A Slice Of Calm - Project Otenga, Ahmedabad

Project Otenga Cafe

On the journey towards becoming my best friend, spending time alone has become a necessary ritual and my favourite pastime. It is therapeutic, cleansing my mind and allowing me to reset and rejuvenate. I ensure this ritual is practised in spaces that bring me peace, calm, and quiet, spaces with a minimalist aesthetic to suit lone wolves and writers like myself. 

Fortunately, in the bustling and fast-developing city of Ahmedabad, like every other major Indian city, there is a burgeoning ecosystem of experiential spaces serving local fare, and who remain committed to create and sustain authentic spaces for people to meet and indulge in all things slow. 

It was refreshing to come across a niche space like Project Otenga. I would be doing great injustice by calling it a restaurant or a cafe when it is truly a haven for quiet time, self-reflection, intellectual and sensorial stimulation - a rare find.

Project Otenga is a student-open-and- run cafe within the premises of the prestigious and avant-garde Ahmedabad University. Amusingly, it serves up traditional Assamese food! What are the odds of finding Assamese food in the heart of Gujarat, right? But we Amdavadis are lucky. Of late, there has been an influx of interesting concepts, ideas, and people - we are seeing a boom in experiential spaces such as Project Otenga, exhibition spaces, art galleries, meeting spaces for conversation starters, and more. This continuously transforming and evolving landscape of Ahmedabad suits me just fine.

As I entered Project Otenga, it almost felt like stepping into a Zen space. The interior and ambience were nothing close to a commercial cafe. It was too quiet as if maintaining silence was a rule! It boasts of whitewashed walls, wooden furniture, no loud colours, and a tree going through the roof, a bookshelf with a brilliant selection of fiction and non-fiction, all blended to create a calming and wholesome experience for the senses. 

I believe places like these have a purpose and it is far from making a quick buck from fast food. I think it is more about building and sustaining relationships with customers and between customers, creating memories, and giving the creative community a wonderful opportunity to be inspired, get its creative juices flowing, encourage conversations for ideas, and collaborations, create art, and literature, contribute to the fine arts, conceive startups, and more.

After making myself comfortable, I glanced at the menu which looked promising with its long list of Assamese fare and a couple of Manipuri dishes. Although every dish looked promising, the thought of a steaming hot Assamese fish curry tantalised me. I would prefer a good old rustic fish curry any day.  Thanks to my Marathi genes I have a curry and rice bias even after living in Gujarat for over a decade where the 'rotla' dominates kitchens.

It was a long wait but I know it would be worth it. After all, good things take time! Also, I appreciate it when food takes long to prepare. It means that it has been prepared and served with care and love. After a quick apology, my most awaited dish (my stomach was rumbling by now) was placed before me. 

At first sight, it did not resemble the Indian coastal fish curries. It did, however, resemble a homestyle meat curry. Unlike our Konkan/Goan curries, this fare was watery yet tasteful. The fish was bony but had its unique flavour. The preparation seemed simple, unlike my favourite homestyle Goan seafood curry full of different ingredients - grated coconut, garlic, tamarind, coriander seeds, etc.

I must say I missed them but the thrill of trying something new sent my adrenaline pumping. Being a foodie and a blogger means I must be open to new experiences no matter how skeptical I may be at times!

The meal ended with an interesting black rice pudding - a traditional dessert I absolutely loved. It cooled my tastebuds and provided just the right amount of understated sweetness that was much needed after that hot and spicy meal. My essential cappuccino finished this unique and first-time meal for me.

After browsing some good books and admiring the wonderful garden within which Otenga is nestled, I bid adieu to this tranquil space and vowed to come back although it is at quite a distance (older Ahmedabad) from my suburban home. However, such experiences make it all worthwhile. Recently, a little chat with the owners revealed that Project Otenga is moving to a new place and will reopen soon! How nice yet so tragic! I cannot wait to visit.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this blog, or maybe not. In any case, please leave a comment below!

Until I write again :) 

Homewards & Onwards...

Ganesh Utsav is an unmissable festival. No matter how busy we are, we ensure we attend the annual ritual of the Satyanarayan Pooja and Ganesh darshan at my maternal grandfather's home. This year, it was his family's 70th Ganesh Utsav. Earlier, when my daughter was younger and did not have to worry about missing school and spent all 10 days in Mumbai venerating Ganpati Bappa - as he is fondly called - and bidding him farewell on Chowpatty beach where countless Ganesh idols are immersed in the agitated Arabian Sea on a moonless night named, 'Anant Chaturdashi'.

