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After we left for Assam, my mother’s people’s place, the family seldom visited Rajbiraj. Occasionally my Dad and I would, for a few weeks, during the winter holidays. I would make parathas for my Dad as Granny’s cook always made a mess of it. After dinner, my Dad would send me off to my granny’s for our story telling session, while he spent the evening in the south room listening to the radio or reading by himself.

My granny had mentioned that Dad had been taken away to be brought up in India by relatives when he was only 6. All his life he never revealed how much he must have missed his mother.

I was told that just before he breathed his last, he whispered his mother’s name.

1957: Varanasi, India. We were on a pilgrimage. After a wonderful day at Sarnath the tranquil deer park where Buddha preached his first sermon, my Dad decided to take me for a stroll to the ghats, where the funeral pyres burn day and night. There were beggars of every sort lined up along the road, who had come to Varanasi to live out their final days. For the devout Hindus to die in Varanasi and have one’s ashes scattered on the Ganges was to achieve Moksha - liberating the soul from the cycle of births and re-births.

Having lived a sheltered life between convent schools and gated homes, for a thirteen-year-old, the beggars that lined the road to the ghats were mind boggling. Although we kept our distance from the burning ghats I could see the bodies being carried to the ghats and in the distance the smoke from the pyres wafting to the heavens. Forty years later I stood up close by my mother’s funeral pyre in the burning ghats of Pasupatinath in Kathmandu.

My dad had given me a glimpse of the fragility of human existence 40 years earlier on the banks of the Varanasi ghats.

1959: Winter holidays in Calcutta (now named Kolkotta.) Dad took us to Kalighat located on the banks of the river Hooghly. The name Kolkotta is said to have been derived from the word Kalighat. We toured the Jain Temple built in the mid 1800’s, Shantiniketan, in the outskirts of the city owned by the family of the Nobel Prize winner (1913) Rabindranath Tagore’s family; Rabindranath Tagore was my mother’s favorite poet. Incidentally I was named after a collection of his poems - “Gitanjali.”

Dad would take us for evening walks around The Maidan, with the Victoria Memorial dominating at one end of the park, an exquisite structure made of white marble built in the memory of Queen Victoria. We especially enjoyed our walks around the Maidan as it meant we could indulge in some Pani Puri or chat from the local vendors. We were not allowed to eat out unless it was from a reputable restaurant, usually owned by someone acquainted with the family. But this time, under Dad's strict supervision, we had a taste of some forbidden food! I still remember Dad making the vendor wash his hands in almost scalding hot water before he dipped the puri into the pani to serve us.

From around 1954 to 1960 Kurseong, India. My granny, (maternal grandmother) had a summer home in the same town as the boarding school we attended. Sometimes she would live there almost the entire year Spring through fall. This meant we could spend time with her on holidays. Dad would try and time his visits then. He had a standing order at “Sitaram’s,” the record store, for the latest 44 rpm and 33 1/3 rpm records. Whenever we went shopping with him we would return with armloads of the latest--Bill Haley and the comets, The Drifters, The Everly Brothers, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Early Supremes, Early Beatles and of course Elvis.

Sometimes Dad had to leave before we returned to school. He usually walked down to town, where he caught a taxi to the railway station where he would board the train back to Assam. I would wave goodbye at the gate, then wait for about seven minutes until he showed up way down below the tea gardens on “Jacob’s ladder” (a term fondly used by the locals for the steep downhill short-cut to town.) He would turn and wave a final goodbye before he disappeared behind this huge Boulder. I never told him that there was a cleft in the boulder and that I would wait to catch a glimpse of him just the one more time.

1960: Digboi, Assam. India. This was my first grown-up party at the club. I teetered around in my high heels and my mother’s Banaras sari. My mother had given Dad strict orders to keep an eye on me at all times. He soon got tired of hovering over me. He told me that he considered me grown up enough and left me in the care of a couple of friends. I had a whale of a time, dancing the night away. When the time came to leave, I found my Dad at the bar surrounded by all his friends, mostly woman. I did not have the heart to tear him away. Dad’s friends escorted me home. I heard him arrive in the wee hours of the morning. Boy did he get a tongue lashing from my mother!

For the first time in my life, thanks to my Dad, I felt like a grown-up.

1962-63: Tipong, Assam - India. I spent a part of my winter holidays with my Dad. My mother and the brood of kids stayed at my Grand-dad’s about 20 miles away. Tipong was in the jungles, just too wild for my mother. That was the last time I spent any length of time with him until after my mother died and he came to visit Dan and me in the States.

During my stay with him, we often stopped by the Ledo club for a drink, or we stopped by the little settlement just before the turn-off to Tipong and purchased some delicious singharas.

I loved spending my time on a hillock just a little ways from the house. The land sloped up to the dense jungle behind the hillock. Below the hillock was a panoramic view of the river and the little train track across the river that hauled coal to/from the colliery. Anytime there were even rumors of “tiger” sightings he made sure to send a runner to warn me off my perch.

In his younger years Dad was quite the big-game hunter. I have a photo somewhere of my dad and Grandad and there I am age two, I think “riding” a tiger.

Occasionally on week-end evenings some of Dad’s foremen and workers would visit. I would join them on the verandah and work on my embroidery and listen to stories about the colliery, about the men’s wives - one wife in the mountains in Nepal and one wife a local woman from India! Most of Dad’s men were from the Nepal hills. I think they were homesick for the mountains and their family. My Dad always welcomed them.

