Aap kaise Punjabi ho? Breakfast main idli khaate ho?
What sort of Punjabi are you? You eat idlis for breakfast?
It was not just idlis. There was masala dosa too. And medu vada. With green chutney and sambar.
Her husband’s elder brother and family stayed in Kochin. Or some other part of Kerala. I don’t remember exactly, but this explained the southern comfort in their menu.
It was 1997. I had been placed at a much sought after research agency from campus after my MBA. I was very excited when I was told that I would be put up at a Punjabi family run PG in Bandra when I left Kolkata to live away from home for the first time. I thought I’d have tandoori chicken and Patiala pegs for dinner every night. Imagine my dismay when I found out that they were Hindu Punjabis and pure veg and teetotallers and that outside food was not allowed in.
It was not just ‘Madrasi khaana.’ There would be fabulous samosas for breakfast. Made by the late Nandaji. He worked at the Punjab Sweet House, Pali Naki, by day and with the family at night where he stayed. The samosas were of the same quality as Punjab Sweets’ which I fell in love with 20 years back and am still besotted with. Served with chhole at times.
The thing is that I was a Brit born Calcutta bred brown sahib. I couldn’t imagine Indian nashta for breakfast. ‘Too spicy old man. Can’t start the day with so much masala.’
For me, breakfast till then meant bread and eggs. Every single day. Luchi chholar dal?
My mum couldn’t make luchi or ruti or paratha. Till the lockdown in 2020 made her learn how to make rotis at the age of 73.
The only Indian breakfast I had at my PG was the pohe Aunty would make for me on weekends. With green peas and potatoes inside. A bottle of ketchup by the side. The Times of India in my hands.
Before I headed out to meet K whom aunty would refer to as Cannon.
No pun intended!
There was this one Saturday morning when there was a bread strike in Mumbai and aunty made me alu parathas to take to Dadar for K and her mum, my mom in law now,
who still fondly remembers my PG aunty’s alu parathas.
The compromise we had worked out was that I would buy a bottle of jam (Mala strawberry). Bread and butter was on offer in any case. She’d make me jam sandwiches for breakfast. And a glass of hot milk into which I’d add Complan, or at times Horlicks. The Bengali in me felt my nutrition was not complete as I was eating out a lot. Shorir ta toh dekhte hobe. I’d have two Shrewsbury biscuits with it as I felt I was too skinny. Can you believe it!? She used to charge Rs 15 for breakfast. I negotiated it down to to Rs 8. She agreed. I was her Raja beta.
This was our secret. Now yours too.
24 years later I decided to call in for chhole samosa from Guru Kripa, Sion, for breakfast today through Swiggy. The other contender being kara dosa from Madras Diaries next door.
Our younger cat, Nimki, looked baffled to see wet and dry food mixed in one plate.
And I could sense my PG aunty smile at us from the skies.
