Tu Hi Re….


My birth place is Kolkata. I was brought up in Delhi. It wasn’t a happy experience though when by a turn of fate I had to return where I was born. For eight long years I stayed there before coming back to the place where I felt I belonged. The sense of belongingness to a place is difficult to define and also the alienness felt in the place where your roots are.

In Kolkata I stayed with my paternal aunt and her husband and became their de facto caregiver. They were childless. It was an orthodox household where I was not allowed to wear any dress other than saree. Every other attire, even though decent, was looked down upon.

The house had its own code of conduct. I say a house because it never became a home for me. My uncle was a talented musician. But he suffered from chronic depression. He had a big music system and a good collection of vinyl records – LPs as well as EPs. However, all were old Bengali songs (some predated before my birth), now considered classics, and some Western instrumentals. No Hindi song was allowed or liked to be played.

My aunt had a tape recorder and a few tapes of Bengali songs, one of Hindi Bhajan and one of Mehndi Hasan’s ghazals, the last one I doubt she ever understood or appreciated much. After much hesitation both uncle and aunt allowed me to play the music system and the tape recorder on my own. For a girl, in her early twenties, very much used to a cosmopolitan upbringing, the choice of entertainment was very limited.

There was a black and white TV too which had selective hours of watching, mostly over the weekend when movies were telecast and  the news on week days. The conversation in the household revolved around  fixed, repetitive topics. Both aunt and uncle had deeply rooted ideas about everything. In fact, this was the time when I was truly cut off from whatever was happening in the outside world.

It would be ungrateful of me if I downplay their role in this very critical phase of my life. I had a shelter and a support in a city about which I knew nothing of, especially, the people, dealing with whom became the most gruelling part of my existence.

What I am trying to underscore is the controlled and narrow confines within which life came to be settled during this phase of my journey. The sudden spurts of adventure that I headlong rushed into without my guardians’ knowing was I guess one way of getting off the shackles. Though on hindsight I think it was very headstrong of me. Anyway more of that later.

Our neighbours across the street always played their TV at a high volume. Strains of music, announcements, debates and discussions, therefore, easily floated in when our TV was not on. One evening I overheard a few lines of a Hindi song which sounded very different. The singer’s voice attracted me as well. I always had a keen ear for music. Now I was impatient to hear more. But this side of the street it was simply a no no.

While returning home from the office sometime I had to change buses twice. One fateful evening I deboarded as usual at a terminus from where I was to board another bus. As I got down I heard the same song being played on the loudspeaker. It was a busy marketplace. The song could have been played by one of the music stores.

I crossed over. I knew I had to have some excuse to keep waiting there to hear the song in full. Nearby was a paan shop which also sold cold drinks, cigarettes, chewing gums etc. It was not usual for a girl of my age to stand there for long. However, during hot weather many would cool off with a drink. I did the same.

It was mid summer. I don’t know whether it was my sweat dripping face or clothes sticking wet to the body that made the shopkeeper hand me over the coldest drink I have ever had in my life. The local lingo for ordering a cola was “give me a black”. So with the freezing “black” in my hand I satiated my auditory thirst.

Thereafter, I have heard that particular song many times over and still do. But what stands imprinted indelibly in my memory are the quick icy gulps slithering down my throat like fire in an attempt to finish a drink which outlasted a song I never had a chance to enjoy listening to in the cozy comforts of a home.

The song was…

Sisters’ Day Out – 08/05/2026


Another outing was due as both of us were in dire need of hair cut. That saw us traveling to  the opposite end of the city though I believe such facilities should be near at hand. B-I-L drove us to the salon.

Since the appointment was at an odd time we first thought of having lunch. I had proposed another State owned eatery but Didi came up with Qureshi’s Dastarkhwan, of which an insta reel I had incidentally shared with her long time back. Also this place was in the same market as the salon.

