Bade Mian ki khejur gurer (Kheer)

In our vastly diverse food customs, there is one delicious dish that finds its honourable place in most kinds of Indian cuisine. I am talking about the kheer - which, with some variations here and there - is quite a pan-Indian phenomenon. In the South, it's known as payasam, and in the East, payesh. And right here in the North, this dessert made essentially out of milk, is known as kheer.

A good bowl of kheer has been a part of my childhood, and, I am happy to say, it still plays an important role now that I am over-the-hill (a small hillock, really - but let's not quibble). My mother makes a delicious kheer  And as a child growing up in a city like Pune, there was nothing that I relished more than a generous helping of this delicious dish

Now, this kheer is not for the faint-hearted. The recipe itself is different - first, a fistful of  sevai is boiled with sugar till thesevai is done. Over this, you pour cold milk and some heated desi ghee and dry fruits such as pistas,almonds and cashew nuts on the top. And `some' is an understatement; for the helping of the ghee has to be large enough to make even some of our well-developed wrestlers break out into a cold sweat. Over the years, as a diligent researcher, I have tasted different kinds of kheer - made with rice, with boondi, oranges, rasgullahs .At one point of time, I was such an addict that I used to go my friend’s place (abdul), every Friday right in time for breakfast. And breakfast started with paranthas and ended with a bowl of kheer.

Way to Bade Mian's

But the sheer khurma was an all-time favourite of mine - till I discovered Bade Mian's kheer shop in Old Faridabad. I came to hear about  the `khejur gurer' (palm jaggery) kheer, a colleague from the Walled City started sniggering. Have you,he asked me gently, ever tried the kheer at Bade Mian's?

I hadn't, and looked suitable ashamed. So, very kindly, he led me to his shop. To get to Bade Mian's, you have to reach Bata Chowk and then start walking towards a mosque. Once, you see a mosque on your left. The kheer shop is bang opposite the mosque. It is a very small shop, so you can very easily miss it. In that case, of course, you can ask any passer-by to direct you to Bade Mian's. And people of the area, they will personally escort you there and look at you approvingly as you demolish your first bowlful.

Bade Mian's shop is about 80 years old. They have been making kheer in the traditional North Indian way there - the milk and rice are cooked slowly over a wooden fire till the milk thickens. The milk is cooked till the kheer turns a beautiful shade of light brown.

And I love it because it has the smoky flavour of a wood fire. The kheer is then chilled and you can have a plateful for Rs.10.I was eating one plate after another while my friends stood around me, looking as proud as Sachin Tendulkar's folks must have been when, as a toddler, he was hitting his first fours.
So here at Bade Mian's, I gladdened all the locals' hearts by breaking my own record of kheer-eating.

So, eat your heart out, Sachin!

Falooda dooba- dooba- dooba

I am an ice-cream man myself. I like ice-cream and I can eat them in any season without any reason. When I was young, we use to go Sujata mastani house near nimbalkar talim chowk, They used to place a scoop in a thick shake, put a cherry on top of it and a thin wafer biscuit at the side, and serve it to us.

Sorry, nostalgia is like a walking stick for the middle-aged. Childhood, for us, was all about ice-cream and kulfis . And once I get on to the subject, I get particularly nostalgic about a dessert that I am passionate about - the falooda.

Last week I was in dilli for a exhibition.On my way to karol bagh .I heard a conversation of dillilites in a metro train.They were talking about the falooda,when I was suddenly consumed by this advice. In the middle of their conversation I felt like eating a chilled falooda. It was, of course, late at night, when all good sellers were gently snoring at home. So I reach my hotel,drank some water and went quietly to bed, too. Tomorrow, I promised my whining stomach, tomorrow would be the day.Next day I asked the hotel manager, where can I get the best falooda in the city.

“Here best falooda is sold in a shop located  in Sadar Bazar and one near Khari Baoli. Gyani's rabri falooda shop is on Church Mission Road - the one that leads from Khari Baoli to the Old Delhi Railway Station. If you get lost, you can ask any shopkeeper in Chandni Chowk, and you will be directed to Gyani's place.”

So after visiting  exhibition in pragati maidan.i started for olddelhi by metro .

Before going Chandni Chowk, I went to had Chitli Qabar area of Old Delhi, in search of gola kabab-maker, known by food lovers as Mian Sa'ab. it is heavenly if you eat it fresh off the seekh - it doesn't taste quite the same once it is cold.

Then I started for my next destination. Gyani's rabri falooda shop in Chandni Chowk

I rememeber the hotel manager words

”You will know you are there when you see a crowd madly waving tokens in front of a small shop. I was there last week.“

I was amazed to see this site.I bought a coupon for a glass of rabri falooda (Rs.25) and then went nuts like the rest of the crowd, yelling

"Ek glass dena"

and waving my token to the two men manning the counter. They would take a glass filled with thick rabri (full of dry fruits such as pistas and almonds), layer it with a thick line of crushed ice and then top it with a fistful of falooda and some scented water. The mix would be given one passionate shake and a spoon would be added to the glass, which would then be handed over to the one with the loudest voice or the most furious token shaker.

