Free India on My Platter by Sanjeev Kapoor, Saransh Goila

ended up eating four pieces of the chocolate burfi despite it being a bit high on the sweetness quotient; the taste of chocolate was coming through. The next day’s journey would be a long one, from Jammu to Punjab, and hence, after the sweets, we called it a day.

D AY 22
    27 August / Gurdaspur
    I hadn’t shaved for 23 days at a stretch. I was now getting used to the thick stubble, though it made my face look a bit untidy and frankly, I looked a lot older too. We were about to reach IHM Gurdaspur, Punjab, after a long journey to meet the new generation chefs and inspire them to do crazy things in life. A dear chef friend, Aarti Thapa, a senior faculty at the college, welcomed us to share our travel stories and experiences with the students. It was a great interactive session, which was followed by an internal cooking competition organised by the college. Amidst all this, having been an IHM student in the past myself, it reminded me of how strict we were with grooming standards, so I chose to shave my beard off and it felt like shaving off memories. Those 15 minutes I spent in front of the mirror were great to reflect back on what all I’d learnt in the past three weeks. After this small breather and an inspirational trip to IHM, I felt rejuvenated and I was ready to move further into Punjab and experience some authentic drool-worthy food.

D AY 23
    28 August / Amritsar
    The land of five rivers, lush green fields and people with big hearts, is how I would sum up Punjab. I was back to my schedule of rising early morning; this day was going to be exciting as we were headed somewhere unusual. The destination was Attari village in the Amritsar district of Punjab, three kilometres away from the Indo-Pakistan border at Wagah. It is situated 25 km west of Amritsar and is the last Indian station on the rail route connecting Lahore, Pakistan, with Delhi.
    Punjab has one of the most fertile lands in India and same is the case with Attari. The speciality of this village is that a lot of rice is grown here. The merit of being a traveller who loves to talk and socialise is that you find good people who not only feed you good food but they also make you a part of their family. To be my kind of a traveller you have to be a bit shameless and greedy, that’s the only way you get the real deal. So my objectives were very clear; I had to climb on the tractor, visit the fields, eat yummy earthy food. My producer had found a family of farmers who were ready to host us for the day and also happy to educate me about their life.
    Farmers who were well off had simple but well spread out houses next to their farms. They generally lived in big joint families and milked their own cows in their backyard. So I was going to spend the whole day with Harpreet Singh and his family. Harpreet was an educated farmer and belonged to the new generation and believed in making a change in the way they cultivated rice. As I entered their house there was that earthy, rustic fragrance in the air. The porch was spacious, as big as a two BHK in Mumbai; here I was greeted by more than half a dozen men sitting on a wire cot, called charpai. One of them was his father who was wearing a blue coloured turban and was the head of the village. He was a highly respected man known for keeping his word and giving valuable suggestions for the development of their community. They all gave me a hearty hug and welcomed me in traditional Punjabi style with a glass of lassi (yoghurt-based drink) and kheer. They immediately asked Harpreet to give me a tour of the fields to make me understand how they irrigated their fields through a tube well.
    As I went through these huge rice growing farms, or more commonly known as paddy fields, the idea of living in boxed cities suddenly felt claustrophobic to me. There was a huge tube well right in the centre, which was used to send water to the entire field. There were ways paved out for the water to flow in a certain direction. Harpreet, without