Shevlin Sebastian's Blog, page 2

A Shining Star

 

Captions: Published by Penguin India; Author Sanghamitra Chakraborty; Soumitra Chatterjee as Apu; the memory card scene in Aranyer Din Ratri
In this absorbing biography, Sanghamitra Chakraborty traces the life and career of Soumitra Chatterjee, one of Bengal’s greatest actors By Shevlin Sebastian Early in the book, ‘Soumitra Chatterjee and His World’, author Sanghamitra Chakraborty recounts a memory of the actor when he was six years old. One day, because he was sick, Soumitra could not go to school. His elder brother Sambit returned from school earlier than scheduled. Their mother, Ashalata, asked Sambit the reason why. Here is how Soumitra remembered that moment: “Rabindranath Tagore is dead, so our headmaster announced a holiday,” Dada said flatly. ‘When I heard this, I knew Tagore must be a great man. Why else would they announce a holiday? That was my only response then — I hadn’t matured enough to react to the tragedy, but I noticed that my mother’s world was shaken. Ma couldn’t keep standing — she held onto the railing and sat down slowly.’ Ashalata was an ardent admirer of Tagore. Like his mother, later in life, Soumitra worshipped Tagore as a sage, prophet, great artist and social reformer. An ardent bibliophile, Soumitra read Pather Panchali by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay when he was a teenager. Later, he wrote, ‘I had no idea then that playing the role of the grown-up Apu [protagonist of Pather Panchali] would be the birth of my acting career.’During his studies at the CMS St. John’s School in Krishnanagar, Soumitra took part in plays and elocution contests. In Class Five, he played the prince in Sleeping Beauty.‘People in the audience gave away awards to young actors then,’ he wrote. ‘I was thrilled to receive medals at that age. Perhaps an obsession with acting later took hold of me thanks to those medals. Who knows?’But it was not always an idyllic life. He saw some tragedies first-hand. During the Bengal Famine of 1943, in which 30 lakh people died, Soumitra recalled the unbearable stench of dead bodies piling up on the streets in Krishnanagar. One day, a starving man took shelter in a courtyard next door. Soumitra used to take rotis from his dinner and give it to him. One night, he could not do so. He wrote, ‘Next morning, I found the man dead — a bag of bones covered in skin heaped in one corner. His misshapen metal bowl had a few morsels of food left in it.’ It would leave a permanent scar on his heart. As he grew up and got a job at All India Radio, he was always keen to embark on an acting career. His life changed when, one day, while recuperating at home from chicken pox, Satyajit Ray’s assistant Subir Hazra told him the maestro wanted to meet him. When Soumitra stepped into Ray’s house, the latter said, ‘There you are, please come in. But everything seems fine. I don’t see any marks on your face! Someone was saying you had developed pockmarks. This is nothing. It should be fine.’ The result: Soumitra was cast as the lead in Apur Sansar. Soumitra began preparing and remembered the advice given by theatre guru Sisir Bhaduri. As author Sanghamitra writes, as an actor he had to interrogate the script ‘like a detective’, read carefully between the lines, look for clues to recreate in his mind the unexpressed bits of the story or character and peel away the top layers to unearth what was beneath. Apur Sansar became a hit and launched the career of Soumitra. The New York Times critic Bosley Crowther wrote, ‘In the role of Apu, Soumitra Chatterjee is timid, tender, sad, serene, superb. He is the perfect extension of Apu as a man.’ Sanghamitra delves at length into the relationship between Soumitra and Satyajit Ray, which changed the young actor’s life completely. Ray’s son Sandip spoke about the ‘instant chemistry’ between his father and Soumitra. ‘Even before Baba spoke, Soumitra Kaku knew what he wanted,’ said Sandip. ‘You rarely see this kind of understanding between a director and an actor.’ Sanghamitra dwells at length on one of Ray’s greatest films, Charulata (1964) and the roles played by Soumitra and Madhabi Mukherjee. In the end, Soumitra and Ray worked in many films together, including Kapurush, Aranyer Din Ratri, and Asani Sanket. ‘The fun in working with him [Ray] was that he gave you immense freedom,’ said Soumitra. ‘And when you took the initiative, he would come up with a suggestion that would take it to the next level.’ The praise was mutual. Once Ray said, ‘Out of my 27 [28] films, he has acted the lead role in 14. This makes it obvious how much I trust him and how highly I regard him as an actor. I know I will depend on him until the last day of my life as an artist.’ Interestingly, in the famous memory card game scene in Aranyer Din Ratri, Ray placed the camera in the middle of the group that sat in a circle on a sheet on a ground in Palamau. The actors included Soumitra Chatterjee, Sharmila Tagore, Kaberi Bose, Subhendu Chatterjee, Samit Bhanja, and Robi Ghosh. As Sanghamitra writes, ‘Though his close-ups, with the roving camera, paused on each face, Ray superbly captured their mental landscape and the emerging group dynamics.’ Later, Sharmila said that it was so hot the shooting had to be completed within an hour. This tie-up of Soumitra with Ray lasted from 1959 to 1992, when Ray passed away on April 23, at the age of 70. What impressed Ray and the crew members was how meticulously Soumitra prepared for each shot. ‘He always arrived on time and came well prepared,’ said Sandip. ‘For example, he would make a note of the number of shirt buttons he had left unbuttoned from the last time [for continuity]. His discipline was remarkable.’ In the end, Chatterjee acted in over 300 films in a 60-year career. Sanghamitra also focuses on other films. It was interesting to note that in Teen Bhubaner Pare (1969), there was a song called Jibone Ki Pabona in which Soumitra did the twist in an elegant style. The YouTube video was a pleasure to watch and the catchy tune and the lively singing by Manna Dey felt dynamic and uplifting. It is a song that still sounds good. And there have been many covers of it over the years. This is an absorbing book. Undoubtedly, a lot of research has been done. Sanghamitra interviewed around 75 people, apart from family members. What was a blow to the author was the star’s unexpected death because of lung complications from Covid on November 15, 2020, at the age of 85. So Sanghamitra could not talk to the star, but his copious autobiographical writings provided a lot of information. This book is a valuable addition to the literature of film. For fans of Soumitra, this is a must-read. Actor Sharmila Tagore wrote in the foreword, ‘Soumitra had his reasons to avoid Bombay, of course, but Indian audiences are the poorer for it.’ So, for film lovers in other parts of India and the world who are not aware of this titan, this book will be a revelation. A shorter version was published in The Sunday Magazine, New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

A photo with Guneet Monga

With the effervescent film producer Guneet Monga at the Dhanam Business Summit at Kochi.

At age 21, Guneet went from Delhi to Mumbai to try her luck in films. In less than 20 years, she is an Oscar winning producer of 'The Elephant Whisperers'. She continues to have an ongoing stellar career. Please note the elephant symbol on her saree, made by a Malayali designer. Photo by Anoop Abraham

A Sardarji who speaks fluent Malayalam

 

Captions: Mohinder Singh; The outside of the restaurant; Maharaja's Chicken dish

Mohinder Singh, part-owner ofthe ‘Sethi Da Dhaba’, put out a reel in Malayalam celebrating the 10thanniversary of the restaurant. The reel went viral and brought focus to therestaurant and the family 

By Shevlin Sebastian 

To celebrate the 10thanniversary of his restaurant, ‘Sethi Da Dhaba’ in Kochi, Mohinder Singh putout a reel. In it, he tells the story, in Malayalam, about how the restaurantbegan and the type of food that is served. 

