Spice Market at Lalbaug - a photo-walk

- By Deepa Krishnan

Some months ago I went exploring the spice and pickle market at Lalbaug.

Lalbaug Market, as seen from the flyover
(click on photo for super-duper large view!)

Apart from spices, there is a bustling vegetable market, a farsan market called Chivda Galli, and a busy fish market in this area. Wedding and religious paraphranelia, shops selling daily needs items, kitchen utensils and provisions, all make for an interesting introduction to to Maharashtrian cuisine and culture.

Here are some photos from my walk. I really haven't been able to do justice to everything I saw, so I've focused mostly on spices in this set. But I hope this will give you some flavour of the area.

Gunny-sacks of coriander, still greenish, being cleaned and dried

Coriander powder is an essential element of Marathi cooking, and is used in a wide assortment of curries and vegetables. It is often combined with cumin and other spices to make masalas. 

The most conspicuous thing in the market are stacks and stacks of red chillies. Several varieties are on sale. 

Kashmiri Mirchi, the non-spicy variety, great for adding red colour to dishes

An extra-spicy variety - packs quite a wallop!

There were women sitting behind the chilli sacks, sorting the chillies by size. None of them had any sort of gloves or protection for the skin. It is not really crazily expensive to get a pair of gloves - so this sort of carelessness is mostly a result of ignorance. It's not just in the spice market - I see this lackadaisical attitude towards safety in many small industries.

Another popular item sold in this market is dried copra. Coconut trees are plentiful in the coastal areas of Maharashtra, so it is used in both fresh as well as dried forms. Copra is ground along with garlic and red chillies to make lasun chutney, a local favourite.

Edible Copra. India is the world's third largest grower of coconuts, after Indonesia and the Philippines

For those who wish to make their own masalas, the stalls offer a range of spices. I've named them in Marathi  below in sequence, starting with the lower row, and I hope you can click on it to see a larger photo. Bottom Row (starting from closest one): kalajira (nigella), methi (fenugreek), dhania (coriander), jeera (cumin), rai of two types (mustard), saunf (fennel), safed til (white sesame), and ajwain (carom).  Top Row (starting from closest one): (anasphal) star anise, two more jeera boxes (cumin), jaiphal (nutmeg), kalimiri (pepper), lavang (clove), dalchini (cinnamon), tirphal (Sichuan pepper) and dagadphool (stone-flower, a lichen) and tamaalpatra (bayleaf).

Spices for sale on the main road, near the Lalbaug flyover.
Above the spices are a set of cans containing lonche (pickles) for sale.

While most of the spices above are familiar to all Indians, tirphal (Sichuan pepper) is not. It is something you see only in Konkani cooking. Tirphal grows in the area around Goa. You can see a recipe here for coconut chutney flavoured with tirphal.

The people who shop in this area are typically Marathi-speaking communities (erstwhile mill-worker families). Although most of the mills are no more, the area continues to remain home to the workers, who have now moved to other occupations. There are also Gujarati-speaking women, but fewer in number.

Maharashtrian women buying chilllies and copra

Gujarati lady entering utensil shop

Once you buy the spices, you can bring them to the grinding mill if you want your own customised spices. This photo shows the inside of a masala shop in Chivda Galli. On the right is a lady who is waiting for her ground chilli powder.

Woman waiting for her turn at the masala shop.

The shop also offers a menu of spices, powders, pickles and papads.

The shop offers Malvani Masala, Sunday Masala, Mix Masala,
Garam Masala,  Goda Masala, Banarsi Masala,
and Ghati Masala. They also sell pickles.

In Chiwda Galli, there are several shops selling different types of farsan. You can also see the workshops where the farsan is made and packed.

Chiwda Galli, Lalbaug

I found a shop that sells the syrupy concoctions that all the gola-stands in Mumbai use. I always wondered where they got their stuff from, and now I know :)

Sai Krupa Sherbet and Cold Drink offers wholesale cans of sherbet in several flavours:  orange, lemon, pineapple, kala-khatta, mango, raw mango, rose, kokum, ginger-lemon, gooseberry, pista, butter-scotch, kesar, elaichi, and strawberry

There are two interesting buildings in Chivda Galli. The first is Hanuman Theatre, which is now a party hall. Hanuman Theater is where, when the mills first started, the mill workers would gather for tamasha shows, bringing the rural culture of Maharashtra into the city of Mumbai. Inside there is a shrine to a lavni artiste, a lady who was said to be possessed by the "devi". Adjacent to it is the dargah of Chand Shah Vali, where a Hindu Gaikwad family have for multiple generations been the caretakers. The dargah was destroyed by Hindu rioters in 92-93, but has been built again. The Gaikwad family continues to officiate here. 

