Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Another ‘un-recipe’ – Oil free soy chilli roast chicken & mushrooms

I haven’t baked a single cake or brownie or cookie or muffin in the OTG yet but this dish would be approved by the diet Nazis I am sure.

I don’t know if this qualifies as a recipe but if no effort, no oil and tastes which are subtle and Oriental work for you then try this. Here’s what I did…

I took about 100 g of boneless chicken. Helps if you get the leg or thigh piece. Juicier. I cut these into cubes. Added 100 g of sliced button mushrooms. You could use anything to marinate this.

I looked around the kitchen and used: 1.5 tablespoon soy sauce, 1 tablespoon teriyaki or sweet soy sauce, 2 teaspoons Chinese chilli sauce, 1/2 a teaspoon each of salt and fish sauce and Chinese five spice powder and a teaspoon of honey. Now you could honestly use any Oriental sauces and to proportions of your fancy. I added some chopped onions as you will see in the photo. Avoidable. Sliced ginger would have been good though.

I added a teaspoon of finely chopped carrots for a change of texture and a chopped green chilli too add a bit if fire.

I let this marinate for about an hour while I went to Carter’s for a walk. It was so hot that it seemed like someone had moved to the Southern hemisphere while I was away. Where is winter?

Came back. Heated the pre-oven for ten minutes. Put the marinated chicken and mushrooms in to roast for 30 minutes at 200 deg Celsius, When I done i let it sit for about 5 minutes in the oven before taking it out.

I ate this with steamed rice.

The chicken was fairly juicy and combined well with the sauces. The mushrooms were cooked just right though. A relief since I had first wondered whether I should put them in for a shorter time. The mushroom tasted a bit sharper as the sauce dominated their flavours.

I used the extra sauce to flavour the rice.

A guilt free meal and no oil was spilt in the making of it.

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Friday, 25 November 2011

There’s something about guntur idlis … Chutneys, Banjara Hills, Hyderabad

guntur idlis and chutney

I had the most incredible idli for breakfast today.

No, my account hasn’t been hacked. Yes, my disdain for idlis are well documented. But bear with me. The idlis in my life are surgical glove ones that I order from Shiv Sagar, at Mumbai’s Bandra, as an evening snack. More out of guilt, and a belief that they are healthy, than because I like those tasteless gastronomical crimes against humanity. Or the sweet sambar which comes with them.

Gaurav, in the flight, whom I mentioned in the previous post, strongly recommended Chutneys at Hyderabad for breakfast. He seemed like a guy who knew his food and my lunch yesterday at Southern Spice proved my instincts right. Others had spoken in favour of Chutneys too and I headed there this morning.

Chutneys at Banjara Hills is the first branch of the chain and was opened as ‘recently’ as in 2000. There was a queue of people waiting outside when I reached. Like yesterday the manager quickly figured out I was “one person” and said I had to share a table.

I walked in, sat down and a chutney tray were placed in front of me. ‘Coconut, sweet, peanut and ginger’ the waiter explained. The steward took my order and said that steamed dosas were famous here. I asked about idlis and he recommended Guntur idlis.

chutneys

 

The idlis came first. Thin. Covered in a red powder. Guntur masala. A mix of red chilli powder and three types of lentils – udad, masoor, moong and channa if I remember what the waiter told me.

I took me first bite and did a double take. The idlis were silken, muslin-like. The masala was mixed in a touch of fragrant ghee. The ghee that is so insidiously addictive at Hyderabad. The masala a mix of salt and heat which sent shivers of incredible joy across your palate. So petite and yet completely holding you in its grips. This was sheer food epiphany. The sort of culinary excellence which seemed so apt in this city of Nizams. The guntur idlis at Chutneys is an apt inheritor of the the cultural finesse of Hyderabad.

If the natu kodi iguru at Southern Spice was all about fiery passion then the guntur idlis at Chutneys were platonic and angelic.

guntur idlis

The chutneys, each tickled your senses. My favourites the robust earthy peanut one and the very sharp and lively ginger one. Hidden treasures for those of us who are not from here.

