liquor produced in tribal areas) at the end of first year, but it was a non-significant event, just had a bit in a dona.

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    What is your story of your first sip?

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    Featured image by Prasoon Gupta