Mohinder said that they don’tuse ajinomoto, colours, harmful chemicals, palm oil or groundnuts. “The foodshould be healthy, apart from being tasty,” he said, and added, “The mostpopular cuisine among Malayalis is Punjabi.”

To Mohinder’s surprise, thevideo went viral. It boosted the restaurant’s visibility and drew newcustomers. The biggest shock for viewers was to see a Punjabi speak Malayalamfluently. 

Malayalis worldwide, from theUSA to Australia, called him and expressed their shock and admiration for hislinguistic skills. One man said, “It feels like a dream.” 

Mohinder said his fluency inMalayalam happened by accident. As a child, he was mischievous. Many schoolsexpelled him because of his indiscipline. In the end, he landed up at St.Albert’s School. The students comprised local Malayalis, who were more fluentin the vernacular language than English. So Mohinder learned to speak Malayalamlike a native. 

At the restaurant, Mohinderconfirmed that 90 percent of his customers are Malayalis. “We have earned thetrust of customers,” he said. 

Mohinder paused and said, “Weare doing this as a tribute to our mother. We want to make her happy. Hence, weare determined to provide the highest quality of food. That way, we willreceive the blessings of our parents.”   

The genesis of therestaurant 

In 2013, Mohinder’s mother,Satwant Kaur, a foodie, almost lost her life because of a cardiac ailment. Whenshe recovered, she told her sons that she had a dream. They should start arestaurant in Kochi that serves authentic Punjabi dishes. Her husband was inthe automobile business. None of the four sons knew anything about therestaurant business. 

On the morning of January 1,2014, Satwant told Mohinder she was feeling unwell and needed to go to thehospital. 

Mohinder, who was celebratingNew Year’s Day, said, “Mother, there’s nothing to worry about. You arefine.” 

That night, the 72-year-old diedof a heart attack in front of Mohinder. Guilt crushed him. He had been lookingafter his parents for 25 years. So, this lapse became unforgivable. Afterreflection, he decided he would try meditation or exercise. He adoptedweightlifting and did it for a few hours every day. 

Every month he would go to HazurSahib, one of five takhts (religious centres in Sikhism. The shrine is locatedin Nanded, Maharashtra. 

It took him five years toovercome his sorrow. “I have to thank my family for their steadfast support,”he said. “Weightlifting also helped me.” 

During this time, Mohinder madea promise to himself. He would fulfill his mother’s dream. 

On February 24, 2015, Mohinder,along with his brother Manjit, started the ‘Sethi Da Dhaba’ restaurant inKochi. 

At that time, Punjabi cuisinewas not in the forefront of the cuisine palate of Malayalis. Many were scepticalabout whether the venture would be a success. Mohinder tried to increase theirchances by bringing cooks from North India. Initially, there was only a trickleof customers. But the brothers never gave up. Slowly, through word of mouth,the restaurant’s name spread. Today, ‘Sethi Da Dhaba’ is one of the leadingeating places for Punjabi cuisine in Kochi.  

The Menu

On a bustling Monday afternoon,the restaurant boasted a crowd of varying ages. On one side sat a seniorcitizen, savouring a plate of chicken seekh kebab and crisp parathas. In themiddle were two career professionals, wearing ties and crisp white shirtssharing a meal. And on the other side, there was a middle-aged woman with twochildren in tow. Mohinder had a radiant smile, as he moved between the tables,chatting with the guests. 

On the walls, there aretypewriters hanging, and paintings of farmers, trees and cows. A jeep bonnetand tyres sit in an enclosure, while an old radio with black knobs rests on aglass shelf. In one corner, one can see a green and white Bajaj Chetak scooter.Placed near the entrance is a photo of the Golden Temple. 

“My brother Manjit has a passionfor collecting antiques,” said Mohinder. 

The yellow ceiling lights cast acosy warmth, while the aroma of tandoor-cooked dishes set the taste buds inmotion.   

In the reel, Mohinder spokeabout a new dish called Maharaja’s Chicken. This dish was served to MaharajaRanjit Singh (1780-1839) by his head chef, or khansama, Beliram. He wasregarded as the best cook of that era. 

A few months ago, when Mohinderand his family went to Patiala, they met a fifth-generation descendant ofBeliram. They had a conversation and got the recipe for the dish. 

The chef marinates and grillsthe chicken in the tandoor for 25 minutes. Then, he cooks it in oil with friedonions, curd, and gravy, along with ghee. The cooks prepare the dish as asemi-gravy. “We introduced this about a month ago,” said Mohinder. “It’s becomevery popular.” 

One of their most popular itemsis the Patiala Lassi. They serve it in a one-litre glass. It comprises curd,cardamom powder, sugar, pieces of almonds and pistachios. The taste isexceptional. 

Other items include ChickenMalai Tikka, Mutton Seekh Kabab, Amritsari Fish, Dal Makhana and assorted rotisand parathas.  

Asked about the cooking methods,Mohinder said that they follow the traditional way. So when they make a dal,they keep the pulses in the tandoor (a large oven made of clay) the previousnight. They let it simmer, on a low flame, till the morning. For mutton, theyuse goat, not sheep, which is what most restaurants serve. 

Asked the secret of goodcooking, Mohinder said, “Whatever you do, do it from the heart. Your intentionshould be pure. When you do things from the heart, you get blessings,appreciation, and peace of mind. The mind is always manipulative. In theservice sector, if you use only the mind, you cannot survive.”

Mohinder said their aim was thatwhen anybody came into the restaurant, they should leave with a smile. 

The reviews on Trip Advisor havebeen good. Patron Varun Kodoth wrote: ‘Very delicious food. The food tastesawesome. We had Paneer Tikka Masala, Roti and Naan. Everything was perfect. Thestaff were truly helpful. Don’t forget to try the sweet Lassi.’ 

Nita A wrote: ‘Truly Punjabi.The taste, aroma, and ambience was complimented very well by Mohinderji who wasan excellent host.’ 

Many people wanted to take afranchisee, but the brothers are unsure whether the restaurateurs couldmaintain the Dhaba’s high standards. 

“The problem with the restaurantsector is that people cut costs and end up compromising on quality,” saidMohinder. 

While Manjit oversees thekitchen, Mohinder is the one who interacts with the customers. On average heinteracts with 5000 people every week. 

Mohinder admitted thatconstantly coming into contact with the positive and negative energies ofpeople is difficult. “People’s facial expressions and behaviour reflect thetensions in their lives,” he said.

Every night, before he goes tosleep, he does heartfulness meditation. “In this meditation, I can cleanse myemotions and purify myself,” said Mohinder. “When your heart is pure, youattract positive energy.” Mohinder advises every entrepreneur to follow thespiritual path. 