@chnavin on twitter, on hearing that I had ordered the steamed dosa, tweeted “u’ll love the guntur idli…people, except Chrianjavi never ordered steamed dosa twice”.

He was right. The steamed dosa with its thickish texture and and swirling ghee salt flavours was interesting but the guntur idli was  one of Azza’s delicate leg side flicks.

steamed dosa

And all rounded off with a nice filter coffee with a nice cappuccino like froth.

A nice vegetarian start to a day where loads of biryani was scheduled to follow.

I rarely mention hotels I stay at while travelling at work but as I write this post sitting at the poolside patio of the The Park at Hyderabad looking on to the lake while the breeze caresses me, I must that the property is one of the nicest I have stayed in at a long time and with such a great downtown location too.

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Fire and rice … Southern Spice, Banjara Hills, Hyderabad

 

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They say there is a first time for everything.

I had never struck up a conversation with a stranger in a flight before. My SOP being to just curl up in the seat…till it’s time to get off. This time was different. Perhaps it had something to with the fact that everyone in the flight to Hyderabad seemed to be in such good spirits…beaming away despite the late hour.

So a conversation which started with the Samsung Galaxy Tab turned into one on the merits of the biryani of Cafe Bahar versus Paradise - “Ask for masala at Bahar …that’s how locals eat it…it is cooked in layers of rice, meat and yakhni in a sealed pot. It’s called kachhi gosht biryani. You will get this at Bahar. It was invented for soldiers as the cooks would march with goats, rice and loads of masala and make biryani for the troops while on campaigns. The biryani at Paradise is for outsiders. They cut down on the masala”.

Turned out that Gaurav was a food aficionado. He proudly told me that his wife, a Muslim, made great biryani at home. So when Gaurav told me that I should go to Southern Spice over Angeethi and Rayalseema for Andhra I listened. For over the one and a half hour flight he had convinced me that he knew his food.

I headed out from my hotel in search for Southern Spice the next day. A place which had also been recommended by other locals. Nitish, the local at the concierge desk at my hotel,agreed too. Southern Spice is older than Rayalseema he said. He told me that the branch at Banjara Hills was the original one.

I was back at Hyderabad after a decade. A lot had changed. I was no longer a trainee, new to the corporate world, enthralled by room service. I am now a proclaimed ‘grunge eater’. Hyderabad had changed. The new airport makes you reach for your passport. Could this be India? The long drive to the city sailing over flyovers. This was post Chandrababu Naidu’s Cyberabad Hyderabad. In fact the only thing which was the same after all these years is auto-rickshaw guys who just refuse to ply by meter. Living in Mumbai spoils you for public transport in the South of India. But the weather  at Hyderabad made up for it. It was pleasantly cool and such a respite after the skewers of Mumbai.

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We finally located Southern Spice. The grand old manager at the entrance told me that I would have to share a table and assured me that Southern Spice did have the best Andhra food in town.

I was led to a table. Three waiters came and asked me if I was alone. I soldiered on smiling…refusing to be cowed by the judgmental posse of waiters.

A while later they got someone else to share my table. A gentleman who reminded me of how much Andhraites can eat. Chicken, rotis, prawns, rice…the moderately sized gent finished the bushels with aplomb.

I managed to navigate away from the North Indian thali in the menu with its promise of cream of tomato soup and tandoori roti and found the vegetarian Andhra thali which was recommended to me by all. The steward guiding me patiently. In addition I chose the country chicken - “it will have bones sir” – natu kodi iguru (chicken in a thick gravy).

The smiling waiter came with my thali and buttermilk. I knew a bit of the drill from Nagarjuna at Bangalore. For the rest he answered my questions and directed me.

Fluffy, soft, slightly cold puris with coconut cream korma.

Rice in turns with bits of everything as he guided me. First with the fragrant hypnotic ghee and coconut powder and some other powder and a hot mango pickle. Then rice with another pickle.

