BY THE BOOK!

On November 7, last year, after a few days of hectic activity and tonnes of misgivings and fears as to whether it would actually happen or not, The Book was finally launched. The Seven Sisters, Kitchen Tales from  the North East, a Westland Publication finally saw the light of the day, it became a reality. It was a book on which my co-author, Sanghita Singh and I had worked on for nearly two years. As journalists we were used  to working with maddening deadlines and improbable targets; sometimes after working tirelessly on what we call 'stories' we had to sit back and accept that it would ultimately not happen. But there would be no time to brood and lament the lost hours and effort, it meant moving on to other stories and the perpetual deadlines always hovering. But the book seemed to be one project that just continued and continued.....

So when the union minister for state for home, Kiren Rijiju stood on stage untying the ribbon at the four-day North East Festival in Delhi, we could finally heave a sigh of relief and like proud mothers step back and watch with smiles. It was of course, another story that Sanghita Singh was running a very high fever and was ready to topple over any moment!  It was after the launch, the speeches and okay, the applause, surrounded by families and friends and well wishers, that we looked at each other and said, it is over. Or was it? Because the launch had been organised at such a short notice, like a runaway marriage, several arrangements fell short, the most crucial being that we left out more from the invite list then we invited. So much so that a friend made me sign, 'to the friend I forgot to invite for the launch' on her copy!

Serendipity is a word that one doesn't get to use much. But for once it is a phrase that I can use it in the true sense. Because that alone can explain how the book came about. The beginning was almost flippant- as some one born and brought up in the North East of India, I have done my fair share of explaining the people, culture, cuisine and such to the rest, not always of course with the expected reaction. It was a lah-di-dah place, beautiful people, mostly ladies and the spirits and foods were flowing. Which was great, but to be constantly reminded, and that too not very politely, by the caterer/manager/whoever-quite-stuffy, that the food was healthy yet delicious, the best of ingredients from abroad, blah blah and why, oh why couldn't Indian cuisine be like that. Now THAT got not just my goat, but buffalo, pig, chicken, fish and the intense desire to shake him into sense; not sense into him, but him into a cauldron full of sense.  Maybe one can call it a moment of epiphany but that was when one decided to write a book on North East cuisine. One made a loud declaration and that declaration got transferred into a contract with Westland.

So far, so good. Even deciding on the content, the format wasn't difficult. We knew that though we love food beyond everything, cook regularly, been fortunate to have travelled around a bit and tried a very wide variety of cuisine, but we were not chefs and it couldn't be our recipes. It had to be recipes of the people of  the seven North East states - Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, Manipur, Meghalaya, Mizoram, Nagaland and Tripura. If there are family recipes, there are family stories and that was exactly what we wanted. The book would have personal touches, pictures and each state would have a brief introduction; it would be something like a documentation of the North East food heritage. 

In one's mind and to some extent on paper, the book concept seemed good. It was when we began work that we felt that we might have bitten off more than we could chew. The first task involved reaching out to friends, family friends, friends of friends, relatives of friends, friends of relatives of friends and an endless human chain. There were hundreds of phone calls made, hundreds of emails shot off. Explaining the concept took a long, long time. Getting responses took a re-a-a-a-a-a-a-ly long time! Worse, only a fraction of the people we contacted responded. But persistence, I realised, pays. We shamelessly invited ourselves over for North East food. The whole exercise also made me realise that just because someone is from a particular region of the country, that person need not necessarily know everything about the region. That 'someone' in this case was yours sincerely, whose smugness because I-am-from-the-North-East-and-I-know went flying out of the window!

It was maddening, exasperating, funny, hilarious, sad, what-the-%$#@&*^%, exhausting, enriching, every gamut of emotion but it was great. There was one time when our good friend and photographer Anuj Parti had to virtually slap my hand to stop me binging on the exquisite Kalhang Pork that Pemi had whipped out because he feared that none would be left for the food shoot. In fact, there were several dishes, half of which made their way into our bellies before the shoot! Then there was a security personnel at the Manipur house who fled the room when we unpacked the fermented fish. There were many dishes we cooked ourselves and patted ourselves for it! There were outdoor shoots where we had politely ask curious people to step back and shoots where we had guard against thieving cats!

