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Eater
27-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Eater
The Ice Cream Cookbooks of Summer Are Here
An ice cream cookbook holds an implicit promise: We're going to have fun. Ice cream, in its many permutations, is arguably the most fun food we have: It is childhood, it is summer, it is a rainbow that melts on your tongue and down your arm. But actually making ice cream? That, at least according to Nick Morgenstern, is a different story. '...I am not going to tell you to have fun,' he writes at the end of the introduction to his new cookbook, Morgenstern's Finest Ice Cream . 'Eating ice cream is fun. Making it is serious business.' Morgenstern's is one of three new ice cream books to be bestowed upon us in time for ice cream season (though as we true ice cream freaks know, ice cream is every season). In March, Pooja Bavishi published Malai: Frozen Desserts Inspired by South Asian Flavors ; a month later, Tyler Malek followed with Salt & Straw: America's Most Iconic Ice Creams , written with JJ Goode. Morgenstern, Bavishi, and Malek are the owners of successful ice cream establishments: Morgenstern has two eponymous shops in Manhattan; Bavishi's Malai is a well-loved draw in Brooklyn; and Malek, the co-founder of Salt & Straw, now presides over a growing network of storefronts in several major metropolitan areas. Ice cream says a lot about the personality of its maker, so it follows that ice cream cookbooks do, too. Opening one is a little like going on a first date: Will you find connection here? Is this relationship material or a quick, unsatisfying fling? Will you feel supported, shown a good time, made to want to learn? The same can be said for any cookbook and its author, really, but ice cream is special: If it's a food that evokes simplicity and innocence, it's also one that comes with an intimidating learning curve. As someone who has made a fair amount of ice cream at home, I didn't feel intimidated; I just wanted to know if these books would make good and wise companions. I started out with Morgenstern's Finest Ice Creams . Glutton for punishment that I am, I was drawn in by the whiff of proactive disapproval in its author's tone — how dare you think this is going to be fun, you simp? — but also, full disclosure, because several years ago Nick Morgenstern took me to lunch to discuss the possibility of co-writing this very book. Nothing came of it; Morgenstern appears to have written the book without a co-writer, and his tone will likely be familiar to anyone who's visited his flagship shop in Lower Manhattan. The ice cream he serves is very, very good, but there's a ramrod perfectionism that underscores the immaculate white-tiled space. That air defines the book. I say that with a certain admiration: Again, making ice cream can be tricky business, so it can be helpful to have someone tell you to do this and absolutely not that. That said, Morgenstern isn't here to hold your hand. Consider the recipe for his salted caramel pretzel ice cream recipe: Cook 'the caramel as far as it can possibly go before it becomes burnt or even slightly bitter,' he writes. 'This can only really be achieved through practice.' There are basic guidelines for making caramel, but it's really up to you to figure it out. This is a book of strongly held opinions. 'Life in NYC has deluded its residents into believing that the Union Square farmers' market is amazing,' Morgenstern writes in his introduction to strawberry ice cream. 'Is it better than the Soviet-style shopping experience of supermarket chains…? Sure, but it does not compare to the farmers' markets in France, California, or Tokyo.' The hot fudge sundae, meanwhile, is The Most Important Sundae in America (fair); the quality of a scoop shop's vanilla ice cream will 'tell you everything you need to know' about the shop's quality (also fair); vegan food 'is annoying,' an 'unnecessary obstacle on the road to deliciousness' (unfair, and also prehistoric). I appreciate these opinions, even if I disagree with them: Give me a cookbook with personality any day. I was less appreciative of the book's photos of the ice cream itself, staged as it is to look less like a food you'd want to eat and more like an installation that should be sitting on the floor of DIA: Beacon with a title card next to it. And the ice cream recipes? Delightful in both abundance and variety. Morgenstern likes iterating on a theme. So he provides six types of vanilla ice cream, five each of chocolate, banana, and strawberry, innumerable spins on tropical flavors, nuts, and caramel, and a rogue's gallery of both classics and wild cards like french fry, burnt sage, and tahini and jelly. Morgenstern mostly doesn't use eggs in his ice cream — they get in the way of the ice cream's flavor, he explains — or a ton of sugar. In the s'mores recipe, the sweetness comes from only a half-cup sugar, a small dose of glucose syrup (which also helps create a smooth texture), and marshmallows, the latter of which you toast and broil (I blow-torched mine) and then blend into the hot ice cream base. Sounds complicated but isn't, really; this