It was already lunch time when we reached. Firstly, the place is small and narrow. Seating arrangement is cramped. During daytime it is frequented by office goers, specifically, male. Perhaps evening time sees more of family gathering. The USP of Quereshi’s is that the food is made in an open kitchen (which the customers can check out if need be) in a clean environment. Since the preparation is made after the order is placed serving time is long. However, it doesn’t offer starters or mocktails to kill the waiting time. Only aerated drinks are available. If someone does not prefer cokes and other such waters, like me, no other option is there except to wait for the main course to be served.

The menu is predominantly meat based. There is very few vegetarian option. It was obvious that mostly meat lovers availed of their services. B-I-L ordered Soya Malai Chaap since he prefers vegetarian. I suggested Chicken Gilafi Kabab as there were next to nil option in dry veg category. In summers, with the heat on, we as a family do not prefer spicy gravy based curry. We opted for Khameeri Roti for the bread part. Since everything was dry we also ordered Dal Makhni. Dal, for that matter, is safe as it cannot be unnecessarily spiced up. And I am a Dal fan. However sadly, Dal Makhni was not available. The excuse was that the joint only opens at 11.00 AM and it takes time to prepare Dal Makhni. There was no other variety of Dal available, as a result, the course turned out too dry. As we are small eaters there was no point in ordering another dish which would have been excess.

Now about the food. the Gilafi Kabab was soft. Khameeri Roti, made of fermented wheat, was also soft and nice. The Malai Soya Chaap was a damper – the pieces were too big and thick as a result the creamy topping did not seep into the Chaap properly rendering it absolutely non-juicy. I had to gulp down each bite with the Mint Sauce and raw onions which were provided as side dish. Overall it was not a pleasant experience.

On our return from the salon we had ice cream while B-I-L had espresso coffee. I am not very fond of ice creams , however, I tried Belgian Dark Chocolate and Orange while Didi took Coconut Palm Jaggery with roasted Sesame Seed. Nowadays, I observe, joints serve less delectable items with fancy, flowery names.

Personally, I prefer restaurants and cafes which are meant for families and have a wide variety to offer in veg as well as non-veg. Experience of eating outside home not only depends upon the food but also the ambience and vibe. If I were to rate Quereshi’s it will not be more than three out of five – may be more on the lower side. The moral of the story is not to rely on insta publicity made by some random influencer paid for the job.

Mother’s Day Celebration


Today is Mother’s Day.

Our Block celebrated Mother’s Day by arranging a painting competition for children and adults. They drew and painted on cloth bags as tribute to their mothers.

There was a paanipuri competition too in which my sister participated. But she couldn’t have more than five.  Paanipuris are wheat or semolina puffs which are stuffed with spiced boiled potato and chickpeas. They are  had with sweet and tangy water

There was free Mehndi for the participants. But my sister was not interested. So we proceeded for our evening walk.

Detoxification


We all know detoxification is important for health and healing. It is the cleansing process by which toxins are removed from the body. It can be done medically as well as by various homegrown herbal methods.

I came to know of detoxification when I went into dieting a few years back. The dietician would recommend a number of detox waters which could be made at home very conveniently. I am not into dieting any longer but continue taking the detox waters regularly.

In between surgeries last year I relied completely on these waters for improving the gut flora and help digestion. Some of these are Cumin Seeds Water, Fennel Seeds Water, Carrom Seeds Water, Mint Leaves Water, Coriander Leaves Water, Curry Leaves Water, Puffed Rice Water and Fenugreek Seeds Water.

All these Waters can be made boiling a teaspoonful of the seeds or leaves in one litre of water, cooling it down to room temperature and sipping throughout the day or taking a glass full half an hour after every meal. Sometimes a combination of seeds also works wonders like boiling cumin seeds, carrom seeds and fennel seeds in equal proportion – a quarter of a teaspoon each in one litre of water.

In the case of Fenugreek Seeds Water, the seeds are soaked overnight and not boiled because they are bitter in taste. Since Fenugreek Seeds also produce heat it is advised to take this fluid only in winters. Puffed Rice Water is very good for acidity. Take a cup of puffed rice, soak in water overnight, keep in the fridge and have early in the morning on an empty stomach. It can also be had at room temperature.