Years later, in 1986…. Dad, Dan and Sid, my little nephew, were at a cross-walk in New Road, Kathmandu. The traffic policeman blew his whistle, stopped all the traffic skipped off his perch, made his way to where we were, and smartly saluted my Dad. He said he never got to thank my Dad properly in Tipong.

The traffic policeman was one of the many colliery workers that dad had helped rehabilitate, when they were affected by the coal mine nationalization under Indira Gandhi in 1972.

PARATHAS

Ingredients:

1 cup all purpose four
1 cup whole wheat flour
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup ghee (melted) or oil
1/2 cup warm water

Directions:

1.   Sift the flours and salt.
2.   Add the ghee or oil.
3.   Add water and knead for at least 10 minutes.
4.   Cover and set aside for at least 1 hour
5.   Divide dough into 12 equal portions
6.   Roll out on a lightly floured board to a circle the size of a dinner plate.
7.   Spread some ghee or oil
8.   Fold it one more time and spread a little more butter
9.   Fold one more time to form a triangle
10. Roll out the dough on a floured surface, using a floured rolling pin. (Roll it out 
     gently to prevent the air out at the edges; like making pastry.)
11. Heat a heavy griddle or frying pan and spread about 2 teaspoons of melted
     ghee on it.
12. Cook the paratha for approximately a minute.
13. When bubbles form, turn it over & add a small tsp of oil around the paratha.
14. Press around the edges with a spatula and fry for another minute.
15. Serve it warm or let cool and freeze.


PANI PURI:

Ingredients:

Puri:
½ cup Fine semolina (Sooji)
½ tablespoon All Purpose Flour
3 tablespoon club soda
Salt to taste
(Damp cloth to place the puris on)
(Paper towels to place fried puris on to absorb oil.)

Pani:
1 1/2 cups Fresh Mint Leaves, chopped
1 tablespoon Coriander Leaves, chopped
1/3 cup Tamarind paste
¼ teaspoon ginger paste
2 green chilies
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 1/2 tsp Black Salt
Salt to taste

Filling:
Mashed potatoes
Tamarind Chutney

Directions:

Puri:
1.  Mix semolina, flour, Club soda and salt.
2.  Knead well to make semi-stiff dough.
3.  Cover and let stand for 15 minutes.
4.  Roll out the dough
5.  Dip small ring (round) cookie cutter into some flour and cut out the puris
6.  Place each circle under damp cloth right after rolling.
7.  Heat oil in a wok.
8.  Deep fry the puris, press gently with a slotted spoon, until they puff up and
     turn golden brown.
9.  Place the puffed puris on paper towels.

Extra puris should be stored in an air-tight container.

Pani:
1.  Soak the tamarind in ½ cup of warm water for approximately 45 minutes.
2.  Strain out the pulp.
3.  Add mint leaves, chopped coriander, ginger, chilies and cumin seed to the
     tamarind water.
4.  blend to a smooth paste. Add additional water if it is too thick.)
5.  Transfer the paste into a large bowl.
6.  Add 33 ounces of water, mixing continuously with a wooden spoon.
7.  Add black salt and salt.
8.  Mix well.
9.  Refrigerate for about 2 hours.

To Serve: Pani-Puri:

1.  Poke a small hole in the center of each puri.
2.  Add small quantity of mashed potatoes as filling
3.  Add a little tamarind chutney.
4.  Spoon some pani into the center and pop the whole puri into your mouth.
     Delicious!

Note: You can purchase all the ingredients in an Indian grocery store. Many stores have ready made puris and masala (ingredients) for the pani. All you need to do is add the water.


ROASTED MARINATED WHOLE CHICKEN

Ingredients:

1 cup plain Yogurt (NOT low fat)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon garlic paste
1 tbsp chopped cilantro
1 roasting chicken
½ cup brandy (optional)

Directions:

1.  Combine yogurt, lemon juice, garlic paste and cilantro and salt and pepper to
     taste.
2.  Spoon the mixture over the chicken and coat well.
3.  Marinate in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours.
4.  Roast at 325 for 3 hours.
5.  When ready to serve, place the cut-up fowl on a warm platter and pour the
     brandy over it

Dad’s cook Bhime made this often. Not too far from my reading perch in Tipong, Assam he had a kitchen garden with some select vegetables and herbs.

Dad usually poured the brandy liberally over the chicken. There’s a photo of him around the house somewhere doing just this! I’ll post it when I find it.


ROGAN JOSH

Rogan josh is an aromatic lamb curry dish. It originated in Northern India, and is particularly associated with Kashmir. My Dad loved lamb. There are many versions. The easiest way to fix it is to purchase the roghan josh mix along with the ghee from an Indian grocery store.

Ingredients:

2 pounds lamb, cubed
1 medium tomato, diced
½ medium onion, diced
2 ½ cups plain yogurt, whipped
1 packet roghan josh mix (if you want a milder version, just use ½ the packet.)
2 cups water
1 cup cream, whipped
1 – 1 ½ cups ghee (clarified butter)
Coriander leaves for garnish

Directions:

1.  Heat oil in a wok or deep skillet over medium-high and brown lamb stirring
     frequently.
2.  Add onions and tomatoes and fry for 3 minutes.
3.  Add yogurt and cook until the ghee separates from the gravy, stirring
     constantly.
4.  Add roghan josh spice mix and fry for a few minutes.
5.  Add 1 ½ cups water and cook on low heat until the lamb is tender.
6.  Check occasionally; pour a little water each time the mixture looks dry.
7.  When the meat is cooked, increase the heat to high and cook until the ghee
     separates.
8.  Stir the cream into the roghan josh; Mix well.

Garnish with coriander leaves and serve with plain boiled rice or paratha.

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