is where Morgenstern's straightforward, no-nonsense style really sings. I wound up with a supremely smooth, not-too-sweet scoop that really does taste like a s'more, and even if Morgenstern insists — as he does in the book's introduction — that there 'is absolutely no screaming for ice cream,' I, for one, think that's worth shouting over. From Morgenstern I went to Malai . The name of both her book and shop, Bavishi writes, comes from 'one of my favorite food words since I was a kid. It's the cream that I would steal from the top of the milk when my parents were not looking.' Having grown up in the U.S. as the child of Indian immigrants, she continues, she uses ice cream as a 'platform to express my whole self,' and to 'tell the stories of what it was like for me to embrace the Indian flavors in my suburban American upbringing.' Thus, the book is full of recipes that incorporate traditionally South Asian flavors: there's ice cream flavored with turmeric, masala chai, jaggery, fenugreek, hawla, and gulab jamun, shrikhand frozen yogurt, cardamom kulfi ice pops, and nimbu pani sorbet. A sense of warmth pervades Bavishi's book; unlike Morgenstern, she wants you to have fun. Family is also a constant presence: a photo of Bavishi and her parents opens the book; her mother's dudh keri, a summertime dessert, shows up in the headnote for mango and cream ice cream; a disastrous white chocolate cheesecake she made as a child resurfaces as inspiration for a flavor. And carrot halwa ice cream is on Malai's menu, she explains, because her father will only eat his carrot halwa (a carrot pudding) with a scoop of vanilla. Ice cream, in Bavishi's portrayal, is a romp — to talk about, to make, to eat. In this sense, it's more of a traditional ice cream book than Morgenstern's, which makes its emphasis on non-traditional flavors (at least to the average white American palate) even more refreshing. Like Morgenstern, Bavishi doesn't use eggs in her ice cream base; instead, there's a bit of cornstarch for thickener, along with milk, cream, honey, sugar, and cream cheese. The cream cheese lends the base a pleasant tang and cuts its sweetness, though even without it, the base is far from cloying. I was initially wary of using cornstarch in the base, as it can create a chalky flavor, but in the jaggery ice cream recipe, it created a noticeably thick, rich texture. The recipe is dead simple — you just add powdered jaggery to the base, then cook, chill, churn, and enjoy — but results in exceptional flavor, with a depth and warmth to its sweetness, and the cream cheese provides a refreshing counterpoint. I can see eating this throughout the summer, topped with a few Luxardo cherries. And since I bought about a pound of jaggery, I will. Last I went to Salt & Straw: America's Most Iconic Ice Creams . Born in Portland, Oregon, the ice cream chain has become synonymous with innovative — detractors might say over the top — flavors and mix-ins; it's the type of place that uses ice cream as a vessel for bone marrow, black olive brittle, and caramelized turkey with cranberry sauce (not all together, but never say never). In this cookbook, the company's second, Tyler Malek acknowledges his proclivity towards the unconventional. '[W]e've always avoided making the classics,' he writes. 'That is, until now.' This book is dedicated to 'the epic Salt & Straw version of 10 of the country's most famous flavors.' Malek prefaces his recipes for chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, coffee, pistachio, and green tea with a breakdown of the different kinds of ice cream makers (Morgenstern does this too), as well as recipes for different bases: custard, gelato, sorbet, ice cream, and coconut. He also includes a sidebar about how to serve ice cream, something that may initially read as a 'no shit' moment but is actually informative and oddly moving. 'The thing is,' he explains, 'at our shops we put so much care into our scoops, we want you to experience them at their best.' Malek is a true ice cream freak, and I ate that enthusiasm right up. Tell me the ratio of water to fat to milk solids to sugar in your ice cream base! Regale me with a discussion of why you use xantham gum in there! Speak to me of the 220 flavor compounds found in a vanilla bean! The book's claim to provide the classics is a true one, but, well, Malek is going to Malek. Yes, there's a recipe for French vanilla, but there's also smoked cherry vanilla and vanilla with sticky croissants and caramel swirl. There's chocolate chocolate chip, but it's a prelude to a Wonka-like tidal wave of black pepper goat cheese ganache, chile crisp chocolate peanut butter cup, and fig and sesame peanut butter cup. And green tea? Why stop at matcha when you can have chocolate earl grey and lemon shortbread, or smoked black tea with black sesame marshmallows? This book is a bit like a fun house, insofar as it distorts your idea of what reality can and should be. I had a particularly hard time deciding what to make, but finally settled on bananas foster rum caramel. This is, not incidentally, one of the book's vegan flavors. Morgenstern asserts that vanilla is the true test of an ice cream shop's mettle, but I'd argue that the quality of its vegan scoops are equally important. Malek's vegan base is made of coconut cream, a scant half-cup sugar, xantham gum, and light corn syrup. From there you heat, chill, and freeze it like you would a dairy base. It's quite creamy, and makes a good blank palette for the bananas foster rum caramel. The resulting ice cream was as smooth and creamy as the dairy versions I made, and altogether a real joy to eat. 