New Hanuman Theatre Mangal Karyalay and Dargah of Chand Shah Vali. The tall building behind is Hilla Towers, built in the compound of a Parsi fire temple. 

I didn't photograph the fish market, the meat market and the pickles and spice market on the main road. Or the shops with tea and groceries and vegetables. Or the interesting chawls. I did of course, photograph the most popular "madka" shop in Lalbaug Industrial Estate :) 

Where there are spices, can the pickle jars be far  behind?

I'm going back there soon for another photo-walk. Anyone who wants to join me is very welcome! :)

Snapshot of a Mumbai taxi-wallah

- By Deepa Krishnan

The Fiat was battered and old. But it was his sinhasan, and he sat relaxed and easy in it. He was tall and lanky. One arm was wrapped around the window and with the other hand he managed the steering wheel and the gear. I could tell at once that he was an old hand at this.

Many old taxi-wallahs in Mumbai have this relaxed stance...as if they the car is a living breathing thing, an extension of their own bodies. When I looked down at the clutch, I noticed he was driving barefoot. 

The Fiat itself was - well - how do I say it - it was the survivor of many surgeries. The long single front seat had been converted to bucket seats. A crazy blue-and-orange-flowery velvet design was plastered all over the car, including the roof. The steering wheel had been grafted on from a Chor Bazaar relic, the horn in the centre of the wheel was a set of exposed wires. The door-handles were barely functional and whole contraption rattled. 

But the taxi-wallah was the rajah of his domain. He drove without any stress, no matter what happened. A group of school-girls popped up suddenly in front of us. He braked, and after they passed giggling, he said something philosophical to me about aaj-kal-ke-bacchhe. At the Sion Hospital roundabout as he manouevered the car, I sneaked another photo of him on my mobile phone (OK, I'm sorry, but I did!!!). 

I wanted to talk to him, to ask him more about himself. But the ride was too frustratingly short to attempt conversation. Besides, my cellphone kept ringing with something or the other. And so my taxi-ride remained just another big city interaction, just another lost opportunity.

Shaleychya Dabyaala Kaai Baai Deu?

- By Deepa Krishnan

Sometimes you spot something in a bazaar and an entire culture comes alive in a tiny little flash of insight.

I was walking along Ranade Road last week; and as usual the market was full of Marathi-speaking women, shopping for vegetables, spices, fruits and other daily needs items. 

In the middle of the market was a tiny wooden stall, selling recipe books in Marathi. I stopped to read the titles and found myself immediately charmed. It was like a little glimpse into the hearts and minds of the women who come to this market. 

Bookstall on Ranade Road, with recipe books in Marathi

The first thing that caught my eye was Shaleychya Dabyaala Kaai Bai Deu? (Oh what shall I send for a school-break snack?). The eternal question of all mothers - what to feed picky school going kids! I can't tell you how wonderfully sing-song and melodious the title of the book sounds in Marathi, in fact it reminds me of a popular movie song. And also, in Marathi this question is addressed to another woman (the Baai in the title), creating a sort of sisterhood of dabba-senders. Sweet!

The next book I saw was Kaanda vuh Bataateychey Ruchkar Padaarth (Tasty dishes using onions and potatoes). Ha! Only in Maharashtra would you find a book with onions and potatoes as the heroes! You see, Maharashtra single-handedly produces more than 30% of India's entire onion crop. Naturally it is liberally used in the cuisine. Potatoes are also grown in Maharashtra, although it is not the star producer. 

But hey - star producer or not - it is Maharashtra that invented the vada-pav, the most divine way to eat potatoes. And let's not forget bhaji-pav and kanda-bhaji (all three are in the photo below, with some palak bhaji thrown in for good measure!).

God bless the vada-pav vendors of Mumbai :)
May they live long and prosper!

