After pigging out on some rich Punjabi food with my office girlie gang during lunch on a relatively lazy Thursday, we had this desperate urge to have the good old paan, to settle our bursting at the seam tummies. We hoped that the paan would speedily activate our digestive juices and pacify the aftereffects of our gluttony, and hopefully keep us from passing out slouched and snoring at our work desks. Hence started the frantic racking of brains to recollect where the nearest paan shop is, in the middle of a commercial complex like Kamala Mills. I remembered that there actually is a tiny shop tucked in a crevice outside the Flea Bazaar Café. So that’s exactly where the satiated lot headed.
Experimenter that I am, I started looking around to check if there is something new that I can try out and chanced upon a menu card in a corner. Amidst the many interesting names like Gundi paan and Jodi paan, the P.T. paan stood out because of its steep pricing. Curious why one would shell out 200 bucks for the humble paan, I asked the just-out-of-teens stall owner – “Yeh PT Paan kya hai, bhaisahab?” Seeing no reaction from him as he continued to carry on with the meetha magai paan order that a couple of my friends had placed, I repeated the question. Again without raising his head, he muttered something under his breath. Now, I am not someone who gives up easily... So I repeated my question. One of my colleagues standing closest to him had heard him and she pulled at my arm and whispered into my ear – “He said, aap ke baas ki baat nahi hai madam!”
Now curiosity had the better of me and I said – “Theek hai humare baas ki baat nahi hai toh nahi kharidenge, par full form toh bataeeye.” Till then my naïve brain had not thought of any other possibility except that maybe it had too much chuna or supari and maybe the guy thought it was too strong for the delicate palates of females.
The guy chose to ignore me again. When I adamantly told him, I wouldn’t leave till he told me what the abbreviation stood for, he muttered in an embarrassed voice – “Palang Tod Paan.” Our group, which by then was all ears, stared at him, confusion evident on our faces as we stood there outside his tiny paan shop for a few seconds, till realization dawned on some of us.
I tried hard to not embarrass him further by suppressing the laughter that was bubbling within me... but a small giggle escaped and the next instant all of us burst out laughing. By the time we paid the guy who by then had turned into a beetroot, we rolled out of Shadab’s shop clutching our tortured tummies, with tears of mirth rolling down our cheeks.
The moment I hit my desk, I googled to check if the PT paan existed outside Shadab’s stall or if was it just his innovation. And lo behold! Not only did the PT paan exist, but it also had a bit of history attached to it too. Apparently, it was invented when the Nawabs ruled Awadh. And, Wajid Ali Shah of Lucknow used to have Palang Tod Paan (पलंग तोड़ पान) every night after dinner, which worked as an aphrodisiac whose effect lasted till the next day.
Today the legacy of the PT paan may be carried forward across the country by numerous Paan walas like Shadab; but none with the pomp like the Tara Paan shop located in a bustling Osmanpura gally in Aurangabad that sells it by the name of Kohinoor, and unlike Shadab, has a version for the females too. The twin pair comes specially packaged on a bed of roses along with a bottle of ittar... at a whooping price of Rs 5000!
Tara paan centre’s Kohinoor has now become a must-gift to newlyweds across the world and is exported not only to domestic metros like Mumbai, Delhi, and Lucknow but also to many international cities.
So what exactly goes into the making of this most sought-after ‘desi Viagra’? The owner of the paan shop, Mohammed Sharfuddin claims, it contains a special kasturi (that costs a whopping Rs 70 lakh a kilo), saffron (that costs Rs 2 lakh a kilo), rose extracts (that cost Rs 80,000 a kg), a special liquid fragrance, and a few secret ingredients that have been passed down for generations.
Now every time I crave for a paan after a heavy meal, I remember Shadab and the enlightening episode, which never fails to bring a smile to my face. And yes, next time when I go to Aurangabad, I am surely going to visit Tara Paan Centre to treat myself to one of the 51 paans on the menu along with Mohammed bhai's a tale or two, won’t you too?
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