Asked about the mindset of theMalayali, Mohinder said, “Once you gain the trust of a Malayali, he will alwaysbelieve you. Sometimes, customers will tell me, ‘Sardarji, we are six people.You know how much quantity we will need. Bring what you like.’”    

Mohinder ensures he brings alittle less, so all the food is eaten. “You should not take their trust forgranted,” he said. 

Sometimes, there are humorousinteractions. One film director said that in the two Mollywood superhits,‘Punjabi House,’ and ‘Mallu Singh,’ Malayali actors played the role ofPunjabis. “They were ‘duplicate’ Sardarjis,” the director said. “Now we want toput an authentic Sardarji like you in a film when there is a Punjabicharacter.”

The director and Mohinder shareda laugh. 

Thanks to their integrity andwholesomeness, today, the family has a sterling reputation. But this reputationwas first established by their father, Harbansji Singh Sethi. 

Family Roots  

Mohinder’s father, Harbansji, anIAS officer, was a senior officer of the Food Corporation of India atChandigarh. One day, in 1964, Pachakari Mohammed, a prominent iron dealer fromKochi, met Harbansji in his office. They developed a rapport. Mohammed invitedHarbansji to come to Kerala for a visit. In 1965, Harbansji took up the offerand came to Kochi. “My father liked Kerala a lot with its greenery and peacefulenvironment,” said Mohinder. 

Kochi was also a burgeoning hubfor trade.  

Harbansji had an itch to go intobusiness. His father had been an entrepreneur all his life. Mohammed encouragedHarbansji. He gave Harbansji an apartment for the family to stay. He took norent for the next two years. And he provided logistical and other support,too. 

Harbansji took medical leave. Hestarted a business in automobile parts called ‘Bombay Auto Agency’. There was astruggle in the beginning, but soon it took off. So Harbansji quit the IAS.

The family comprised his wife,four sons, and a daughter.  

In 2006, Harbansji diedat the age of 74. The shop is being run by the eldest son, Surinder. Theyoungest son Gurjeet is also running a spare parts shop. 

As for Mohinder, he is marriedto Pawanjit Kaur, from Hyderabad. He has two sons, Sunny and Bunny. Sunny, 24,has settled in Toronto. Bunny is assisting his father in the restaurant. 

All in all, it has been a good lifefor Mohinder. He is a man who deeply enjoys his work, and loves theinteractions with a wide variety of people. 

At the‘Sethi Da Dhaba’, amidst the clatter of steel plates, Mohinder leaned forwardand gently placed his fingers on the glass frame of the Golden Templephoto. 

“God hasbeen kind,” he said.

Box: 

We areone 

In manystates people are agitating that their language should become the primary one.Mohinder Singh said, “All languages are beautiful. We should respect them all.It reflects the cultural diversity of the country. And the more languages onelearns, the more enriched we become.”

He pausedand said, “Kerala is a beacon in this regard. The people respect our Punjabilanguage and culture. And vice versa. This is a state that welcomes all Indianswith an open heart and kind words. All states should be like this. In the end,we are Indians irrespective of whether we are Punjabi, Gujarati, Bengali,Malayali or Tamilian. I am the best example of this integration.”

 

(Published in Rediff.com) https://www.rediff.com/.../the-sardar-who.../20250620.htm

A session on true crime

 

Happy to do an interview on the Harper Broadcast Channel on World Book Day last month with Rasheed Kidwai and Prakash Patra, authors of the book, 'The Scam That Shook A Nation -- The Nagarwala Scandal' and crime writer Kulpreet Yadav, whose book, 'Dial 100', is about to be released

Here is the YouTube Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlfux...

A write-up on my great grandfather, Ninan Xavier

By Shevlin Sebastian

Last week, I had gone to pay condolences at the home of my cousin Thomas Job, who passed away at the age of 73 in Nadeckepadam, near Changanacherry. High up on the wall of the living room I saw a painting. This was of my great grandfather Ninan Xavier (1862-1948). The painting was done in 1926. Which meant, he was 64 years old. My late uncle Kurian Sebastian, who had a deep knowledge of family history, once wrote about Ninan. Here are some points from the article: Ninan was married to a woman called Achamma who belonged to Allapuzha. However, 22 days after she gave birth to a son, in 1887, she died. Thereafter, Ninan married a lady called Thresiamma. They had six children: one son and five daughters. Ninan loved agriculture. He was the first to plant rubber trees in Madappally village, 100 kms from Cochin. This became a financial success. The rubber was sent to the Swiss trading firm, Volkart Brothers in Cochin. Their Cochin branch was established in 1859. Ninan ordered bottles of Plymouth gin and cigars from Volkart Brothers. This was delivered by boat, which was the primary form of transportation in those times. Ninan was also the pioneer of sericulture (silkworm breeding). The Director of Agriculture made frequent visits to check on the crop. The Diwan also made a visit. Silkworm breeding became a success. Later, Ninan became a contractor and built several major roads in the district. No surprises then that he bought and owned a lot of land. In 1927, Ninan contested from the Changanacherry/Peerumade constituency. He won the election and became a member of the Sree Moolam Assembly. Ten years later, his son-in-law PJ Sebastian won from the same constituency. Kurian Sebastian mentioned that when traders would go at 4 am on bullock carts towards the market in Changanacherry, they would sing the praises of Ninan when they went past his house. Ninan died on January 25. My son was born on January 25. Is it coincidence or reincarnation? Who can say? Life is a mystery.

Meeta Shah’s Journey After the 2006 Mumbai Bombings

Photo: Meeta Shah (right) with Esha

On July 11, 2006, Meeta Shah’s husband, Tushit, 44, died in the Mumbai rail blasts.In Part 1, published in ‘The Hindustan Times’ on July 16, 2006, Meeta spoke about the immense loss that she felt, and described the chaotic hospital search for the body of her husband, and the gut-wrenching days that followed.

Here are the links:

https://www.linkedin.com/.../2006-bomb-blasts-railway...

In Part 2, she talks about the ensuing years. She describes how she struggled from deep despair to a place today where she has experienced gratitude, a measure of happiness and a spiritual awakening.

By Shevlin Sebastian

On July 11, 2006, seven bomb blasts devastated the suburban rail network in Mumbai. It resulted in 189 deaths and over 700 injured. According to the Mumbai Police, the terror outfit Lashkar-e-Taiba orchestrated it along with Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence.

One victim was Tushit Shah, 44.

As the city struggled to rebuild and heal, Tushit’s wife, Meeta, 44, struggled to come to terms with her own trauma.

Immediately after her husband’s death, Meeta realised she had to keep her emotions under control. That was because both her parents were heart patients.

“I was told not to cry in front of them to avoid further health complications,” she said in an interview a few days ago.

One day, Meeta heard Tushit’s voice saying, “Meeta, Meeta! Please accept it. I am not there. Please take care of Esha.”

So, Meeta placed Esha on her lap telling her, “Don’t worry dear, I am here. Nothing will happen.”

