One of the most import ingredients in most dishes across the world is Onion. Whether a spicy mutton do pyaza or French onion soup, or the humble aloo ki sabzi, it’s a key flavour and taste enhancer. In India the poorest families survive on Roti and Pyaaz or where rice is the staple, on fermented rice with a green chilli and some onions. By the way experts are now touting this fermented rice for gut health, building immunity and weight loss. And the ubiquitous onion bhaji is found in the broken-down chai ka galla in the poorest of villages to McDonalds albeit as Onion rings. Who has not had pickled onions with their drinks, or a scrumptious cocktail snack of pickled onions and cheese creatively skewered in bite sized pieces?
The purpose here is not just to sing paeans to the humble onion but also to draw attention to the fact that like its multitude layers which change character as you remove peel after peel, from the dry, papery, pretty pink outer layers to the thick, juicy, flavourful and pretty aggressive inner layers, which may reduce the toughest to tears, it wards off ill health and if myth be believed werewolves and Dracula too!
Our story begins in the humble surroundings of a remote village high up in the mountains, where the chief crop was potato followed by onions. Jhumroo was a hard-working peasant with a pocket handkerchief sized plot of land. He grew potatoes and onions to sustain his family, as was done for generations. The back breaking work round the year and the absence of any comforts hardened the simpleton over the years. He decided to go the city of dreams Mumbai to try his luck one fine day.
Walking, rather climbing over the rocks and boulders following the meandering trail among the Pines, he reached the bus stop, 5 kilometres away. He was lucky to get a seat on the roof of the bus, after jostling through the mob. Reaching Dehradoon, he boarded the train. Here too he wished to climb onto the roof of the coach but was pulled down by other passengers and was squeezed into the overflowing unreserved coach. After a long, dirty, cramped journey he woke up to loud sounds, shouts and bustling going on. Somehow he emerged on the platform, lost, confused and disoriented.
He was nearly run over by the car, whose blaring honking was another confusion amidst the noisy city. The driver let loose a volley of expletives, but the lady realised he was new to the city. She told the driver to shut up and take him in, to take him to her home. Jhumroo didn’t protest, thankful for the kindness. He was soon shown the way by one of the other menials, bathed, dressed and fed. The transformation appealed to the lady. “ I am Begum Jalebi! What is your name?” “ Jhumroo!” And the room burst with laughter. “Have you heard of me?”
“Back home we eat Jalebi on special occasions, I love the crisp, fried sweet and juicy Jalebis, especially hot off the karahi!” His mouth watered just thinking about it. Begum sahiba lost her heart to this simpleton, in a sea of artificial sycophants. She ensured he was by her side and soon taught him the ropes of the business!
One day when they were alone, her hormones surged, and she gave in to her emotions, lustily enveloping her object of desire. Taken by surprise, Jhumroo jumped aside, and before he could say “Pyaz” Jalebi crumbled to the ground into a heap, lying quite motionless. “Heart attack” said the doctor’s certificate. Guess her heart couldn’t handle rejection! On hearing his loud cries, the other employees ran into the room. Taking everything into account, Sher Singh, the last paramour of the Begum announced Jhumroo her successor! Claiming it to be her last wish.
He had been running the business with the Begum for a decade now. He would now rule over the empire, while Jhumroo would be the titular head. Just like the harmless outer scales of an onion, whereas he would be the devious tearjerker within.
It didn’t take Jhumroo long to catch on to the game. When the outer withered scales are removed, the shiny, soft, juicy heart of the onion is pungent, adding taste and taking the consumer to gustatory Heaven. The simpleton soon transformed and became adept at playing Chess. Skills in one field can be transferred to another they say. Sher Singh found it out for himself one summer day, in blistering heat, when he was booted out as a traitor! After all they were in the business of organizing the disappearance of people for a fee! They were the best in the field and Jhumroo was now Badshah!
From a simple rustic raw onion he had become a caramelized version fit to adorn a rich Lucknavi biryani and command the respect of all and sundry!
