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Manas Chakravarty
The vada pao is under threat. The Commodity Watch section of this paper contains several horror stories where reporters analyse, in grim detail, the reasons why potato prices will remain high. Add the fact that the price of pao bread is also going to be revised upwards, and the logical conclusion is that vada pao prices are going to hit the roof.
That, for the people of Mumbai, is nothing short of a catastrophe. It is, after all, on a steady diet of vada pao that Maharashtra has powered its way into the league of top industrial states. Give the Bombay Stock Exchange (BSE) sub-broker a few minutes of free time, and he will gainfully employ it in chomping away at a vada pao, stopping only to spout the latest stock quote. Generations of migrants from upcountry towns and villages have trekked into this metropolis looking for their respective pots of gold, and have, instead, found vada pao. The very foundation of Mumbai's industry has been built up on a solid base of vada pao.
But to those sceptical of thepower of the vada pao, here's a bit of history. The potato is said to have originated from the New World, and along with chocolate, has been one of the gifts of the West to the East.(Other presents, such as cockroaches, syphilis and the United States of America, have been less useful.) Potatoes were quickly recognised for the cheapness and efficiency with which they filled stomachs. So much so that the English quickly ensured that potatoes became the staple diet of the subject Irish. The failure of the potato crop in the 1840s led to a quarter of the population of Ireland dying, while another quarter emigrated to America, a marginally less nasty denouement.
But apart from this official version of potato history, there exists a more colourful local tradition. Legend has it that a Moorish traveller to India in pre-Mughal times bore the strange name of Ibn Batuta. Etymologists will be quick to spot the similarity between this wanderer's name and the celebrated "batata" of Mumbai, a corruption of" potato". Ibnmeans "son of" in Arabic, and the traveller's curious name is easily translated as "son of a potato", an entirely understandable and apt description of a foreigner of unknown parentage. As this example illustrates, the batata was known in this country far before Columbus' time.
The advent of the British saw the addition of another essential item to the Mumbai cuisine -- the pao. The batata vada was pure Indian, while the pao was undoubtedly of European provenance. Split a pao in two, slide a bata vada between the slices, and hey presto! you have the best of both worlds -- the filling properties of the batata, along with the lightness of the flour. In other words, the vada pao is the best of both the East and the West -- the potent weapon which has been the basis of Mumbai's commercial success.
But with higher potato prices, this success is in danger of crumbling. One can already see angry red banners waving in the breeze, with the words "Vada pao eaters of the world unite, you have nothing to lose butyour potatoes," emblazoned on them. A trifle risque, yes, but also very unnerving.
To understand the hidden forces behind the present rise in prices, one only has to open one's eyes to the competition. What has been the main stumbling block to MacDonald's conquest of Mumbai? Undoubtedly, the vada pao.
Although the foreigners have thrown millions of dollars into attacking the vada pao, Mumbai's own Macvada has invariably triumphed over the Macburger. Dollar for dollar, the vada pao is more filling and generates more gas than Macdonald's miserable burger can ever do. As a matter of fact, even MacDonald's have been forced to recognise the power of the mighty batata, offering it with their hamburgers cunningly disguised as French fries.
The attack on the vada pao must be seen for what it is, an attack on the swadeshi foundations of our culture and society. No longer will the cavalier attitude to our local cuisine do. When onion prices went up, a local minister remarked, a la Marie Antoinette, "If theycannot eat kanda (onion), let them eat batata." With the batata likely to join the onion in the gourmet menus of five-star hotels, that minister will have to eat his words. Or he will soon have nothing left to eat.
Copyright © 1998 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.
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