You have to hand it to the Delhi Metro Rail Corporation (DMRC). A few days after the girder fell due to the defective pillar near Lady Shri Ram College in south Delhi, DMRC’s PR department sent a mail to journalists giving pictures of a similar accident in South Korea! Complete with pictures and the urls of the wire services from where the stories had been sourced. Accidents happen!

Around the same time, DMRC chief E Sreedharan was speaking to The Indian Express’ editor Shekhar Gupta on NDTV’s Walk the Talk and to tell him that all manner of checks were being employed, he said various reputed consultants had also been hired. Shekhar asked him to name these consultants. Sreedharan did. The name he mentioned was Professor Tandon, a man he had worked with for 30 years. If Shekhar were to do another Walk the Talk today, he’d have to ask him the obvious question – but isn’t this the same Tandon whose firm you’ve now held guilty for doing a shoddy job and you’ve debarred for two years?

Cut to another picture, of the Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) doing a report on DMRC, a report which said (http://www.business-standard.com/364349/) DMRC watered down its standards to meet deadlines, it accepted tests which were not conducted with its people present, it changed contract specifications after the tenders had been won, it didn’t keep test records, and so on. The CAG has pretty specific allegations, but DMRC responds to them with generalities like the specs haven’t been watered down and all tests were conducted correctly! Other DMRC sympathizers reacted by heaping contempt on the CAG … what does it know, the CAG’s full of just accountants, drain inspectors and the like (read BS’ letters’ columns for some of these letters). Well, it does look like the CAG did know something, doesn’t it?

What is it about DMRC that makes it so cocky and about us that makes us to willing to take all this with such little protest? A couple of deaths on the Bus Rapid Transport Corridor and The Times of India can’t write of the corridor without prefixing the term ‘killer’ to it. The noise is so much, the city’s chief minister decides to change the basic design on the corridor and move it from the centre of the road to the side! But we’re willing to accept Sreedharan’s word for everything!

The same man who told Shekhar of the great supervisory structure in place has this to say about the accident:

• Two major causes of the accident are design deficiencies and material deficiencies.
• The committee has found that the cantilever design has not adequately taken care of various forces and hence there is deficiency in provision of steel at critical points and the reinforcement detailing suffer from major deficiencies.

There’s then some stuff about how the concrete was ‘well-compacted’, whatever that might mean – presumably that means don’t worry too much about it. But right after that, ‘However, based on tests carried out on cores taken from the pier and cantilever, it has found that the concrete fails to meet the strength criterion by a wide margin.’ Make of that what you will. The committee, DMRC’s press release goes on to say, ‘lack of curing might be the reason for the low concrete strength’ (for some reason, the actual report of the probe committee is not being made available by DMRC).

Now here’s the question, after such an accident, and after such a probe report, would we have just accepted that the organization executing the project would take care of it? Would we accept that the organization will now get all designs checked by an independent agency and think that this was enough, especially if the organization responsible was so blasé as to say, ‘Metro structures are completely safe and the checks being carried out now will remove even small deficiencies, if any’. We’re talking of design faults and of basic work like curing concrete not being done properly – problems which DMRC says are major deficiencies – and the release still has the gall to talk of ‘if any’ deficiencies!

There are two or three major reasons for our acceptance. One, since our politicians/bureaucrats cripple every organization under their control (see what happened to the NHAI in the last five years after the NDA demitted office), Sreedharan is one of the few people who have delivered. Two, Sreedharan’s structure (a 50:50 jv between the central and state governments) ensures that no one is really in charge of the project – which is why neither the central nor the state government has chosen to appoint a committee to see what went wrong or appoint someone to supervise the project. Three, we’re obsessed with concrete … so we get very impressed with each concrete pillar that comes up, not realizing that nowhere in the world does a metro address the travelling needs of more than a very small fraction of the population.