Esha’s nervous system would become stiff and freeze (pre-epileptic stiffness). This occurred a few times before they took Tushit’s body for cremation. Esha was 16 years old.

Meeta suffered from the guilt that she was not there when Tushit breathed his last. Nor did she attend the cremation. “I told myself that I had to take care of my little one now,” she said. “Esha clung to me the entire night and did not want to leave me for a moment as well.”

After two months, Esha started travelling on the trains again. She always carried her father’s mobile phones with her. Somehow, one by one, she lost them.

Meeta said, “Esha, Papa wants us to free him and move on, beta.”

But despite saying this, Meeta would always look out for him.

“Somehow, it took time for me to accept that he was not there,” she said. “So, from the bus I would look out for him in the crowd coming out of the station hoping to get a glimpse, or wait for the sound of his bike.”

There were no bike sounds. Instead, for the next ten years, till 2016, Meeta suffered from nightmares. There were times she would awaken in the middle of the night, gripped by grief, and taking quick breaths, as if she was asthmatic. Through it all, Meeta was always aware of Tushit’s energies around her, especially when she crossed the rail tracks to go over to the eastern part of the town.

Sometimes, Meeta received miraculous replies and answers.

Once, Esha and Meeta were returning from the bank after closing Tushit’s account.

It was raining.

Esha asked whether she could play the radio in the car.

“Yes, of course,” said Meeta.

While driving, Meeta lost herself in her thoughts.

She whispered, “Tushit, where are you? Please talk to me and tell me where you are.”

Suddenly, the song, ‘Mein yahan tu kahan...... zindagi hai kahan? (Where am I? Where are you? And where is the world?)’ sung by Bollywood superstar Amitabh Bachchan and playback singer Alka Yagnik came on the air.

Oh, Tushit replied, concluded Meeta. This is not a coincidence.

Meeta stopped the car by the side of the road, got out, took a deep breath, and tried to quieten her racing heart. People only die physically, she realised. They are alive in another dimension.

Esha said, through the car window, “Mama, should I change the station?”

Meeta said, “No need, dear. It’s Papa telling me something.”

For Meeta, the song was so meaningful, as she released the clutch and pressed the accelerator.

Suddenly, she remembered their nicknames for each other.

Tushit used to call Meeta her Rekha [Bollywood actress] because of her dark complexion. Meeta would call him Amitabh [Bachchan], as he was tall, with a similar French beard and hairstyle.

One month later, when Esha had left to attend classes at the Patkar Varde College in Goregaon, and her mother had returned to her home, Meeta was alone for the first time in her house.

That was when Meeta took her bolster pillow and placed it in the same place where Tushit was last laid in the house. “Cradling it, I cried my heart out,” said Meeta. “I released a lot of my pain that day. I had to do it as it was all stuck inside my mind, body and soul.”

Though that moment eased her pain, Meeta discovered as the days went by, nothing could fill the void in her heart.

She said, “I lost the best person in my life, the family breadwinner, my life support system, my finance manager, my positive half, my soulmate, my child’s father, my best non-judgemental and accepting counsellor, a smiling and helpful soul, and so much more!”

Reflecting on their 21-year marriage, Meeta remembered she would often ask Tushit why he agreed to marry her.

“I am dark,” she told him. “In matrimonial ads, families seek fair and lovely girls.”

He replied, “Meeta, I was looking for someone I could gel with and have the same mental wavelength. I was also looking for somebody who was honest and smart. I was not looking for a fair girl.”

Meeta said, “I am grateful to the Lord that Tushit said yes. And I had the most wonderful relationship with my husband.”

In 2009, Meeta got a job as a psychologist and counsellor at the Narsee Monjee Institute of Management Studies, Mumbai.

She worked there for 12 years.

By 2010, as she settled into her career, Meeta experienced a spiritual metamorphosis.

For a long time, she had been angry at the Universal Energy for taking Tushit away so suddenly.

“I believe in karma,” she said. “For every action, there will be a reaction. I know nature will respond to those who have killed innocent lives as it returns what you give to the universe.”

Drawing on her religious beliefs, Meeta said, “I often feel sadness for people filled with angst and hatred. They have not seen love. I pray the Almighty gives love to all. And I also accept that God took Tushit away for a reason, which I will never understand.”

Meeta tried to get married, but somehow it didn’t work out. “There is nobody to match Tushit,” she said.

Her parents took it in their stride.

Her husband’s uncle led a branch of the Vinoba Bhave ashram, a spiritual community dedicated to non-violence and service. So, it was no surprise when he offered support by drawing on his philosophy of empathy.

He told her, “If you decide not to be in a relationship, I will not ask why. We trust you. We are with you. However, don’t stop searching. It’s important to have a life partner.”

As for Esha, she got a degree in biotech from the DY Patil College School Of Biotechnology And Bioinformatics. Simultaneously, she completed her diploma in patent law. Thereafter, she started applying abroad for her master’s degree in cancer research.

She got admission to an esteemed Australian university on a full ‘live-in expense’ scholarship.

Today, Esha has a PhD in cancer cell and molecular biology. She is working on managing projects for clinical trials. And is happily married too.

“I have a son-in-law who takes great care of her, and me,” said Meeta. “What more can I ask for?”

Meeta’s journey from grief to gratitude will make Tushit happy. At 63, it has brought her to a place of inner calm and tranquility. And her turnaround will inspire many who have faced similar tragedies.

“Eventually, despite many attacks on our spirit, love always wins,” she said. “That’s what Tushit showed me with the way he led his life.”

Spouses of diplomats talk about their experiences in different countries across the world

 