I put a few mint leaves in water and sip throughout the day if I am in need of continuous detoxification. The same can be done using cumin, carrom or fennel seeds. Another very cool drink which can be made at home as a detox drink or appetizer is to soak a thick bunch of mint and a few coriander leaves with a teaspoon full of cumin seeds, fennel seeds, a lime size tamarind, jaggery and black salt as per taste in one litre of water, keep overnight in fridge, drain the next morning and have a glass full an hour before meal. It’s a tangy and tasty drink which cools the system and promotes appetite.

Curd is a probiotic which is recommended by doctors and dieticians alike. Homemade curd can be had as it is with sugar or salt and also as lassi (sweet or salty) and buttermilk. While preparing buttermilk adding a dash of ginger and a pinch of cumin seed powder and black salt spice it up. I sometimes also use finely chopped onion and coriander leaves.

Last but not the least is an antidote to indigestion and gastritis – roast carrom , cumin and fennel seeds in equal quantity lightly in a wok. Let it cool and then grind to a fine powder. Add a pinch of black salt and asafoetida to it and store in a glass container. Have half a teaspoon with lukewarm water after meal as and when required. This powder can also be used in fruit chaat, dahi bhalle, buttermilk, raita and curd.

The Sapphire Sojourn


Bengalis have an unreasonable belief in astrological predictions. It’s only a Bengali that you’d find wearing ten different stones in ten fingers along with amulets of different shapes and sizes all over the body called tabeej in Bengali or tabeez in Hindi/Urdu. Incidentally, there is a sprawling market in Kolkata which only sells barks, twigs, seeds, roots, leaves, stems of countless trees, bushes, shrubs used as and for astrological ameliorative.

Indian astrology is different from the western requiring long mathematical calculations based on algorithms, planetary positions during birth time and latitude and longitude of the birth place. Of course, now the computer has made the process easier and less time consuming. A lacuna in the birth chart can supposedly be plugged in or cured by various methods – wearing specific gem stone is one of them.

Those who believe in astrology swear by it and those who don’t smirk at it. Amongst many other, my father had a deep interest in astrology. He read extensively and had long discourses with men knowledgeable on the subject. But he never practised it professionally. He would only look into birth charts only on very personal requests.

Interestingly,  father’s inquisitiveness about astrological predictions and antidotes started with questioning and disbelief. Father’s maternal uncle was deeply spiritual who had the ability to decipher ancient manuscripts like the Bhrigu Samhita. Father often visited him and once playfully wore a blue sapphire ring which was in possession of his uncle in spite of his dire warnings.

Sapphire is said to be a very powerful and sensitive stone which should not be worn if not astrologically recommended. If suitable it can make a pauper king. If it’s unsuitable it can bring in irrepairable disaster. My father wanted to test it himself.

He drove home wearing the ring. Reaching as he knocked on the main door something huge crashed inside. It was my maternal grandmother’s photograph which fell off the hook shattering the glass frame into shards. That night she suffered her first cardiac stroke. Father returned the ring the very next day.

Inarguably, sapphire did not suit my father. He inherited a ring studded with nine precious stones one of which was a small sapphire. Unbeknownst to him the sapphire fell off the ring while the other stones remained intact. However, father never got the fallen stone replaced.

Wearing a sapphire, or for that matter, any stone in Indian astrology, has its rules. The day, time and ways of first contact with the body are advised by the astrologer. For sapphire, especially, there are stricter instructions. Firstly, it is to be kept under the pillow to see whether it has any bad effects (like nightmares, illnesses, freak accidents etc.) on the person who is to wear it. If everything goes well then it is to be worn as per scheduled date and time.

The colour of the rays emanating from the stone has special significance. A blue sapphire may not suit everyone. Legend has it that a priceless sapphire with a red tinge had always wrought havoc whoever possessed it. It travelled through history from king to king and from kingdom to kingdom. However, wherever it went it caused destruction and death.

My paternal uncle, perpetually suffering from mental and physical illnesses, was advised to wear a sapphire ring. The weight, size and colour of the stone are also required to be as per the needs of the birth chart. My aunt often recounted the strange stories associated with the ring that uncle wore the rest of  his  life. A family friend who had taken upon himself to personally hand over the stone to my uncle met with an accident on the way. Apparently, the stone was not suitable for the bearer bringing him ill luck. My uncle, however, had narrow escapes a number of times to the credit of the stone. 

Certain stones have effectiveness for a limited period. I used to wear an oval shaped yellow pearl which one fine day just dropped off the ring never to be found again. When I was crying over the loss my sister told me not to as it had left on its own accord because it’s time to be on my person was over.

Indian astrology is an inexact science. It is inexact because the ways it works cannot be proven. It’s a science because it is based on astronomy and mathematics. The debate continues though there is more to it than can be fathomed by logic and rationale. It is said that the accuracy of prediction depends much on the intuitive power of the astrologer – an x factor – than the exactness of the calculations that goes into the making of the correct horoscope or birth chart. It’s this twilight zone of knowing and not knowing, understanding and not understanding and believing and not believing that lends the aura of intrigue and mystique to it.

However, my personal experience says that there is more beyond everything that humans tend to cling to in times of desperation. More about that later perhaps on some other day some other time.

An Unsolved Mystery


What’s a mystery from your own life that you’ve never solved?

I have never ever talked about this before but seeing the prompt I thought it’s high time I do.

Since childhood I have been extremely, extremely fearful of the festival of  Holi. Holi is an important Hindu festival. It’s played with family, friends and even foes. On this day enmity is forgotten. Only love, joy and fraternal feelings prevail. Holi is played in the season of spring with colours and water. Right before the festival the markets are swamped with powders and liquids of different colours.

Families get together, splurge colour and water on each other, share sweets and delicacies, sing and dance in groups. It is a festival which breaks down barriers. It also symbolises the essence of spring – a new beginning.

However, over passage of time Holi has degenerated into a roudy culture and come to be associated with hooliganism. There have been incidents of crimes and fulfillment of  hidden agendas in the garb of fake unity. In the cult movie Damini a young house help is victimised by young boys in a family gathering on Holi. The daughter-in-law or Damini is a witness to the heinous act which is carried out for sheer carnal pleasure. The perpetrators go scot free as they are unrecognizable due to the layers of colours masking their faces. When Damini decides to open her mouth she is pressured to maintain silence by the family as well as other vested interests. I refer to this filmy story merely to underscore the vicious side of the sacred festival. Ironically, Holi is preceded by Holika Dahan which upholds the victory of good over evil.

Since childhood I have seen Holi being played in the family. Ours was a joint family with lots of friends and acquaintances who would come over on this day, catch hold of my mother and paint her black and blue with colours. Squeels and shrieks of laughter followed. The dholkis or dholak players would play the dhol or drum loudly taking rounds of the gullies or mohallas while young boys in colour sprayed clothes would dance to the beat.

It’s the noise accompanied with the sudden throw of colours that have always terrified me. I remember once a life saving drug had to be given to bring me back to consciousness. I have tried to analyse this deep seated fear but to no avail. Perhaps this has something to do with some catastrophic incident in my previous birth. Often I have thought of undergoing past life regression to seek an answer to this unresolved mystery but being not so certain about the efficacy of the process I have stayed put.

Till now I don’t play Holi and lock myself inside the house on the day. Loudness in any form is not agreeable to me. Since writing is therapeutic I thought doing so may bring some clarity to this illogical dread cause of which is yet unknown.

Blog Ethics


Inspired by Sadje’s Sunday Poser : What advice would you give to a new blogger?

Bloggers make an impact through their posts. This impact becomes palpable when there are exchanges of views by way of comments. However, this interaction is required to be responsible and respectful.

If a post inspires a blogger to write a separate one a reference is made by linking it to the original.  I very much appreciate my co-bloggers like Nusrat and Chetna who courteously mention my name in their posts whenever they refer to my views and comments.

Borrowing from a blogger’s post, without making a reference to the original, tweaking  and putting it up as one’s own is unethical. Even if it is for fun, jest or just for the sake of oneupmanship. I have experienced this personally!

The right way is to take ownership.  Posts on topics other than personal experience should be well researched with the source of information and image mentioned. Images, posters, quotes, photos put up by other bloggers should be borrowed with due permission. There is nothing wrong in taking the help of AI for creating a post if it’s with a disclaimer.

Often I have found a particular blogger liking every comment on every post that I visit to the point that it starts appearing unnatural and motivated. The ‘stalking’ stops immediately if I press the like button on his/her post.

It’s better to increase visibility through meaningful engagement like responding to prompts, collaborating with fellow bloggers and reblogging  inspirational posts. 

I subscribe to a very small number of blogs. But I make it a point to visit them regularly. I am very opposed to pressing the like button without reading the post. I also read many  irrespective of their comeback on my post. 

There are no written norms of blogging but as in case of personal, I suppose, this virtual interaction also adheres to similar boundaries.

April – A Monthly Wrap-Up


At many points in life I have asked myself: “Are you happy? Is this what you wanted ?” And the answers have been ambiguous… unsatisfactory. Last night the question that popped up was : “What are you doing here? You should pack and leave.” Not being pessimistic but one should be ready to go – experience that overpowering urge to cross over and not fear the inevitable.

Coming back to April – the first half had me going out for community service and reunion with school friends and buddies staying over about which I have written in detail. The second half saw me combating health issues cause unknown – I was in fact back to square one – and dealing with Digital India – I am going to talk about this in detail in another post.

On the reading front , nothing much after the book on Sijo which I have written about. I subscribed to an App of a renowned Bangla Publishing Company which gave me access to its many magazines. ebooks. articles, stories, novels, news , podcasts – still exploring!! Interesting!! That also gave me an opportunity to re-read an old favourite of mine in ebook form and I was surprised to find the emotional appeal of the stories is still intact!!

Due to ill health my walks reduced. Cooking narrowed down to the simplest and the blandest. The To-Do list languished. So nothing there too.

I have reduced screen time as well. With growing cataract its difficult to manage sub-titiles. So off K-Dramas. That said a few P-Dramas are on my watch list. No sub-titles there.

Rehmat (Blessing) – An out and out M&B serial. The rich boss falling head over heels in love with the poor, hardworking and principled but hard to get and very beautiful employee. 💕

Doctor Bahu (Bahu means daughter-in-law) – An ambitious medical student gets married into a family of doctors under her own family’s pressure to find herself torn between a control freak father-in-law and an un-loving husband still hung over his ex. 😢

Sirf Shabana (Only Shabana) – A gutsy but upright small town girl in search of an identity and answers to a few uncomfortable questions. A little overdone but still watchable. 😊

Zanjeerein (The Shackles) – Again feudal family feuds but there’s a scoop of suspense there which has kept me hooked yet.  🫣

On the desi front I am rewatching a Bangla film on treasure hunt – a Sonada Series and just got into a Hindi Web Series which is kind of over the top on GenZ equations – a bit hard to digest!! I feel being a little conservative does good to society and family… But well, I am a dinosaur 🦕😎

Just finished hearing two audio podcasts – Byomkesh Bakshi thrillers. Timeless.

Shoilo Rohosyo (The Mountain Mystery) – Byomkesh accosts a spirit in a Hotel run by a Parsi gentleman in Mahabaleshwar . The Hotel has a dark past and a murder to boot. Will he be able to find the actual culprit?

Amriter Mrityu (Amrit’s Death) – A good for nothing rural boy named Amrit is found dead in the jungles of Baghmari – a remote village known for its rice mills. Byomkesh and his Watsonian friend Ajit is drawn into the nefarious web of illegal arms smuggling and the ghost of a black horse marauding the jungles in the dead of the night spewing fire from its nose. Incidentally, Amrit refers to the elixir of immortality.

***

There is an odd convergence of two very opposite feelings – I miss my earlier self, my work, the adrenaline rush, the tightness in the pit of the stomach manifesting the constant stress of excitement of doing something stimulating. At the same time the reality bites pull me back – health and age. How long can a workabholic subscribe to sedentary living? Good question!!