Suddenly one day we had the content, the pictures and everything in place. We also had much much more over that - scores of new friends, scores of old friendship revived, friends whom we saw in new light, families of friends who welcomed us into their families. It was not just North East but people from North East living elsewhere in the country and abroad too. And the memories associated with each recipe ah! Ultimately, it made me realise what wherever you are, whoever you are, whatever you do, the fulcrum that holds everything in place is the kitchen of your home.  What happens in every kitchen in every home is like a magical chain that binds the family together even though you may not be living in that home anymore and may be far away from your family.  So? We all know that, don't we might say. Sure, but for me it was reliving that again, a reassurance that even though I might be living far away from the North East, it lives within me.
 
Why didn't I write about the book earlier? Hmm! Can one be allowed to say that I thought the review of the book would best be done by reviewers? I was told by a friend that it was a case of snobbery. I don't know what exactly that implies but there, I have done it! Talked about the book that is. I am even attaching here some pix, many of which were not incorporated in the book. So there!

 

A roadside bamboo structure in Majuli River Island, Assam

A lake in Manipur

Fishing in Nagaland

The famous Root Bridge, Meghalaya

In traditional attire,Mizoram

Traditional Bodo dress, Dokhona on sale, Assam

Rural market, Meghalaya

Dukan Sha bad Ja (Tea and food stall), Meghalaya 

 

WHAT THE NECK?

 

The initial shock and discomfort is such that despite being aware of it, having seen pictures and even documentaries, the first encounter is an unnerving experience. I kept feeling my neck and ensuring that not only was I breathing normally but that I could gulp down saliva without any pain and of course, talk.  If that sounds dramatic, it was indeed to some extent. We were at the Long Neck Karen Village in extreme North Chiang Mai, close to the Burma (still find it difficult to say Myanmar!) border and the first sight of a beautiful young mother with her neck circled by enormous brass rings, with an adorable baby on her lap, was something like being hurtled into Alice in Wonderland domain where things were not what they appeared to be. It was unnerving truly even though the mind, and the ticker up within the head said loud and clear that it was a touristy village perfectly laid out to entice gullible tourists like us. All I could think and that too with dread, even as the young mother posed for the camera, was does a similar fate await the young baby girl on her lap? Suddenly all I wanted to do was envelop my daughter in my arms even though she was far away.

Getting inside the Karen Village started on a wrong note. The guy manning the entry said it was 500 Baht per head. We were the only tourists there and peeking in all we could see was a narrow lane flanked tightly by small shops selling every souvenir. Too much, we said. For the upkeep of the village, he said. Still too much, we replied. He waved us away; we did an about turn and walked off. The alternative was either the Tiger Kingdom or the Elephant Poopoo Park. It didn't require any voting, the Poopoo attraction held sway. When we stepped out of the elephant park (more of that later) after a delightful morning, guess whom we ran into outside the gate - the sullen man from the Karen Village. Like an foggy Zamindar from pre-independant India, he said he was ready to give us a discount and it would be 300 Baht per head. We took it, some among us with much cajoling.

From the moment we stepped inside the bamboo barricade we knew the Karen Village was a touristy trap with shops every which way you look, elaborately dressed  Karen women and girls holding centre stage in the well-orchestrated tableau, some weaving on looms, some posing pretty as a picture and most of them trying to peddle some ware or the other from hand loom fabrics to silver trinkets. There was not a single man around and it was an all women show! 

But soon we found ourselves caught up in the novelty of it all, especially when an elderly woman, strangely minus the strangulating brass neck wear and teeth totally blackened by nonstop chewing of raw betel nut, betel leaf and lime making her seem all black gums, prattled on with us with her face splitting smile never wavering. I loved her, first because of her infectious bonhomie and second, because she made me desperately want to chew the betel- nut-leaf-lime combo! It made me both nostalgic - where I come from the same combo is called kwai and in our childhood nothing gave us more kick, literally and otherwise,to gobble some behind our parent's back, feel the warm tingling take over your body, especially the ears and head and then fight over whose teeth were stained the most red- and I so achingly wanted to wing myself back to those times!