Finally, my deep tone was heard and a glass was thrust into my hands. The rabri was thick, rich and creamy, and the falooda had been cooked to perfection. It is a heavenly dessert, and one glass is so filling that you can easily forego your lunch after that.

But I am a growing boy - though, sadly, growing in all the wrong areas. So I had my rabri falooda and meandered around the gola kabab. And then, before I started for my hotel, I rounded up my three-course dinner with the last item on the menu - a pink Digene tablet. :))

BEST FRNDS

They had just arrived in Mumbai. The schools were still closed, so when Mummy began going to
office he stayed at home by himself. Of course Mummy was not happy to leave him alone, but
what else could she do? After all, they had come to Mumbai only so that she could go to office.
And he also knew that for along time after Papa s death Mummy couldn t find any office to go to
in the first place
Nandu explained to Mummy, "Look, I m not small any more. I m six. I can look after myself
just like any grownup person."
Bur of course that didn t make his fears go away. In Delhi there were always so many people
everywhere. Dada, Dadi, Chacha, Chachi, all his cousins. And all the neighbours.
Mummy always said all sorts of things to him before leaving. "Beta, don t open the door except
for Bai. And when she knocks, first find out who it is. Don t climb on anything in the balcony
or lean out. Don t turn on the gas. Be sure to have lunch on time.
He would listen carefully to it all. And nod. And soon he began to say on his own as Mummy
was leaving, "I won t open the door anyone. When Bai knocks, I ll ask who it is. I won t lean
out of the balcony. I ll have lunch on time. I won t lean out of the balcony. I ll have lunch on
time. I won t even go near the gas." And they would both laugh a little.
But he did feel terribly lonely. He watched TV for a while, or read in the balcony. Then he would
look down to see what was happening below on the road. And then eating, and then sleeping!
What else was there to do, all alone?
A little after Mummy left, Bai would come. And when her work was finished the door would
close after her too. Everything was silent next door as well. The people who lived there also went
away all day.
When Mummy returned in the evening, she would take Nandu for a walk. But she d be too tired
to answer his questions; she would answer one or two and then stop. And although Nandu would
still have heaps of questions to ask, he would understand that Mummy was tired and become
silent. One day Bai brought her little girl along. She said to her sternly, "Now stay there and not
a word out of you." Bai began sweeping and swabbing. The little girl crouched in her corner,
silent. She was terribly thin, and not very clean.
"What is your name?"
The little girl only looked frightened.
"Arre! Tell me your name."
Then Bai scolded her again. "Didn't you hear, the baba wants to know your name? Tell him at
once."
"Savita," she whispered.
"Do you go to school?
She shook her head.
"Why not? I ll be going to school soon. A very big one." She only stared.
Then Bai said, "How can she go to school, Baba? She does all the housework."
"The housework? But she s still small!"
Nandu wanted to take her into his room and show her his toys and books, but she refused to
budge. Finally Nandu brought some of his playthings to where she sat. At least she looked at
them then.
When Bai was about to leave, Nandu said quickly before he could feel shy, "Please bring her
again tomorrow."
Bai only smiled and went to the door. But Savita turned back to look at Nandu. He waved. The
door closed and Nandu ran to the balcony to say bye-bye properly. Savita was looking up and
watching for him. But she didn t wave back.
That evening Nandu had so much to tell Mummy! And he still said it all in one breath. Mummy
looked at his excited face as if a new thought had come to her.
On Sunday, when Mummy was home, she said something to Bai and after that Savita came with
her mother every day. She no longer crouched silently by the door. Now she would come into his
room and look at his toys and books. Nandu would tell her what was in the books or they would
play with the toys. When they got tired of that, they made up all kinds of games to play with each
other.
Savita began to arrive in clean clothes. Her hair was neatly oiled and plaited. At lunch time they
would eat together; Mummy was now leaving lunch for both of them. Bai would bring Savita in
the morning and only pick her up in the evening after she had cleaned all the homes in the
colony. Now the day flew by for Nandu; in the winking of an eye, it seemed, the day was gone.
And what a lot he had to tell Mummy when she came home! She was always happy to listen,
however tired she was. Nandu and Savita would talk to each other for hours. He told her all his
secrets, how he was going to be an engine-driver, how his father had been the best in the world,
and all about his lovely home in Delhi. Everything. "Do you know, Mummy, I am Savita s best
friend," he said. "And when I become and engine driver I m going to give her rides all the time."
The holidays were almost over. On the first of the month, Mummy gave some money to Nandu
as she was leaving.