But this piece is not about the merits of a metro vis a vis a bus corridor, it’s about something else. And that’s the need to hold people accountable. It’s about the need to put in place enough checks and balances to ensure work is supervised properly, especially when it involves the safety of people and when it involves large amounts of public money.

It has to be said in defence of our politicians, though, that they’re pretty even handed. When BSES made a hash of Delhi’s power supply, and continues to do so, Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit didn’t do much either, apart from issuing what the media routinely describes as a ‘stern warning’. In this case, the warnings weren’t stern, indeed people like Dikshit and Rahul Gandhi begged Sreedharan to stay. But then a halo that big does deserve some concessions, doesn’t it?

Traffic snarls are a common feature in Mumbai. Hardly a day goes, when one is not stuck because roads are being dug somewhere, there’s some morcha and if nothing else, some construction work.

I travel by road on the Western line (for non-Mumbaites, the Western line is from Churchgate to Virar, maybe even further now). And there are stations like Dadar, Bandra, Andheri, Borivali that many Hindi movies have made quite famous.

Of course, the moment I say ‘I travel by road’, friends pounce on me to with ‘trains are much more simpler’ or ‘you waste so much money everyday’. Well, after taking their concerns into consideration, let’s say I don’t feel like travelling on Mumbai locals any more.

So, road it is for me. Yes, it costs me a bomb. And on bad traffic days, it leaves a huge hole in my wallet.

But what surprises me is the complete lackadaisical approach that the ‘BMC/MMRDA/whoever else is responsible’ has towards the city.

In 2005, when ‘Torrential Tuesday’ occurred, lakhs of people were completely stuck – hey even Aamir Khan was stranded. Four years since then, things have marginally changed.

Yes, a number of bridges have been built on the Western Express Highway. But roads still suck. Entry and exit to the Andheri bridge are always full of potholes. And every year and several times during the rainy season, BMC workers keep on filling it up (why can’t there be a permanent solution???).

The best part, though, is the Malad bridge. It is being built for god-knows-how-many-years, and still everyday on the way back, commuters spent at least 30-40 minutes on this stretch.

My sources (taxi drivers and autowalas) claim that there was some litigation initially. But if my memory serves me right, this bridge is being built for several years – in fact, longer than most of the other ones in the same route. Yet, I keep hearing that it will be completed this month or next month.

Let’s take into consideration the total cost one incurs while crawling through that single stretch. There would at least be a total of 5,000 – 10,000 cars or autos or taxis passing through that road everyday and each would be wasting least Rs 30-50 because of the hold up. The daily loss: Anywhere between Rs 15,000 and Rs 5 lakh.

And if one multiples that number over last four-five years, the total amount would run into crores – perhaps, even more than the cost of constructing this bridge.

A point, the authorities should consider. But, it wouldn’t matter to them because it’s my pocket that takes the hit or their argument would be like my friends, ‘travel by train to save time and money’.

In Mumbai, one can see these hoardings all over the place. ‘Work in progress – Inconvenience regretted’.

To me it means… ‘Inconvenience in progress – Work regretted’

Washington Apples only Rs 150, Australian Apples only Rs 135, or NZ apples only Rs 130. And, oranges too… I have lost count of the varieties of them that are available.

Indian varieties are hardly seen… or are they placed such that it is well beyond ones line of sight? I suspect the latter though. In the globalised world while we are integrating into the global market, we have also had to sacrifice  the use of some of our taste buds or we have to get used to blander tastes… Globalisation has not meant being exposed to more of Mexican or Thai tastes… but has meant getting neck deep in, what I call and will always call, the tasteless, odourless and colourless food.

While I have always staunchly stood by the market forces, I never thought that it would lead to my fellow countrymen falling more for the less tasty food.

Walk into a supermarket or a hypermarket and you have only these exotic varieties of fruits staring at you. Everytime I end up asking those at the counters about the plain (and much more tasty) Indian apples. I, many a times, end up with “the season is over sir.”