'Joy' aptly sums up everything I made. That's the beautiful thing about ice cream: Just as there's something for everyone, there's a cookbook that can answer your particular cravings and sensibility. It's extremely democratic. It is also, with apologies to Nick Morgenstern, fun. See More: Cookbooks Eater at Home How to Cook What to Cook
Hindustan Times
25-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Pooja Bavishi: 'The book is about celebrating the flavours of South Asia'
Photos: Pooja Bavishi at her Philadelphia ice cream parlour (Courtesy Malai / Morgan Ione Photography) At first glance, the ice cream flavours at Malai seem more like a spice menu than a dessert list: ginger root, cinnamon, mace, vanilla, cardamom, garam masala, masala chai, and even a riff on that age-old Indian favourite, sweet roti and ghee. But when I step into the cheerful scoop shop's Philadelphia outpost, a few days after its opening, surprise quickly gives way to delight. It's clear that founder Pooja Bavishi has reimagined the classic American ice cream parlour through a South Asian lens, blending traditional techniques with the bold, aromatic ingredients of her Indian heritage. The result is a range of unexpectedly lush, fragrant ice creams, as comforting as they are adventurous. 224pp, $35; Weldon Owen Born to Indian immigrant parents and raised in the American South, Bavishi grew up at the crossroads of cultures; she says the aroma of cardamom and saffron were as familiar to her as that of apple pie. Bavishi never felt like she was balancing two separate cultures growing up. 'To me, being Indian-American was the same as being American – it was all part of who I was. My family's traditions and flavours were a natural part of my everyday life, and I carried that with me everywhere I went,' she says. That sense of being herself, without feeling like she had to fit into one box or the other, shaped how she approached her work with Malai, which translates into 'cream' in Hindi. 'I want to celebrate those flavours and stories in a way that feels inclusive and authentic – because to me, that's what being American looks like,' she says. Growing up in a first-generation Indian-American household, food was always a vibrant part of family life. There was always a blend of traditional Indian dishes alongside classic American staples. 'There was definitely some mishmash – like cilantro chutney on our tacos or a dash of Kashmiri red chili in tomato soup – but it was also a seamless mix that reflected both worlds I was living in,' she says. Bavishi says the seamless blend of flavours is at the heart of Malai. 'I love taking those familiar spices and ingredients from my childhood and reimagining them in ice cream, creating something that feels both nostalgic and new,' she says. The entrepreneur, who has a master's degree from the London School of Economics, and an MBA from NYU Stern School of Business, says each step gave her different perspectives and skills that helped shape how she approached building Malai – from understanding markets to strategy to leadership. 'After a few years of doing markets, pop-ups, and selling online, we realised that people weren't just coming to Malai for the ice cream – they were coming for the experience. They wanted to talk about the flavours, ask questions, and share memories. And we wanted to create a space where that could really come to life,' she says. Bavishi opened her first scoop shop in Brooklyn in 2019. Having her own space meant she could tell the story of Malai more fully – from the design of the shop to the way people were introduced to her flavours. The early days were intense – long hours, a small team, and figuring things out on the fly. 'But there was also something really special about watching people walk in, taste something totally new (or deeply familiar), and feel connected to it. That's when we knew we were onto something,' she says. This is clear when you see kids, parents, friends, office-goers, and others troop into the ice cream store, requesting a taste of this, a bite of that. The flavours are unusual, but ice cream is familiar, which makes the atypical tastes an out-of-the-ordinary experience. Malai rotates a seasonal selection of up to 12 of flavours, along with up to two soft serve options. Right now, the dairy options include tulsi chocolate chip, lemon cardamom, cherry black cardamom, masala chai, apricot mace, and rose with cinnamon roasted almonds. The non-dairy and vegan options on offer in summer are passionfruit cilantro and lychee. Bavishi says the flavours are drawn from her own upbringing. 'Growing up in an Indian-American household, the spices and ingredients we used daily were so vibrant and layered. These were the flavours that felt like comfort and joy to me,' she says. She naturally gravitated toward those ingredients when she started experimenting with ice cream. The idea was to see what would happen if she paired the spices of her childhood with the dessert she loved most. 'That's really how Malai was born: from the idea that these ingredients belong in the mainstream dessert conversation,' she says. Each flavour is rooted in a memory, a story, or even a playful twist on something nostalgic – like the Cinnamon Honeybun, a cardamom and spiced honey ice cream, which was inspired by the snack she used to get from the corner store growing up. 'So, while the profiles may seem unusual at first, they all come from a very personal and intuitive place,' she says. The response has been meaningful. For many South Asians, Malai's flavours tap into something deeply familiar. 'I've had customers share that our Rose with Cinnamon Roasted Almond reminds them of desserts they grew up eating, or that a scoop of Masala Chai ice cream feels like home,' she says, adding that this connection is why she started Malai – to celebrate and honour those flavour memories in a new and joyful way. For those new to these ingredients, the reaction is often one of pleasant surprise. They may not have tasted fennel or fenugreek in a dessert before, but they're curious – and often fall in love with the flavours. What's been especially rewarding is seeing people embrace that sense of discovery and be open to something new. 'At the end of the day, whether it's a memory or a new experience, we want Malai to bring people joy and a sense of connection,' she says. People have shared how much they've enjoyed experimenting with the recipes – and how meaningful it is to see ingredients like fennel, jaggery, and garam masala front and centre. 'That kind of resonance means everything to me.' Bavishi says one of the biggest early hurdles was educating people about the flavours as South Asian spices aren't something everyone grew up tasting in desserts. On the operational side, scaling up while keeping quality consistent was another challenge. 'We're really passionate about making ice cream that's rich, creamy, and true to those flavours, so that meant a lot of trial and error as we grew. Ice cream is a delicate product, and any hiccup in temperature can affect the texture and flavour, so it requires constant attention and careful coordination,' she says. In April 2025, she launched her labour of love: the Malai cookbook. The idea grew from years of conversations with customers who weren't just excited about the ice cream – they were curious about the flavours behind it. 'The book isn't just about ice cream – it's about celebrating the flavours of South Asian childhoods in a way that feels fun, accessible, and joyfully indulgent. It's for those who've grown up with these ingredients and those discovering them for the first time. We wanted it to feel like an open invitation to play, explore, and celebrate culture through dessert,' she says. A collection of 100 recipes, including ice cream bars, cones, pies, cakes, and cookies, the cookbook promises varied sweet endings to meals. 'The cities where we have scoop shops have long been defined by the cultural fabric – and food is one of the most powerful ways that shows up. Malai fits into that tradition by taking something familiar, like ice cream, and reimagining it through the lens of South Asian ingredients and memories,' Bavishi says. (Courtesy Malai / Morgan Ione Photography) In the future, Bavishi wants to be 'all about world domination – in the sweetest way possible'! She wants Malai to become a household name, the go-to for anyone craving something deliciously different and rooted in culture. Malai just signed a lease for a scoop shop in Manhattan, another chance to share the unusual flavours with even more people. 'But beyond opening new shops, our biggest goal is making sure as many people as possible can enjoy Malai, whether that's through stores, grocery, shipping, or partnerships,' she says. New York, Philly, and DC are known for their deep immigrant roots, which have had a huge impact on the community and culture. Malai was born out of that very spirit – the first generation experience of bridging heritage and identity in a way that feels joyful and real. 'The cities where we have scoop shops have long been defined by the cultural fabric – and food is one of the most powerful ways that shows up. Malai fits into that tradition by taking something familiar, like ice cream, and reimagining it through the lens of South Asian ingredients and memories,' Bavishi says. Malai's presence in neighbourhoods isn't just about serving dessert – it's about creating space for cultural expression, for celebration, and for a new kind of nostalgia that reflects who we are today. 'We're proud to be part of this ongoing story, showing that 'American' dessert can be as diverse and layered as the communities it serves,' she says. At the end of the day, Malai is all about bringing joy and connection through every scoop – and it's just getting started.
