http://www.spicemama.au/home daily 1.0 2024-02-29 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488424738716-AWNALPGLUTQCHU44ZUW0/FullSizeRender+3.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1491616410184-VD0KY7BJQZM5Q9XGP3R4/IMG_1494.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1506396735533-4TGIO1LBEORVMROIRNT4/IMG_0419+5.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488424340772-X05SRBFG2PBPQYE8ZIS3/IMG_8635.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1549164103515-40LJQQ18V9E7XE92KDES/35C4E2ED-7274-460B-BD5A-01270FFF03B8.jpeg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1528803390903-GRBONWMEK6FE2HS24JZR/IMG_0090.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1549164080158-J9W0OV5H0O9K7BZRTZE0/DDAC4530-2FFF-460A-9C2B-B5A395A26DBF.jpeg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303400135-G7P1TTY2QTKY04Q0F0RC/9851BBE3-99C8-4BD2-97A1-4F10A39A5EFB.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1549164025170-RMRT45W9KCQUDYVO7O5Q/7C56EFC9-8B0A-48A3-B322-9CCD61C00F3F.jpeg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488425502958-5PEIXCBHDCZ7MVWHBGYD/cutlets.png gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519302327551-5PVUN60BVDU5A0FYCA3T/B9571E01-B094-420B-AFD9-192EAB32583E.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1491616695740-N4ZCEZCEBDMRVM1752Q3/IMG_9837.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423805614762-M5KVS8NZJX4T6KTRZEJW/IMG_5919_2.jpg gallery - MY GRANDMOTHER AND GREAT AUNT https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488424913266-06EE27SRRQLENHQDMLQ3/IMG_9455.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1451551128868-2RCQKRTOQ85ZCNVSWDOT/9E0782EC-0EE6-4EEE-B37F-1D55C469C76C.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519302300122-U6AC7G07IXK37DHF9G6S/IMG_7630.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1506396575660-2T11KDCMVYJKKKT61O3A/IMG_1506+5.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488424423336-78J4ETTVKBPY2DC172CO/IMG_8649.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1452320629345-7IJBNUMQPZ1GR4A75XAN/IMG_9950.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1457167400472-KHK78040ML5XI9VYX49N/image-asset.jpeg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488425080089-XWLE9MK06VZM9NGONBQI/IMG_9594.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488423485524-7IL4CRAJ775D0GLVHO70/IMG_0221.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1506396218314-BSCYAGK374YEAW7U4HGE/IMG_0500+4.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1452320513317-BMXYOY0QH9JVE5W6NF4X/image-asset.jpeg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488423924554-TECU4YQP7P5MDA8HVSJA/IMG_0222.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435117119838-NBZYQNMXRYROL81RCHM1/saleh.png gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435116778385-1F0KP3CRAGLMCG3TAQPO/moneypic2flip.png gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1437975858849-25DR5LYDBZRF5NXN37Q6/chicken+stir-fry+fb.png gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804645926-9COOA21JPYUP3NZYS0Y0/image-asset.jpeg gallery - Sultana's easy dal and bottle masala vegetables https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1506396530762-CKC8A140E6JWDC1FJQO6/IMG_2371+2.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1437975908514-AFNQ0N9EKWP518W4228Q/chickensnowpeas.png gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423805221258-BIOMQFL32VFU83RJRT7A/IMG_6007.jpg gallery - SULTANA'S DAL, RICE AND LENTILS https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303707275-W3VR53EPN22F35FCCQLA/F2F97EB2-AB3B-4049-A819-EAEA26354091.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303453071-4N8VBJ1EL2L8MWC22QUQ/86D52F1F-2A05-40C8-AF94-D3A22E5A686F.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1431524830615-YBWH7WVHZ6TE8UMTE0VX/FullSizeRender.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1431484678050-KN5FL1F752RVAQIXVCAP/FullSizeRender.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804759266-DV3O4UOBK3WFBB3IQXY7/cookbook.jpg gallery - Indian Cookery General: a bible for young housekeepers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1451551294402-EKC8JC0DL0OUCYYILC7E/DD966193-C9F9-44EA-8F47-92AB54B6090B.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804841867-X0CD1SLL6JHM3RXU6W3Y/ladies+cooking+in+frame.jpg gallery - Cooking chapati's on the open fire https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1488424151215-OW2K58JR4M38DHMVBAO6/IMG_9454.JPG gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804933861-U0W5M4B1SS80OAFBN3E0/fornasetti.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303675484-L254LXW2MZMGBHEVB69S/IMG_6576.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804946468-I6EH2UIPRN1LDVB4JD7I/IMG_5975.jpg gallery - TRADITIONAL INDIAN TIFFIN BOX https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804849934-S5EU86AADU68S4LJ6Q2X/mum.jpg gallery - MY MOTHER SULTANA SHAMSHI https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303372129-UI87J88ZJ23684PFSD4F/5C5ABBA2-D1C1-4AB3-8327-1DA94CF0411C.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303689444-EKLTCF8GQBML4AXGTSKJ/IMG_6604.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804954503-0VA4PM4VKJR6QE0E57IH/IMG_5980+copy.jpg gallery - TRADITIONAL MORTAR AND PESTLE https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1451551220355-RSQOOC90YQEZQK6HQT8R/62E5F7EA-2318-4CC4-A998-229CDE36EC73.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423804991345-MTSEUDYY8OJ25WID9UYD/IMG_6014.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303509860-ANI3ONGNDG6570IVV8DX/0A91508B-3211-4F77-8B8A-5F7EDC2D9700.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1451551849819-7JT70VNX53T6IYPNCK45/IMG_9630.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423805208943-DZ9F0ZMOK5YZUZDDLZ1V/IMG_5971.jpg gallery - FRAGRANT STAR ANISE https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1423805609529-BAG3JDETW9Y3KCXFTYD0/IMG_5913.jpg gallery - MY GRANDMOTHER AZIZA SHAMSHI https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519303568968-ZBAB3R0K5IUR21PG05WE/IMG_5654.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1424050965708-L7TST4AOW3TRIVPEZ8RP/recipe+books.jpg gallery - ZENA DE SOUZA AND OLIVE FERNANDEZ'S HAND WRITTEN COOKBOOKS https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1506396357991-40S4MHH5UK63LP42A2H7/FullSizeRender+26.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1519302232543-S8A17KVO9XUZ1BAQCNHC/5F9E6839-6EF6-46AF-941B-5F6BBCBE4B93.jpg gallery https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1461466837203-Z3LHX0B98SGV58NSOH5J/P3110207.jpg gallery http://www.spicemama.au/bombay-blog-1 daily 0.75 2015-07-03 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1433989030763-32L3T3SKTF7BSKYZ6DQT/image-asset.jpeg bombay blog gallery - bombay dreaming The great city of Mumbai is one of the world’s largest mega-cities. With a population of over 20 million people, it has nearly more people living there than in the whole of Australia. And it is growing fast, just like the rest of India, which by 2050 will be the world’s most populous country. Everyone is excited about India’s growth – its economic potential, its rapidly swelling high-consuming middle class. It’s the people that I get excited about – so many Indians! Indians are amongst the most eloquent people on the planet, they are also amongst the loudest, most opinionated, argumentative and tenacious. Maybe that's just my family. Either way, the contribution to the global discourse will be deafening! Indians are also born storytellers. Or is it that in such a spectacular, colourful, noisy and chaotic place, there are just so many stories to tell. They topple over each other, our stories, layered in meaning, time and place. Many of them make no sense, but we love them anyway. And it’s not just the Indians themselves, people from everywhere come to India to find stories and leave with poetry. In my own story, Mumbai will always be Bombay. I dream of Bombay, as the author Suketu Mehta puts so perfectly, “the city that has a tight claim on my heart, a beautiful city by the sea an island-state of hope in a very old country.” In this Bombay I am for the most part, very young. In this Bombay I see my great grandfather Valentine, sailing off to the First World War in 1914, my great grandmother, sitting on a verandah waiting for his letters; my Nana, writing her recipe books and supervising her kitchens. My beautiful mum at art college, meeting my father in secret and then eloping with him. I go for long evening strolls to Apollo Bunder with my grandparents and we walk over marble floors not yet stained with blood to buy gingerbread man shaped brioche from the patisserie at the Taj Hotel. It is also the Bombay of other people’s imaginations, the home of some of the world’s greatest characters and setting of its greatest novels. The city where the young and