Captions: The cover; President John F Kennedy; Hope Cooke with her husband, the Chogyal, ruler of Sikkim 
Delhi-based journalist Reshmi Ray Dasgupta wrote that when her mother Gayatri was posted to Berlin, she wanted to buy a cushion (kissen in German). But she inadvertently said, kussen (which means kissing). The shop assistant didn't waste a moment. He immediately landed a peck on her cheek, leaving Gayatri completely embarrassed. In Cape Town, Gayatri entered a shop with a group of people which included one white woman. The salesman said that he would only serve the white woman. The white woman was outraged and the group walked out of the shop. ‘It was Ma’s “Gandhi-ji at Pietermaritzburg” moment,’ wrote Reshmi. ‘She resolutely shunned everything South African until apartheid ended 34 years later.’Gayatri was in Washington when Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru made his third visit. At a White House gala, she was admiring the paintings on the wall when there was a tap on her shoulder. When she turned, a man said, “Hello, my name is John. What’s yours?” “Gayatri Ray,” was the reply. “Ray? You’re Bengali!” the man said. “How did you know I am Bengali?” she said. “Ray…like Satyajit Ray, right? So, you’re Bengali!” Apparently, a few months earlier John F Kennedy, the president of the United States, had watched Ray’s Apur Sansar. The ruler of Sikkim, Chogyal got married to an American woman, Hope Cooke (Sikkimese name: Gyalmo). As a result, the American festival Halloween was celebrated in Sikkim because of her influence. Sudhir Devare was the First Secretary of the Political Office. His wife Hema wrote that one night, as they settled in for the night, there was a loud thud at the door. The servant Tulsi opened the door. When Sudhir entered the drawing room, he saw a group of youths banging drums. Leading them was the Chogyal’s wife Gyalmo. Soon, Sudhir and Gyalmo started dancing. When Hema appeared in the drawing room, Gyalmo put Hema’s hand in her husband’s. ‘She left as suddenly as she had arrived, leaving both of us speechless,’ wrote Hema. ‘The next day the episode was the talk of the town.’ In 1980, Prem Budhwar was appointed as Ambassador of Ethiopia. His wife Kusum said that when they arrived, they received a shock when they discovered that the Ethiopian calendar consisted of 13 months. The 13th month consisted of five or six days in the leap year. The year began on September 12 and not on January 1. Prem told the foreign minister that when he was in college he had an Ethiopian classmate by the name of Tessima Ibido who came to study on a Government of India scholarship. To Prem’s shock, and happiness, the Foreign Minister said that Tessima had just retired as deputy finance minister. Kusum wrote, ‘Within a couple of days Tessima called and came over to our home. What a warm meeting it was between the friends! The clock stood still as they reminisced about the happy days of their youth spent together in Shimla.’ All these heart-warming anecdotes have been recounted in the book, The Other Side of Diplomacy, edited by Jayshree Misra Tripathi. The writing style is simple and clear. So, in effect it is an easy read. The stories are from the viewpoints of spouses of career diplomats who have served in Indian missions abroad. However, as former diplomat Shashi Tharoor mentioned in the foreword, in the Women in Diplomacy Index 2022, brought out by the Anwar Gargash Diplomatic Academy, UAE, India ranked 26 in a list of 40 countries and the European Union. ‘About 16.9 percent of the ambassadorial positions in the [Indian] missions have been held by women,’ wrote Tharoor. In this book of 16 essays, only two are by male spouses. Here’s hoping the gender imbalance will be corrected in future. The stories are from countries as varied as Tajikistan, Ethiopia, China, Brazil, Switzerland, Austria, Zimbabwe, Russia and the Korean Peninsula. While it may sound glamorous and exciting, in many places, the living conditions were rudimentary, and life was difficult. When Anuradha Muthukumar went to Tajikistan, in the 1990s, she was told by the members of the mission that the central heating system in most homes ‘had either broken down or lacked the fuel or energy to keep them going. Civil war had devastated the economy, rendering repair or maintenance of utility services nearly impossible. There was almost no public transport.’ And nearly all the women had to sacrifice their careers so that they could be with their spouses. Now, perhaps, with remote work, it may be possible to work, no matter where the posting is. The disruption to family life could be heart-breaking. Children have to adjust to a new education system, new language, and new classmates. And the process of adjustment can be traumatising. Once somebody said, to one of the daughters of spouse Anita Sapra, ‘All this moving around must have been exciting.’ She replied, ‘I will never put my children through what our parents subjected us to.’ While this remark hurt Anita, she understood the sentiments behind it. Shreedevi Nair Pal wrote that once the Head of the Chancery came up to her and told her the allowance for a national day reception would not cover professional caterers. ‘So, there we were, my cook and I, making monstrous amounts of kebabs, chicken tikkas and samosas for about five hundred people,’ wrote Shreedevi. She confirmed that spouses dealt with the ordinary people like the plumber, electrician and the baker, while their husbands, ‘mainly interacted with the social and political elite of the country they were posted in. And regardless of where they were posted, they never really had to step out of their comfort zone, as their work environment was more or less the same.’For the spouse, to be able to communicate when the language was a foreign one, can be difficult and stressful, too. Of course, there were compensations, too. You met the most brilliant and accomplished people of the country. You saw the stunning tourist sites. This was always an enriching experience for the family. And there were funny moments, too. Once, in Baghdad, Shreedevi presented a beautifully wrapped gift to her husband, Satyabrata, on his birthday. ‘I will never forget the look on his face and the laughter that followed when he opened his gift,’ she wrote. ‘It was a hammer; the only thing that was available at Orodibaag, the government shop. Suffice to say it is still in use.’ Asiya Hamid Rao, while in Vienna, got a few party tips from another spouse, Mrs Menon of the Indian diplomatic corps: a. Strike a balance between gravy and dry items. b. Ensure the dishes are of different colours: green, yellow, brown, white and multicoloured. c. Never lose sight of people’s religious sensitivities; hence, never serve food that is taboo for religious reasons. d. It’s a good idea to ask your guests beforehand about any dietary restrictions. When Anita Sapra was in Seoul, she took a taxi. When the driver came to know she was from India, he started singing a song from Haathi Mere Saathi. ‘What a rare sight to behold,’ she wrote. ‘Me in a taxi on the streets of Seoul singing a song in my own language. Later on, I learnt that Haathi Mere Saathi was a popular film in Korea in 1975. It was renamed Holy Elephant and many children thronged to watch it in theatres.’However, tension always remained as perennial background music. It rose a hundred fold when a Prime Minister or a President came visiting. The pressure that nothing should go wrong during the trip could take an emotional and psychological toll on both husband and wife. Or as Sharmila Kantha wrote, ‘I have accompanied first ladies during their state visits to India, sat through amateurish but enthusiastic community functions, stood for hours in heels to greet nearly a thousand guests at our national day receptions, attended numerous national day receptions of other countries, where I smiled inanely at people.’ Added Jayshree Misra Tripathi, ‘My heart used to beat a hundred times faster, as each Independence Day and Republic Day approached, hoping the chosen menu would suit everyone from back home – north south, east, west, northeast and northwest too – all fellow Indians. They always came first.’ The book gives us an insight into the difficult lives of spouses in foreign missions. There is an endless amount of adjustments to be done. With a busy husband, most of the time the wife has to tackle things on her own. She also has to handle the burden of the children’s stresses almost single-handedly as they try to adjust to life in a new country. What strikes the reader is the personal and job sacrifices these women have made, so that their husbands could have successful careers. In the end, they were heroines in their own way. (Published in kitaab.org, Singapore)

Going Dutch

 