Just to satiate one’s desire to be seen as being ‘in’ one can buy them. But, no matter the price, there’s no dearth of people wanting to buy them. It is also a status symbol to be seen as eating the exotic imported less tasty fruits. Perhaps that’s what the liberalisation imports meant to do.

It’s an attack on our taste buds and a colonisation too of our taste buds. And, replacing the finer sense of tastes with less complicated tastes. Put simply, bland food.

The imported fruits that many a times dominate the shelves, draw one to them with their good looks but… they flatter to deceive. Once you taste them… it’s difficult to buy them again. It’s not value for money. But, it’s a price well paid while trying to satiate one’s ego and desire to look westernised.

As Delhi swelters, for a reporter, Parliament is the place to be. Although strict and complex rules reign in the press galleries of the Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha (how you sit, what you can carry, how you communicate with those sitting in the House, are all governed by rules), you can get a sumptuous lunch for Rs 13, because of the catering by Indian Railways, there is always a place where you can catch a snooze and the huge Parliament House library complex offers a temporary office.

Little wonder then that reporters - and some who are reporters only in their spare time - like it when Parliament is in session. You are away from the beady eyes of the bosses in the office and once in the press gallery, can do pretty much as you like.

Entry to Parliament is much more difficult now, after the attack on it. There was a time when it used to be a more open, accessible place. Veterans recall that once, when Ananthashayanam Aiyangar was Speaker, a couple of reporters in the press gallery were reading something of a racy nature. One was telling his colleague something about a picture when the glossy magazine slipped from their hands - and fell on the desk of the Speaker.

Today you could probably be jailed for this. At that time, Aiyangar summoned the reporters. They stood trembling before him for nearly 10 minutes when he lifted his head from the paper he was reading and recited all the rules that the reporters had violated. But, he told them, they could go, he was letting them off this time. Nearly fainting with relief, the reporters scurried out, but not before one of them timidly wondered if he could have the magazine back.

What? asked the Speaker. This is now the property of the House. I have to study it, he observed and told them to leave.

Covering events in the House is endlessly fascinating - and quite entertaining sometimes. These days the most riveting is the exchange between Speaker Meira Kumar and Rashtriya Janata Dal chief Lalu Prasad. It is clear that they don’t much like each other. Equally interesting is the occasional exchange between Home Minister P Chidambaram and the Left.

And to sign off, reproduced here is an excerpt from Chidambaram’s reply to the demand for grants for his ministry in the Lok Sabha. He’s talking about the incident in Shopian in Jammu and Kashmir where a boy went missing and his body was discovered in a graveyard. He says: One example which an Hon. Member has said is about a boy missing. An incident of a boy missing is not new. Boys are missing; sometimes boys and girls are missing; and a boy and a girl together are missing. This is nothing unusual. If there is something wrong, if there is something criminal, if there is something evil, if there is something sinister about that incident, you have to register an FIR, investigate and find out if there is anything wrong.”

I must confess, I rather enjoy watching Sach Ka Saamna – the same show that has now been issued with a show cause notice from the government — whenever I happen to catch it. I’m surprised that I’m drawn to it given the circumstances; for television shows have rarely held my interest (Not including reruns of you-know-what…and more recently, The Moment of Truth, the American show on which Sach Ka Saamna is based). I was quite keen to see how the Indian version would be received by the audience. I had assumed, before the show was launched in India, that it would tread the middle path, being carefullly much less explicit in its pattern of questioning than The Moment of Truth. I couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s gone full-throttle. And judging from TRPs and general buzz around it, the show is a winner — and why not? As viewers, it titillates the voyeristic streak in all of us. And as participants, there perhaps lies hidden relief in not having to put up with pretenses, more so to dare yourself to speak what you will. 