lovely Dina Dalal saves coins from buying vegetables to take buses to libraries all over Bombay in Vickram Seth’s A Fine Balance, where her beloved husband is hit by a truck as he goes to buy strawberry ice cream. It’s the city of Midnight’s Children, and the slums of Katherine Boo’s amazing Behind the Beautiful Forevers. It’s the city of Shantaram, which immortalized the Leopold Café around the corner from where I was born. In Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts so beautifully describes “that first Bombay minute”, the “sweet sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate… the smell of gods, demons, empires and civilisations in resurrection and decay… the blue-skin smell of the sea… the heartbreak, and the struggle to live… the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage... the smell of ten thousand restaurants…. temples, shrines, churches and mosques… a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices incense and freshly cut flowers… it’s my first sense of the city – that smell, above all things – that welcomes me and tells me I’ve come home.” I identify most with the fabulous Suketu Mehta's Maximum City, written by an author who has longed to return to the India of his own childhood. In it he goes on to say, “The earth is round and you go all over it, but ultimately you come back to the same spot in the circle.” “Can you go home again? In the looking, I found the cities within me.” https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1433989030763-32L3T3SKTF7BSKYZ6DQT/image-asset.jpeg bombay blog gallery - bombay dreaming The great city of Mumbai is one of the world’s largest mega-cities. With a population of over 20 million people, it has nearly more people living there than in the whole of Australia. And it is growing fast, just like the rest of India, which by 2050 will be the world’s most populous country. Everyone is excited about India’s growth – its economic potential, its rapidly swelling high-consuming middle class. It’s the people that I get excited about – so many Indians! Indians are amongst the most eloquent people on the planet, they are also amongst the loudest, most opinionated, argumentative and tenacious. Maybe that's just my family. Either way, the contribution to the global discourse will be deafening! Indians are also born storytellers. Or is it that in such a spectacular, colourful, noisy and chaotic place, there are just so many stories to tell. They topple over each other, our stories, layered in meaning, time and place. Many of them make no sense, but we love them anyway. And it’s not just the Indians themselves, people from everywhere come to India to find stories and leave with poetry. In my own story, Mumbai will always be Bombay. I dream of Bombay, as the author Suketu Mehta puts so perfectly, “the city that has a tight claim on my heart, a beautiful city by the sea an island-state of hope in a very old country.” In this Bombay I am for the most part, very young. In this Bombay I see my great grandfather Valentine, sailing off to the First World War in 1914, my great grandmother, sitting on a verandah waiting for his letters; my Nana, writing her recipe books and supervising her kitchens. My beautiful mum at art college, meeting my father in secret and then eloping with him. I go for long evening strolls to Apollo Bunder with my grandparents and we walk over marble floors not yet stained with blood to buy gingerbread man shaped brioche from the patisserie at the Taj Hotel. It is also the Bombay of other people’s imaginations, the home of some of the world’s greatest characters and setting of its greatest novels. The city where the young and lovely Dina Dalal saves coins from buying vegetables to take buses to libraries all over Bombay in Vickram Seth’s A Fine Balance, where her beloved husband is hit by a truck as he goes to buy strawberry ice cream. It’s the city of Midnight’s Children, and the slums of Katherine Boo’s amazing Behind the Beautiful Forevers. It’s the city of Shantaram, which immortalized the Leopold Café around the corner from where I was born. In Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts so beautifully describes “that first Bombay minute”, the “sweet sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate… the smell of gods, demons, empires and civilisations in resurrection and decay… the blue-skin smell of the sea… the heartbreak, and the struggle to live… the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage... the smell of ten thousand restaurants…. temples, shrines, churches and mosques… a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices incense and freshly cut flowers… it’s my first sense of the city – that smell, above all things – that welcomes me and tells me I’ve come home.” I identify most with the fabulous Suketu Mehta's Maximum City, written by an author who has longed to return to the India of his own childhood. In it he goes on to say, “The earth is round and you go all over it, but ultimately you come back to the same spot in the circle.” “Can you go home again? In the looking, I found the cities within me.” https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1433989080224-Q6NO8I5M4I5ET9Y8J5Q0/PC110272.jpg bombay blog gallery My very first home was my grandparents’ house, a large, airy apartment in Sethna House on a road that was then named Barrow Road, off Colaba Causeway in Fort Bombay. Zena and Claude had lived in Sethna House since they were married in the 1940’s, and I remember it as an almost magical place, with open verandas and high ceilings, cool Portuguese mosaic tiles and slow ceiling fans. Bombay was a different city when I was young, and from the flat we looked out onto a sea of treetops. So many birds nested in these trees, sparrows, crows and pigeons; there were eagles, and also the occasional monkey that would cause great alarm by appearing on the verandahs in the hope of stealing food. Barrow Road was a quiet street, and everyone knew each other and more importantly, each other’s business. There was always plenty going on as we would watch the customers coming and going from Mr and Mrs Rodriguez’s Ballroom Dancing School on the first floor. Of even more amusement were the goings on of the ‘gully-wallis’ … the squatters and servants who lived in the lanes around Sethna House and where a lady named Rosie illegally brewed and sold homemade liquor to customers at all times of day and night. In the mornings of my early childhood strong sweet tea would be served on the verandah and we would listen to the sounds of Colaba Causeway stirring – the clink of the Chai Walla’s tea glasses, shops opening and buses at the nearby depot starting up, and inhale the salty smell of the nearby Sasson docks, today one of the largest fish markets in modern Mumbai. My Nana would convene her first meeting of the day as she drank her tea, and her old cook Mestha would be summoned for a lengthy and at times heated discussion about the day’s menu. Once lunch had been agreed, Mestha’s young apprentice Hira would be dispatched to the market to buy the day’s supplies. By mid morning, the house would be filled with the incredible aroma of masala being roasted and ground. If I was lucky, there would be fresh coconut water from the coconuts being cracked open and scraped in the kitchens. Before lunch the street sellers would start to arrive at our door, the fisherwoman with her basket of fresh seafood from the nearby docks, the vegetable seller, the meat man and the bhel puri walla, who carried a large tin trunk filled with countless compartments and trays of ingredients to make the tasty snack. Nana loved to gossip with them, to question the freshness of the fish and to haggle at length about the crazy prices she was clearly being charged. Lunch would be served like clockwork in Sethna House, and my favourite meal was always (and is to this day) chicken curry and rice. I could cook and cook forever, but I don’t think I could replicate the taste of that curry in my memory, with its fresh masala and just cracked-open coconut flavour. The best part of the day for me came after lunch, when, completely exhausted from the morning’s activity, everyone would quietly disappear for a lie down. I remember being very young and lying on the cool cotton covers of our large carved wooden bed, listening to Nana, my mum and my lovely aunty Claudette chatting in hushed voices for hours at end. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe, and so happy, as I remember feeling in those early years at Sethna House. All of my inspiration for Spice Mama comes from my childhood in India. The stories, the noise, the people, the colour… I’m back in another world when I’m in the kitchen. Bottle Masala has become my magic dust.   https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1434609808647-398Z9OZHJN3YWCPYNGDX/PC110256.jpg bombay blog gallery From Sethna House we had our own special slice of Colaba Causeway to look out onto every day. I loved leaning over the balcony, craning my neck to watch life on the causeway unfold at the end of our street. This was the set of a 24-hour theatre, starting early every morning and becoming louder and more colourful as the day went on. The furious and constant beeping of taxis, buses and cars, the street traders, tourists, the incredible mass of people and more than occasional cow made for much entertainment. Evenings were the best time to negotiate the Causeway and I would love to go for walks there with my grandparents. Relieved of the harsh afternoon heat, Colaba came alive in the evenings, the shops would light up and the traders would prepare for their next wave of customers, refreshed from siesta and ready to promenade jewel-coloured evening clothes in the dusky twilight. I remember the fragrant smell of the lovely flowers the women wore in their hair, mixed with that of the spiciest street food sold fresh by roadside hawkers, vada pav, panipuri, dahipuri, served with glasses of chai, sugarcane juice and lassi. My very favourite stall on Colaba Causeway sold small cotton hankies, in every colour and pattern under the sun. Being allowed to buy one was a very special treat. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1434609927846-1J164TMUZGG0ZETWRYPR/PC100177.jpg bombay blog gallery Colaba has been the busiest and best-known shopping destination in downtown Bombay for nearly 350 years, from the time when Bombay’s second governor took control of it from the Portuguese in 1675 and created incentives for traders to come from all over the region to set up shop there. The Causeway was built by the British East India Company in the 1830’s, to connect the island of Colaba to the others that made up the great city of Bombay. When the Causeway was completed in 1838, it established itself, and Bombay, as the centre of commerce in the region. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1434610090833-BEZH3PUV7C7Y4YOZGCWD/saleh.png bombay blog gallery During the 1800’s, both my maternal great grandfathers came to Bombay from Gujerat to seek their fortunes. They lived on the street in Fort Bombay, selling wares on large sheets on the pavement. By the mid 1900’s, each ended up owning a grocery store. One of these stores was in Colaba, and it specialized in importing British food (tea, biscuits and tinned goods) to the many English that lived in Bombay during the Raj. My great grandfather also shipped these highly sought after products to a number of Maharajahs from the princely states surrounding Bombay. A second great grandfather owned a grocery store in Jabalpur, then a British Garrison. This shop, Saleh and Sons, also sold British food to the soldiers in the garrison. Post-independence in 1947, ironically, the fortunes of both shops diminished. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1434610169570-Y1ZAT3OG5XQ92Q2VKBEM/PC110251.jpg bombay blog gallery “Do you know a place called Leopold’s? Wonderful and lovely place it is, Leopold’s Beer Bar. Full of the most wonderful, lovely peoples, the very, very fine and lovely people. All kinds of foreigners you can find here, all making good business. Sexy business, and drugs business, and money business, and black market business, and naughty business, and smuggling business, and passport business, and… “ Leopold’s on Colaba Causeway was just around the corner from my house and while my childhood self remained oblivious to the no doubt exciting goings-on there at the height of the 1970’s, I like so many others was able to enjoy immensely its portrayal in Shantaram, as the place Linbaba meets Karla and her colourful friends. Leopold’s is also less fortunately one of the first sites of the horrific Mumbai terror attack in 2008, where eight people were killed as they enjoyed their meals on a warm November evening. From Leopold’s the gunmen headed to the Taj Hotel, where they continued to shoot and terrorise hundreds of innocent people. Sitting watching footage from the incident thousands of miles away in Perth, it felt like the sanctity of my childhood home had been destroyed forever. Going back to Bombay years later, it was difficult to reconcile the metal detectors and identity checks at the doorway of the Taj Hotel, the bullet holes and blood stained floors, and the fenced off entry to the Gateway of India with the Bombay of my past. I had wanted to show my children how we had fed the pigeons, and watched the snake charmers and bought newspaper cones of chana and roasted corn covered in chilli and lime from the side of the road. I wanted to walk with them through the cool marble-floored corridors of the hotel to the amazing patisserie that sold the ginger bread man brioches I can still taste. But as the saying goes, the past really is a foreign country, and the Bombay of my imagining is only accessible from afar. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435026488158-15VD1CI9L66ULR79Y2XP/image-asset.jpeg bombay blog gallery My second home in Bombay is a place called Esplanade House, the home of my auntie and godmother Claudette and her Parsi husband Roossi Nariman. We visited Esplanade House at least once a day when I was a child, and I spent many hours there playing in the ruins of the old mansion with my cousin Homi. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435027009592-LPQWKY3NKGBTKQB3K6ZV/FullSizeRender.jpg bombay blog gallery Esplanade House was built in the late 1800’s by Jamsetjee Tata, the Parsi entrepreneur who made his fortune in Bombay and founded one of the largest private groups of companies in the world. It is one of the most magnificent buildings I have ever seen, and it is where Tata lived with his family until the early 1900’s. It was, and still is; a grand, palatial building with beautiful carvings, marble statues and painted ceilings, and it was one of the first private homes in Bombay equipped with electricity. The Tata’s entertained lavishly at the mansion, and their private courtyard, filled with exotic plants was incredible. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435026519889-VQT1G980PU3IMQYZEDLU/PC081385.jpg bombay blog gallery After Tata’s death in 1904, Esplanade House was sold to a Parsi Trust, and in 1937, a penthouse floor was added to the building. My uncle’s maternal grandparents, also influential Parsi industrialists, were the first to move in, and the Nariman family, through changing fortunes, has lived there ever since. By the time my auntie, then one of Air India’s glamorous new breed of international air-hostesses, married into the family and moved into Esplanade House in 1971, the building, like so many in Bombay, was dilapidated and in a total state of disrepair. Locals referred to the house as Bhoot Bangla – house of ghosts, and stories of it being haunted were popular. House staff often spoke of seeing Jamsetji’s ghost walking in the dark corridors at night. My poor auntie was terrified, and quickly had the house blessed by the family priest. My cousin and I were also scared of the then dark, musty floors below the penthouse, home to a variety of businesses, both on and off the books and not all of them electrified. We were thrilled to be taken on torchlit tours down the once grand staircases of the old building. The dark, unlit marble floored grand entry hall became home to squatters in the evening, and we would have to pick our way over sleeping bodies to get to the rickety, rat infested lift that would take us to the third floor. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435026704239-S9NCI8HMKOFWUZF4PI83/15Esplanade-House.jpg bombay blog gallery Once we got there however, how different the world was. Light, white marble floors, high ceilings and chinese vases, the beautiful large carved wooden dining table around which the most delicious lunches would be served. There was a terrace above the penthouse paved with miniature mosaic in the most beautiful blues, and the ayahs would take my cousin and me up there to ride our tricycles and look out over the central Bombay skyline. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435026722610-71AMQB2GSU9OQCB15GS8/Esplanade-House1.jpg bombay blog gallery From the terrace, and from all the windows of Esplanade House, we could see everything… the bustle of Fashion Street, the crazy traffic of Flora Fountain, the rarefied world of the Bombay Gymkhana across the road, and the teeming masses of young boys and men playing cricket on Cross Maidan and Azad Maidan. Esplanade House was always the loveliest in the mornings, when the many windows were opened before the smog came, when Bombay was waking up, and when today, my uncle still leaves food for the birds that live in the high treetops onto which the apartment looks. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435026677728-V7PZPKWY319G7P6X02VU/PC110298.jpg bombay blog gallery When we last visited Bombay, Esplanade House was at long last getting a makeover. The beautiful entry hall, the grand staircase, was being cleaned up and a well-known advertising company had moved into the ground floor. In late 2014, the amazing building won a UNESCO Asia Pacific award for Cultural Heritage Restoration. It has become once again, a bold and beautiful expression of the confident India that Tata must have once dreamed off, and I’m sure his wandering ghost must be proud. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435029978096-WS7X1B4OV838QT76N7BT/PC100188.jpg bombay blog gallery My grandparents Zena and Claude sold their apartment in Colaba and moved into their own wing of Esplanade House in the 1980’s. They brought with them their (by this stage) old cook Hira, and he is still very much a fixture of life there. Hira was a young orphan boy found by my grandfather starving at the Mazagaon Docks in the 1940’s. My grandfather had left the Navy and was working as a Ship Chandler for the Scindia Steam Navigation Company, one of India’s oldest shipping companies, supplying food and grocery products to two of its vessels, the Sabarmati and the Sarasvati. Claude took Hira home with him, where he became an apprentice to their cook Mestha. He regarded my grandparents as his parents, and despite his fiery temper (there were quite often loud fights in the kitchen when my Nana tried to fire him and he refused to leave), he stayed with them until their deaths. We loved hassling Hira in the kitchens looking for bits of coconut and other food during the day, and we loved his party trick of eating hot green chillies whole while we watched.   https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435030420299-HBLCHJBEOIS5B5O122RN/FullSizeRender.jpg bombay blog gallery During his years at Sethna House, Hira learned to cook all of Nana’s traditional East Indian recipes and his chicken curry, cutlets, potato chops and fried fish dishes are legendary. Arriving in Esplanade House to the aroma of Hira’s cooking, to lunch with my auntie and uncle served with ice-cold beer on the beautiful old carved table in the large dining room, will always remain one of the most special experiences of my life. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435911503509-JLLEK8MQLIM6TER91Z9M/FullSizeRender2.jpg bombay blog gallery My uncle and auntie owned a poultry farm in Alibag, a seaside village about 100 kilometres from Bombay, from which my uncle supplied chickens and eggs to the city markets. We spent long summers on the farm, taking a ferry from the Gateway of India to the jetty at Mandwa. I loved that ferry trip, crowded into a boat and watching the Gateway of India get smaller and smaller as we sailed away. Acclimatised to the mayhem of Bombay, the sea air and lovely silent beaches of Alibag were always such a welcome change. We could run! The farm of my childhood was as big as a city, with space to play and trees to climb on hazy days to the sound of crickets and the large farm generators in the background. My cousin and I loved to visit the chicken sheds to play with the tiny day old chicks, and climb the many mango trees to reach large fruit warm from the sun. At the very heart of the farm was a small, whitewashed cottage laden with pink bougainvillea and set in a pebbled courtyard. It had low ceilings and cool stone floors and was the perfect place for a siesta in the hot afternoons. When the sun was lower the adults would slowly assemble on the back verandah of the cottage for hot tea, cold beer, spicy, freshly fried street snacks and chilled mangoes. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1435911523070-DKVVYUXDM182GA04G05M/FullSizeRender.jpg bombay blog gallery In the evenings, we would go for walks with my Nana in the surrounding fields… Nana always wielding a large walking stick to scare away snakes – of which there were many. I remember the farm boys walking through the house with long wooden poles before bedtime, checking under beds, behind doors and in pot plants for cobras that might have mistakenly made their way into the house during the day. The last time I went to Alibag was in 2004, catching the ferry and stopping at Mandwa jetty for fried potato vadas from a small stall before taking a local rickshaw to the farm. Still charming, it is a different place now, with so much farmland subdivided and built up with the most beautiful holiday homes for Bombay’s wealthy to escape to. A sign of India’s progress no doubt, but I think I will always prefer the tiny old cottage covered with bougainvillea, in the middle of the farm. http://www.spicemama.au/valentine daily 0.75 2018-04-22 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426825130746-WAPL2IYNDG1WNIQ2WRUK/Valentine+1.jpg pictures - A century long love story 2015 marked the centenary of my great grandfather’s death in 1915, on active service in the First World War. He left his beautiful young wife Olive with three small children, the youngest of whom was my grandmother Zena, born on his 30th birthday, the last of his life. They never met. This love story is but one of millions extinguished during the Great War, and has been kept alive in its telling across the generations. It is a reminder that love is the story that survives us, the grand narrative that transcends our death. To honour this special 100 year anniversary of Valentine’s death and Zena’s birth, I am sharing their story, compiled from his letters from the front line, Zena’s memoirs, family stories and a great empathy for the many wives, mothers and daughters who lost their love to the battlegrounds of war. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426825130746-WAPL2IYNDG1WNIQ2WRUK/Valentine+1.jpg pictures - A century long love story 2015 marked the centenary of my great grandfather’s death in 1915, on active service in the First World War. He left his beautiful young wife Olive with three small children, the youngest of whom was my grandmother Zena, born on his 30th birthday, the last of his life. They never met. This love story is but one of millions extinguished during the Great War, and has been kept alive in its telling across the generations. It is a reminder that love is the story that survives us, the grand narrative that transcends our death. To honour this special 100 year anniversary of Valentine’s death and Zena’s birth, I am sharing their story, compiled from his letters from the front line, Zena’s memoirs, family stories and a great empathy for the many wives, mothers and daughters who lost their love to the battlegrounds of war. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426825117276-4O77WPBAG6MAVKRWHEX9/Valentine+2.jpg pictures - Olive and Valentine “It was the dawn of the 20th century and Bombay under the rule of the British Raj was a far cry indeed from the Bombay of today, a city with wide-open spaces, gardens and trees and clean fresh air.” The tiny village of Khotachiwadi was a stronghold of the East Indian community, a small population initially converted to Catholicism by the Portuguese, and subsequently heavily influenced by the traditions brought to India by the East India Company, adopting Portuguese, British and Jesuit customs, language, dress and food. Among its residents were two prominent families, the Fernandez and the Rowes. Leo Bernard Fernandez and his wife, known as Mai (Portuguese for mother), had six children, the youngest of whom was Joseph Valentine. He studied medicine and after graduating joined the Indian Medical Department of the British Army as Assistant Surgeon with the Norfolk Regiment. Next door to the Fernandez bungalow lived William Francis Rowe, the descendant of two Dutch sailors who sailed to India and settled in Bombay, marrying two sisters of Portuguese descent and beginning the Rowe family dynasty. William Rowe owned a large sprawling house affectionately named ‘Keepsake’. His first wife was Isidora Esperance, the daughter of an eminent East Indian family whose forebears were from the Philippines. They had seven children before she died young, including my Great Grandmother Olive Rowe. Born in 1890, Olive Rowe grew up to be one of the “belles of Girgaum”. She had many admirers but the one who captured her heart was the boy next door, the handsome young medic Dr Joseph Valentine Fernandez. On 1 May 1911, they were married in the old Portuguese church of St Teresa’s by His Grace Herman Jurgens, Archbishop of Bombay. Valentine had joined the 6th (Poona) Division of the British Indian Army, and after they married they began the life of a young military family, following Valentine’s postings and beginning their own family with a healthy son and daughter. “My own reminisces date from the time I was born of humble parentage to Olive and Valentine Fernandez, in a little village called Khotachiwadi, Girgaum, a small pocket in one of Bombay’s numerous localities. My older siblings were Gladys and Mervyn. It was the year 1915.” https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426825435310-M6SM9JG9R6VXPGV2JB4Q/Valentine+3.jpg pictures - The time has arrived When the First World War began, the 6th (Poona Division) of the 2nd Norfolk Regiment was designated as part of Indian Expeditionary Force D to fight the Mesopotamian Campaign mounted by the British Army. The campaign was designed primarily to protect the assets of the Anglo-Persian Oil Company, which had been contracted to supply the British navy with oil. With the theatre of war so far away, the news was unexpected, and sudden. 