Since we're on the subject of potatoes, I'll come right out and say it: the Maharashtrian poori-ani-batate-chi-bhaaji is wayyyyyyy better for breakfast than the garam-masalaed aloo-sabzis of North India. Who wants to eat complicated garam masalas for breakfast, for god's sake! 

Reaching for crisp puris at Prakash.
The batate-chi  bhaaji waits for a judicious squeeze of lime.

At the bookstall, I also saw what looked like a popular series of books, they all had "61" in the title. 61 Khas Marathmole Padarth (61 Special Marathi traditional dishes), and 61 Laadu Vadya aani Faraalachey Padarth (61 Ways to Make Ladu, Vada and Faraal). 

Faraal is a generic term which covers a whole bunch of snacks. With Diwali around the corner, I suspect this book will be in hot demand. In Maharashtra, faraal includes things like Pohyancha Chiwda (made with rice-flakes and peanuts), Shev, Kadboli (which is similar to the Karanataka kod-bale), Chakli, Shankarpali, Karanji and so on. Some other time, I will post an article on some of these. But Amarendra's blog has a great photo of a wide selection of typical Maharashtrian faraal and laadu, and I am sure this "61" book I saw had recipes for all of these. I'm not sure what the one in the centre is, so if someone knows, I hope you'll leave a comment for me.

http://amusrecipes.blogspot.in/2010/11/diwali-faraal.html

For the thinking woman, the bookstall had Rojchya Vaprateel Khadyapadarthache Aushadhi Gunadharma v tyachya pak-kruti - The Medicinal properties of ingredients in daily food and how to prepare them. And Hirvegaar ruchak padarth - Green tasty dishes (for those who want to give their children some healthy options)!

Another set of books I saw was the Khushkhusheet Series:

Khuskhusheet Thaalipeeth -  Crispy Thalipeeth

Khuskhusheet Bhaji -  Crispy Bhaji (the deep-fried variety)

And I'm sure they probably had more of these. Now khushkhusheet is a word that's impossible to translate into English. Although what I have used is Crispy, really, it's part-soft-part-crispy. If you've eaten thalipeeth you'll know what I mean. 

I came away from the little stall, not knowing what to buy. Everything looked so interesting, offering me glimpses into a totally different world. I didn't have time to "stand and stare" and flip through all the books. But I'll head back sometime soon. I think that faraal book is calling out to me!

Kolhapuri chappals

- By Deepa Krishnan

When I was in college, it was quite cool to wear kolhapuri chappals. In fact, every self-respecting college going kid with anti-establishment / Marxist / Commie leanings wore some variant of these :)

The female version came with a narrower frame. The male version was broader and rugged. But all of them were handmade, stitched and patterned in a way that was instantly recognizable. Many had attractive red tassels as well.

It was not just college kids with leftist ideas who wore them. They were the standard outfit for the "creative" ad agency types, as well as intellectuals and social workers. If you walked into the JJ School campus, you'd find tons of them. The standard combination was kolhapuri chappal +  khadi kurta + cloth jhola + a tattered pair of jeans. Reading glasses and frizzy hair helped further complete the look. Stubble or full-blown beards were also de rigueur.

I went to one of the liberal arts colleges in the city recently, and found that the kurta-jeans-jhola look was still in vogue, and the stubbles/beards were still in place - but the kolhapuri chappal had been replaced by blue Hawaii slippers or all-weather floaters or other non-descript sandals. What a pity :) 

The kolhapuri hasn't totally disappeared, though. Walking through Ranade Road, I spotted this shop with the giant chappal at the top:

Chandrakant Chappal Mart
Sellers of Kolhapuri Chappals

As I peered quickly at the stock, I saw that this shop had decided to hedge its bets by including not only kolhapuri chappals, but also several other designs and styles. So about 40% of the stock was kolhapuri.

At the bustling market outside Vile Parle station, I found the modern avatar of the traditional kolhapuri chappal, with colourful variants for women. They seemed to be very popular:

In this new avatar, the kolhapuri has lost all its anti-establishment charm. College girls are wearing these to match their outfits, not to make Commie statements. Here's the colourful kolhapuri, having its moment in the (Bollywood) sun.

Quite the fall of an icon, eh? :) :) I'm never wearing these purple ones, I tell you.

Upvasache Bhagar - Jungle Rice at Prakash in Shivaji Park

- By Deepa Krishnan

One of the happy delights of the rainy season is that Prakash at Shivaji Park has their fasting menu in place. 

Prakash Upahar Kendra near Sena Bhavan
(this is the old location, new location is opposite this one).

There's usually a queue of people waiting for a table. So you'll have plenty of time to admire the beautiful art-deco grillework in the balcony above, while you join the queue! 

I went last week, mercifully before the crowd came in. And I ordered this wonderful thing called Upvasache Bhagar. 

My tiny portion of Bhagar. Everything at Prakash is super-tiny. Space at the blue formica tables is at a premium, so you are expected to share three to a bench. 

Have you tasted bhagar? It is light, nourishing and delicious. It is served with a slightly sweetned yoghurt, which sets off the green chilli spice in the bhagar quite nicely. Ideal for breakfast, especially if you don't like super-spicy things early in the morning. 

Bhagar (vari tandul) comes from the seed of a wild grass. It's often called jungle rice, although it is not really rice. It is a seed which grows widely in Asia. Since it is not a grain, by the complex rules of Hindu fasts, bhagar is among the list of permitted foods that you can eat in the fasting season. 

Photo of bhagar from Wikimedia Commons

To make upvasache bhagar, usually jungle rice is cooked along with rajgira (amaranth, yet another "permitted" seed). Boiled potatoes are also added to give it some mass. Crushed peanuts, green chillies, cumin, lemon, coriander and ghee - these are the things that make bhagar delicious. It is a simple recipe, and works very well.

Looks delicious already, doesn't it?

If you want to try making it at home, you can use this great recipe from The Cook's Cottage. At the risk of offending purists, I would suggest trying your own variations. If you are making it for 4 p.m. "tiffin", then increase the spice levels and serve with masala chai! I think it would taste great with peas and carrots added to it. Or even sauteed capsicum. I think saw a version online with bhopla in it, but I find the idea very yewww. 

For those who want the dish without the effort of cooking it, there's always Prakash. It's very close to my office, so please give me a shout and I'll gladly join you.

P.S. While you're there, try their thalipeeth as well. I'm addicted to it.

The thalipeeth at Prakash - spicy, fabulous, leaves your mouth tingling

In which I watch trees being cut

- Deepa Krishnan

The area outside my office has dense green tree cover, keeping the entire street cool and shady, and protecting us from sun and rain.

Today when I drove up to work, I found a tree-felling operation in progress:

A big tree standing right opposite our office was dead, and the municipality guys had been called to fell it. I spoke to the guy in charge; he had a digital camera and a sheet with instructions on which trees to cut, and which to trim. He explained that the tree opposite our office was rotten, and needed to be cut. 

Our local istriwallah agreed, and gave me some rustic advice "Jhaad andar sey sad gaya hai madam", he said. "Bahut dino se baas aa raha hai". Apparently, you can smell a rotten tree in the rains. I do not know if this little piece of dehati wisdom is true, because I couldn't smell anything strange. 

But in any case, the cutting had begun. There was a man on top of a dead branch (can you see him in the photo below?), hacking away with a small axe. They had tied ropes to the branch. When it weakened, guys standing below would tug on the ropes and the branch would come crashing down.

Along with this dead tree, several other trees were being trimmed, based on requests made by residents of a nearby building. A couple of months ago, a branch from one of the trees fell down and dented a car. So that's why the municipality had been called in.

I stood and watched as big branches came crashing down all over the street. It felt terrible, really, even if one tree was supposedly dead, the rest were still alive and were being trimmed with gusto. Once a big branch had been brought down, it was then chopped into little bits. The tools used were basic: sickles to cut off small portions, and two-man saws for larger trunks. Every now and then, the saw would need to be sharpened.

And then they would get back to the job of breaking up the branches:

The cutting went on all through the morning, from 9 am to nearly noon. In between, they took a break for sweet milky tea, sponsored by the local chaiwalla.

Eventually around 1:00, I went outside to check on the status. The entire set of trees on our street had been decimated. There used to be a pretty green canopy on my street earlier, but now it looked grim and bare.

A sorry morning, really, all in all. So much beauty lost. I am wondering how to plant another tree. Do you know any organisations that can help? 

Lessons for Mumbai from the 6th Century BC

- By Deepa Krishnan

On my morning walk, I passed by the Jain temple in our neighbourhood. It was a beautiful calming sight.

Jain Temple, King's Circle, Mumbai

I paused for a few minutes to think of Mahavira, the founder of the Jain religion, who preached what is perhaps the most relevant message for our times: tolerance for multiple views. 

Mahavira's philosophy of anekantvad  - which translates literally to "multiple-view-ism" - is central to the Jain doctrine. In its most basic form, anekantvad means that there are multiple perceptions of Truth, and that no single point of view can be considered absolutely right. Quite different from dogmatic religions that insist it's "my way or the highway"!

In its more sophisticated philosophical interpretations, what anekantvad really says is that the universe and everything in it, i.e. the objects of our perception, are infinite in their qualities. Whereas human perception is finite, and what's more, each human's perceptions are different based on the filter through which they see the world. In fact, because no two people are identical, there are as many different perceptions of the world, as there are people! Thus, it is impossible for a single human being to completely grasp all aspects and manifestations of the universe and Truth.

Given this situation, a very refined or nuanced approach to the world is needed, which is called syadvad - conditional perception. Syadvad literally translates to "maybe-ism", and what it suggests is that when we make a statement about the world, we don't present it as dogma and absolute truth; instead we add "syad" to it, i.e. perspective. 

Thus, whenever we say something, we preface it by saying it is from one particular perspective. This allows room for other views. It's like the blind men and the elephant. We need the humility to accept that we may be only grasping the tail or the ear :)

And so these men of Hindustan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right
And all were in the wrong :) :)

I cannot help liking the anekantvad/syadvad approach, although I know I often present my beliefs very forcefully. Most of us are articulate lobbyists and passionate about one cause or the other. It is quite a giant leap to go from forceful debate to the kind of gentle approach that syadvad calls for. When we are  very forceful about what we believe in, and thrust it upon others, we are in reality refusing to accept the richness of the many world views that are around us. And we are being driven by ego, by the urge to be listened to and obeyed. 

It is really quite a fine line to walk. We must live in this world, and act upon our beliefs, but we also must give room and respect to other beliefs, even when they are very much in opposition to our own. How does one do that? Especially when some things make your blood boil? Food for thought, especially in this city where a new strain of intolerance seems to be gaining ground!!

For those who don't know - Mahavira, or The Great Valiant One, is the name given to the sage Vardhamana, who lived in the 6th century BC in what is now Bihar. The faith which he propounded - Jainism - received royal patronage from the Maurya kings, and spread all over India, including large tracts of South India. In Tamil Nadu, Mahavira is called Arugan. 

Jainism as a faith is much older than Mahavira, who is the 24th in a long line of Jain sages. But it was Mahavira, who lived a long and fruitful 72 years, who popularised the religion by formally expounding its tenets. 

Beautiful 8th Century AD stone scuplture from 
Kazhugumalai, Tirunelveli District, Tamil Nadu 
See this link for amazing detailed photos of this site 
where Jain and Hindu carvings co-exist. 
The sculpture above is of Parshvanatha, 
the 23rd in the line of Jain sages.

There are several Jain temples in India, and I highly recommend you visit one of the temples if you are coming to India. Almost all of them are beautifully carved and embellished, and the insides of the temples are worth seeing. You will usually be able to see not just Mahavira, but also the 24 sages, called tirthankaras, who came before him. 

Jains believe that these tirthankaras, the Enlightened Ones, the Kevala Gyanis, have been able to see the rich complexity of Truth in all its manifold aspects. Maybe they will inspire you as well :)

Marble Carving detail, Ranakpur Jain Temple, Rajasthan

Photo source for "blind men and the elephant": http://abearsrant.com/2013/03/the-elephant-in-the-room.html/samsung-digital-camera

Lasun Chatni, Mirchi cha Thecha and Sandgi Mirchi

- by Deepa Krishnan

Ever since I moved to our new office at Mahim, I have been trying out restaurants in the area. Last week I dragged my friend Kiran to Diva Maharashtracha, to check out their thali. 

The first thing we got was the accompaniments to the thali: and what a fabulous set of 4 they were!

The red powdered mix is lasun chatni, made with garlic and dried coconut. Just a little bit of it is enough to bring all your tastebuds tinglingly alive! It is among the most widely used accompaniments in Maharashtrian food. You'll find many vada-pav sellers in Mumbai using lasun chatni to add a kick to their vada pav. In rural Maharashtra, you'll find farmers using this to spice up a simple bhakri / roti.

Lasun chatni is really simple to make - slice dried copra into manageable bits, saute it with a few cloves of garlic in a table-spoon of oil, add chilli powder and salt - and grind it all together without adding water. That's it. You're good to go.

The copra gives it a sort of nutty flavour. You can adjust the garlic and the chilli powder to whatever suits you. Like I said, this is a miracle powder and gives everything an amazing zing - add it to hot fried potatoes, or sprinkle it over onion bhaji and see how it perks up everything. Oh and one more thing - remember, anything you make with coconut or dried copra should be either consumed quickly or refrigerated.

The green stuff in the other cup is mirchi cha thecha, green chillies roughly mashed with garlic and spices. Here's a closer look:

This is another divine accompaniment to roti. Sometimes grated coconut or roasted peanuts are added to give it body, but my friend Kiran Modak gave me this "only the basics" :) recipe for her mom's mirchi cha thecha:

Take a table spoon or two of oil, heat and add turmeric and hing (asafoetida) to it. Roast a few green chillies in it (lightly please... just for a min or so to soften them). Now take it off the flame, add a few cloves of raw garlic and salt and grind it coarsely. You could add a few drops of lemon juice to add the tang.

Sounds delightful, really. And even writing about it is making my mouth water!!

So now, for the last two accompaniments, the popular sandgi mirchi, and behind it, the mango pickle:

All Maharashtrians know (and have eaten) sandgi mirchi at some point in their life! It is made, not only in Maharashtra, but all over Southern India, with slight variations. You find some not-so-spicy green chillies, soak 'em in buttermilk and spices, then dry them, and deep-fry them. 

According to my friend Sujata Patil, in Maharashtra, the chillies are soaked in buttermilk with a mix of fenugreek seed powder, coriander seed powder and salt.  I've also seen variants with asafoetida in it, cumin in it (but in general everyone agrees there should be fenugreek!). When the green chilli has absorbed the buttermilk, you sun-dry it; then put it back into the buttermilk for soaking, then dry again, then back again, etc, for about 4-5 rounds, until you've got chillies that have completely absorbed all the buttermilk. Then you dry everything one final time, and bottle it away for deep frying later.

The mango pickle that you can see behind the sandgi mirchi is also tasty; and apparently the magic ingredient is a thing called Kepra Pickle Masala, which is made by a Pune-based company. I have to look for it next time I go there!

Here's Kiran and me having lunch; we both had vegetarian Maharashtrian thalis. They served us two interesting types of rotis: Tandlachi Roti, made of rice and Jwarichi Roti made of jowar. They were the perfect things to go with these four accompaniments. In fact, I would have been happy to just eat the rotis with the mirchi cha thecha, drink some buttermilk and go home :)

But our thali had a whole bunch of other things - and it would take me a lifetime to describe everything! This isn't even a complete photo of the meal :) After this, there was Masale Bhaat and two types of dessert as well.

I really enjoyed this thali, because it was so different from the usual Gujju fare I eat all over the city. Maharashtrian food is really Mumbai's secret cuisine, waiting to be discovered and celebrated.

Seva Niketan and the Jesuits in Bombay

- By Deepa Krishnan

If you drive past Byculla, you'll spot this handsome building on the main road. I've always wondered what this building is about, especially given the prominent logo in the middle. The logo looked vaguely Christian to me, but could well have been something Jewish or Zoroastrian.

Today I did some searching around, and found out: this is Seva Niketan, a Christian Life Community (CLC) centre in Mumbai.

The CLC is what is called a Sodality; a group of lay Christian people who get together for their own spiritual upliftment and to do pious acts and charity. The CLC congregations have traditionally been led by Jesuit priests. 

In case you didn't know who the Jesuits are, they are a group of trained priests, who on behalf of the Roman Catholic Church, do missionary work. Ignatius of Loyola was the founder of the Jesuit order (the correct name is the Society of Jesus). Loyola is a small village in Spain. It was Ignatius who sent Francis Xavier to India in 1542, to begin the (very successful) Jesuit presence in India.

Ignatius wrote a set of exercises, called Exercitia Spiritualia, which is even today used to train novitiates.  The Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius involve a sequence of specific silent prayer and meditation, divided into 4 weeks or phases. These can be used, not just for those training for priesthood, but also by more devout Christians for a more spiritual life.

