My first and lasting memories of Pune connect me to the early 1990s, when I was studying graphic design at Sir J.J. School of Art. I would escape to this charming town close to Mumbai during the weekdays and spend time at the Osho ashram in Koregaon Park. Unlike others heading out of Mumbai on weekends for a breather, I was in Pune to inspire my mind and soul. I sought to connect with others chasing a collegial way of living as espoused in the Vedas and Upanishads at the ashram where the teachings of Rajneesh brought me closer to the world I read about in the books of the Hindus, the richly expressive writing of Henri David Thoreau, and the abstract and inspiring prose of Ralph Waldo Emerson. I came to Pune to be around others who also celebrated these lofty ideals. For me, the time at the ashram wasn’t even remotely about the cult or the man Osho per se; it was about seeing goodness in all humans and recognising the connecting link between all of us. My 30 years in the United States facing the vicissitudes of life, my personal and professional challenges, what others see as my accomplishments and virtues — all of these are comfortable parts of my past and help me connect with my future. Pune gave me confidence to believe in my mom’s way of tackling life: remain calm and composed no matter the severity of the situation at hand or the storm arriving my way. Pollyanna is what many called me in the US. It was a label I was proud to have then, and I’m still happy to be assigned it when back home in India. Amit Katyal, my brother’s bestie and colleague, saw potential in my falling sick and moving home to India for recovery. He believed in me even as I was struggling to be whole and entrusted me with opening The House of Celeste in Gurgaon, an ambitious restaurant and one the lockdown didn’t shutter. Today, the restaurant continues to thrive and is even busier than we had imagined, and Amit has gone on to opening several other F&B ventures. Amit gave me a ray of hope when my eyes didn’t have light and I was legally blind. He showed me the power of belief and the strength of hope. He invested in his friend’s brother, an act he did not do out of kindness, but as a call to action, which was culled from a Vedic way of sowing seeds whose fruits you want to feast upon in the future. Amit Katyal trusted in me when I was unsure about myself and what life might have in store for me. Another moment when Mom’s and Pune’s teachings came into play in my life. The House of Celeste brought my love for teaching and learning to the fore. I hired a team of young culinarians, rookies brimming with hope, hungry to grow, ready to learn, and full of stamina and ideas. Two of these chefs became my mentees during the lockdown and were on my personal payroll. We unlocked our inner creativity and took off on a journey into the world of the guru and shishya, teacher and student. Vardaan Marwah and Haridashv Malhotra became residents of my mother’s compound in Delhi, and I also brought graphic designer and creative genius Aamir Rabbani into our fold. We cooked and ideated, discussed world affairs and the sophistry of language, debated and argued. We created marvelous delectables and failed just as miserably, but through all of this, we learned the art of cooking, sharing, serving, observing, listening, and challenging – all mindfully and with respect for the other. They were the three musketeers and almost of the same age. I was the old curmudgeon who was their pillar of strength whenever they were about to fail and fall. The lockdown was rough for far too many, and it is nothing to be romanticised, but I would be wrong in not feeling gratitude for what it brought me — a tutelage in life, two culinarian sons, and a designer friend, all who have blessed my life with beauty and deliciousness that wouldn’t have been mine had the pandemic not gripped the world. With Haridashv as the executive chef, it is with great pride that Vardaan and I are directing the culinary operations at Qora and Murphies in Pune. The proprietor, Aman Talreja, is a man again mirroring my mum’s persona with the way he glides through his days with grace, calm, empathy, caring, reflection, introspection, kindness, and hopeful vision. His degree as an engineer makes him peerlessly methodical in a business where madness and unexpected mayhem thrive. It is remarkable how he thinks with an engineer’s structured, thoughtful manner and does business in the world of restaurants. His heart and soul keeps the essence of hospitality alive for his team and, through them, extends in heartfelt welcome and service to his customers. Aman’s wife, Devika, has an artist’s soul and has brought the sweet magic of layered discovery into the design sensibilities that define the restaurants in Aman’s clutch. Because of her creative aura, he appreciates greatly what Vardaan and I do and how we traverse the callings of our profession, often in disruptive ways — unorthodox for the profession but in keeping with my journey from youth to a 50-year-old man. As I get ready to spend my first Thanksgiving Day in Pune, and as I cook recipes with our team from Qora and Murphies in the posh Koregaon Park neighbourhood, I’m not missing Manhattan or our farm in Hebron at all. I feel a deep sense of gratitude for what life has blessed me with, and for the lessons of accepting the bad as readily as the good, of seeing hope in times of despair and anguish, of connecting with self to find the ability to create when feeling broken, and, most of all, of working with passion, mindfulness, and conscience and with respect for those around me. It is these thoughts that surround me as I brine a turkey with spices and tamarind, as I make Grandma Hayes’ cornbread, as I cook Beth Burd’s beyond incredible cranberry relish that anyone who eats a bite of cannot stop eating, and Renee Behnke’s brussels sprouts — a recipe I shared in American Masala that Martha Stewart loved and celebrated. But it isn’t cooking and teaching the art of preparing Thanksgiving recipes that have me inspired. It is my old connection to Pune, which brought me Bhagwan Rajneesh and his grandiose teachings rich in Vedic wisdom that mirrored the language both verbal and non-verbal that I had observed in my mother. It is a language that has taught me to be self-reliant, stay connected to the world, be grateful for being the person I am and having all the good luck I do, and to always believe that tomorrow comes with new possibilities that I mustn’t shy away from putting my best into. Gratitude and thanksgiving were the messages that Osho, Mom, and Pune taught me at a young age, and they have kept me in good stead always. For that I am most grateful today and will be forever.