3 November 1914 My own dearest darling Olive, The time has arrived when I must break the news to you, which I hope you will take in good light. I do not know whether I will be able to see you in Bombay, but I hope to do so before I leave. The order has come unexpectedly… and we leave at about 4 or 6am on Thursday. The whole brigade is moving including two native regiments. According to the general opinion, they think we go either to Egypt or Persia on account of the present situation as regards Turkey. May God bless you and preserve you, believe me I am yours ever loving, Daddy Valentine “It must have been a wrench for my mother, who had just conceived her third child. Hurriedly, her bags and belongings were packed and she returned to Keepsake, to her father’s house and her own people.” “My parents corresponded with each other as much as was possible under the circumstances, on postcards, scraps of paper, mostly in pencil, but the post was very erratic. In this way my father learned how the pregnancy was going. When he received the news of my birth on 22 January 1915, he must have been overjoyed, because it coincided with his own birthday. He longed to see his new daughter, named Zena after a famous actress of the era.” 13 November 1914 (At sea) My very own dearest darling Olive, You will be glad to hear of our safe voyage and arrival at our destination. I did feel the parting and can hardly get over the effects. I have not been seasick though I thought I would, as this is the first voyage out in my life. With fondest love and sweetest kisses, Yours ever loving, Valentine https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426825235146-5H0KW3ITFVERCORUXK4Q/Valentine+4.jpg pictures - Dates in Basra Valentine arrived in the ancient land of Mesopotamia just after the British began their first naval offensive, at the Fortress of Fao on the Persian Gulf. Here the Indian Expeditionary Force met 350 Ottoman troops armed with four guns, but despite the opposition, the offensive was a success. From Fao the British Army travelled north into the country’s heart along the Shatt-al-Arab, a river that flows into the Persian Gulf from the Tigris and Euphrates. By boat, the troops were able to move inland to Basra. The British Army occupied the town of Basra on 22 November, an important industrial centre from which to further secure their position in the region. 1 December 1914 (Basra) My very own dearest darling Olive, We are having an easy time but the dampness of the place and cold weather has caused some ailments among the troops. I have made friends with some of the people here and they are very good to me. Occasionally I dine with them and invariably they give me nice fruit and dates. Unfortunately, I am unable to send you any. With fondest love and sweetest kisses to self, Gladys and Mervyn, Yours ever loving, Valentine When the British occupied Basra, the Ottoman troops fled further up the Tigris River to a small town called Qurna, which lay at the junction of the Tigris and Euphrates. The British forces followed them, and on 3 December 1914, they attacked. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426842018660-0R6MTB4YNJ9M83BTHYQM/Valentine+5.jpg pictures - The Battle of Qurna The Royal Navy fired from their boats on the Euphrates, while the troops attempted to cross the Tigris. It took three days and a number of reinforcements to take Qurna, which they did by crossing the river to the north of the town, effectively cutting off the Ottomans from further retreat. On 9 December, the Ottoman force surrendered, and the British took 42 offices and 989 soldiers into captivity. The British Indian forces lost 27 soldiers and 2 sailors, leaving 242 wounded. 13 December 1914 (Camp Qurna) My very own dearest darling Olive, We have been very unfortunate as not to spend Xmas together, but our wish is there and may Divine Providence allow you and the children and us to spend many more. After writing to you we had orders to move ahead as the enemy was getting together. The force that was sent was small - we arrived there on Sunday and all day they were firing shells, but very erratic and the boat was not hit in the least. On Monday morning we moved on to attack and did not come into action till about 10.30am. This time I was not exposed to so much shellfire as in the last battle, as the Ambulances were not near so the shells were going over us. We were near rifle fire and had a few casualties, who were attended to by the MD himself. After we took the village I attended to a few wounded Turks and Arabs, then the ambulances came. I had to go further into the woods to get some more wounded but only found one of ours. We retired at night tired and wet, as I had to wade through the water. At night a few shells were fired… but did not come near us. Then I dressed some more wounded Turks and Arabs. Next morning the regiment went out and collected a number of wounded who were inflicted with shrapnel fire from our guns, the trenches were simply full of dead and wounded at 300 to 400. Two regiments crossed the river Tigris and there I had a narrow escape. There was myself, the orderly, stretcher-bearers sitting together when a shell came from behind us and buried itself into the earth without hurting us. The second fell a little further among the other native troops but the same way. We returned into the wood. The next day I was sent back to look after some sick... On Saturday the 12th we embarked … To join the regiment there, the place was in ruins the enemy surrendered … 1 German, nearly 1000 Turks and about 12 guns. The others were in full retreat. We are in Qurna, which is just at the junction of the Tigris and Euphrates. Yours ever loving, Valentine https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426842212420-RVBJMEJ4JV5GS85XNOWD/Valentine+6.jpg pictures - Zena On 22 January 1915, Olive gave birth to their daughter Zena, named after the popular actress Zena Dare. She wrote immediately to tell Valentine. In Mesopotamia, the situation was escalating. On 12 April, the Ottomans mounted their own offensive against the British, by attacking their camp at Shaiba with a force of 4,000 troops and around 14,000 Arabs. The British counterattacked, leading to an eventual Ottoman loss of around 2,400 men who were killed, wounded or taken prisoner. This unexpected victory restored British confidence, and orders were given to continue the advance of forces up the Tigris River to Kut-al-Amara, and on to Baghdad. The forces fought a series of small but successful skirmishes along the way. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426842552174-QYCFWZQEBJRINAHISRGB/Valentine+7.jpg pictures - The Anniversary 29 APRIL 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, On the first will be our fourth anniversary of the wedding. How I wish I could wish the day personally. I have nothing to give you for a present. May god spare us to see the children well and happy and bring them up in the fear of God. I pray every day to be spared as the children are young and innocent and if anything does happen to me, what is the future going to be God forbid. Yours ever loving, Valentine 5 MAY 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, In my last letter I told you that I was at the field ambulance at Qurna and that I was quite well. After that I had another go of it, and now I have been transferred to the base at the general hospital. Here they found it to be malaria. I am feeling myself again except a bit weak. I am now taking Quinine. We left Qurna on the 3rd by boat and arrived here in the evening. Quite a lot of us are suffering from fever. The weather is getting very trying the heat is getting worse by the day. I daresay by now you have heard of our achievement here. The attack on the 31st proved a success… I will give you accounts later. Now I hope my writing about myself will not worry you all if not – I will not write anything to you in future; this is just because I don’t like to keep it away from you. Yours ever loving, Valentine https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426844123536-0DLSXLDIFK0SRG7YF24R/Valentine+9.jpg pictures - Fever 9 MAY 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, Since my last letter on Friday I hope by this you are yourself again and have no fever. I expect you have dispensed my prescription and continued to take the medicine. I am sorry to find you were deprived of your weekend for enjoyment but never mind one has to look to health first… I am glad baby is improving as well for her size I