Time Stops at Konshi

‘Shutting down’ sign blinked on the screen as I swung my handbag on my shoulder. I ran down from the stairs of my office building, straight to the Embankment station ignoring the lovely gardens in full bloom. ‘Not today’, I waved off to the mighty Thames. I managed my way dodging people on the escalators in the underground. A right, a left, a squeeze, manoeuvring my way between stations. I laughed at my silly three year old Londoner self. Travelling through the massive network seemed so daunting then and here I was ticking off the boxes. London is slowly becoming home.

I have two homes. Well, rather three. It was almost two years since I visited Mera Bharat Mahan and four since I witnessed the Monsoon. So, we packed our bags for some family time.

Yes, the travel bug had almost caught us until reality of adult world said, "Slow down, you need to certain aspects of your life sorted. Well, that’s what saner responsible people do.’’ So began our search for a new beginning, a place of our own in London which drained us physically and mentally. (I will narrate the drama over a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, whichever you prefer). We were proud London home owners finally and then began the next phase of settling in (and we are still at it).

The chaotic traffic, the aroma filled streets, the ugly buildings grabbing every inch of the city.

Ah! Mumbai. Pune and Mumbai are special places. They are your siblings with whom you have a fight with and yet return.

But there are certain places which are close to your heart. You may not frequent them anymore but something about them makes you smile whichever corner of the world you may reside. There is no 'natak' or an 'air' but you are guaranteed only affection whenever your eyes meet.

We set off together to that special place  - Konshi which perhaps doesn’t mean anything on the global map but has made my childhood memorable. My maternal grandmother’s ancestral village. I had made my last visit 7-8 years ago.

When, I first visited it as a twelve year old on a red dirt road, the place seemed mystical, perfect for a little adventure. The palm and betel nut tree orchard encloses­­­­­ the family home on one side and the hilly terrain of cashew nut orchards to the other. So how do reach ‘Janaki Niwas’ you ask?  One has to cross a sluggish stream full of boulders and then make a way through the tall palms. Few little hops and you are then greeted by gentle brook and all the warm, lovely people of ‘Janaki Niwas’.

This is where one learned that rubbing coconut oil on one’s feet was an excellent insect repellent for that walk in the ‘Kaji’ (Cashew nut orchards). Not to forget the remedies for chasing away all the ghouls if you found one on your way in the forest beyond. Porcupine needles and old snake skins were treasured. One ate a ripe juicy guava by jumping a little high to fetch it and bathed all afternoons in the brook. Twitching your nose to the cow dung cleansing ritual you could scoot of to admire all different varieties of ‘Jaswand’ in the garden. One could spend the day helping around making ‘kokum’ or perhaps bugging your older cousins (actually, uncles) to take you for a swim. One never cared if one was best dressed in the summer as you proudly wore the dirt marks on your chest (a soiled shirt).

Evenings were a trek to the waterfall in the woods or climbing on the slippery black boulder. One could eat all the ‘Gare’ in the world and slurp the ‘Shevaya and Ras’ to the hearts content. A place where you witnessed the birth of a calf and climbed up the attic when you were upto some mischief.

So much and more.

As the rain poured, I once again realised what it meant to have wet muddy feet. A new place always holds promises and brings out a thirst for adventure. The people, the food, the exciting sights, you can’t have enough of it at all. But Konshi never failed and don’t think it ever will as I looked at my nephew (actually, a cousin…lol) with admiration. He is the one who led us through the narrow path to his home this time. Just aged four. Time does stop at Konshi.

P:S: With lots of love to Subhash Ajoba and Sunila Aaji. Thank you for giving us the best memories of our life.

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La Dolce Vita : Eating in Europe's food heaven

We work for the sake of the stomach.

Ah! Surely, we do and what better way to celebrate the love for food and wine than to visit Europe’s food heaven: Eat-at-ly!!

The country whose signature dish has made its stamp in all corners of the world. Yes, Pizza features as a default weekend staple in our diet. Of course, they have been modified to suit variety of palettes. (Gathiya Pizza and coconut pizza sure sound scary)

The aim was to be in land of Pizzas. For a purist it would be to flight to Naples but we decided to venture to Rome first on this holiday. Italian cuisine takes pride in regional cooking much like Indian. Would a Marathi mulgi accept a gujarati style puran-poli? No. Would macher-jhol pass-off as a machi-kalwan for a Bengali? That would be a heinous crime. In the same manner, a person from Northern Italy would vouch for a risotto infused with saffron whereas a southerner will be delighted by fish.

Meatlious

The Italians take immense pride in their food and prefer food served from scratch and use the best seasonal produce. Now, my Indian friends reading this would rather find it strange….obvious isn’t it? A key to good food? Well, spend some time in London my dearies and you would understand the moolah you pay for the food and quality you are served are not always proportional.

In a market in Rome

Now coming back to expeditions.

After a tiring morning at the Vatican, our stomachs were growling at 3pm and the restaurants were closing their kitchens for lunch. We tried our luck at Tony and Dino’s Hosteria. They were closed for the day but the friendly owners took pity on us. 

‘’Pasta?? Pasta?? Ok??’’, said the pot bellied chef. ‘’Anything could do my friend’, we gave a casual nod. "  An Osteria is focused on simple food of the region, often having no written menu much like aapli khanaval. Perhaps, that is what you need on a vacation. Not caring enough about the decision to order food but being guaranteed a delightful plate in front of you! 

I will get you my specials, red or white, what will you prefer.’’ We just gave a sheepish thumbs up.