Sarah Lisa, from Holland, runs the Zera Noya bakery in Kochi. She talks about the reasons behind its success By Shevlin Sebastian On a Monday afternoon, the rain is pelting down. Outside the Zera Noya bakery in Kochi, in a cemented courtyard, a two-and-a-half-year-old girl is playing in the rain. She lets out a shriek of joy as she looks at her mother, Sarah Lisa, 32, who is sitting at a glass-topped table and working on a laptop. Her mother smiles to see the joy on her daughter’s face. To a visitor, she said, “Many people are shocked that I have allowed Adayah to play in the rain.”Sarah has been running the bakery for the past one-and-a-half years. Zera is a Hebrew word, which means seeds sprouting. This indicated a new beginning, while Noya means beautiful in Hebrew. The word can be connected to Naya in Hindi, which also means new. “I like the Hebrew language, and hence I chose these words,” said Sarah. Initially, because of Covid, she was baking from home and selling to customers. The physical bakery began on February 14, 2023, on Valentine’s Day.The items that can be found in Zera Noya include Bokkenpootje (Goat’s Feet), so named because the pastry looks like a goat’s feet. It is a meringue with apricot buttercream dipped in chocolate and almonds. Then there are stroopwafels, which is a caramel waffle and famous all over the world. You can also have the Strawberry Slof. This contains almond paste, vanilla buttercream and strawberries. The Marzipan Mergpijp is a cake with a layer of cream and strawberry jam, while the boterkoek comprises a butter cake with almonds. Speculaas is a type of biscuit. Other items include caramel tarts, muffins, truffles, apple pie and tarts, rondo, cupcakes, cinnamon braids and brownies. They also make freshly baked bread, as well as savouries like sausage rolls and chicken puffs. Sarah said that the most popular item is the Strawberry Slof. Asked why, she said. “It is the combination of the cookie, which is nutty and has fudge, sweet but not too sweet, and there is buttercream on top. But the cream is not so sweet, and there are fresh strawberries. It has a nice balance.” Asked about the composition of her customers, Sarah said, “There are all kinds of people, from different backgrounds and ages.” The prices range from Rs 30 and can go all the way to Rs 400. “Some items are expensive because we use authentic Belgian chocolate, French butter and German cream. The croissants, dipped in chocolate and cream, are at the higher end.” Asked about the difference with Kerala bakery items, Sarah said, “Bakers in Kochi use margarine and poor quality vegetable oil. But I use butter only. It is creamy and pricey too. And I always buy Callebaut Chocolate from Belgium, which is one of the best premium chocolates in the world. In Kochi, they use compound chocolate.” Compound chocolate is a mix of cocoa powder and vegetable fat.The store is open from 10 am to 10 pm. The bakery is doing well. Denise Anne from Nairobi wrote on Trip Advisor: ‘This is a great bakery filled with tasty treats and a warm and welcoming staff. The coffee is delicious and so are the baked goods.’Adds customer Lijo Joseph: ‘Classic and authentic.’ Sarah has a staff of 19 people who work in shifts. The Love Story Sarah Lisa met Vibin Varghese for the first time in July, 2013. This was in Hongkong. They were sailing on the ship, ‘Logos Hope’, and were on their way to the Philippines. While Sarah worked as a chief baker on the ship, Vibin, a marine engineer, worked in the engine room. Both were volunteers on the ship, which is regarded as the world’s largest floating book fair. Over 10 lakh people from all over the world access the ships every year. Sarah liked Vibin when she saw him for the first time while they were coming from opposite ends of a corridor of the ship. But she felt too shy to approach him although both said, “good morning” to each other. “Vibin had a charming smile,” said Sarah. “He worked hard and also had many friends.” They became Instagram friends. When the MV Logos ship was being dry docked in Hongkong, Sarah flew to China. While there, she met some people who needed help to set up a bakery. And that was how she ended up in Kangding on the China-Tibet border. It is 2000 kms from the capital, Beijing. She stayed for a brief while. But over the years, she kept going back. In 2017, when she was in Kangding, she began chatting with Vibin on Instagram. Vibin was on a ship that had docked in Mexico. “He felt excited to connect with me,” said Sarah.Sometime later, Vibin went to Kangding. After spending five days with Sarah, Vibin said, “I love you. I want to marry you.” Sarah also felt a connection to Vibin. The couple got married in Bangalore on May 5, 2018. Vibin grew up in Dubai but he chose Bangalore as the venue for his wedding because he is close to a pastor based there. Soon after the wedding, they came to Kochi, where Vibin’s parents had an apartment and settled down. Both had stopped their careers and were thinking of forging a fresh path. “Vibin gave up his career because he did not want to be away from me for nine months at a time,” said Sarah.It was in March, 2023, that Vibin got sick. In April, doctors diagnosed him with Stage 4 Linitis Plastica, a rare form of gastric cancer. Unfortunately, on December 21, 2023, Vibin, 36, passed away. When asked whether she planned to settle down in Kochi or return to Holland, Sarah said, “Many people thought that when Vibin passed away, I would go back. But at this moment, I can’t. I feel very settled here. I have imagined what it would be like if I closed down the bakery and went back. Where would I go? But then I realised Kochi is home.” Sarah was born in Den Helder, which is 84 kms from Amsterdam. The country’s main naval base is located there. Adhaya knows how to speak in Dutch, and is learning Malayalam and English. When asked to compare the character of Malayalis with the Dutch people, Sarah said, “The people in the Netherlands are direct and honest. They are private and less curious. Many aunties in Kochi ask me nosey questions. This is fine. I have got used to it. I am embracing it.” Nobody says hi or good morning when they see each other, even if they are strangers. Sarah said that in Holland everybody greets each other. “Malayalis are very reserved people,” she said. “In Kerala, dining rooms are always closed. You don’t want other people to see you eat. But in Holland, the dining rooms have large windows that open out to the street. The curtains are parted. A passer-by can wave to you when he is walking past and you are having a meal. And you wave back.” On October 15, Sarah held a fundraiser to help the families of cancer victims. To her surprise, more than a thousand people turned up. There were people who had come from Thrissur and Kottayam to support the cause. To Sarah’s surprise, many people came to chat with her because they were going through a similar situation where a family member was suffering or had died from cancer.Sarah met Rosamma Chacko (name changed). Rosamma, a woman in her forties, told Sarah her husband had shared the same hospital room with Vibin when they had to undergo a chemotherapy session. Both had the same type of cancer. The two men had chatted with each other. Sarah remembered seeing Rosamma, but they did not talk to each other. At the bakery, Rosamma told Sarah her husband died a few months later. The two women hugged. “It made me realise I was not the only one who had suffered this tragedy,” said Sarah. The proceeds went to families who had mounting hospital bills because one of the family members had cancer. And they did not have the financial resources. At the bakery, even though it is raining, a steady stream of people come in. There has been darkness in Sarah’s life but inside the bakery it is all sunny and bright. (A shorter version was published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

The 2006 bomb blasts on the Railway network in Mumbai: A Flashback

  Captions: The bomb blast on the railway network at Mumbai in 2006. Meeta (centre) with her daughter Esha and husband Tushit 

Afew days ago, I had put a review of a Subhash Ghai book on LinkedIn. MeetaTushit Shah, an ExSenior Psychologist at the Narsee Monjee Institute of ManagementStudies, Mumbai, said, ‘Sowell explained and expressed. Shall surely read the book.’

·        When I expressed mythanks, Meeta, in a message said, ‘I won’t everforget how you covered our story in 2006. Thank you.’ 

SoI went to my blog, Shevlin’s World, to read the story again.

Thiswas published in the July 16, 2006 issue of the Hindustan Times, Mumbai.

“Mylife has been shattered”

Studentcounsellor Meeta Shah struggles to cope with the brutal death of her husband

By Shevlin Sebastian

In the drawing room of the sixth floor flat ofMeeta Shah, 44, at Dahisar, there are quite a few people, mostly women. Meetais sitting on a dhurrie, beside a low windowsill, which has a garlandedportrait of her late husband Tushit, 44.