It took some time to get over the initial reaction of shock, awe and innate discomfort before I could actually get myself to take a deeper look around and find out more about the community. It was then I saw the huge scroll explaining about the tribe. In brief, the long necked women belonged to a sub Karen tribe, the Paduang, a sub sect that apparently suffered much persecution and still does. Thailand, we were told, also does not recognise them as citizens. What the lengthy description makes no mention of is how the women came to wear the heavy brass rings around their necks. In fact, there were few whose neck had elongated to such extent that one immediately thought of giraffes! 

There were still others who seemed to have escaped the brass rings but not the tonnes of beads circling their necks and elaborate head wear bound to give anyone, what else but a stiff neck.

That wasn't all. When she passed us by, at first we admired her inherent elegance and the big colourful ear piece she sported with beads dangling down. Hang on! What had happened to her earlobe? Because of the enormous ear piece she had wearing since a little girl, her lobes had expanded and hung down rather grotesquely. Yes, that wasn't all, she also had brass rings tightly circling her leg just below the knee and a second lot just above her ankles. After frantic efforts at communication with our hands and crazy gestures it seemed to have dawned on her on whether the leg rings were used for young girls too because she took us to a little girl diligently working at her loom and with similar brass leg rings.  Being a girl in the Paduang community seemed a tortuous business - to us that is because they all seemed to be happily getting on with their lives.

Earning a living I suppose makes one avail whatever resources are around, peddle the uniqueness of the community and anything else possible. As afternoon passed and we decided to leave,  I took a last look around. A little girl, another one with the brass rings around her neck seemed somewhat petulant but as I asked her to look at the camera I felt almost guilty as if exploiting her situation. The little girl must have been tired or maybe she had enough of posing for the camera; she looked like what girls her age everywhere would look if they had been all dressed up and asked to lure in the tourist, a look that said please leave me alone. 

As we approached the exit, I turn around to take a last look. Somehow the Karen Village looked desolate, a tiny hamlet, staged as it may be, lost, forgotten and left to their own plight. It is not something I would my village to be.

Call it ironic or whatever but the experience at the Elephant Poopoopaper Park was another experience altogether- delightful, amusing and quite educative. Chiang Mai is one place where elephants seemed to be almost revered and everywhere in the city cute statues of the animal stand out. The Poopoopaper Park is where we realised that nothing of the Jumbo animal goes waste, not even its waste! At the entrance, standing next to a thatched structure is an all gold baby elephant statue that inevitably makes all us approach it and pat it lovingly.

Our guide is the petite Kim.The park is a sprawling undulating spread, green every which one looks with little water bodies. Kim takes us through the entire process of how the elephant waste is collected and then turned into beautifully textured and coloured papers. In between we admire the lush birds of paradise plant, endless number of trees and for the first time, at least for me, we gush over the peanut patch. If we were not told, we would have thought that it was some local greenery ( some kind of saag). What are huge balls of elephant dung morph into not just paper but stunning paper products from exquisite bookmarks to  greeting cards to little animal figurines. The cafe attached to it is an open relaxing zone with some amazing smoothies. In an instant Kim transform from the elephant poo expert to  an adept chef! Adding to the charm of the cafe was a dog constructed out of discarded gumboots complete with a water bowl in front of it. Yes that reminded me of the one at home and home and.......

Kim at the Elephant Poopoopaper Park

 

 

Peanut Patch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wag a tail!

                     FASTING AND FEASTING

Fasting, Feasting (with due apologies to Anita Desai) was what the Chiang Mai trip was all about.