The pooja is performed with fervent dedication on the Saturday following the Chintamani Aagman or Ganesh Chaturthi, the arrival of the Elephant God, India's most famous deity whose popularity can easily rival that of a movie star.

The beauty of Ganesh Utsav lies in the fact that even the less fortunate celebrate and show their devotion. Chawls, slums, and shanties are brightly lit and decorated. The daily 'aarti' is a beautiful way of expressing one's love and devotion to Ganpati Bappa.

People come in droves to sing for their favourite God - the destroyer of obstacles, offering him whatever they can - from 'modaks' - the God's favourite dish, to fruits, sweets, and fresh flowers. After all, it is not God who sets high expectations or discriminates, we do. 

Our family's Satyanarayan pooja was followed by sumptuous traditional fare served on silver plates in the shape of banana leaves - family heirlooms and cultural traditions that make us proud to be Indian. The first meal is holy as it is offered to the Gods first. Named 'naivedya' - the meal of the Gods is then awarded to one of the family members. Being the one to have the naivedya is considered a great honour. As children, we even showed off a little when asked to partake of this important custom. 

Our annual Ganpati weekend is also ideal for bonding with family, relaxing, and rejuvenating. My daughter looks very forward to this visit. Here are some moments I captured a day after the Pooja when we chose to simply be at home, and relish the time with my parents and pets. Lastly, I set aside some precious me-time at a coffee shop above a bookstore - perfection!

In the lap of 'homefort'

You know how we scramble to 'make plans for the weekend'?I still see people do that. That familiar and often forced question, “What plans for the weekend?” creates a compulsion to relent and yield. I recall the pressure I used to feel to do something on the weekends. It could be a brunch with family, a coffee with friends, a movie in a crowded cinema, or ‘partying’ just to look and be cool, seeing the boyfriend (even if you didn’t want to), and the like. Somehow, in the hustle and bustle of life and the race to be the coolest, we missed out on the most beautiful things in life, its simplicity and appreciating its simple pleasures, living slowly yet fulfillingly.

But the narrative is now changing, thankfully. Enjoying the simple pleasures of home is unparalleled in comfort and contentment. No fancy trip or exotic travel destination can match what the good old comfort of home can do for our minds, bodies, and souls. The more I travel from Ahmedabad back home to Bombay, the more I appreciate and miss my time there, growing from an infant to a woman. Now, more importantly, I focus on creating memories in my adulthood.

During our phone conversations, my mother asked excitedly, "So, where do you want to go? What do you want to do?" I replied, "Mom, nothing. I just want to be home and do nothing." "Alright, what will you eat then? We can go out for lunch!" "Not at all", I replied. "Like I said, I just want to be home, rest, eat home cooked, spend time in our garden, reading under the sun, soaking my tired feet in its vital energy." "Alright then! I'll tell Dad to get us the fresh catch from Sassoon Dock, prawns and rawas!" "Deal!" I exclaimed.

After much plotting and planning, my daughter and I were finally on the Ahmedabad - Bombay Duronto express train. This overnight train gives us two perfect days of the weekend with my parents and pets - this is all I can afford now as a full-time working Mom of a junior schoolgoer.

And so we were home again in Bombay on that familiar street. I smiled at the bus stop from where I boarded hundreds of buses to get to college and extracurricular classes, the toy shops my brother and I visited every weekend begging my parents to buy us something, that friendly neighbourhood faces like the 'paanwala' and car washer who saw us grow from toddlers to teenagers and now to parents of toddlers. Similarly, we saw them age too. They were once so young, now their moustaches and beards were grey, their eyes sullen, but the friendly and well-wishing smiles remained.

An early morning train with no pantry meant I craved the morning roast. As soon as we got home, I showered, changed and quickly brewed a cuppa' Joe and sipped it while flipping the newspaper - a habit long gone!




I relished some meditative moments in our private garden that my parents tend to with utmost care, and never stop boasting about. The garden is home to a variety of flowers - white and delicate mogra, the loud and richly-shaded hibiscus, the seductive night-blooming jasmine (raat-raani), and the occasional and majestic 'krishna kamal' or passion flower. One cannot miss the proud 'oohs' and 'aahs' from my parents when the flowers blossom in all their vibrancy. The birds, sparrows, insects, butterflies and bumble bees, cannot resist them. Squirrels jump around causing a ruckus which is music to the ears. A bunch of parrots perch on the bird feeders adding to the noise and drama in the garden which is their stage.

Then came the scent of fresh fish and a familiar ritual began on our patio. The 'fish wala' was here with a large plastic bucket on his sweaty head carrying the fresh catch of the day.