It’s a show of many firsts. For the first time, we are letting to rest our hypocritical ways, declaring Indian society no less promiscuous than any other. For the first time, we admit we are prone to feelings of jealousy, hatred, and resentment towards people we love. For the first time, we announce that there is, after all, a very thin line between what could be known and accepted, and what must be buried and forgotten. For the first time, for many participants, it’s a chance to reveal to their families that this is who they really are – take it or leave it. For the first time, we, the audience is (hopefully), if gradually, are warming up to the fact that perhaps not judging somebody for the way they choose to lead their lives is the best way forward. Live and let live. After all, you can’t be hawing and haaoing at every participant’s past every single show. You get past it. Everybody has their set of truths. Some say it, some don’t. You watch them faced with a troublesome question and sometimes, you can’t help but ask yourself, “What would I reply to that one?” You’re relieved you don’t have to. Then again, would you really mind?

As for the ones who choose to take the hotseat, I refuse to believe they would have plucked up the courage to let “skeletons” tumble out of the closet only for money. For one, there isn’t a 100% guarantee that the polygraph test they conduct before the show will match your answers on the show. So there is always a good chance that you would return home empty-handed, having revealed significant details of your life. It’s safe to assume then, I suppose, that if you didn’t really want to be there for the sake of coming clean, apart from the money – you wouldn’t risk very many relationships and reputation. Either way, it’s refreshing to see those who have appeared on the show till date saying it like it probably is. That’s a far cry from what we do quite by habit, brushing everything under the carpet. (Even if the show is rigged, the participants paid to “reveal shocking truths” to grab eyeballs, well, then, they seem to have readily agreed to accept those truths as their own).

Our MPs, however, taking the high moral ground as always (with zero basis, of course), have much to say in this matter. While it’s not in the least surprising, it is, nevertheless, exasperating, that they should find it necessary waste their time raising a hue and cry in Parliament about the “dirty” content presented on the show. An MP has supposedly called questions such as “Would you have physical contact with another person?”, asked to a married woman, “obscene”. It’s worth putting him on Sach Ka Saamna. In fact, it’s certainly worth putting the entire lot on the show. If only to shut them up. 

In an article published in November 2007, Christopher Booker wrote in the Telegraph that the coverage of climate trends “carefully ignores the latest US satellite figures showing temperatures having fallen since 1998, declining in 2007 to a 1983 level - not to mention the newly revised figures for US surface temperatures showing that the 1930s had four of the 10 warmest years of the past century, with the hottest year of all being not 1998, as was previously claimed, but 1934.”

And in a blog on USA Today this week, Doyle Rice quoted an article in Natural Geoscience which claims that only about half of the warming that occurred during a natural climate change 55 million years ago can be explained by excess carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Further:

Right from childhood, in school and outside, we are told that the climate is changing, to ominous effects. Industry is pumping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, leading to the greenhouse effect and a general rise in global temperatures. There are several problems with this premise. One, it assumes that carbon dioxide is the sole contributor to global warming. Second, it takes climate to be a calculable entity that can be estimated by ever-complex models. As events in the real world keep reminding us, the only thing that can be said with certainty is that there is no certainty to the way the world moves.

As governments meet again in Copenhagen later this year and argue about the levels of emissions they must accept for the world to be a safer place for our future generations, perhaps we must probe and question whether there is really a need for carbon dioxide emissions to be cut. What if developing countries like India agreed to a compromise formula under which they cut their emissions against some quid pro quo with the West, and in the end of it all, some new model said a completely new agent is responsible for global warming?

Will we then go looking for new Kyotos and Copenhagens like chickens with their heads cut off?

More than a half of the Formula One season is over but it has been in the news for more off the track reasons than on the track. FIA supremo Bernie Ecclestone and his right hand man Max Mosley’s over inflated egos had threatened — albeit for a short while — to derail the sport. Fortunately sense prevailed and as of now Formula One remains in one-piece after surviving the Battle of the Egos.

Although the sport has taken many body blows on the track and there is a sense of monotony developing amongst F1 buffs, thanks mainly to the introduction of FIA’s new rules and innovations, a sentiment which I tend to agree with. Not taking any credit away from Jenson Button and Ross Brawn’s dream start to the season, there is something missing from the sport, and in my humble opinion, it misses a larger than life character, which added spice to the sport.

Alain Prost, Ayrton Senna, Nicky Lauda, all former champions had that eccentric streak in them which added to the drama of Formula One. The legendary Prost-Senna rivalry makes you really feel that the current lot has a lot of catching up do in terms of racing as well as adding that ‘extra’ bit to the sport. And then there was Michael Schumacher, arguably the greatest driver of all time. Schumacher was somebody who was absolutely loathed by everyone barring the Ferrari fans for mainly two reasons. a) He was a great champion and b) He was a sore loser, at least in the early part of his career.

Schumacher wanted to win at all costs, and if he knew he couldn’t, he would make sure to thwart his rival’s attempts. Like the final race of the 1994 season, when he deliberately crashed into Damon Hill’s car, when he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish the race. The collision ensured that the title went to Schumacher. He repeated the trick again in 1997, this time against Jacques Villeneuve, though he lost the title on this occasion. Of course, a lot of people thought it was unsporting behaviour and condemned Schumacher for his actions. But such was his desire to win at any costs, that these things never mattered to him.

Can you imagine Kimi Raikkonen doing the same to Lewis Hamilton? Or say a Button doing the same to Sebastian Vettel? No. At least I can’t. The sport has become “too nice” for my liking. There are no rivalries at all in the sport, and that is something it needs very badly. It needs a champion who has to be hated so much that people switch on their sets in anticipation to see what he might pull off this time. Something Schumacher did regularly.

Of course, it would have all looked pretty juvenile if they couldn’t back it up with their driving on the track. You need someone to make those audacious attempts of overtaking that just simply take your breath away, something which came as easily to Schumacher as brushing his teeth.

The sport badly needs an icon, an eccentric genius who can infuse a fresh lease of life. Sorry Jenson, you might be winning race after race, but there’s no thrill and it’s all pretty bland. The sport misses Michael Schumacher. Sunday evenings have never been the same since he put his helmet away.

Did Times Global Broadcasting make a strategic mistake by not investing in the Direct-to-Home (DTH) platforms for distributing its business channel ET NOW? Should it have been on Tata Sky? (To be fair, ET NOW is available on Bharti’s DTH platform which has signed up about a million subscribers.)

This is not a free campaign for Tata Sky, but the issue of ET NOW’s distribution (or lack of it) is currently being discussed among television industry professionals. Let’s look at it this way: Tata Sky, viewed as a premium brand, is used\seen by consumers who matter (read the top-end customers including company heads and media planners who take a call on advertising spends). To be sure, the platform has 3.7 million customers. Of these, 70 per cent are in the SEC A category. It is fair to assume that an English language business channel would target that community. Interestingly, in case of business channels, the viewer is also the advertiser.

So would it have made more sense for ET NOW to have launched on Tata Sky first rather than spend crores of rupees (estimates oscillate between Rs 60 and Rs 90 crore) on India’s cable TV networks? After all, beaming the channel via Tata Sky would have been cheaper (any where between Rs 5 crore and Rs 8 crore a year) and it would have been seen in the right circles.
Today the channel is suffering from poor distribution, and, therefore, low viewership, even though Times Global CEO Chintamani Rao claims that the channel is widely available in Mumbai, Delhi, Kolkata and the entire state of Gujarat. However, TAM data for television viewership of English business news channels between July 5 and July 11 do not back that claim. ET NOW’s share among English business news channels was the lowest at 6 per cent which was less than UTVi’s 9 per cent, NDTV Profit’s 14 per cent and CNBC TV18’s mammoth 72 per cent during that week.

There could be many reasons why ET NOW is not on Tata Sky. May be Tata Sky has asked for too much money as carriage fee. Or, as somebody at the DTH company said the other day, it genuinely does not have enough bandwidth to accommodate so many channels. And that it needs to be “fussy” and “choosy” about the new channels it wants to add. They have to make good business sense.

A broadcast industry expert in Mumbai, who is upset about not being able to watch ET NOW at home, however, feels that it could ET NOW’s deliberate strategy: it probably wanted to make the channel popular by taking the cable network route first and generate consumer demand which would then force the DTH companies to accept the channel for free. Of course, in a private conversation Times Global’s Rao said there is no deliberate strategy in not being on most of the DTH platforms including Tata Sky. “These are operational issues and negotiations with the DTH players are on,” he said.

It is probably then a case of who blinks first.

Infosys co-founder Nandan Nilekani will take charge as the chairperson of the Unique Identification Authority of India (UDAI) project next week. That is when he will move into his new office. (Currently, he is sitting in the Planning Commission office, a Business Standard report said today). One can’t help but think of an imaginary scenario of his first day in the new office. Here it goes.

Morning, 10 AM sharp. Nandan Nilekani enters his new cabin. There is not much in the room except a plush chair, a large wooden desk with a computer and a phone neatly placed on top. He picks up the phone and dials the switchboard operator’s number.

Nilekani: Good morning. This is Nandan Nilekani. Can you send in someone who can help me with some information, please?

Operator: Good Morning sir. Whom do you wish to call in? Do you have someone in particular in mind?

Nilekani: Umm. Have I been given an assistant or a secretary?

Operator: We don’t employ assistants here, sir. Too little outlay. Secretaries we have many. Chief secretary, under secretary, joint…

Nilekani: …No, no. Not that kind. I meant someone who could help me get things rolling.

Operator: Okay. Let me see. Well, I think I know just the right person for the task. I am sending in our secretary a-la-carte, Mr Pandeyji.

Several hours later, Pandeyji walks in.

Nilekani: [After exchanging the usual pleasantries] Pandeyji, one of our immediate big tasks would be to see how we could integrate our unique ID database with other relevant databases like those of passports, ration cards, job cards and PAN. Do we have an upgraded IT system here?

Pandeyji: Integration not possible. We need new licenses from Oracle, Microsoft. We don’t have much money with us. Too little outlay.

Nilekani: Alright. We will use Open Source.

Pandeyji: [Alarmed] Open source? Across all departments, we have banned everything that has anything “Open” in it.

Nilekani: When did that happen?

Pandeyji: Ever since the Open General Licence scheme came into force. It wreaked havoc on our personal, er, public finances.

Nilekani: Alright. I will talk to Paul. He is a good friend. I am sure he will be able to help. This is in the interest of the people, after all.

Pandeyji: But, sir, Paul was robbed two weeks ago.

Nilekani: [Shocked] Where? How?

Pandeyji: Shortly after the Union Budget speech. I heard an analyst say that the government is robbing Paul to pay Peter. Sirjee, when the government is done with Paul, he won’t be in a position to help.

Nilekani: [Relieved] No, no, I was talking about Paul Allen, Microsoft’s co-founder. By the way, “Robbing Paul to pay Peter” is not the correct expression. It is the other way round.

Pandeyji: Sir, you are duly advised not to lose sweat over improper forms of expression around here. Did you not hear the honourable finance minister read out the Budget?

Nilekani: [Ignoring the last comment] By the way, why do I see so few people in this building? Are we not sufficiently staffed yet? I think I gave my recommendations some time back.

Pandeyji: Actually, we were, but most officers have applied to other ministries or departments for transfers. Some have even moved out.

Nilekani: [Concerned] Why?

Pandeyji: Our project was allocated Rs 120 crore in the Budget. On the other hand, the Delhi Police got Rs 3,000 crore, the National Ganga Project got Rs 562 crore. You see sir, the greater the mess, the bigger the outlay. Officers feel there is a slim chance you will be messing things up around here, seeing your track record. So most officers want out.

Nilekani: [Animated] Forget the outlay. I have been given a free hand!! Nobody gets a free hand!

Pandeyji: [Smirking] Good you mentioned that term. In fact, “free hand” is among the first few terms of which I need to explain the official meanings to you, tomorrow.