Karva Chauth, as the name implies, is karva (bitter) indeed! This is a fast that married women, mostly in North India, keep one day in a year for the welfare of their husbands. It's where you don't drink a drop of water, forget a morsel of food till you see the moon up in the sky at night. Traditionally, one is supposed to get up before sunrise and eat the sargee (usually ghee laden paranthas and the like). There are some who after the evening pooja drink some water and have a cup of tea. For me however, coming from a background where married women keep Teej, a 24-hour fast, and for whom feasting in the ungodly hours before sunrise is nausea inducing, Karva Chauth means your last meal is the night before and you continue without even a drop of water until you spot the full moon in the sky. This is the day where I usually keep myself so busy with work that apart from feeling the occasional thirst, one generally forgets about food matters. Here, I also don't want to get into the debate over keeping Karva Chauth. Sure there are those who snigger at the concept, there are those who can't seem to have enough of it- strictly dress wise- dressing up as a new bride, whatever the age, and going around like a star from a saas-bahu Hindi serial. I don't dress up, I don't get at uncivilised hours to feast and I don't participate in any poojas etc. I keep a strict fast and why I do is a private matter!   

And this time I was in Chiang Mai with a group of close friends and naturally drinking and dining (make it binging) was a way of life.  So what was the way out? Nothing, except being stoic and taking it in good stride and of course, hitting the major tourist spots until time flew by. Thankfully, this time the moon was visible, big and bright. Two years ago I was in Singapore on Karva Chauth day and the breaking of the fast turned into quite a farce. There we were - a friend based there and also keeping the fast- being driven almost all over the city-nation by her husband to spot the moon. The farce soon began to turn into an ordeal because the weather played spoilsport. It was raining, dark, gloomy and everything morose. The moon adamantly refused to even peep out  even for a second. End result -it was after 11pm when we gave up and broke the fast, first a few sips of water and then straight on to spirits and divine food at one of the fine dining restaurants at Dempsey Hill.

In Chiang Mai the first place we hit after landing in the city was the eatery called The Whole Earth, simple because it was close to where we were staying (Le Meridien) and most important because it promised a fusion of Thai and Indian food! (Turned out that the owner is of Indian origin). The place did look inviting with its typical Thai architecture structure in the middle a huge green compound redolent with greenery from the ubiquitous frangipani (plumeria) to bright birds of paradise and what-have-you. One had to remove footwear before climbing up to the first floor eatery, which indoors had a very Thai cum colonial feel, with a veranda with outdoor seating wrapped around half of it. I had no quarrels with the decor and ambiance, its the menu that left me a little unsure. I have a lifelong passionate affair going on with Thai food, but the Indian dishes popping up here and there left me a tad unsure if it was a good idea. Of course the vegetarians among us (incidentally by now it has become second nature to us to instinctively create an invisible wall between the vegetarians and the carnivores around the same table. The vegetarian dishes of course know no Lakshman Rekha but with the non-veg stuff one has to be careful). Did I like the food? I loved everything especially the fish cooked in and served in green coconut and , the steamed fish with the really perky sauce. Indian food- I kept away from, one doesn't travel so far to eat what you get best in Delhi!  

 

 

 

 

 

Would I go to The Whole Earth again? I did but then that day I was fasting!

It was in Chiang Mai that I discovered Nam Prik Ong!  It's a dish I know that I can never ever have enough of. We were at The Riverside Bar @&Restaurant on the west side of River Ping. It's a lively place with multilevel seating, has great music, crowded to the brim and with a fantastic riverside view (Okay fine, I know the name says it all!). We managed to get a big table outdoors and that's where Nam Prik Ong jumped at me from the menu. Anything that says pork is my undoing and the menu description was quite tempting - it had pork mince and tomato dip, vegetables and Mamma Mia it had pork rinds mentioned. When it came I send a prayer upstairs in gratitude, it was that divine. The savoury-sweet-chili dip seemed to have lots of pork mince in a fantastic tomato sauce and there were green beans, cauliflower, prawns, lettuce and pork rinds ringed around the dip in a bowl in the centre. Unless you try it, you don't know what you are missing.  Every dish that followed, especially the Burmese pork curry, was high on the yummy scale but of course, always second place to Nam Prik Ong. After that it was Nam Prik Ong all the way!

