A tasty welcome back to Delhi


Back in India for a lot of different purposes, including but not limited to my own wedding. But beyond family, friends and finishing schoolwork, there’s also food. And oh is there a lot of food.

Pet bhar gaya.

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Kebab week, Vol. 1

The knights of Aap ki Khatir

R.I.P. to my favorite kebab stand in Khan Market here in Delhi.

In a process that seemed draconian and lacking in reason, police shut down a number of market stalls including a tiny branch of Aap ki Khatir, the hawker of heaven, the best kebabwallah on the planet.

I’m thankful that the older, bigger branch (above) still exists in the Nizamuddin neighborhood; but trips to Khan Market are a little less joyous these days without the promise of paneer paratha roll.

In honor and memory of the Khan Market Aap ki Khatir branch, this week I devote the blog to a series of kebab-wallah photos from a trip with friends to the Nizamuddin location.

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The day after Thanksgiving means one thing…


Ready to decorate; no place to do so

…Christmas decorations! (And possibly lamenting how much food you ate. And/or more eating.)

As far back as I can remember, the last Friday in November in the Jadhav household marked the official start of the holiday season; we hauled boxes of ornaments and garland and lights and tinsel and nutcrackers and more out of the basement or down from attic. We’d play vinyl from a boxed set of Christmas music almost non-stop. At the end of the day, when the decorating was either finished or on hold (some years it took all weekend), we’d sip egg nog from old mugs.

I have found a store here in Delhi at Khan Market that caters to expats and has decorations galore (photo above). But I’m staying temporarily in a guesthouse. And in 10 days, I start traveling and will be on the move until after the New Year. As much as I want to deck the halls, I have little opportunity to do so.

I’ll make do with this blog.

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I’m not kidding. I think I’ve fallen in love.

My lady, my goddess, my love

My lady, my goddess, my love

I’m not gonna lie. I have a problem. Call it an addiction. Or better yet, an obsession.

Since moving to Delhi, I have fallen, and fallen hard, for the chicken tikka roll.

Grilled skewers of marinated chicken with sliced red onions and masala wrapped in romali roti. It practically haunts my dreams.

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Lazy, hazy Saturday…

After being sick with flu and angry with government bureaucracy and the idiocy of JPMorgan Chase Bank for the past week, I woke up today feeling halfway decent. Outside, a thick smog hung low in the air, giving Delhi an otherworldly though rather beautiful aura.

Here is a receipt/log of my morning, courtesy of Mastercard’s archetype for describing life:

Auto rickshaw to Khan Market Rs. 50
Latest copy of Tehelka Rs. 20
Masala chai latte Rs. 86
Chicken tikka roll Rs. 70
Walking with purchases to Lodi Gardens, listening to iPod and eventually stumbling on teenage lover graffiti on 600-year-old monuments Priceless


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Marriage is a bang

Last Friday, on my way to Khan Market for my kebab fix, I passed a wedding ceremony in full-swing — procession of horses, band and dancing kids.

A few minutes later, the fireworks began and the above photo was taken.

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