think she is doing excellent. I hope she continues to keep in good health and not be troublesome. I suppose she has taken after you. Mervyn will soon complete two years on Friday; I am pleased to see he eats like a boy. When you send his photo, catch him with his ‘no good’ smile… and what about your photo? We cannot now write any war news as our letters have to be censored. I have not so far given you any news except what you have read in the paper and my safety. Yours ever loving Valentine 21 MAY 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, I am indeed very sorry to hear of the trials and hardships you are undergoing and trust Divine Providence will soon relieve you of all your troubles. I do wish the war would come to an end soon so that I could at least come and relieve you in some way and that you would get some rest. Darling I can just realize your worries and pity you and hope you will bear the cross patiently. All this is now beginning to worry me and I hope my mind will be relieved when I hear good news of you and the children. I can’t understand what fever Mervyn has contracted, I hope not Malaria. Has he any signs of bronchitis? I hope you have cropped his hair, as he will not feel the heat as much. As soon as his fever comes down, try and take the children for a change to Bandra or Khandalla. You will also have to continue the Vibrona otherwise you will soon be getting sick again as you say you are still weak. It is very strange how you don’t get my letters. I write regularly darling and can assure you that I write almost four letters a week unless they get delayed in the censor’s office. With fondest love, sweetest kisses to self, Glady, Mervyn and Zena. Yours ever loving, Valentine https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426842859135-KRJ0IZ5B1UVFLYG4N02T/Valentine+8.jpg pictures - Garden of Eden 25 MAY 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, The troops are arriving here daily. We hope to see the aeroplanes soon as they have arrived and won’t it surprise the Turks. In one of the bags I have sent you will find the different types of cartridges used at the Battle of Shaiba and a ball from one of their shells. This spot is supposed to be the Garden of Eden. If you buy the history of the war (invasion of Chaldea) you will see all the pictures of Basra and an account of the place. Yours ever loving, Valentine 2 JUNE 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, You will be surprised to get a letter from me in this mail as things have happened quite unexpectedly. In my last I told you that I was leaving on Friday the 29th; we arrived at Qurna on Saturday. I suddenly got an attack of fever, going up high so that I had to be carried away from the boat and taken to the field ambulance. The affair had to take place on Monday, but as the saying goes… man proposes god disposes, is true and I am sure the Sacred Heart of Jesus has well destined that I should not be in action this time as we have to move under difficulties. By this you should know that I am all right and well and no need to worry. I have not gone back to Basra but intend going back when everything is more settled. Vincent Gomes may come to know that I got away this time but I can assure you that I did not fake it. It was providential. … I do hope dearie by this you have been relieved for your troubles and Mervyn on the way to recovery. Don’t worry yourself over me and if I had not to write to you, you would be anxious. So far our troops have done well and are advancing further… so I will have a holiday when I get back to the regiment. Yours ever loving Valentine Conditions for the British forces in Mesopotamia were horrifying. They endured high temperatures and regular flooding, flies, rats and mosquitoes were rife. The medical corps were understaffed and the levels of sickness extreme. Wounded and sick men often had to spend weeks travelling on boats up and down the Tigris to the field hospitals. Despite his malaria, and the shocking conditions in which he had to survive, Valentine’s letters to Olive are so full of concern about his own family, and the childhood sicknesses that were plaguing them. He regularly offered medical advice, sent prescriptions and sought favour from the local pharmacy so they could be filled with no payment. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426844442296-HM3VJM9MSHYWNN1S0GJW/Valentine+11.jpg pictures - Bearing the cross 12 June 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, I am indeed so sorry to find you are troubled with illness and the worry of the children but we must bear our cross patiently. Won’t I be glad when this wretched war is over to think that we will start our home again. All I hope now is that Divine Providence keeps your dear self, the children and me in good health till we meet but how long is it going to be no one knows, the sooner the better. I expect everybody tries to help you and how shall we ever return the thanks. Poor Mabel and Milly must be busy with school. Yesterday past makes two years from our return from our posting. Who could for a moment think of our separation? I regret the day we left the place, but now I am not so sorry, as I might have been transferred to another station, my time being up in the division - I might have been now in France. I am quite content being here, though the last battle has made an impression on me. Yours ever loving, Valentine 29 June 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, Well dearie you hardly know how pleased I feel when I get letters it makes my desperation so different and all the time till the arrival of the next mail I think of all the events I have read. Besides I don’t get letters from everyone else… I am glad to find you enjoying the rest as all meant towards your health. I daresay the anxiety and worry of the children and intense heat of the weather played on your consternation. I hope by this you have regained your health and become strong… Yours ever loving, Valentine https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426844293173-G7IN6FARLJK938IUFQFE/Valentine+10.jpg pictures - Food 3 October 1915 My dear mother, I have not received the parcel you so kindly sent but I expect it will arrive when things are more settled down. If it is not trouble to you please send me some bottled fish, lime pickle and … we do miss these delicacies in this outlandish place. Your son ever loving, Valentine 5 October 1915 My very own dearest lovie Olive, You will be glad to hear that I am safe and well and trust the same attends you and the children. It will be some time now that the post will be regular and don’t let this delay worry you. The weather is nice and pleasant though chill at night; you might want to send out my warm underwear, drawers, gloves, sweater and balaclava and fountain pen and I don’t want anything more. Yours ever loving, Valentine 7 November 1915 My very own dearest darling Olive, Yesterday made the anniversary of the 1st battle in the Persian Gulf. We must thank god that he blessed me and preserved me in good health. In a few days I hope everything will go well with us and may we see each other again. We will I presume undergo a few hardships but the end shall be a peaceful one. I pray every day for one purpose and hope you do the same. Don’t be worried if you don’t get a letter for some time as this is on the way to Baghdad. I shall try and write postcards as much as possible. I sent in anticipation a Xmas Card to all near and dear so that they wont have any cause to grumble and trust the same will reach them safely. Wishing you all in anticipation a merry Xmas – don’t forget to pray for our safety and speedy return. May the New Year bring in good tidings and may it be a peaceful one. Kiss the children for me. I intended sending you a Xmas present but as I have not yet received my pay and allowances I am unable to do so. I am sending for a brooch of the Norfolk Regiment (Rule Britannia) from England. I will now close with fondest love and sweet loving and enduring kisses to dearest self, Gladys, Mervyn and Zena. Yours ever loving, Valentine https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426852876238-BMOND88QVFHVOLNGK4ZV/Valentine+12.png pictures - Battle of Ctesiphon On 22 November, with the town of Kut-al-Amara under its occupation, the British forces advanced further on towards Baghdad. The turning point of their campaign took place at Ctesiphon, a town on the banks of the Tigris around 20 miles south of Baghdad. The ancient city of Ctesiphon was one of the great cities of Mesopotamia, and the capital of the Parthian Empire, which existed from 247 BC to 224 AD. The Emperor Trajan first captured Ctesiphon in 116 AD, though his successor Hadrian returned it a year later during a peace settlement. The Romans would capture it four more times during the next 150 years. Ctesiphon was claimed to be the largest city in the world between 570 AD and the time of its fall to Muslim conquerors in 637 AD. By the 8th century the city’s strategic importance had diminished and it was falling into ruins. It is still believed to be the basis for one of the cities of One Thousand and One Nights. On a cloudless day in 1915, the British forces engaged in fierce combat with their Ottoman enemies, fighting alongside the spirits of the hundreds of thousands of romans and invaders who had engaged in battle on this bloody ground in Mesopotamia’s dark heart over two thousand years. The Battle of Ctesiphon saw five days of slaughter and ended with a stalemate as both forces retreated. The Indian Expeditionary Force lost 40 per cent, or around 4,600 troops at Ctesiphon. A British soldier is later to have remarked that the troops could not easily pronounce the name Ctesiphon, and called it “Pistupon” instead. In a fateful move that would alter the course of the British campaign, the Ottoman Commander watched his enemy retreat and decided to cancel his own, pursuing the tired and depleted British force back to Kut-al-Amara. By 3 December 2015, the Ottomans had surrounded Kut, sending their forces south to block further British troops from coming to their aid up river. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426852908551-X5VCMMXLN40F1KWGJZE2/Valentine+13.png pictures - Bombay Christmas Back home in far away Bombay, the year 1915 was coming to a close without incident, and my Nana thrived under the care of many surrogate mothers including her maiden aunts Mabel, Ethel and Milly. Her diaries describe in careful detail life in the family room, a spacious area of the house set aside for the use and privacy of the ‘women-folk’, where they could follow quiet pursuits, household chores and exchange ideas and endless gossip without intrusion. “The family room occupied the rear of the house adjacent to the kitchen. It was sparsely furnished, but holding pride of place was a large Jhoola (swing) made of teakwood, strong enough to hold at least five or six people. It served a million purposes, and if only it could speak what tales it could tell of at least three generations that used it day in and day out. For me, the Jhoola played a major role in my early years. It was a haven for laughter and tears, sleep and solace, a place where I learnt the 3 ‘R’s and lisped my first prayers. I still recall my greatest delight – sitting with the grown ups and making kulkuls, and being allowed to lick the spoon after the Christmas Cake had been stirred. With Christmas round the corner, preparations were in full swing, and the family room the pivot on which our world turned. The East Indians are noted for their prowess in sweets and confectionery, and at Christmas time the treasured, carefully guarded recipes were brought out, the ingredients for the specialties bought well in advance. The air was redolent with the fragrance of spices, almonds and dry fruits, and freshly baked cakes. In the adjacent kitchen, vessels of Sorpatel and Vindaloo bubbled on the fire, giving out tantalizing odours. Loops of masala sausages and strings of white onions festooned the blackened ceilings, giving the kitchen a festive look. The house sparkled from top to toe. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426852968945-SGQ97J9FEMGGGMEOKAC0/Valentine+14.png pictures - Killed in action It was the 20th of December 1915, a momentous day as it eventually turned out to be. Khotachiwadi was a beehive of activity and the sight of the Postman was welcome, as he came laden with his bag of Christmas mail. He reached the Fernandez residence but delivered his letter next door. The message was addressed to the next-of-kin, Mrs Olive Fernandez, and opened by Valentine’s family. Army Headquarters India Adjutant General’s Branch Simla, 20-12-15 Post copy of telegram. Forwarded in confirmation. 238/4 (A.G.10-C) Killed in action first December Assistant Surgeon J.V. Fernandez Indian Subordinate Medical Department attached Norfolks AAA Mesopotamia. 2. One letter of condolence forwarded herewith. Sgd.: E.G. Durand. Lieutenant for Adjutant General in India. Casualties, Simla. Assistant Surgeon Joseph Valentine Fernandez was mortally wounded in the Battle of Ctesiphon. Carried by the stretcher-bearers with whom he had worked for the last year, he was moved with the forces retreating to Kut-al-Amara. He lay, gazing up at the sky of this alien land and Garden of Eden. He saw his son Mervyn smile, and the curls that had grown out of his daughter Gladys’s hair. He tried to imagine the face of his new daughter Zena, whom he had never met. He formed the words of the last letter he would need to write, in his mind. “My very own dearest darling Olive…”, he thought, and closed his eyes. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854129004-4K8UQ9J0EFDDY1YA16ZH/Valentine+15.png pictures - Did he ever see my picture? “There was great consternation and grief and confusion when the telegram was received by my Uncles and my Grandmother Mai. Grandfather Rowe was hurriedly summoned and informed of the tragedy. My poor mother was in blissful ignorance, so until a decision was reached as to when and how to break the news, everyone was compelled to appear normal. My mother had already posted, much in advance, a picture portrait of Glady, Mervyn and myself to my father. It was her Christmas and birthday present combined, sent with so much love and feeling. It would be his first glimpse of his youngest daughter Zena, born on his last birthday. There is no way of knowing the course of events that followed but I presume they could not defer the fatal news for long, and eventually Olive was informed that her Valentine had been killed in action on 1 December 1915. I can only imagine how devastated and shattered she must have been, to know that she would never see her beloved Valentine ever again, to know that he was buried in an unknown grave across the seas, and that her children were fatherless. We will never know whether my father received the last picture of his three children. The secret is with him only.” https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854164334-FYDK164NUTSU8JGXG7VL/Valentine+16.png pictures - Brave soldier of Empire Days after Valentine’s death, the British completed their retreat to Kut-al-Amara, followed closely by the Ottoman force. The Ottoman surrounded the town on 7 December, beginning a siege that would last for months. They successfully defended at least three attempts at rescue, and effectively cut the town off from food and other supplies. Starving and near death, the British finally surrendered Kut five months later, at the end of April 1916. The Ottomans captured just over 10,000 surviving troops, who they marched to Anatolia. Their suffering continued, and over 4000 men died in captivity. The British learned much from the Battle of Ctesiphon and the Seige of Kut-al-Amara. Their confidence was much diminished; and they realized the inherent weakness of their supply lines up river into Mesopotamia. Although they corrected many of these mistakes and regrouped to advance once again on Baghdad later in the campaign, so much damage had already been done. The period during which Valentine died saw over 11000 people killed in battle, many thousands dying from wounds and sickness, over 13000 missing and taken prisoner and more than 50000 wounded. “A pall of gloom lay over Khotachiwadi. Every family mourned with us as the news of Valentine’s tragic death spread far and wide. A hero’s death in a foreign land.” Dr Joseph Valentine Fernandez was mentioned twice in despatches during and following his active service. On 1 March 1915, Lt General Sir AA Barrett acknowledges his “gallant and distinguished service in the field. I have it on command from His Majesty the King to record His Majesty’s high appreciation of the services rendered.” Olive had this on good authority, the letter sent to her by Winston Churchill, Secretary of State for War. On 1 January 1916, Valentine was mentioned in a second dispatch from General Sir John Nixon, published in the London Gazette. Once again, he is acknowledged “for gallant and distinguished service in the field”, no doubt for his actions in the Battle of Ctesiphon. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854267670-CG0TYV05EIN7PEQGHDXD/Valentine+17.png pictures - In sorry and in sympathy Around this time, Olive received her last letter from the First World War, a missive from Queen Mary to the war widows of India. “In sorry and sympathy my thoughts fly across the seas to my sisters in India that beautiful land which I have visited twice and love so much and love so well. I send you this to do honour to a very brave soldier of the Empire who died for you and for us in the glorious fight for truth and freedom against tyranny and broken faith.” https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854317735-F40B5QX00U69ZH8Q4CBB/Valentine+18.png pictures - The links that bind Nana’s diaries continue to describe the sad aftermath of Valentine’s death. She writes of Olive’s spirit and strength of character, gradually picking up the threads of life and to think about the future; a new life for her and her children. She also wrote and later spoke frequently of the loss she felt at having never known her father. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854421660-JCDNDR835WLKRA3UE01U/Valentine+20.png pictures - When circumstances part In the aftermath of the First World War, it took the British Government some time to settle the monetary dues of the war widow and dependents of those who were killed in battle. Eventually, the Government declared free education for the children of war widows, in first class boarding or day schools. They paid full board and lodging, school tuition fees, text and exercise books, stationery and ‘any other requirements by way of doctors, dentistry and illnesses’. “This was indeed the best solution. Not only would we get the best education in an exclusive Convent, we would be under constant supervision, looked after, body and soul, and be well-equipped to face a brave new world after we left school. Most important of all, my mother would have peace of mind, and be free of financial stress.” Olive sent her two daughters to St Joseph’s Convent, a school run by a Belgian Order of Nuns, in Bandra, and in close proximity to her own grandmother’s house. With her children taken care of, she took up her own career in nursing and midwifery. “December 1919 saw a flurry of activity in the house – a lot of shopping, and sewing and packing of trunks. I hadn’t a clue, and was led to believe that Gladys and I were going on a holiday to Bandra to visit my Great Grandmother, Mrs Rosemary Esperance, who lived in solitary splendor in a tiny little dolls house on Pali Hill Road, just across the way from St Andrews Church. It broke my mother, and my grandmother Mai’s heart to see me go, as I was still the baby. I was four years old.” Nana describes the convent as a prestigious institution filled with the daughters of wealthy people who could afford the best schooling for their children. While it catered for the middle-class and poor, the latter were trained to work in the convent’s kitchens, laundries and gardens. It was a lonely period of her life. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854376353-GQSACAPK7PPZY54GDKE5/Valentine+19.png pictures - Olive While I don’t think she ever got over the sudden removal from the small village and large family in which she grew up, Nana herself became one of the strongest people I ever knew. Her mother Olive never fully recovered from her broken heart, and died at the relatively early age of 50, in 1940. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854456582-Y96387PW8IYNPPUVRSKU/Valentine+21.png pictures - Destiny's child Zena married a handsome Goan sailor named Claude De Souza in 1943, and had a successful career as an editor for Macmillan Publishing in Bombay. Nana’s beautiful, mosaic tiled flat in Colaba, the heart of old Bombay was an enchanting place. She raised her two children there, my father Clint and my aunt and godmother Claudette, and we continued to live with her when I was born. Her love of tradition and her passion for food was legendary, and I think it was her way of recreating the early years during which she loved and lost so much. Most mornings in her household began with a long discussion about the day’s menu, followed by a trip to the market. On hot days, lunch was served before long siestas, and I remember her favourite meals clearly – hot chicken curry, mince cutlets, fiery pickles, fragrant rices. She had a beautifully carved wooden cabinet or ‘meatsafe’ filled with biscuits and sweets – cake with marzipan icing and my absolute favourite, marzipan fruit. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1426854508270-SIH3UZ3PZDQS08DN8QK2/Valentine+22.png pictures - Jack Valentine Valentine’s letters were found in storage many years after his death, and were eventually passed down to me for safekeeping in 2004. We had been trying for our first baby when I first read them 10 years ago, and conceived almost immediately thereafter. I knew instinctively that we were having a boy, and that his name would be Jack Valentine. We took Jack to Bombay to meet Zena just before her death. Although she was by then losing her speech, she was able to tell us through her tears how very happy she was that she had finally met her Valentine, and how very much she loved him. In this small way and by this small deed we learnt that at the very end love can indeed trump death, lest we forget. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1431788224447-Y8B052NOUQ4ZPVPU35E2/olive+and+valentine.png pictures - Postscript Valentine was one of more than 1 million Indian troops to enlist and serve in the First World War with the British Army. Their contribution and sacrifice to the war is largely underplayed in contemporary war history, both British and Indian. I don't know the reasons behind Valentine going to war, but I am sure he had every intention of fighting for the peace and freedom of the empire in which he lived. From my reading about the Mesopotamian campaign, I wish I could believe that to be the case. I fear instead he died only, and ironically, to protect the economic interests of the British Government, and the oil reserves needed to maintain the naval supremacy that had once bought them the prize of India. 100 years later, the soil of modern day Iraq in which his body lies, rich in blood and oil, is still not at peace.   http://www.spicemama.au/spice-shop daily 0.75 2015-07-23 http://www.spicemama.au/blog daily 0.75 2017-01-27 http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/4/4/spice-mamas-masala-roast-chicken monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1428124262366-F7SSWJDOTO12WZAWKU2M/image-asset.png recipe archive - Masala roast chicken https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1428124318692-1F4Q8AC9G3Y64CG027EK/image-asset.png recipe archive - Masala roast chicken http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/4/21/spice-mamas-cutlet-sandwiches monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1429621092876-PD4B9SGXC80P04X6IYFW/image-asset.png recipe archive - Nana's cutlets http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/5/18/spice-mamas-green-chutney-with-ginger-and-garlic monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1431937174803-K9PTA9G1ICEW5AYWX8SG/image-asset.png recipe archive - Green chutney with ginger and garlic http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/7/29/spice-mamas-coconut-vegetable-stew monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1438153046415-J8ZFRCRATIGM2O0EHGRM/coconut+stew.png recipe archive - Coconut vegetable stew http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/3/22/spice-mamas-dal-chawal-palidu monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1427004612270-97TBO6R3T1XE3EEE674V/image-asset.png recipe archive - Dal chawal palidu 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archive - Amazingly easy palak paneer http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/4/26/spice-mamas-pistachio-saffron-and-cardamom-kulfi monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1430014551274-VLT579IAIXKRASVKC1L1/image-asset.png recipe archive - Pistachio, saffron and cardamom kulfi http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/5/23/spice-mamas-green-masala-chicken-curry monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1432369423852-JHXEPJCTMAVSDYZ2YK06/image-asset.png recipe archive - Green masala chicken curry https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1432369861389-2I5SYV9XWARCKDD0XR6T/image-asset.png recipe archive - Green masala chicken curry http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/6/4/sultanas-bombay-potato-chops monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1433387491159-JYFDL620FUIOFR15SI52/image-asset.jpeg recipe archive - Bombay potato chops https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1433386957178-S323F3BUQAIXAHWOPYMK/image-asset.png recipe archive - Bombay potato chops http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/6/10/wendys-pickle-fowl monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1434334450933-7WZTWHI42IH0UUMUTPJK/image-asset.png recipe archive - Wendy's pickle fowl https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1433944415995-E3LWD3UE8KKS3H95X6XR/image-asset.png recipe archive - Wendy's pickle fowl http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/6/22/spice-mamas-chick-pea-tomato-and-ginger-curry monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/54d72d6ce4b0b30d94727a9d/1434970536607-DLVLI6U761IGXVDVTWF9/image-asset.png recipe archive - Chick pea, tomato and ginger curry http://www.spicemama.au/blog/2015/6/15/spice-mamas-quick-coconut-chutney monthly 0.5 2017-01-23 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