SOUL FOOD | Sarson Da Saga

The movie on TV had SRK and Kajol romping, singing in a field of golden-hued mustard flowers. It wasn���t the dewy-eyed babe in the tight outfit who held his attention, though.
It was the mustard plants that made him nostalgic for home. That evening, he warmed up a can of instant sarson (mustard) da saag for dinner and dreaming of makki (maize flour) di roti, he microwaved cornflour tortillas instead and lashed them liberally with margarine.
It was the closest thing to home grub, and epicurean heaven. Then one day, he happened on an old issue of the magazine, Home & Garden, with an article on growing mustard plants in a garden.
It fired his imagination. Would they grow indoors? In the empty flat that belonged to a classmate who had had a skiing accident and was laid up in bed in faraway Switzerland, the experi-ments began. Using the room heater and other devices he found, to his surprise, shoots formed and later yellow flowers. Ecstatic, he rushed the first harvest to an old sardarni he had met in the local Indian store. Despite the grey hair and withered face, the old bird showed girlish enthusiasm and made sarson da saag for him.
The arrangement continued until someone in the apartment below noticed the leaking roof, and the Swiss buddy rang to say he was returning. The magic garden of mustard had to go, in quick time too.
On a Friday evening the old sardarni got not the usual brown shopping bag but two large backpacks of the greens. ���So much,��� she gasped. Using all the charm he could muster, he mumbled, ���It���s good for health, naani (grandma).��� That was in 1997. After graduation he left Vancouver. By then ���naani���s letters had stopped.
In her last note she said she was off to the UK with her family, and he lost track of her.
Years later, the man, now paunchy and overtly grey in the beard, looked startled when told the news story about a Leicester-based Sikh lady who, celebrating her 105th birthday, attributed her longevity to sarson da saag.
���Could it be possible?��� he said, eyes bulging, putting down the beer mug, ���that it���s the same old bird...��� After some silent reminiscing and more lager, he said, ���Yaar, could it be her?��� His friend replied, ���And how the heck am i to know that?��� There hangs a mystery. The sarson da saga.