News18
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- News18
Internet Can't Digest This ‘Aesthetic' Dubai Chai Toast—Literally
Last Updated: Despite Muntaha calling it a go-to snack in middle-class households, many viewers were unable to recognise the dish. A Pakistani content creator appears to have shed light on a different version of bread and tea. As claimed by her, the same formula is used to prepare an 'aesthetic snack" in the United Arab Emirates. Siora Thul Muntaha also tried the recipe at home and shared the results with her Instagram followers. Her post soon went viral, sparking a debate online. Despite Muntaha calling it a go-to snack in middle-class households, many viewers were unable to recognise the dish. Some users were also left disgusted by seeing the texture of the preparation. The video opens with Muntaha boiling milk in a pan. She then adds some tea powder and sugar into the mix and lets it cook for a few minutes. When the beverage is ready, she spreads cream on a slice of bread and covers it with another one. Muntaha then pours the tea on the sandwich and waits for the liquid to soak in entirely. She ultimately starts eating the dish with a spoon. 'I still remember when we had this snack in the evening, watching PTV, it was the only snack we could afford for the evening tea. And look now, it's an aesthetic snack in Dubai. Moral: Anything can happen. Never underestimate your lifestyle," Muntaha shared in the caption. Confused by the recipe, a user asked, 'Am I the only one who's watching this for the first time?" 'What is this snack? Call it bread, butter and tea," added another. 'No way, is this even food?" doubted a person. One viewer wrote, 'Seriously making me throw up, no one really soaked the bread in chai to make a gooey mess. Just a slight dip, good ratio of soaked bread." 'I used to soak bread with tea but there was no butter involved," shared an individual. A user, however, turned nostalgic and recalled, 'Put fresh milk on bread and add hot tea over it. It tastes really great." 'Not butter, I use Malai," suggested one. 'Chai lovers get heart attacks," quipped a person. Despite some criticisms, the video has already created a buzz on the internet. Since being shared, it has garnered more than 18 million views and over two lakh reactions on Instagram.
The Hindu
17-05-2025
- Politics
- The Hindu
Inside Delhi's Madrasi Camp, the fear of a community disintegration
Each home in Delhi's Madrasi Camp sports a drishti bommai (a black mask with exaggerated features such as bulging eyes and red lips). Invariably, at the entryway to each single-room home are two lemons covered in red powder to keep the 'evil eye' away. But Yennu Malai, a 50-year-old resident of the camp, laments that 'bad luck' has fallen upon everyone over the past year. The camp, which was established between 1968 and 1970 in the shadow of the Barapullah drain, will be demolished for the upcoming restoration and cleaning project of the 16-kilometre nallah, a Mughal structure dating back about 400 years. Sitting cross-legged on a cement slab in front of his home, Malai, a vegetable seller, looks over his shoulder at the soon-to-be demolished Madrasi Camp in south Delhi's Jangpura-B, near the Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station. He has called the locality home his entire life. Malai, talking to his brother-in-law and sister, questions the government's logic, angry, but also chuckling at the irony: 'My ration, voter, and Aadhaar cards say Madrasi Camp, and suddenly, they want us to pick up everything and leave. How is this justice?' Malai is referring to the May 9 Delhi High Court order to demolish Madrasi Camp starting June 1. The HC has also directed government departments to ensure proper rehabilitation of the eligible residents of the unauthorised colony. Madrasi Camp has 370 shanties, and families living in 189 of them have been found eligible for rehabilitation under the Delhi Slum and Jhuggi Jhopri Rehabilitation and Relocation Policy, 2015. They will be given housing in Narela, about 40 km from their current location. The public toilet in Madrasi Camp is barely functional, and residents relieve themselves on the train tracks, a minute's walk away. The odour of the sewage from the drain on one side and garbage-collection facility on the other, is overpowering, but residents say that over the decades they have built a community here, based on a common culture. Forced to move out During the rainy season in 2024, a public interest litigation was filed in the HC on the flooding in parts of Nizamuddin East and Jangpura. The court had ordered agencies such as Delhi Development Authority (DDA), Archaeological Survey of India (ASI, which maintains the Barapullah), Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD), and Public Works Department (PWD) to clean up the oversaturated drain. On September 1, 2024, the MCD demolished a few homes in the locality and removed all street vendors from the area. An official in the MCD says, 'This was done as people were hindering the cleaning of the Barapullah drain.' A week after, residents of the camp were issued eviction notices by Delhi government's PWD. This was later halted by then Chief Minister Atishi and the matter was taken up in the HC. On May 9 this year, a Bench of Justices Pratibha Singh and Manmeet Pritam Singh Arora heard a bunch of applications filed by Madrasi Camp dwellers seeking the court's intervention in their relocation to Narela. 'The rehabilitation of the Madrasi Camp dwellers is essential for the de-clogging of the Barapullah drain. None of the dwellers can claim any rights beyond the right of rehabilitation, as the land is public land, which is encroached upon,' the court said. The court has given the dwellers time between May 20 and May 31 to shift out of Madrasi Camp, following which, demolition will begin from June 1. Among those who now live in fear of the future is Kutan, a 55-year-old resident of the camp, who says his father and grandfather walked from Chennai to Delhi in 1968 because they couldn't afford a ticket. Kutan speaks about how his family found a home in Delhi after leaving Chennai, where they worked on 200- to 300-acre farmlands on the city's outskirts for meagre money. 'One day, my father decided not to work for the rich, so the family just left home in search of a job. They came to Delhi and found work as labourers. Slowly, they uprooted our entire family from Chennai, who came here. The city was unfamiliar, things were fast, no one rested,' Kutan says, as he waters his plants. Each home in the camp has a few pots and plants. People say they have constructed their houses brick by brick and gradually made them homes with plants, colourful walls, kolam (white designs on the ground), and pictures of deities. Kutan's family did odd jobs to sustain themselves. With the money he earned, he got all four of his children married. They live in Chennai, and now he feels that his last option is to move back. Like him, many in the camp are contemplating doing this. Fixing his blue and green checkered kaili mundu (lungi), Kutan says, 'I would like to stay in Delhi till the time I can work on my own. I don't want to go back and be a burden on any of my children.' He laughs while saying that every time he goes back to Chennai, he must get kaili mundus as gifts for friends in Delhi. Madrasi Camp has houses almost glued together, with very little natural light permeating through the narrow alleys. Most of the women in the camp work as cleaners in some of Delhi's most valued real estate. The men are cooks, rickshaw-pullers, vegetable sellers, and workers in government jobs. For many, the move to Narela will result in a loss of livelihood as it takes nearly three hours to travel from there to their current places of work. Buses are infrequent; there is no metro connectivity; and other transportation is expensive with an auto charging about ₹500 for the journey. Narayan, 30, (name changed to protect privacy) works at the Uprashtrapati Bhawan, the vice-president's house, in the housekeeping department. Standing near a pile of garbage, while swatting a fly away from his face, he says that three generations of his family have lived in the camp and worked around the area. He will not be able to move to Narela, he says, but is also daunted by the rent in south Delhi that ranges from ₹10,000-₹15,000 for a room. A community of their own Many in the camp have been allotted houses in DDA's beige flats for the EWS (Economically Weaker Sections) in Narela, on a 99-year lease. Residents claim the houses are no better than the jhuggi-jhopri (hutment) cluster they are currently living in. However, there are some who have not been allotted flats. Valar Madi, a 45-year-old domestic worker who has been living in Madrasi Camp for 17 years, is one among these people. While fixing her gold mookuthi (nose ring), she says, 'My husband just passed away and I have a young child. Here, I did not have to worry about rent, so whatever I earned went into his education and our survival, but now they are telling me I will not be given a house, because my voter card was deleted.' As Madi tears up, the women gather around her. They console her and say she can come and live with them. Sarayana, 43, has been allotted a home. Her husband too is no more, and she and her daughter live together. Just like Madi, she feels that her community in the Madrasi Camp is her support system. Playing with the pallu of her saree nervously, she says, 'Ever since my husband died, the women here have kept me occupied and happy. They make sambar that reminds me of my village near Viluppuram district.' In the evening, the women gather around the temple, which has a tall idol of Karthik and smaller idols of Ganesha and other gods. As the women pray, the children play cricket or cycle around. The children switch easily between Hindi and Tamil. They sit on the road to study. Bembi, now 60, was only 5 when her parents boarded a train from Kallakurichi in Tamil Nadu to the New Delhi Railway Station. Hindi was a language her family struggled with for many years. Now, Bembi sits in her red cotton podavai (saree), eating corn from a kadhai (pan). Her hair is oiled neatly, and her gold earrings shine bright. With her sit six of her best friends, as they chat about how their day went. This is how they learnt Hindi. 