The Yummy Nam Prik Ong

 

The Burmese Pork Curry

 

In between of course, one made the by now compulsory trips to the night markets. There's the regular daily night market and there's the Saturday (Wui Lai Market)Night Market. What I liked about the Saturday one is that apart from the usual stalls - food, more food, Thai artifacts, garments and the quintessential stuff one gets in all night markets in Thailand - were the stalls with many young entrepreneurs, local designers (the beginners of course) who had on sale some unusual  accessories, home ware etc. with global flavour. The food stuff as usual were awesome. What particularly caught every body's eyes, those of the tourists variety that is, were the sweets made from bean paste, sweetened infused with bright food colouring and shaped into delightful creations like grapes, baby carrots, chilis and more. If you didn't know better, you would be royally fooled! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The best meal hands down was however at the Pong Yang Restaurant (Pong Yang Farm &Resort) near the Mae Sa Waterfall. It was a combination of the best of everything - the stunning environ with dense forests every which way you look, the waterfall cascading down, the outdoor dining sections at different levels with the waterfall always in sight and the food - it was being at the right place, at the right time with the right people. Nam Prik Ong of course! The deep fried bass, the mushroom soup, the fried rice and just every dish tasted good, with that stunning view I guess everybody was too busy gaping and had no time or intention to critic the food. But then as I have always said, to me Thai food is simply delicious. 

            

 

 

Somewhere we have all learned that hēdonē is the Greek word for delight/pleasure and hence hedonism. Somehow the connotation is not very positive so I choose to say it was ethical hedonism ( I didn't coin the phrase, it is an accepted school of thought and it means seeking pleasure without harming others equal rights). It was our last night in Chiang Mai and there was also a happy occasion that called for celebration. So in royal style and keeping the happy-occasion- couple in dark, the indoor pool of a spa resort was booked complete with special dining arrangements made by the poolside. Then, it was just indulgence all the way- frolicking in the pool, downing spirits and feasting on an endless arrays of finger-licking dishes. And yes, the strict segregation between vegetarian and non-vegetarian diners was voluntarily but strictly enforced. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the happy occasion there was a gorgeous cake to celebrate. It goes without saying that the names iced on the cake have been deleted! In a jiffy it went from a gorgeous cake to just bits of decor and candles lying forlornly on the plate picked clean. A very happy ending to a very happy occasion.

This is how it looked 

And this is how to ended! 

For me however, there was no question of leaving a place without checking out its main local market, away from the touristy trails or traps,whatever you call them. Except that initially there was some confusion about what exactly was the name of the market and its location.My initial information was that it was the Worarot Market and the place where you could get the real feel of Chiang Mai. But every time I asked some of the locals for the Worarot Market, the response was a complete blank. I kept consoling myself that it was my pronunciation that was at fault and kept uttering several variations. Felt a total idiot when a sensible soul at the hotel told me that it was locally known as Kad Luang and asking directions to Worarot from the local people including cab drivers wouldn't get me anywhere. 

 Kad Luang is a busy bustling place, quite chaotic at first and seems so familiar after the usually spread out markets at home. It is located on Chiang Moi road alongside the River Ping. This is one place where everything Thai is available from food (naturally!) to household requirements to gold, gem and jewellery. The first thing we did was to drink up some refreshing green coconut water. For me all that mattered was the food section. It was a dose of nostalgia when I spied huge tree beans, something available and eaten only in some places in North East India. Despite the heavy breakfast at the hotel, there was no way one could turn away from the Thai salad being made right there and then by a street hawker. It was the perfect place to pick up the Thai spices and the family's favourite - huge crunchy peanuts spiced up with lemon grass, kaffir leaves etc. It tastes heavenly and is so addictive that a packet once opened becomes a packet instantly demolished. And that on delicious note we had to wrap up our Chiang Mai stay.