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Rice with a thick Andhra daal. Two dry vegetable dishes of cabbage and beans. Sambar next, nowhere as sweet as the bilge they serve you at Shiv Sagar at Bandra. The sambar here rather thick and full of vegetables, And then curd with rice and rasam with rice was the recommendation. After a bit of rice at the final stage I spooned out the curd and drank the rasam out of the bowl.

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Yes, one more thing hadn’t changed in ten years. The buckets of rice they served with meals at Andhra Pradesh

I have never got the point of rasam before this and wondered why South Indians get week knee’d about it.

Well, I will always remember Southern Spice as the place where I actually liked the rasam. Hot, steaming, clear, tangy with a resilient punch of pepper. The sort of thing you sipped on satisfied after a great meal. Content as you munched on more papad.

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And the chicken. The natu kodu iguru.

Yes it was full of bones and was yet the most juicy, succulent bits of chicken that I have had in this century. The chicken was made in a green chilli paste and seasoned with curry leaves. The thali was not hot as people said Andhra food would be. Yet the chicken made you cry. Made you sweat.

And you ate on. Ate on well after you were full. Smiling through the tears of joy and the sweat of honest labour. You were stuffed and you still took out more out of the bowl to eat. The puri you were supposed to eat the chicken with got over but you still took out more chicken from the huge bowl and had it with rice. When your body surrendered and said no more…and yet kept eating hypnotised…held in a spell by culinary wizardry.

You ate with your hands and licked your fingers as your tongue was seared by the fiery heat of the chillies. And yet you ate on. Transported to a very happy place. Understanding what masochism was all about, The handcuffs, the whips … the passion and frenzy of the country chicken rocking your world in a way it never had been before.

After the last morsel of chicken was finished. The last bit of the blazing gravy licked off, you could look up and say, “I have lived”.

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My meal at Southern Spice and the earlier ones at Bangalore showed me how ersatz the quality of South Indian food at Mumbai is.

I still hadn’t tasted Chicken 65 though. The darling of Andhra eateries. The waiter told me it was Chinese. I didn’t want that.

On the way out I complemented the grand old manager on the lovely meal. And then asked him what Chicken 65 was.

“It is chicken marinated in curd and deep fried”

“Oh, your waiter told me it is Chinese”.

“Oh yes, it is Chinese.”

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Tuesday, 22 November 2011

A tale of two cities … BBC Good Good India launch banquet, Mahim Koli Seafood festival

I was at the launch event of the BBC Good Food Magazine India this Saturday.

The first issue of the magazine is out. An interesting mix of fairly world class photography and paper, international cuisine and presentation style with an Indian touch coming in through a fair bit of local content spawned by chefs, food writers and bloggers. With its production values the magazine carries on the movement started by TLC, then Master Chef Australia and recently Fox Traveller on TV. One of opening the eyes of India to international standards in culinary media.

good food

The evening had a collection of luminaries – chefs, restaurateurs, reviewers -from the food world including a couple of Indians with international acclaim. Most of them one recognised from amateurish, specially in the case of those produced in India, TV cooking shows and page three photographs. There were a few Bollywood faces from the recent past and one rather slim current heroine who opened the show. She came for the inauguration, late, and left immediately before dinner started. Well Deepika Padukone didn’t look like she eats much.

Deb, from the magazine, didn’t think much of my suggestion, that Bappida was the ideal Bollywood person to open the show for a food mag, though.

I caught up with photo-journalist and blogger Anish Bhasin whom one knew from the various food bloggers dinners. Then the sit down dinner started. An hour late thanks to Bollywood gang coming late. I have come across sit down dinners in banquets abroad but rarely here. Sit downs make a lot of sense in meets where people don’t know each other. Typically folks at a table break the ice and get talking.

I was at a pretty warm table with Anish and Deepna, the ever smiling Ms Basu the mixologist, the lovely folks from the Singapore Tourism Board who were fellow Ling’s fans and Chef Moshe Shek.

Of all the food honchos there that evening Moshe Shek is the one person I really wanted to meet. I really him admire for the quality of his restaurants, the fact that he pushed the envelope pretty early on and is one of the most unassuming and diffident people one could come across. We’d once bumped into him at his Bandra restaurant where you could have mistaken him to be one of the staff and not the owner had one not seen his photographs. That’s how down to earth he is.

Turned, out as I introduced myself, that he remembered me.

“You had left a very nice comment at the restaurant”.

I am very sure that he would have had a billion customers and a million nice comments.

We spoke for a while on food and cooking. He spoke of various places across the word where he still goes to sharpen his skills in cooking.

I told him what Kurush’s told me when I was planning to bake a cheesecake.

“Don’t bother. Just pick it up from Moshe’s. They have the best baked cheesecake in town” 

Moshe Shek looked at me, smiled and said, “Oh no, you should bake cheesecakes. It’s good fun”.

That’s Moshe Shek for you.

The high point of the dinner was the act by The Three Waiters from Australia. They were quite phenomenal and had us completely taken in. We also had local talent Tanmay Bhat as the master of the ceremony. His interactive stand up act did occasionally elicit answers such as “I really think that love is a more important ingredient than salt in cooking” and “I could cook cook for one Indian it would be Gandhi”…and Indian expat TV show host who probably thought she was at the trials of Miss Universe. Though, to be fair, she didn’t talk about cooking for world peace.

The dinner, designed apparently by two top chefs, was probably spoilt by a chef too many. A pity given that this was for the launch of a food magazine. The menu was supposed to be experimental but the rasam shot was too sweet, mixing tandoori masala with the very delicate Norwegian smoked salmon made as much sense as getting Ben Kinglsey to act in a Bollywood potboiler and the kingfish couldn’t have been more inert had it been in a morgue.

This was a bit of a shame since the rest of the BBC Good food evening…the performances, the collection of food personas, the energy in the room, the liquor, most of the desserts lived up to the billing of the magazine.

Chef Moshe Shek later told me that it is always smarter to go ahead with the chicken at a banquet. Next time.

Two fish dishes, where the high points were the cucumber slices and the couscous that came with them, were very different from some of the very evolved sea-food that we ate at the no frills Mahim Koli Seafood Festival the next day.

There was kingfish which was juicer than a gossip rag of the 80s, fried prawns which purred into your ears in a bedroom voice, plump fried bombil which made a very ‘Dirty Picture’ and a very seductive curry made with dried shrimp. Robust lavani like seductive seafood which fired up up your senses. Cooked by local fisher folks with catch straight out from the sea in a manner that they did everyday.

Or ‘eat in’ as the Good Food Magazine calls it.

My strategy in such events is to always go for the food being fried, grilled, cooked in front of you. It is better to avoid the curries in events such as this festival or even the Durga Puja ground fare as they are often served cold which is something that doesn’t work for me. I felt quite proud when my sixth sense took me to the right stall out of 44 and when I emerged from the sea of humanity with a plate of juicy prawns which to me was the high point of the stellar stuff on our table that evening.

luscious fried prawnsdried shrimp curry   prawn biryani bahkri or local roti juicy kingfish fry more prawns melt in your mouth Bombay Duck fry

The simple Kolis seemed better geared to handle huge crowds than the folks at the Taj Lands End.

And the crowd at Mahim fish festival was huge. Probably more folks at the grounds that day than those who get off at the Mahim train station in a year. Thousands of people happily eating away on the last evening of the three day festival. The field was packed to capacity as was the one at Versova that I went to earlier.  Yet, the crowd was largely Maharashtrian. Not too many across other sections, including those who are into food, knew about it.

I know that the place was packed to the gills, no pun intended, but there could be merits in drawing in people from other communities of Mumbai here. Gives a tremendous opportunity for folks from outside to understand and appreciate the local culture. And what better way than food for this?

Which got me thinking.

