The Perfect Parcel
Paan is no doubt an integral part of India’s social and cultural practice and identity. Chewed by almost a tenth of the world’s population, paan has also been used across Asia for over 5,000 years. From India to the Middle East, Indonesia to Thailand, the popular street dish is commonly had after meals as a breath freshener, a palette cleanser, a digestive aid, or simply as a dessert snack.
“Paan is no doubt an integral part of India’s social and cultural practice and identity”
Look around the pavements of any Indian city, and you will find red splatter spots marked on the ground. These are sundried spit stains, the unwelcome residue left by users of the country’s favourite vice – paan. The brick-red splotches often appear randomly scattered, but here and there, you will find them pooled together resembling an accident scene – a sure sign that a paan wala – a skilled paan maker – is just around the corner.
Paan comes from the Sanskrit word parna, which means leaf, but these days the word is synonymous with the flavourpacked after-meal snack usually composed of choona (lime paste), katha (acacia paste), and supari (areca nut slices), and loaded up with spices or sweets, then wrapped in a betel leaf.
Chewed by almost a tenth of the world’s population, paan has been used across Asia for over 5,000 years. From India to the Middle East, Indonesia to Thailand, the popular street dish is commonly had after meals as a breath freshener, a palette cleanser, a digestive aid, or simply as a dessert snack. It is also taken in weight control diets for its hunger-curbing and metabolismincreasing properties.
Paan is no doubt an integral part of India’s social and cultural practice and identity. In Assam, it is offered to guests after a meal as a customary sign of respect. Similarly, in Mysore, two betel leaves are offered to visitors on special occasions to symbolise good fortune and auspicious beginnings. In the north, paan leaves embellish kalash, a metallic or clay pot present during festive rituals like Durga Pooja and Diwali, which would otherwise be incomplete without the heart- shaped leaves.
For many millions, paan is a daily affair used simply for its stimulating effects. Providing its chewer with a buzz similar to nicotine at small dosages and a psychoactive high at larger amounts, the areca nut is undeniably the reason why many are addicted to the leaf wrap. When chewed together with choona and the betel leaf, the three ingredients form the reddish-brown liquid responsible for the many stained teeth, pavements, and walls across Asia.
So persistent is its staining spit that Dubai has resorted to banning the dish to put an end to this visual nuisance altogether. But here in India, paan is available everywhere, and at 9AM on Mumbai’s bustling Vaikunthlal Mehta Road, a crowd begins forming at the Brijwasi Paan Bhandar store. Bellies are full and mouths are itching. It’s peak-hour time for paan.
Most in the crowd are regulars here for their after-meal fix. Like many in the city, they have a go-to wala whom they trust and rely upon to satisfy their cravings. With hands crossed and arms akimbo, the betel aficionados watch the familiar preparation process like a ritual – a visual appetiser before the mouthwatering main course.
Betel leaves are laid on the metal tabletop like emerald canvases waiting to be worked on. Jitendra Sharma, the shop’s owner and head paan maker, sits behind the counter taking orders. He is flanked by a wall of metal tins and plastic bottles, each one containing a different ingredient for his 20 or so paan concoctions available on – and off – the menu.
In the last 20 years, the mild narcotic snack has grown to include non-addictive varieties. By removing the areca nut and including modern spices and ingredients, the possibilities and reach of paan have expanded with the snack now available in family-friendly and children-safe varieties. Although puritans would argue that a paan without supari is a not a paan, walas all around have adapted to meet the growing demands for these fusion paan lovers.
At Brijwasi Paan Bhandar, a customer has ordered a fire paan sans supari, the epitome of a modern-day fusion paan.
At a pace only acquired from countless repetitions, Jitendra opens a steel container and brushes a layer of choona over the underside of the paan leaf. From a clay pot, he lifts a steel rod to apply a sheen of katha on top. After bottle taps of Indian gooseberry powder and a thin slather of honey, he adds a dollop of rose petal paste and garnishes the small mound of ingredients with desiccated coconut and mint chocolate coated flax seeds.
At last, Jitendra slides the loaded paan on his palms and folds it swiftly into a triangle. He pins it shut with three clove tips and hands it over to his assistant Manoj, who sets the cloves alight and delivers the now flaming paan into the opened mouth of his waiting customer. A visual spectacle and a fiery delight, the fire paan like the other varieties of fusion paans, have given the ageold snack a fresh burst of life.
Just look at the paan boutiques that have popped up in Indian cities in recent times. While paan from the street ranges from
30 to 150 rupees (40 Us-cents to USD2), boutique paan can fetch up 1,000 rupees, or USD14. Gold covered almonds, dark
chocolate coats, edible silver foil, fire, ice, and smoke. Novelty is the name of the game here. Wrapped up and served in a fancy package, these gourmet paan are crafted for an entirely different clientele.
Gone are the days where only men or addicts frequent the paan walas. The paan scene, like India’s social environment, is fast evolving. The walls of exclusivity are being brought down, and the ancient snack is being interpreted, celebrated, and shared in modern and more inclusive expressions. From the traditionalist to the experimentalist, addict to aficionado, Muslim, Hindu, man, woman, or child, there is something now for everyone, and it is wrapped in a little green parcel.