Dino and Tony did deliver their promise, two sorts of simple pasta cooked al-dente was the most joyous experiences of the day. (Next to the Sistine Chapel, perhaps) As our hunger pangs cooled down, we were presented with a plateful of desert. Tiramisu, tiny biscuits, panna cotta and Expresso con panna….burrrrppp. All for £20.

Each day in Italy was an experience or rather we made sure that we visited a good place. Life is too short for a bad spaghetti. Also, Italians have their meals in courses. So after antipasti, comes first course of pasta, followed by main course of meat or fish and to be ended with a desert and a coffee.

Needless to say, most of them are accompanied by a glass of wine. Walking the sunny by-lanes of Rome licking a creamy gelato was an everyday feature and a cheese and ham panini bursting with flavours was just right for lunch. 

Imagine waiting by the river Arno watching the sun-kissed waters at dusk only for Ristorante Pane e Vino to open its door at 7.30 p.m. (Oh, yes we are shameless gluttons) We broke the unsalted Tuscan bread (they seemed to serve bread in little brown paper bags here) as we were enchanted by the wooden beamed ceiling high courtyard. By the time we finished our anti-pasti (Fried balls of cod 'with tomato soup, sweet garlic sauce = me) and first course we were too full for the mains.

Of course, we did have the space for the desserts.

Whereas on the other night, we walked across the town for Il Teatro del Sale, another recommended restaurant only to be disappointed that it was closed for an event. We looked around and decided to queue up where the crowds seem to be waiting : Cibereo Trattoria. The manager encouraged us to share our table with another older couple who had flown down from New York. 

Needless to say, as the wine flowed, we had an engaging conversation with the couple about three things we love: food, travel and India. (yes, the lady was of Indian origins)

We exchanged top tips and notes as we relished the rustic chicken liver pate and sumptuous rabbit stuffed with chicken and pork. 

I could possibly go on and on about every single meal I had during my stay in Italy. Be it the humble bread at an old bakery at the Jewish quarter in Rome, the larger than life Florentine steak or the joys of finest wines in the world….. well Italy, never failed us.

I don’t know if we eat to live or we live to eat. 

But as Italians say : La Dolce Vita ( The Life is sweet). Especially in Italy.

Vineyards of Chianti

  

Senātus Populusque Rōmānus (SPQR) : A page from history

Colosseum : Wonder of the world

The blazing sun shines over your head as you clench your fists. You have waited for hours together for that entry of the superstar. You have watched an exciting performance last year and the stakes are up high. Cheering, hooting, whistling, you are the crowd. As the drums roll, the action begins, your adrenaline rushes grow stronger. Every low is yours, every high is personal.

No, you are not at a football stadium but watching a gladiator fight. The games have begun.  Somebody’s sword has cut your hero, you cry deep inside while he perishes to the ground.

Entertainment and thrill go hand in hand at the Colosseum. The age old story of heroism and glory continues till date. Perhaps our tastes have civilised over ages but the emotions….who could conquer those?

Our journey of Rome began at the magnificent Colosseum, a poetry in stone and concrete. The crown jewel of the Flavian dynasty. A witness to the glorious multi-cultural Roman Empire which stretched from Europe to Asia and Africa. A celebration of architecture and engineering. A place of valour and heroism.  A ticket to someone’s freedom. 

We wanted to take it easy on our Roman holiday. To absorb so much of history, we thought it was best to take it slow. Just at a stone’s throw from the Colosseum, we dragged our bags into a dingy lift in an old building.  Our clandestine affair with the ochre washed lanes began we gently unlocked the large wooden windows. It was no looking back since then. 

Every day, we would walk stretches of unknown lanes awaiting for a rendezvous with a rustic ruin, a piece of history which would make us ponder over the brilliance of the Roman Empire.  Rome was certainly not built in a day. The Empire reigned for 500 years.

The Pantheon, perhaps comes second as the intact buildings of the Ancient Roman empire and as expected serves as a modern day church since 7^th Century AD. The real purpose of the building which has been re-built a few times is somewhat a mystery. Was it a private sanctuary of an emperor or a temple for worship of multiple gods? Before you could put in your imagination to play, the flashes of several selfie sticks would bring you back to 21^st Century AD.

Not to worry, there is more history for your soul here.  The Roman Forum could put your modern day city centre or a mall to shame. It was perhaps the most buzzing postcode of SPQR ( Senatus Populusque Romanus, the senate and People of Rome this is craved everywhere)

The offices of who’s who of politics and aristocracy, the grand and imposing temples and gardens and flourishing markets were all overlooked by the Palatine hill and Capitoline hill on its sides. You might wonder if the plot to assassinate an Emperor was made in one of those narrow lanes or behind a mighty Roman column. Were the state secrets ever leaked by a treasoner? The exploits of war and the wealth accumulated by the Empire is certainly evidenced by the grand buildings and infrastructure of ancient Rome.

And after all these history lessons, if your feet are tired, sit down around the elevated path of the Circus Maximus. Put in together your imagination, your philosophical, religious and political beliefs to play. History repeats itself.  The never satiating human ambition flows across continents and throughout centuries. Guns replaced swords. Missiles replaced guns. 

And in 21st Century A.D.  a  modern day gladiator is born, not fighting in an arena of the Colosseum but crossing perilous borders as a refugee seeking his freedom because someone has hatched a plan to build an empire.

(Gladiators : Who  were they? Most were despised as slaves, schooled under harsh conditions, socially marginalized, and segregated even in deaths.)