I remembered this ritual like it was yesterday. Growing up, we waited every Sunday morning for the fisherman to arrive with his catch of the day. The menu was extensive: black pomfret, kingfish, tuna, Indian salmon, anchovies, crabs, prawns and tiny shrimp. At first, he would shout to announce his arrival, then knock at our gate to be let in.

My mother and father would haggle with him to bring down the prices otherwise they threatened him that they would buy from someone else. After long and loud negotiations, the 'fish wala' would relent. Today was no different. The ritual repeated. It almost felt like it was locked in a box of time and today the memory sprang from it.

The day passed faster than expected; it is a universal law almost - enjoyable time passes quickly. And so, it was lunchtime and the table was laid out with my promised favourites: the quintessential bright mustard-coloured prawn curry, the cool and tangy ‘Sol’ curry, made from coconut milk and ‘kokum’ [Garcinia indica], as an accompaniment to a meal or a post-meal digestive, steamed rice scentless yet fragrant.

                                Sol kadhi (curry) and prawn 'sambaara' (name for curry in Marathi)

The most basic Maharashtrian coastal meal, yet the most delicious, made tastebuds tickled and cheeks hurt. Clearly, it looked like it was going to be worth the wait! Then came out the ‘rawas’ fry, much like the cherry on the cake, glistening with oil and spices.

                                                Crackling & spicy 'rawas' fry (Indian salmon)

The rest of the weekend was spent playing with my pets - two dashing labradors, an eccentric cat, and a curious tortoise.

Once again, it was time to leave home in Mumbai to go home to Ahmedabad. There was some sadness, naturally, but also satisfaction. The satisfaction of having created fond memories, just doing nothing, yet everything. My soul thanks me. :)
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A source of Artspiration - The Art Book Center, Ahmedabad

We blame our big cities for being too fast, crowded, polluted and dirty. We curse the 'fast life' for making everything so hectic, robbing us off our time and peace of mind. But, if we pause and take a closer look, it is these very cities that hold rare and hidden gems that, fortunately, not many people know or care about. That gives explorers like myself the rare opportunity to visit them and immerse my senses into their spaces. 

These days, my weekend plans rarely include a trip to the mall or going for a movie. Instead, my heart is set on exploring history, culture, people, food - all important facets of the human story, our story. 

The Art Book Center was a pleasant surprise that welcomed me on an ordinary day. All thanks to my husband who convinced me despite all my doubting of his decision. On the side of a busy lane in the erstwhile hamlet of Madalpur, Ellisbridge, stands a two-story heritage structure beaming with bright colours of vivid red, turmeric yellow, and deep blue, adorned with decorations, handloom tapestries, trinkets, and all kinds of strange objects. 

A board identified it as, 'Art Book Center'. In the verandah sat a stern-looking, silver-haired man, glaring at me made me anxious. After a few fleeting eye contacts, I proceeded to the narrow lane looking for an entrance into the century-old building. Similar houses dotted the lane on both sides giving me a taste of Ahmedabad's days of old. The people seemed welcoming, friendly, helpful. One of them was kind enough to guide me in the right direction. 

The neighbourhood of Madalpur

The first floor of the Art Book Center

As I opened the beige-coloured narrow door, I reached a small landing, the wall had a decorative cloth framed on it. On the right was a steep wooden staircase - the whole scene created a bit of drama. It was quiet as I walked up the stairs that led me to a little yellow and red-painted gate. I opened it and went inside glancing at the little mirrors, hangings, and other playful objects that came alive giving the crammed space a timeless, artsy and bohemian aura. 

The chirpy coloured gate at the shop’s entrance

To the left, I was surprised to see the stern-looking and phlegmatic man now smiling and welcoming me to his haven of books. I entered a small room which was actually a house; it had another room in it both stacked with books of various sizes, vivd textures and colours. It seemed as if the room had no walls, just books piles to support the structure. 

Vintage and antique objects - A collector's paradise

The man proudly introduced himself as the owner of the 'Art Book Center' and started telling me the story of how it all began. While the man rattled on about his past, I glanced around the small square of a room. I was amazed at the expanse and depth that the rich collection of books lent it. It didn't matter that it was a small and humble space - the history, art, heritage, stories enriched it; the crystals, evil eye amulets, and other mysterious vintage items, that overwhelmed the shelves, gave it an unparalleled aura of mystery combined with curiosity and wonder. Even the most fancy and grand edifice would dull in its comparison. 