Meeta’sbody is stiff with sorrow and her eyes have become red from too much crying.She sees me at the door and beckons with her hand. But in front of so manywomen, I prefer to stay where I am. Then one by one, they hug her, thesecolleagues of hers from the Oxford Public School at Charkop, where Meeta worksas a student counsellor and they leave.

“Bestrong,” says one, in an orange saree.

It is a small drawing room, with a sofa at oneside and a bookcase on the other, on which are placed a television set and amusic system, while a guitar, encased in a cloth cover, is propped up againstone corner.

Onthe walls, there are three oil paintings of Lord Krishna, done in a deep hue ofblue. She would tell me later that painting is a hobby. Besides Meeta, there isher brother, Hasit, her father and mother, two brother in laws with family,childhood friend Mayur Desai, and daughter, Esha, 16, wearing square blackspectacles, and a white T-shirt with ‘Germany’ written across it.

I ask Meeta about how she heard the news and shesays, “I was at a friend’s place when he mentioned the television wasannouncing bomb blasts on the local trains. I rushed home because that was theexact time when Tushit was usually on a train.”

On July 11, 2006, seven bomb blasts on the suburban rail network in Mumbairesulted in 189 deaths and over 700 injured. It was orchestrated by the terror outfitLashkar-e-Taiba and Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence

Meetatried several times to call his mobile, but could not get through. “I told mydaughter Esha, ‘Keep on trying, keep on trying,’ she says. “All the lines werejammed. No calls were going through.”

In the end, it was a girl who was travelling inthe compartment next to the first class compartment, which blew up atJogeshwari, who got through to an uncle who called up Hasit. She had found thewallet and mobile phone.

“Iassume it must have fallen from his pocket,” says Meeta. “She told the uncle,Tushit was being sent to one of the hospitals but she could not say which onebecause she was not allowed to get into the ambulance.”

So Meeta and Esha, along with a neighbour andhis wife, rushed to Goregaon, where they checked the municipal hospital there.But the hospital authorities directed them to go to Cooper Hospital in VileParle. From South Mumbai, Hasit and his parents, an uncle and a cousin had alsoset out for Coopers while Mayur set out from Dahisar.

When they reached Cooper’s, it was a completechaos. “It seemed like a slaughter house,” says Meeta. “The bodies were allpiled up, one on top of the other. We had to trample over different bodies tocheck.”

Says Hasit: “The hospital manpower and themanagement were grossly inadequate. The hygienic conditions were the worst thatone could see. These government hospitals are a disaster.”

Finally, the authorities stationed the bodies ina streamlined manner and Tushit’s body was discovered by Mayur. After that,there was the hassle of getting the permission to take it away.

“Initially,there was talk that all bodies would be released only after a post mortem,”says Hasit. “Naturally, this did not go down well with the people. Then a neworder came which stated that the post mortem would be done on those bodieswhich had not been identified.”

There were more hassles: The police and therailway police had panchnamas to be filled. Therewere three copies to each but since there was a shortage of carbon paper and nophotocopying machine, each copy had to be filled in individually or photocopiedlater.

“Therewas a long queue,” says Meeta. But, thankfully, several Juhu VikasPradarshan Yojana volunteers were around to provide coffee, water, bananas andbiscuits; people in the neighbourhood rushed to get forms photocopied. In theend, the Shahs were able to take Tushit’s body out at 3.30 am.

Meeta is shaking with sobs now. Mother anddaughter cling to each other. Esha does not cry: tears just flow down her facesilently. It is too painful to see. I look outside. There are plants placed onpots just outside the window on an iron grille. I can hear the chirping ofsparrows. At a distance, there is a wide expanse of mangroves. When sherecovers, I ask her of the last time she saw her husband alive.

“I saw him last when he left for his Worlioffice at 7.15 a.m.,” says Meeta. (Tushit worked as an equity dealer with BricsSecurities Limited). “We had tea, he had toast and butter and he was veryhappy.”

Esha,who had finished her Class Ten exams, had just got her admission confirmed innearby Patkar College with great difficulty. “I had to formally get Esha’sadmission that day,” continues Meeta. “So he told me, ‘Go fast and geteverything done, we will go out for a celebratory dinner.’”

Tushit was wearing black trousers and a whiteshirt with thin, red lines. “It gives a tinge of pink from a distance,” saysMeeta. “I had selected it and it was one of my favourite shirts. My husbandloved light colours.”

When I ask her whether he had any hobby, shesays, “He always wanted to learn to play the guitar, because when he wasyounger, he could not afford to buy one.” Wife and daughter presented him witha guitar on his birthday, three years ago.

How was your marriage, I ask.

“Tushitmeans heaven in Sanskrit, what else can I say,” she says. “I had a mostbeautiful marriage. On December 11, we would have completed 20 years. He saidthat on our 25th wedding anniversary, our daughter would be celebrating her21st birthday and we should have a big party.” Meeta bursts into tears butrecovers quickly and says, “Tushit had a lot of dreams for us.”

He had wanted to take a loan and buy a largerflat, so that Esha would have a room of her own. He also wanted to buy someproperty in his hometown of Baroda. And he had dreams for Esha. His daughterhad secured 88 percent and a family friend, Vivek Mahajan, a professor ofphysics at National College had suggested that Esha should try to get admissionfor IIT.

“Aimfor the sky,” the professor had said, and Tushit had seconded it.

Asked about her husband’s qualities, she says,“He was very quiet, loving, affectionate and caring. He would never get scared,no matter how hard the challenge. He would say, ‘Difficult days will come butwe should never run away.’ He went out of his way to help people. My husbandtaught me to be strong. Now I will see how much he has taught me.”

The silence hangs heavy in the room as I say mygoodbye. Downstairs, when I step out of the elevator, I see that the Shah’spost box has a few letters in it but it has not been collected.

Atthe housing society office, I meet retired administrator G.M. Mehta, who usedto work in Mafatlal. He tells me Tushit was the secretary of the society. “Hewas a gentleman, who co-operated with everybody,” he says.

Atthe gate, Brij Mohan, the guard who works for the Shivam Security Services,says simply, “He was a very nice man.”

Ispot Mayur, who is rushing back to his TV repairing shop, and I ask him todescribe the body when he saw it first.

Itis too heart-rending to put it in words.

Upcoming post: Meeta talks about life since that fateful daythat changed her life. 