The food scene at India is still evolving. Mumbai, as India’s truest immigrant city, has the greatest potential to marry pan Indian cuisines and international cuisines with the local Maharashtrian cuisine.

It would be interesting to see which direction the food map of Mumbai takes in the future.

Would it be the Sydney model of food which spawns from the city’s multiplicity of immigrant cultures? For in Sydney you find food from across the globe dished out by the city’s multi-racial immigrant community….Chinese, Thai, Korean, Japanese, Argentine, Brazilian, Portuguese, Indian, Greek, French, Italian, Spanish, Ethiopian, Moroccan, Lebanese and more…you have it all at Sydney.

You don’t see much of this diversity at Mumbai even at a state level. Just a touch of Udipi and Punjabi. Guajarati but that is from next door. Some Mangalorean out of South Mumbai from fifty years back. Muslim, Parsi, Goan but all with a reducing footprint. No Andhra, Kashmiri, Mizo, Naga or any of the other states of India. Even hardly any Bengali despite us being a food obsessed community. And yet all these communities are represented here through immigrants.

International expats are still a lot less at Mumbai compared to large world cities. Chances are that international cuisine here would be cooked up by Indian chefs and moulded for a largely Indian palate and therefore far removed from the original.

The other model, and I am talking from my recent experience of two food obsessed cities, is that of Singapore. You would get the best of world cuisine here at a Clark Quay but this is built on a very strong local food culture. Singapore celebrates its own food and is anything but shy of it … Maxwell Central, Lao Pa Sat, Chinatown, East Coast …the heart of Singaporean food lies in its food carts, hawker centres and hole in the walls. And that’s what food aficionados from across the world, including Bourdain, have fallen in love with.

So what is the model we want to adopt?

High end, international, that frankly doesn’t sit naturally here? Or a food culture built on a strong local food base – Maharashtrian, Muslim…neighbouring Goan and Gujarati and then food of the immigrants to Mumbai that come from all corners of India…and gradually from across the world…

It would be interesting to see how folks like those at the Good Food Magazine feed the emerging food culture of India.

 The Koli Seafood festivals happen at various fishing villages of Mumbai…Mahim, Chembur, Versova etc over winter. The best way to find out about them is look out for Marathi hoardings or ads in Marathi newspaper or to look for tweets etc from folks such as @sassyfork This is her post on the Koli fest.

Sunday, 20 November 2011

Incredible Haridwar,Rishikesh and Lakshmanjhula Part 2: A Temple Travelogue

This is the second part of my mom’s Haridwar travelogues. You can read about the first part here. This section gives an interesting insight into temple or religious tourism in India …

“PART-II

Har-ki- Pauri is the most important and auspicious river bank of the River Ganges in Haridwar. There are many temples on this bank. It is said if one takes a dip in the Ganges beside Har Ki Pauri bank, all his sins of seven births will be washed away.

This is not the first time that I had come to Haridwar. We had come here quite a few times when I was young. Nothing much seems to have changed here. The only exception is that I could not find the huge fishes in the river by the side of Har-Ki-Pauri, whom we used to feed previously.

Both side of the Ganges, in Har-Ki-Pauri are cemented. It has quite a few stairs going down to the river. You are supposed to take off your shoes three step ahead of going down to the water as the river is supposed to be a deity. The water is ice-old and has swift currents in it. No one is allowed to go beyond a certain point in the river due to the fear of drowning. Another beauty of Har Ki-Pauri is that people float flowers and lamps in small bowls made of sal leaves, when dusk sets in. Those floating twinkling lights look wonderful in the water. They are supposed to be offerings for the Goddess Ganges.

We too floated lamps and flowers in the water praying for the peace of the soul of my father who had passed away very recently. I offered a prayer for my husband too.

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Floating flowers at Har Ki Pouri

Sitting on the stairs of the bank, I became a bit pensive and philosophical as I remembered how about half a century ago, almost at the same place place, my father poured Ganga water over my head as I was too scared to go into the river. Looking at the swiftly moving water of the Ganges, on that Sravan Purnima (full moon) night, I realized our life is also like the swift current of the water. Once it passes by, it never comes back. That night in Haridwar, I felt the blessings of my father in the form of cool breeze and moon rays.