"Keep this carefully. When Bai
"And this is Savita s."
"Why Savita s, Mummy?" Nandu wanted to know.
"Why? Well, doesn t she come here every day to play with you?" smiled Mummy.
What!! Was that why Savita played with him every day, because Mummy paid her to? So she
wasn t really his best friend? She didn t come because she liked him, but only for money? Nandu
felt as if something had gone right through him.
When Savita arrived, Nandu said in an unfriendly way, "Take it. The money you earned." But it
was Bai who quickly grabbed the money from his hand.
That day Nandu did not speak to Savita or play with her. He went off with his books to his own
corner, and when Savita playfully tried to snatch his book away, he flew at her.
"Leave it alone. You can t read or write, stupid!"
Savita looked at him with all her soul in her eyes. She said nothing. When Mummy came home
in the evening Nandu wouldn t speak to her either.
The next day was Sunday, and Mummy had specially asked Savita to come on that day. She
wanted to take both children to the beach, because Nandu had to go back to school in a couple of
days.
Nandu was still angry. He walked ahead of Mummy and Savita without saying a word. There
was a cool breeze blowing, and the waves roared in the background. What a lot of water! Nandu
thought. The sand was shiny, and everywhere there were children playing in the sand. Some
were making sand castles.
"Go on, why don t you make sand castles too," said Mummy.
Both children settled down on the sand and each began to make a separate castle. Soon Savita s
castle was ready. It was beautiful, Nandu had to admit to himself. And strange. It had all kinds of
shapes carved on it, big and small domes and arches. And as for his own castle, even the walls
weren't built yet.
"Shabash, Savita! It s really lovely," said Mummy.
Nandu s half-made castle remained unnoticed.
First she takes our money, thought Nandu. And then Mummy praises her, not me. His anger
boiled over.
He got up, ran towards Savita s castle and stamped on it. Savita gave a loud sob of surprise. "Oh,
he s gone and broken my beautiful house!"
Nandu felt dizzy with anger. He began to jump about on her house as if he had gone mad.
"There, there! There goes your beautiful house. See?"
There was a fight of course. The two children scratched and hit each other. Mummy pulled them
apart. After she had calmed them down she took each quietly by the arm and led them home. She
tried to get them to make up, but neither Nandu nor Savita would listen to her.
That evening Mummy wouldn t talk to Nandu. She didn t give him dinner, and she didn t eat
either. The next morning, when Nandu saw that she was in the same mood, he began to mutter.
"First she takes our money. Then you praised her house. And you didn t give me dinner. Now
you won t even talk to me!"
He felt he was going to cry any minute. His throat was aching with the effort, but somehow he
managed not to cry.
When it was time to leave for the office, Mummy came to him and said, "I am going to Bai s
house to tell her not to bring Savita here anymore. You are not her best friend, you are her
enemy."
When he heard Mummy s tone, the tears finally came.
He was howling now, and mummy was caressing him in her usual way. "Nandu! Why did you
behave so badly? What did Savita do to you?"
And now Nandu began to shriek, "I thought she was my best friend. But she only comes here for
money. She doesn t really like to play with me!"
"That s not true."
"It is. You gave her money."
"I want you to do one thing, Nandu. Come with me and see Savita s house. Come on. I won t go
to office today. Go and wash your face and hands."
Nandu didn t understand what all this was about. But Mummy spoke in such a voice that he
could not ask any questions. So he washed his face and hands and got ready to go with her.
They went to a cluster of huts right at the end of their lane. It was terribly smelly. Everywhere
you looked there was garbage lying around in heaps. Crows packed at it, mangy dogs sniffed it,
cats chased rats around it. There was a single water-tap and a crowd of thirty or forty women
around it. Mummy, stopped. "Where is Savita s mother?" she called to the women. Bai suddenly
came out of the crowd, looking amazed when she saw her kaku. "Where is Savita?" asked
Mummy, and soon they were entering a tiny house.
It was so dark inside that they could hardly see. Then they saw a small figure at the stove in the
smoky corner. It was Savita, in torn, filthy clothes. She got up slowly and looked at Nandu. Her
eyes were red.
"Savita! Nandu has come here to say that he s sorry."
"No, no, no. Where s the need for that?" Bai quickly broke in. "Children are always quarrelling
and making up."
"Nobody minds a few fights between friends, Bai!" Mummy said. "But when people start hating
each other - it is just like poison." She looked at Savita and said to Bai, "From tomorrow Nandu
will be going to school. Savita too can go now, can t she?"
"Yes, kaku. We ll use the money you gave to buy books and get her uniform stitched."
Nandu turned to Mummy. Mummy was smiling, her eyes on the little girl s face.
Then Nandu went to Savita. He put out his hand and touched her shoulder. And though he
whispered, all of them could hear him say, "Sorry, Best Friend!"