Manhar Bhai admires his collection

Manhar Bhai proudly told me about his deep love and passion for Indian textiles, handlooms, art and architecture; it was evident from his voracious collection which he boasted had been lauded by several celebrities and foreign visitors. The more we conversed, the more he got comfortable. He was featured on several media platforms, yet he maintained his humility. His son has joined the book selling business, he shares.

After many conversations and explorations, I picked up a book on the elements of Indian art; I ensured I picked something that was light on the pocket. The Art Book Center's collection isn't exactly cheap. Some collectors' books and other items run into the thousands, thanks to their rareness and the willingness of collectors to part with large sums of money to possess them. 

Just before I took his leave, Manhar Bhai said something to me. He said, "I can tell you are a good person by looking at your toes." I thanked him for his kind words, but was'nt surprised by the illogical statement; how can someone's toes be the judge of a person's character one may wonder. However, such statements are common. In the days of old, many an elder would judge one's character by the shape of their nose, the outline of one's face, etc. The logic? Nobody knows. 

For interesting conversations and to immerse into a magical world, visit Art Book Center at: https://www.artbookcenter.net/ .

Documenting The Street: A Personal Photography Project

After spending 10 beautiful years in Ahmedabad, finally, I feel that the city has accepted me and vice versa. The city of Ahmedabad amazes me. On one hand, it is growing and urbanising at breakneck speed. On the other, it preserves its centuries-old culture, traditions, and heritage so wonderfully. It is no surprise that is is named as a World Heritage City by the UNESCO and India's first heritage city! Proud moment for us 'Amdavadis'.

Being a working mother, getting time solely for yourself is something of a rarity. This may sound like an exaggeration, but my fellow mothers know what I'm talking about. This makes all the more harder for a solo trip enthusiast like myself! However, determination and a strong will can move mountains.

One fine day, I found myself walking through the narrow lanes of old Ahmedabad, asking directions, to strangers standing besides cracked walls and houses dating back many decades, to get to French Haveli - a recently restored 150-year-old heritage home.

          

French Haveli is situated in one of the ‘pols’ - gated communities existing since medieval times. These pols consist of residential structures three storeys-tall, with intricate carvings superimposed on their splendid exteriors, their architecture is intelligent and thoughtful. The central courtyard allows plenty of sunlight to enter the home yet keeps the rooms and corners cool under the blazing Gujarat sun. Heritage houses in the pols have entrances that open to a beautiful courtyard looking up at the sky.

On Saturday morning, I took the Heritage Walk tour through the Old City visiting temples, mosques, Jain derasars, tombs of kings and queens, a secret passageway, a dead poet’s home, multicoloured bird feeders, charming old homes, a famous alley lined up with bookshops, tea stalls, lemonade carts, and other captivating sights and sounds. The next day was spent mingling in the vibrant ‘Ravivari Bazaar’ (Sunday Bazaar) also known as ‘Gujri Bazaar’ (gujri meaning used or second hand).

The Ravivari Bazaar can easily be described as a chaotic mosaic of people, objects and experiences, that enrapture the viewer. Both sides of the winding street that stretch to the banks of the river Sabarmati walk us through a multicoloured tapestry richly woven with sights, sounds, smells, people and objects.

A kaleidoscope of colours tantalizes the senses by means of odd wares ranging from screwdrivers and tacks to antiques such as dialup telephones in red and black, glistening golden gramophones, abandoned typewriters, silver kettles, radios and polaroid cameras. As I walk on, I pass by vibrant displays of dry fruits, sherbet (lemonade), ice lollies, candy floss, sweetmeats, pickled tamarind, pan (betel leaf) and much more that add to this colour burst.

But the hallmark of this cultural sojourn were the the people whose warmth and authenticity struck a chord with my heart. I had the privilege to sit down with them, request them to pose for me and chat them up, and they happily obliged.

On display were scenes that tantalise the senses as they experience the wholesome, rugged, earthy, raw, authentic, dark, sweaty, real beauty of the one big human family. In the midst of all this chaos emerged unexpected warmth, curiosity, human emotions, connections and bonds. A sense of community, close-knit, committed to making the Gujri Market happen and continuing it decade after decade.

I captured these images with one objective in mind:

The street offers a myriad of elements that are important to document and make visible. They deserve to be valued for the incredible vibrancy and colour they contribute to the cultural landscape and social fabric. The aesthetic of the regular and the ordinary people on the street is natural, effortless and thus, fascinating. The people and their environment, the street, are unique, earthy and authentic. I scooted through the length and breadth of the 'Raviwari Market' or Sunday bazaar - a chaotic mosaic of people, scents, objects, community and drama. The market is a decades-old tradition that remains alive, thriving and constantly evolving - a very ecosystem in itself.