Nilekani: Hmm. I think I know the meaning already, but why tomorrow? Why not today?

Pandeyji: It’s 2 minutes to 5:30 PM. When the clock strikes 5:30, I am going to turn into a pumpkin. Is there something else I can help you with?

Nilekani: Not really. Is there something else you want to help me with, before you turn into a pumpkin?

Pandeyji: Arrey haan. I have read your book, Imagining India. I like it a lot. Actually, I have thought of a nice title you can use for the book’s sequel.

Nilekani: [Intrigued] And what could that be?

Pandeyji: Keep Imagining, India.

Nilekani casts an impatient glance at his watch. The minute hand looks agonisingly sluggish.

This will sound pretty obvious, but part of the many, many pleasures of being able to travel around the country is the chance to unashamedly gorge on different kinds of food. Yes, there are other delights too – natural splendour, dazzling architecture, tangible history, dusty by-lanes, amusing characters and suchlike, but I’d have to say food is of paramount importance. Apart from the basic bodily need for sustenance, there’s a similarly basic desire for culinary indulgence that I believe is in all of us: it’s in me, that’s for sure. There’s a particular thrill in discovering a little eatery (or, indeed, in going to a famous one, just for the ‘I’ve-been-there’ touch), in being suddenly ambushed with an unexpected aroma or taste and even in the surroundings in which you find yourself eating. Take, for example, the time that I had gone to Kaziranga, in Assam. I was staying in a lovely resort abutting the national park and, one morning, was invited into the kitchens to have breakfast with the staff. As I entered, the smell of wood smoke enveloped me, with strong whiffs of pungent potato curry and freshly fried puris thrown in. My mouth watered instantly; by the time I had settled in among the staff at the communal table, my back being warmed by the winter sun, I could’ve eaten a horse. Needless to say, it was a breakfast I’ll never forget – oh, those fluffy puris, that sweet-salty potato curry, the sheer-genius bamboo shoot pickle, that strong Assam tea! There’s a lesson here, folks. Want the real McCoy? Head to the source.

Another time, a friend and I had gone to Bhopal, where we had been assured that the food stalls on one particular street were to die for. This wasn’t too far from the truth; we took one look at the appalling lack of hygiene there and had graphic visions of dying of dysentery. Deeply disappointed and ravenous in the extreme, we wandered around until, out of sheer exhaustion, we selected a new-ish eatery and plonked ourselves down. It was spotlessly clean and quite cheerful, but looked like your typical pizza/burger/sandwich joint rather than a disburser of authentic kabab/biryani/kheer. You know what follows, of course; those wizards dished out some of the best kababs and biryani I’ve ever had – and I do mean ever. It isn’t often that a new kid on the block comprehensively outguns the old guard, but it bloody well happened in Bhopal. If I ever go back there, it’ll be to visit that restaurant.

Highway dhabas are, of course, part and parcel of a traveller’s life, but one particular dhaba I selected at random, about 150 km outside Delhi, will remain etched in my memory. Firstly, they conjured up the best (yes, the absolute best) chane ki dal I’ve ever had the good fortune to taste. Secondly, the elderly owner hitched a lift with me to Delhi and kept me in a near-hysterical state of mirth with stories from his childhood and about various visitors to his establishment. Oh, and no narrative about food and travel can be complete without mention of the tea and jalebi shop that a colleague and I stopped at in Baran, Madhya Pradesh, on a Mumbai-Gangtok drive. Granted, we were tired and hungry, but there can be no taking away from the simple fact that those jalebis, hot off the stove, were like the proverbial manna from heaven. They were crisp, squirted just the right amount of sugar syrup with every bite and strode the fine line between being eye-openingly and hair-raisingly sweet. After a couple of plates each, we felt we could drive to the ends of the earth and back without so much as a pause. I haven’t been on a road trip in a while, and one of the reasons I’ll be setting out again very soon is to satisfy my stomach’s cravings for culinary variety and adventure.