Of late I have realized I am better off meeting less and less number of people – their barrage of questions, glib sympathies and fake friendlinesses – always leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I am more at peace with myself or should I say coping with my own self. The biggest battles of life are fought inward and not outward. A very late revelation!!

Postscript: WP is asking me to upgrade my site to a paid one. I am clueless. Please help with suggestions and advice.

Khuda Khair Kare


In my younger days there were very few avenues of entertainment. Sometimes if we were lucky we went to the Cinema Hall to watch a movie or attend a music concert. During Durga Puja Festival part of the excitement was to watch the homegrown theatre groups perform on makeshift stage. The colonies of well to do people at times brought the famous theatre groups from Calcutta to stage shows. These were all free of any entry fee.

However, at home it was either books or the radio. We had a good collection of Bengali books in the local library. For English books there was Gopal’s Circulatory Library in the local market. I don’t know whether Gopal himself read books but he always suggested good ones to my sister or got the ones which my sister or others wanted to read.

Night time radio was a staple. Though we listened to it in the afternoons and other times too. Good programmes were timed when the family would get together and listen. As now we have teasers and promos, in those days we had sponsored programmes on radio which gave us glimpses of new releases of films – the outline of the screenplay with snatches of dialogues and songs. The production banner and the entire crew , especially, the lead actors and actresses, were all announced in these programmes. The programme  lasted for about fifteen minutes. Before these went on air their scheduled day and time of broadcast were made known through advertisements on the radio itself.

Much depended on the compere of the programmes. I remember Ameen Sayani was a hot favourite – his style of presentation made the programmes all the more interesting. His brother Hameed Sayani conducted the Bournvita Quiz Contest – a weekly broadcast –  till his untimely death.

There were other programmes too like Hawa Mahal which broadcasted Hindi stories and plays written by well known and upcoming writers. Inspector Eagle was another of the favourites. I have forgotten whose voice over it was for the lead role in this suspense based series but he always introduced himself as Inspaictor Eagal laying a good amount of highly accented stress on these two words. There was another one where a lorry driver and his assistant got into trouble wherever they took their supplies. The programme ended with the both of them resolving the mysterious issues before moving on to another thrilling adventurous journey.

In those days there was the now extinct breed of radio announcers who inflamed our romantic imaginations with their deep, sonorous voices. Contrarily, their looks did not always complement their attractive intonations, however, they were the “influencers” of those times who compelled us to include an impactful resonance of conversational tone in our playbook of imaginary romance.

Qabban Mirza

Now who could forget that soulful “aap sabko Qabban Mirza ka adaab,” –  the opening line of the nightly musical programme Chhaya Geet –  infusing a kind of mystical charm to the show. Qabban Mirza was not only a known announcer he also dabbled in singing in private gatherings. During those times Kamaal Amrohi, one of the finest film directors of Bollywood, was making his last period movie Razia Sultan, the Warrior Queen. Legend has it that Yaqoob, a black war prisoner enslaved by Razia fell in love with her.

The timeless music of the film was being composed by ace music director, Khayyam Sahab. While the female voice to the haunting scores was being lent by  none other than the Nightingale of India, Lata Mangeshkar, for the male voice for just two songs Khayyam was looking for a grainy, sonorous texture befitting Yaqoob’s foreign antecedents –  a far cry from the those-days’ reigning silky romanticism of Mohammad Rafi and Kishore Kumar or the dolefulness of Mukesh.

Somebody named Qabban Mirza. Khayyam called him over, heard him sing, decided that this was it, recorded the songs and the rest is history. Out of the two songs, khuda khair kare catapulted Mirza to famedom. His typical Urdu diction , the musical drawl over certain chosen phrases of the wistfully romantic Ghazal and above all his booming rendition which was un-Ghazal like but at the same time passionately evocative was what defined the charismatic enigma of unrequited love.

However, Mirza could not savour his popularity for long. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer and in no time left for  heavenly abode leaving behind two songs in his mellifluously granular, time defying voice.

Listen to the song…

Jackfruit Biryani


No! No! I am not supplying the recipe. I just wanted to share that this month, not once but twice, I had the good fortune of savouring this awesomely delicious dish in two different outlets.

