17 April, 2021

Land Of Gup

The town's baal mithai has khoya, sugar and childhood memories rolled into it

Jitender Gupta
Land Of Gup
Ever since I can remember, every relative from Almora came to the plains bearing the same gifts in identical bundles (carelessly knotted old saris). There were fat radishes that were lovingly made into a farty-smelling watery curry with potatoes, capsicum and curds, slurped by the oldies but hated by us new-generation types. Once when an aunt was cooking this vegetable in the kitchen, our music teacher broke off a taan to declare, 'I think a gutter has burst in your house!' There was jambu, a dried Tibetan herb (like dried chives) smelling like unwashed armpits, but had the power to make sensational potato gutkas. Gargantuan cucumbers, sunned on tin roofs till their skins turned brown, that made the delicious yellow, mustardy raita to eat with the potato gutkas. And black soya beans that were made into creamy broths by the cook but looked so poisonous that our non-Pahadi friends looked alarmed when they were ladled out. And there was always the ubiquitous...

In this article:

More from Ira Pande

Latest Magazine

April 26, 2021

other articles from the issue

articles from the previous issue

Other magazine section