A bit of Tamil Nadu in New York

 

Photos: Chef Vijaya Kumar; with customer Vishwanathan Anand; Valiya Chemmeen Moilee - lobster tail. Photo by Paul McDonough
Chef Vijaya Kumar, who won his third Michelin Award recently, talks about the reasons behind the popularity of the South Indian restaurant ‘Semma’ in New YorkBy Shevlin Sebastian When Oscar winner Jennifer Lawrence came into the South Indian restaurant ‘Semma’ (awesome in Tamil) in New York, chef Vijaya Kumar’s eyes widened. Because this was the second time she was coming. Jennifer’s husband, Cooke Maroney, an art gallery director, accompanied her. They ordered a wide variety of dishes. At the end of the dinner, Jennifer told Vijaya, “This is one of the best meals I have had.” On another night, he saw a woman in her late thirties shedding tears. Vijaya thought the food was too hot for her. So he walked up to her and said, “Can I offer you sweet yoghurt?” She shook her head and said, “These are happy tears. I have not had my mother’s food for a long time. The food I ate took me back to my childhood and the memory of my mother. It seemed to me she made this food. I miss home.” She told Vijaya she grew up in Tamil Nadu. Another native of Tamil Nadu did not shed happy tears. Instead he smiled. On Instagram, former world chess champion Viswanathan Anand wrote: ‘Chef Vijaya Kumar put out a spread that was summa dhool! Thanks for the generous hospitality. I had a lovely meal.’ ‘Wow,’ thought Vijaya. ‘Food can create emotions and connections with people.’ Vijaya was in the news recently after having retained the Michelin award for the third year. Asked whether he felt stressed about getting it, Vijaya said, “It is a responsibility to uphold our culture. So, it is not a pressure.” The Michelin company website states that the criteria for the awards are five: ‘The quality of the ingredients, the harmony of flavours, the mastery of techniques, the personality of the chef as expressed through their cuisine and, just as importantly, consistency both across the entire menu and over time.’Throughout the year, Michelin inspectors came many times, but they were anonymous. So, the chef does not know who the inspectors are. But Vijaya said that he ensures that every dish that comes out of the kitchen is as perfect as it can be.“I always cook from my heart,” he said. “You have to pay attention to the smallest details.” He has a 10-member team of Asians and non-Asians, but his backbone is his college mate Suresh. ‘Semma’ started in October 2021. At the entrance, there is an upside-down kettuvallam, a traditional boat. “This was inspired by the houseboats in Alleppey,” said Vijaya. A local architect, Wid Chapman, imported the materials and designed it. There are coir mats on the ceilings and hanging bamboo lamps and chairs. People make reservations online. You can book two weeks in advance. On the day Chef Vijaya spoke to rediff.com, he mentioned that there were 1450 people on the notification list. That means, if anybody cancels, the restaurant would notify those on the list. On weekdays, it is about 1000 people. That gave a sign of the popularity of the 75-seater restaurant. The restaurant works from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. from Monday to Saturday. Every day, they do over 200 covers. The food is from Tamil Nadu. Vijaya is trying to replicate the food that he enjoyed in his childhood in the village of Natham, near Madurai, (419 kms from Chennai). ‘Semma’ imports all the spices, including black pepper, cardamom, and cinnamon, from India.“We make everything from scratch,” said Vijaya. “Just like the way our mothers did at home. We provide home-cooked food in an elevated way.” The staff begin their preparations in the morning. Asked whether he tempers the masala if the patron is non-Asian, Vijaya smiled and said, “Our company motto is ‘Unapologetically Indian’. So we don’t turn down the spices. Most of the patrons have travelled all over the world. They have eaten even spicier food on their travels. And in New York, there are cuisines from all over the world.” The most popular on the menu is the gunpowder dosa, which is now a signature dish. The menu lists it as a rice and lentil crepe served with potato masala and sambar. It costs $21 (Rs 1797). “It is nothing but podi dosa,” he said. Semma sells about 150 dosas a day. Another popular dish is the ‘Valiya Chemmeen Moilee’, which comprises lobster tail, mustard, turmeric and coconut milk. The restaurant prices it at $55 (Rs 4703). A favourite is the ‘Dindigul Biriyani’, which consists of goat, seeraga samba rice (aromatic rice from South India), garam masala, and mint. That costs $42. The New York Times food critic Pete Wells called the ‘kudal varuval’, ‘the most eyebrow-raising dish at Semma’. It is a dry curry of goat intestines.Vijaya was asked to replicate this food at the Gold Gala dinner on May 11, 2024, for 600 people in Los Angeles on May 11, 2024. It is a show that honours Asian American excellence in all fields. Vijaya collaborated with noted TV host Padma Lakshmi, the former wife of the novelist Salman Rushdie. “Padma had respect for the type of food we make,” said Vijaya. “She has been a friend and mentor.” Early LifeFarming ran in the family. His grandfather was a farmer. Since his father was in government service, Vijaya’s mother looked after their farm. During the school vacation, Vijaya spent time at his grandparents’ farm, which is close to Natham. In his grandparents’ village, the residents had no electricity in their houses, and neither were there roads. There were no grocery stores. So the people had to make everything on their farms, including rice and vegetables. They also grew millet and ragi. Years later, at ‘Semma’, he has a dish called ‘Thinai Khichdi’, which comprises foxtail millet, taro root, pickled onion and appalam. “This dish is a tribute to my grandparents,” said Vijaya. For lunch, his grandparents would forage for snails. Then his grandmother set up a wood fire in the middle of the paddy field, placed a mud pot on it, and put in spices and snails. “The taste was delicious,” said Vijaya. His classmates mocked him when he said he had snails. But when Vijaya went to culinary school, his teachers told him there was a French culinary delicacy called escargot. “This is the French word for snails,” said Vijaya. “I had to chuckle. Back to my childhood, I thought.” Vijaya said it was the time of pre-processed food. “My grandparents lived to 90 years with no health issues,” he said. “They did sustainable cooking. Now it is called natural organic cooking. They used natural fertilisers like leaves, the waste of the cows and goats. None of the farmers used chemicals.”The animals did not have processed food. They ate whatever they found in the fields. The cattle remained uncaged. They could move around freely. The animals enjoyed the sunlight and the open fields. When the people ate those animals, it was healthy and had no side effects. “Now there are so many chemicals in the food,” said Vijay. “People give many medicines to the animals. And when we eat this food, we get many diseases.” Right from a young age, Vijaya would help his mother and grandmother in the kitchen. His original dream was to become an engineer. He got admission to an engineering college, but his parents did not have the money to fund his education. So Vijaya focused on being a chef. He joined the State Institute of Hotel Management and Culinary Technology in Trichy. After completion of the three-year diploma course, he joined the coffee shop at the Taj Connemara in Chennai. He worked there from 2001-3. His friend Muthu invited him to join the ‘Dosa’ restaurant in San Francisco. So Vijaya took the plunge. Vijay worked there for six years. Sadly, ‘Dosa’ closed after a run of 15 years, in September 2019, during the Covid pandemic. Thereafter, in 2014, Vijay opened ‘Rasa’ in Burlingame, a suburb of San Francisco. There for five years in a row, he won the Michelin Award. He provided contemporary South Indian food, which included vegetables from California. But he had a dream of wanting to make authentic South Indian food. He met Roni Mazumdar and Chintan Pandya, the owners of ‘Unapologetic Foods’, who were industry friends. They had a few conversations and realised they had the same vision. And finally, they took the plunge with ‘Semma’. Asked whether he feels his life is like a dream, Vijaya said, “My life is a huge blessing. I have put in a lot of hard work. Since my childhood, I have done nothing half-heartedly. That is why I have always been a class topper. But in the end, I have to admit it is destiny.”(A shorter version was published in rediff.com) +6