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The Ganga at Har Ki Pouri

I was called out my reverie by Sid and went up to the bank. The whole place was very crowded. In one place, under a tree, we saw a few sadhus or Naga babas sitting in a circle and having charas. They were almost naked and smeared themselves with ashes. It was a bit scary so we moved away quickly.

As it was time for ‘aarti’, the people were made to sit in a place near the temples. A few men were collecting money for the ‘evening prayer’ and announcing each and every donor’s name. We too offered some money. They gave us a money receipt which was also a coupon for free dinner.

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A few commandoes, on the on the bridge, were watching the crowd with pointed guns.

Very soon it was time for ‘aarti’. It was held in the open space, on the bank of the Ganges. What followed next was a memorable experience! Outside all the temples, the priests started performing ‘aarti’ simultaneously. ‘Aarti’ is done with bronze lamps in a lamp stand. Each lamp stand has several rows of lamps.

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Aarti at Har Ki Pouri

As the priests started performing ‘aarti’ by moving their hands, the lamp stands looked like balls of fire. The lamp stands were so hot that the priests covered their hands with red clothes and their co-priests kept pouring water over the hands of the priests to cool them.

The whole place started reverberating with the sounds of the bells, drums, conch shells and chanting of mantras/hymns. People started shouting loudly, ’Jai Ganga Mai ki Jai’ and ‘Har Har Mahadev’! (paying obeisance to Goddess Ganga and Mahadev). Not only that, people started singing prayers along with the priests by clapping their hands. We too started singing with them, ‘Jai Jagadish Hare, Swami Jai Jagadish Hare.’ The whole place was illuminated with the light of the lamps. The reflection of the light fell on the water too. Such was the atmosphere that I became one with God. It was a wonderful spectacle.

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Har Ki Pouri in evening

Whether you are a Hindu or not, whether you are a believer in God or not, you must at least once see this evening ‘aarti’ on the bank of Ganga in Har Ki Pauri. If one can go to Bunol in Spain to see ‘la-to-matina’ festival paying through ones nose, why not see this grand spectacle near home?

After ‘aarti’, we visited the temples of Balmiki, Bhagirath, Goddess Ganga, Lord Shiva etc. Inside the temples, the priests gave us ‘charanamrita’ (a mixture of milk, honey etc with which idols are bathed). We touched it on our heads and offered coins for the puja.

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Temples at Har Ki Pouri

As we were quite hungry, we went to look for a restaurant. In the land, adjacent to the river bank, we saw rows and rows of shops selling usual items sold in a pilgrimage site.

We went to a restaurant and ordered for ‘chole’ (‘ghugni’ in Bengali) and ‘bhature’. Each table had a two kilo jar, full of pickles. The hot food arrived on the table. The ‘chole’ was just excellent. I had never tasted such tasty ‘chole’ in my life.

There were many varieties of sweets too. But we resisted over temptation, each for a different reason.

It was already 9 PM so we thought of going back to the hotel. On our way back, we saw many pilgrims sleeping on the river bank. I wondered how these men could lie there braving cold breeze and intermittent rain. Then it occurred to me that, after all, religion is a great motivator all over the world.

We reached our hotel by hiring an auto rickshaw. Next morning, we filled ourselves with buffet breakfast and then got ready to leave the hotel. Our train was at 2.30 p.m. So we hired a car for half a day for sightseeing.

Manasa Pahar/hill is one of the most important places in Haridwar. There is a temple of Goddess Manasa on the top of the hill. I recognized it the moment I saw it from distance. As a sprightly young girl of thirteen/fourteen, I had climbed this hill with my father. I remember even today that there was a small temple, with very clean surrounding, on the top. The cool breeze soothed our fatigue. Now a days, you can go there even by cable-car. However, we could not make it this time.

