India packaged

I am an old man. I am a romantic. I am an artist. No, I don not paint nor sing nor am I involved in plays. One need not do all that to consider oneself an artist. When one loves his profession…he automatically becomes an artist. Now, you will ask…what is that I do and babuji, you have every right to ask. I sell India .Haha! Surprised? I do…I sell the soul, the essence of India…wrapped in a leaf. Amateurs call it paan.

Now, see it runs in my blood. The shop I run…was run by my father and my grandfather. My dad used to tell me that the Diwanji himself would come on his evening walks and eat paan made from my grandfather’s hands!

I am no more a young man…but there were times when I would give a shy smile to many a lover who would get two paans packed on his way home. I have been witness to many a friendship which blossomed while talking over paan; it’s the paanwalah’s prerogative to see the look of satisfaction after a sumptuous meal. I have flirted with many rich women who would stop their cars to buy meetha paan from me. That was my specialty…maybe because I am a romantic at heart…and it took a lover to get the meetha paan right. When my wife was alive I would make her my special paan whenever she was angry. And it worked every time!

Making paan is no easy job. In many ways its like making love….takes a lot of intuition and a great deal of practice…and of course a will to experiment!

Like any artist…I spend everyday amidst myriad colors and beautiful fragrances seducing my senses…One has to lose oneself in the process…surrender your heart...Only then can one get the feeling in the taste of paan right.

One of my customers..a poet when discussing paans had described paan thus....

The leaf should be light green...like the wing of a parakeet- broad and fresh. You choose each leaf as if you are choosing a silk shawl to your beloved. The leaf represents the vastness of our land and of our hearts. Then you gently, with slight soft strokes apply lime paste (choona)…a pink sheath like the blush on a rose bud to remind you of the pink palaces of Jaipur and the pink cheeks of Himalayan beauties; then you place a few pieces of beetlenut to remind you of the sand dunes and majestic camels of Rajasthan; grated coconuts to remind one of the sea breeze as one lies on a boat on the Kerala backwaters.

Gulkan for the million love songs emanating from this land….many unrequited; grated cherries to remember the painted lips of many a bollywood actress; cardamom to tell about the hidden lands of north-east and spell out the mysterious hinterlands…of dark eyes in secret alleys and the Indian love for the elusive; Badam and pistachio powder to evoke one’s love for Kashmir…those mist covered valleys and snow capped mountains!

Dilbahar chutni to remind one of the beloved waiting at home anxiously…and just a drop of navrathan chutni for the added fragrance...reminiscence of lucknowvi nawabs and umrao jaan!

The paan is gently wrapped as if too much pressure would hurt the soul of the paan ,piercing a clove through it and making eye contact with the customer ...giving him a gentle smile, one hands over the small packet of essence of India to him.

After listening to his oration..I sometimes brag that I sell India to my customers!

I do not know the veracity of those statements...I only know that making paan gives me pleasure.And seeing my customer relish it..in it lies my redemption.
Every single time I wait to catch the look of pleasure on a customer's face…that expression is my reason to live.