Little Dadu. A story from Nowroz Bag

Today’s post is the story of a man with a big heart. A man who fed seven hungry college girls day in and day out. A man at whose house I had the privilege of eating a couple of times. A man who once would spray Hugo Boss on himself before he went in to fry fish. A man who sits on his stool today and still directs his trusted cooks to conjure some of the most amazing dishes. A man who believes in excess when it comes to hosting. A man who when hospitalised for heart problems calls for mutton curry and rice from home.
Today’s post is about the story of Dadu (Dadi Pastakia).

Dadu could not come up to the upstairs house where the lunch happened. But he oversaw the cooking, was satisfied that he had over-ordered and then let the party begin. Hoping that Rita’s fiancé, Farhad, would share some of his duties as a host. There is no photo of Dadi Pastakia in this post except one of one year old Dadu. He doesn’t look very different today, close to eighty years later.

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