'We were young, and our mothers worked as domestic workers. Our fathers were labourers or drivers, so when they came home, we'd sit with them, and learn simple Hindi words every day,' Bembi's friend, Parvathi, 60, who was her neighbour in her village, explains, her hands dancing to express herself better. Once the settlement (basti) took root, the pejorative 'Madrasi' was how other Delhiites began to refer to it. Bembi and her friends discuss what they're cooking for dinner. One is planning to make dosa; another rajma-chawal. Their food habits have adapted too. Politics around the demolition Over the past eight months, the camp has been at the centre of high political drama and conflict between the various civic agencies and political parties that hold a stake in Delhi. During the initial State actions in September 2024, the then ruling Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) had blamed the BJP for the demolitions. They protested with a section of the residents. Meanwhile, the BJP, with another faction of the residents, put the blame on AAP. During the Assembly election in the Capital this February, leaders from both parties visited the camp, promising support. However, residents say after the BJP's win, there has been no support from the party that formed the Delhi government. Meanwhile, the residents of the camp protested alongside leaders from the Communist Party of India (Marxist). Furthermore, Congress leader and Lok Sabha member Karti P. Chidambaram wrote to Chief Minister Rekha Gupta seeking her intervention to stop the demolition of Madrasi Camp in Jangpura. 'These families, many of whom have lived in this area for decades, have recently been served demolition notices by the DDA. While alternative flats have been allotted in Narela, this relocation poses a grave threat to the residents' livelihood, education, and cultural roots, particularly for the children,' he wrote. All the children of the camp study in the Delhi Tamil Education Association's (DTEA) Lodhi Estate school for a fee of ₹250 per month. According to the school's officials, for over a century the school has been catering to Tamilian families living in Delhi. They are taught Tamil along with Hindi and English, and stay immersed in the culture of their home State. A teacher in the school says, 'The children are taught keeping their Tamilian identities in mind, and the parents like this. If they are shifted, many are likely to discontinue their education.' The school had also written to the authorities requesting them not to demolish the camp, or to move residents near any of the seven DTEA branches. Residents are now gradually packing their bags, scoffing at the media attention which they believe is leading nowhere, and making plans to rent homes closer to this area so that they can continue their current jobs. Many are considering moving back to their villages, even though they have never lived there. Malai says, 'Even if I move, who says I will be able work and adjust there. I will be leaving the home my parents built, the one I got married in and my children grew up. They are not just taking my house, but my community and livelihood.' Edited by Sunalini Mathew
Yahoo
14-02-2025
- Yahoo
Massachusetts man charged with assault on a police officer after incident on NH highway
CONCORD, NH. (WWLP) – A Massachusetts man was arrested in New Hampshire after allegedly assaulting two state troopers on the side of I-93 on Thursday. Second suspect arrested for allegedly shooting at undercover detectives in Springfield The New Hampshire State Police stated that at approximately 12:30 a.m., troopers received reports of a potentially disabled vehicle on the left side of I-93 North in Concord with no lights on. Troopers attempted to speak with the driver, 28-year-old Mugil Malai of Westford, Massachusetts when they pulled up to the vehicle. Malai's driver's side door was open when the troopers arrived, and immediately closed it and locked the door. When he attempted to start the vehicle and failed, he exited his 2011 Honda Civic, charged toward the trooper, and hit him in the head. Another trooper who arrived to help assist was also hit by Malai. After a brief struggle on the side of the road, he was taken into custody. Malai was brought to Merrimack County Jail, where he was held on preventative detention pending an arraignment scheduled in Concord District Court on charges of assault on a police officer and resisting arrest. Both of the troopers were treated for minor injuries at Concord Hospital and have been released. WWLP-22News, an NBC affiliate, began broadcasting in March 1953 to provide local news, network, syndicated, and local programming to western Massachusetts. Watch the 22News Digital Edition weekdays at 4 p.m. on Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