After leaving the hotel, the driver dropped us before a six-storied building named ‘Bharat Mata Mandir’. We took the lift to reach the top. On the top floor, there were various idols of Lord Shiva. The next floors were dedicated to different incarnations of Bishnu, our national leaders and lady goddesses respectively.

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Bharat Mata Mandir

Everything was going on smoothly till we came to the floor dedicated to the ‘Satis’. Hope you remember, previously in India, women were made to burn themselves in the funeral pyres of their husbands. They were called ‘sati’. This custom continued till the British rulers came to India. British rulers, along with social reformers like Raja Ram Mohan Roy, put an end to this tradition.

In this floor, there were idols of different ‘satis’ starting from Queen Padmini of Chitor in Rajasthan to the latest ‘sati’ of modern age. Queen Padmini, along with other women of Chitor Garh, committed ‘sati’ to save their honor from the conquerors.

This ‘sati’ counter reminded me of Roop Kanwar, a young Rajput girl, who was persuaded to burn herself in the funeral pyre of her husband in a village named Deorala in Rajasthan in 1987. I remembered how in 1987, the whole of Calcutta University was up in arms to protest the death of Roop Kanwar. This ‘sati’ counter left a bitter taste in my mouth. I fretted and fumed for quite a while and then left the place.

Our next stop was ‘Lal Mata Mandir’. There was a huge statue of Goddess Ganga on the top .This building had only two floors. First, we went upstairs and saw the descent of the river Ganga from the mountains to the land. Inside the temple, we saw the idols of Goddess Jagadhtri, Ram, Sita and Garuda, the legendary bird of ‘Ramayana’.

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Garuda at Lal Mata Mandir

The driver took us in front of a building named ‘Pawan Mandir’. He said everything in the temple, including the idols, was made of glass. But we did not get down as it was raining very heavily. Moreover, I still had that bitter taste in my mouth due to the ‘sati’ counter.

After sometime, Sid and Soy got down at the bank of Ganga while I stayed in the car. I saw a few men taking away gallons of ganga water from the river. In all the shops, there were white plastic containers for the pilgrims to take away water from the river Ganga as Ganga water is considered indispensible for any Hindu Puja.

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Sid enjoying the rain & the Ganga

We stopped at a restaurant for lunch. In front of the restaurant, I noticed a huge ground, where many people were going in. On asking the waiter, we came to know that there was a pool named ‘Bhim Goda Kunda’. The name of the pool rang a bell in my mind. I remembered having seen it before. This pool was made when Bhima of ‘Mahabharata’ struck the land with his knees. It is considered auspicious to take bath in this pool as it is filled with Ganga water. I requested Sid to go inside just for five minutes as we were getting late for the train. We went in hurriedly for a few minutes and saw a mini pool where many people were bathing. All around there were shops selling different things.

The return journey by the ’Haridwar Ahmedabad Express’ was quite comfortable and we reached Old Delhi Station in time. From there, it took only 45 minutes to reach Gurgaon by cab.

We enjoyed our trip to Haridwar and Rishikesh very much and came back with happy memories. It is true that the experiences were different from the ones that I had in the continent or in the Scandinavian countries. The roads were not well metalled. Nor were the people suited and booted. But still India has its own charm. The religious fervour of the pilgrims and the sadhus/saints will take you to another world.

Moreover, as you go up to Rishikesh, the scenes become breathtakingly beautiful with high mountains and the river Ganges. It can vie with any foreign country.

The best bet will be to stay in between Haridwar and Rishikesh. There are many five star hotels and resorts in this stretch. You can go up to Rishikesh and enjoy the serene beauty of nature or go down to Haridwar and see the wonderful evening ‘aarti’. I am sure, quite a few of you have already visited Haridwar and Rishikesh. If not, you may feel inspired to visit these places. You will not be disappointed. After all, India is incredible! Any feedback will be most welcome.

Good bye.”

R.K.

Kolkata

23/10/2011.

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