Though the master chefs of the country will scoff at the mention, as according to them, biryanis were never originally meant to be vegetarian, nonetheless, I have found all varieties of paneer, soya, mixed vegetable and the queen of all jackfruit biryani very tasty and enjoyable.

The day me and my elder sister and B-I-L went to Blind School for community service, it was past lunchtime that we were free. Since we were far from our residences, we decided to have lunch nearby and then proceed home. I guess, I have mentioned Bihar Niwas, in one of my earlier posts, and Pot Belly, the restaurant situated therein. These State Government owned spots serve cuisines of the respective States to familiarise the people of the Capital with the large and lavish culinary heritage of the different states of the country.

As the name suggests, Bihar Niwas, or more specifically, Pot Belly is famous for serving authentic Bihari cuisine (from the eastern  State of Bihar) – vegetarian as well as non vegetarian. I have earlier visited this restaurant with my office colleagues on various occasions and I wanted my family to savour their delicacies too. This is the place where I first tasted Jackfruit Biryani and since then I have been raving about it.

B-I-L also wanted Machhli Biryani or Fish Biryani so we ordered both. As I did not have the Fish Biryani I cannot comment on it but B-I-L , who is the food connoisseur of the family, said it was good. However, this time Jackfruit Biryani tasted a little different than I had before. On enquiry, It was revealed that this joint has two cooks. Most probably I had earlier tasted the biryani prepared by the cook who was having an off that day. The difference was of degree and not of kind. The biryani that I had previously had was more flavorful. The one we had on this day tasted good and authentic but could have been better. Our meal ended with malpua but sans the kulfi which we thought of foregoing. The malpua was crisp dipped in sugar syrup. It comes with the kulfi which is frozen condensed sweetened milk. I am sure both together would have really complimented each other in taste. As usual in my over enthusiasm I forgot to click any of the dishes.😛

The second time was when we had a reunion with school friends at Triveni about which I have already written in great detail. Yes, the lunch included Jackfruit Biryani too in the main course. Triveni’s terrace cafe is a well known joint for serving good food at a subsidized rate. Pre-COVID we did get quality stuff at reasonable prices but post COVID I am really doubtful of what is being served in many subsidized as well as non-subsidized eateries.

The biryani served at Triveni was not to my taste perhaps because I had already had the taste of the dish at a premium location. The rice, which I am very particular about, seemed coarse. The pieces of jackfruit obscure. The raita, a must accompaniment with biryani, was too thick and tasteless. I just had a few bites. The next morning my stomach corroborated my evaluation. Since then I have not been up to the mark health-wise.

There’s nothing wrong with the dish, which is undoubtedly a delectable delicacy, but the only thing is that you’ve got to have it at the right place cooked by the right person. 😄😄😄

Trivia : I have restricted this post to Jackfruit Biryani only, however, the Vegetarian Thali and Puri Basket served at Pot Belly are also worth salivating over. The flavours are subtle, the puris are crisp and the stuffings are most delicious. The desserts are also very different and worth trying. Do visit one of these days to check out on your own. And yes, this is not a paid or sponsored post. This is just a foodie rambling over some good eats worth looking out for. The rates are pocket friendly too but unlike Triveni not “overly reasonable” – you know what I mean.

And oh, I forgot to mention, I have never had raw jackfruit in my life, unlike what is shown in the over imaginative image. Jackfruit in its raw form is a fruit. When it ripens it becomes a vegetable and is cooked. In Bengali kitchens, jackfruit is nicknamed gaachh paathaa – gaachh means tree and paathaa means mutton or lamb – a lamb that grows on trees!! Cooked well with the right ingredients it can really give a stiff competition to a mutton dish. In some Bengali households mutton is cooked with ripe jackfruit and it’s considered a special treat. However, it can also be cooked without onion and garlic and still taste awesome. In the northern state of Uttar Pradesh (UP), a vegetable pickle is made out of ripe jackfruit which is so extraordinarily yum.

Now the moral of the two divergent experiences this month is if you wish to eat good you have to pay reasonably well.

With that the foodie signs off for the time being…

Cheerio!!!