Pushpesh Pant
It is difficult to believe that Jiggs is no more. He was so full of life and laughter — even after a stroke had affected his speech and walking — bubbling with enthusiasm about new projects: books and restaurants.
Larger than life and a man of exquisite refined taste, he will live on in the memories of his innumerable friends and colleagues.
But how does one write about the passing on of someone who has been for almost three decades like an inseparable Siamese twin, or the Odd Couple — call what you may — planning restaurants, food festivals and sourcing exotic ingredients? The predominant feeling is of numbness, and then starts the shooting phantom pain caused by a lost limb.
I first met Jiggs in 1975 in Surya India magazine’s office where he had arrived to put Maneka Gandhi’s magazine on the fast track after a successful stint at Illustrated Weekly. Soon, he moved on to Hindustan Times and our paths crossed frequently. There were long addas in the office of Manohar Shyam Joshi, who then edited Sapatahik Hindustan. Friendship blossomed and we soon became collaborators.
Jiggs infected me with the food bug and persuaded me to research and script Dawat, the food show commissioned by DD. We travelled the length and breadth of India to meet heritage chefs and gifted housewives enriching our repertoire of recipes. This led to writing many cookbooks on classic cooking of Awadh, Punjab and Rajasthan. Not to forget Kambhog, the naughty book on aphrodisiac foods!
Jiggs was the original impresario who showcased the riches of Indian cuisines. He strove tirelessly to put Indian food at the same level as French, Italian or Chinese. His contribution, to my mind, is far greater than other pioneering or prolific writers of recipe books, restaurant review columns or food and travel show anchors. He restored the self-esteem of unlettered heritage chefs and fought for better service conditions in starred hotels.
He always remained grateful to a mentor like Major Rehman of ITC or Shiv Jatia of Hyatt Regency, who had encouraged him and induced his fancies. His quest for perfection wasn’t easy to live with — the tongue was sharp and the fuse short, but he bore no grudges. Generous to a fault, he had an impish sense of humour, often used self-deprecatingly.
Some of the happiest moments of my life were spent with Jiggs, who convinced me that food touched more lives than foreign policy.
Goodbye, and thank you for the joyous gift of your friendship. The inspiring glow of your memory will never fade.
(The writer is an academic and food critic)
from The Tribune http://bit.ly/2JXoYj7
via Today’s News Headlines
No comments: