Even though I have been married to a very Bong man for the past four decades, I have not converted to all things Bong. Like jhalmuri ( jhal means fiery, and muri is puffed rice): a spicy, crunchy roadside snack, expertly mixed in a paper cone by chatty vendors who frequently ask customers if they have any special preferences—with or without raw onions?—before drizzling mustard oil liberally over the tongue-tingling concoction, die-hard Kolkatans swear by. You can keep your jhalmuri.
I am loyal to Mumbai’s far more complex and yummy bhelpuri, which wins hands down in the street food stakes. What’s wrong with being brazenly parochial? I am Maharashtrian, and sorry, but bhel wins.
One would have imagined Prime Minister Narendra Modi (ravenously hungry after addressing four major political rallies in West Bengal), preferring a Gujju snack like dhokla devdi, khandvi, thepla during a chai-nashta break in Jhargram. But, no! He waited for the cameras to get into position before walking up to the owner of a jhalmuri stall and sweetly saying, “Bhai, hamein aap ka jhaalmuri khilao (Brother, feed me your jhalmuri).” Bhai promptly obliged.
Supporters cheered wildly as the efficient stall owner asked, “Ap pyaaz khatey ho? (Do you eat onions?)’’ To which our witty PM replied, “Haan, khaatey hain, dimag nahi khaata, bas (Yes, I do. I just don’t eat brains)’’ Touche! Well played. The clip went viral as fans gushed, “Modiji is so approachable, he’s just like us!’’ Instant connect happened over a cone of jhalmuri, which he paid for. Smart touch.
But was it unscripted? Spontaneous? Nothing in the PM’s life “happens” like this, without several layers of security clearances. Was the jhalmuri seller really just another vendor? Or a strategically positioned undercover RAW agent, who’d spent weeks mastering the art of making jhalmuri?
High-stakes Bengal polls
Now that the PM has declared himself an honorary Bong named Modi Sarkar, supporters are eating out of his hands.
Meanwhile, another distinguished gentleman—with a grey beard, greying hair, and like the PM, in his seventies—is busy staging a quiet but forceful comeback to on-ground campaign reportage. Welcome back, Prannoy Roy—you’ve been so missed. Here is a well-respected veteran journalist, doing what he does best—pressing his ear to the ground, interviewing local people, interpreting the mood of the voter, as Didi’s West Bengal goes to the polls, all guns blazing (err, literally at times).
A friend who’s with a “fact-finding” team on the same beat as Roy was left most impressed by his unpretentious and focused style. “The man is indefatigable.” To think there’s a generation of TV viewers out there who may not have heard of the pioneer, who introduced India to a new word—psephology—back when he started election coverage for Doordarshan in the 1980’s. As an economist, Roy gave the Indian electorate something they were totally unfamiliar with—data-driven election analysis. In 1988, he founded NDTV with his wife, Radhika, and together they created a major news network that established a benchmark for media professionalism.
Well, now that NDTV no longer belongs to the Roys (It is owned by Gautam Adani), it’s a different narrative altogether. Hounded and brow-beaten by the establishment, the Roys lived with the ignominy of an LOC (Look Out Circular) against them, related to old CBI cases.
Recently, the Delhi High Court quashed the LOC, following a 2024 closure report, leaving Roy to report from the trenches as only he can, interviewing citizens on his mobile phone for DeKoder, his digital channel.
Meanwhile, it’s a treat to listen to TMC spokesperson and MP Sagarika Ghosh as she takes on Narendra Modi’s crowd-pleasing tactics—articulating her outrage in impeccably shuddh Hindi while accusing the PM of being a Bangla Virodhi, who heaps “apman” on a rich culture with a “gehri parampara” he knows nothing about.
All eyes, then, are on the dramatic and often savage elections in West Bengal, where so much is at stake, besides Didi’s survival. To say nothing of the survival of regular tipplers, who are crying into their sherbets after Didi declared 10 draconian dry days—minus booze—in the state. Ki mushkil!
Also read: Ashatai was a serial stealer of hearts—her music, mimicry and kebabs will live on
Blessing & a boo boo
I’m not sure who grabbed more headlines last week – Dua (NOT Lipa) or cricketer Virat Kohli. Actors Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone announced the news of their second pregnancy via Dua, their firstborn. “Being a mother is the best role of my life,” gushed Padukone, who will be shooting through her pregnancy. Bollywood’s most successful star couple (sorry, Ranbir and Alia) is on point once again.
Between them, they have enough money not to have to dance for a fee at birthdays and weddings (unless they WANT to), and are in an enviable position to pace movie commitments according to their convenience. The stupendous success Dhurandhar has sealed Singh’s unattainable victory in showbiz, while Padukone continues her unchallenged reign as India’s highest-paid female actor, with international endorsement deals that rivals can only dream about.
Hard career choices can wait, as the two enjoy the most marvelous experience of their lives—parenthood.
As for Virat Kohli’s “liking” and quickly “unliking” an Instagram post by a super attractive German influencer-singer called LizLaz, let’s show the man some zabardast pyaar. Come on, is it a crime for celebrities to appreciate posts of other celebrities? He’d previously liked a picture of another hottie (24-year-old actor Avneet Kaur) and then blamed it on an algorithm glitch. It’s okay, Virat bachhey, LizLaz can handle the snub of you unliking her post, though she says she feels “sorry” for you. Please don’t throw your helmet and gloves at her.
Shobhaa De is an author, columnist, social commentator, and opinion-shaper. She has written 20 books. She tweets @DeShobhaa. Views are personal.
(Edited by Ratan Priya)