At Seva Niketan, based on the teachings of Ignatius, the Christian Life Community organises spiritual get-togethers, prayers and community programmes. Several non-profits are also based here, in keeping with the Jesuits belief of "prayer in action".

Here's the logo that I struggled to make sense of:

See the X and the P in the middle? That combination stands for Jesus. XP includes the Greek letters CH (Chi) and R (Rho) which means Jesus (ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ). And there is an M which stands for Mary.

Whew. Finally the mystery of the logo solved!

Seva Niketan also is home to an employment bureau and provides hostel accommodation for boys who study at the St. Xaviers College. The Jesuits run several programs from here; and if you're curious about what happens inside the building, here is one excellent example with photos.

It is impossible to miss the Jesuit presence in Mumbai. They run parishes in Mazagaon, Byculla, Bandra, Andheri, Vasai and Thana. They have two centres in Bandra and Andheri where they offer retreats and counselling. But they are best known for the many schools and colleges that they run in the city. These institutions are often quite different from each other, but have at their core, strong Jesuit values. Each institute reflects the culture and socio-economic background of the neighborhood where it is located, as well as the influence of the Jesuit admission policies.

My daughter goes to St. Xavier's College in VT, which is ranked among the city's premier colleges. Because of the high admission cut-offs, the college is home to some extremely bright and talented young people. 

The college has a "quota" system, with 50% of all seats reserved for Christians. To fill these quota seats, the college usually has lower cut-offs for Christians. Apart from this, there are seats reserved as per government norms, for students with disabilities, students from backward communities etc.  The "open" quota seats are very few, and the competition for those is fierce. 

The students at St. Xaviers come from all walks of life; from the very rich to the very poor. There is a dress-code for college - no short skirts, no sleeveless /halternecks /spaghetti-strap tops, no capris even. Jeans and T-shirts are what most students wear on a daily basis.

The dress code is a recent thing. In earlier years, the college used to be quite the fashion parade :)

Parents are expected to know and be involved in the college lives of their children. There is an active social work program, and it is mandatory for all students to do a certain number of hours of community service each year. The Jesuit philosophy is clearly at work in this college, and seems to be working well. As a parent, I certainly have no complaints.

Bombay Duck - The ugliest fish in Mumbai :)

- By Deepa Krishnan
(Published in DNA, Around the Blog, Aug 27, Page 7, under "The smelly Bombay Duck")

I swear, this is the ugliest thing in the fish market that I have ever laid my eyes on :) :) Seriously. Look at that mouth: have you ever seen anything like it?

This then, is Bombay Duck, the lizardfish that is named after this city. It is found along the  Western coastline of India, and also in the Indian Ocean. It goes by many local names - bombil in Marathi, bomla in Gujarati and lote mach or lotia in Bengali.

In the fishing villages of Mumbai, you'll often see Bombay Duck salted and hanging to dry. Once they are dried, the fisherwomen bring them to market. This photo is from the fish market at Dadar:

Apart from Bombay Duck, the fisherfolk dry a wide variety of shrimp and fish. In the monsoon season, when they do not go fishing in the choppy seas, these are the mainstay of their cuisine. Because of the way it is salted and dried, bombil has a very strong crumbly salty flavour. So it's a bit of an acquired taste. And let's face it, this is one smelly fish. If someone is cooking dried bombil, all the neighbours know it :)

The most popular way in which fresh bombil is eaten in Mumbai is bombil fry. In Goan and Konkan coastal homes, it is a popular dish - you cut off the head and the tail, slice the fish in half, remove the central bone, salt lightly and place a weight on it to remove the water content, then marinate it in green chilli and garlic, coat it with batter (rice flour) and fry it. We did a cuisine tour in my friend Sancia's house, and this bombil fry was a big hit with our Dutch and English visitors:

The Parsis also make bombil-fry, except that they keep the fish whole, and while they do remove some water content, they don't dry it out as much as the Goans do. Their marinade is red chilli powder and turmeric, and traditionally it is deep-fried in rice flour batter.

It's a relatively easy dish to make, so if you haven't tried it before, then give it a shot! Or if you want to just take the easy way out, you can get it at seafood restaurants in Mumbai. Gajalee, for example, does a great bombil fry, here is Karen Anand's video of the restaurant. Enjoy :)