GASTROMANCY JULY CHALLENGE

The Grand Feast of Pratapgarh

Steve the Otter, mayor of Allahabad, the funk maestro, and now North India’s darling, returns to his ancestral roots in Pratapgarh for a grand celebratory feast, along with Croak, the frog, his ever-faithful sidekick, and Chandramohan, the reformed peacock rival-turned-ally. This calls for a riotous, heartwarming, and hilarious story filled with mango orchards, mischievous langurs, kachoris, and of course…recipes!

The Grand Feast of Pratapgarh

Steve the Otter stood on a flatbed tractor as it rattled along the dusty road to Pratapgarh, wearing his trademark pink waistcoat and feathered topi gifted by Chandramohan. Beside him, Croak the Frog was balancing a pot of kheer on his lap, trying not to spill.

Behind them trailed a parade: peacocks preening, goats in sunglasses, tabla-playing tortoises, and one mildly disoriented mongoose with cymbals and a raccoon in a little pope hat. They had performed everywhere from Kanpur to Varanasi. But now, it was time for a homecoming.

"Pratapgarh!" Steve declared, arms wide open. "Land of litchis, aamla, lungis, and legendary laddoos!"

Croak croaked with emotion. As they entered the village, Ganga aunty waddled out of a mango grove.

“Steve baba! You’ve grown whiskers, just like your Nana! And this must be Croak. We’ve heard stories. Some say he once stage-dived into a jalebi vat.”

Croak blushed.

Steve, dressed in a lungi, announced a grand feast for the following day, comprising dal, bati, and baigan bharta, a national favorite and a delicacy, for all the netizens and denizens of Pratapgarh.

Preparations began at once. Banana leaves were unfurled. The village’s most infamous langur gang offered to be security, on the condition they got first dibs on papads.

Chandramohan arrived fashionably late, his feathers adorned with marigolds. “I bring the dhols,” he said. “And a surprise guest, Bhagwati, the dancing cow of Ballia!”

As twilight painted the sky, the village square transformed. Fairy lights hung from neem trees. Kids chased spinning tops. The musicians tuned up.

Then came the evening meal. Jackfruit pickle, litchi-laced pulao, papaya fritters, kachoris, and dum alloo. and Kheer that shimmered with almonds and cashews. Otters, frogs, peacocks, humans, and everyone else sat cross-legged together; no RSVP needed.

Steve stood to toast, raising a steel tumbler of rose sherbet.

“To music, to mischief, to mangoes, to the grand feast, and to unity in glorious absurdity!” The cheer was thunderous.

Croak whispered, “You’ve outdone yourself, Mayor.”

Steve looked around—fireflies, full bellies, festive chaos. He smiled. “Pratapgarh knows how to party.”

The Great Pratapgarh Feast

Pratapgarh shimmered in the early morning sun, its mango orchards casting dappled shadows on the dusty village paths. Buntings fluttered from neem trees, and drums echoed in the air.

Steve the Otter, ever stylish in a red bandana, leapt atop a pile of jackfruit crates and addressed the gathered animals, birds, and assorted two- and four-legged invitees.

“Fellow feasters!” he began, raising his carved jackfruit mic. “This is no ordinary gathering. This is a celebration of funk, flavor, and full-bellied fellowship!”

Croak the Frog, clipboard in hand and wearing his official 'Feast Coordinator' badge, cleared his throat loudly and began reading the list of tasks in his best imitation of a headmaster.

“Right! Task list for the Grand Pratapgarh Feast. Everyone, please listen!”

Ingredients in Charge

Ants, bees, squirrels, and birds source the atta, sattu, hing, brinjals, garlic, onions, green chillies, potatoes, and assorted dals.

Cows collect dung, fully crisp and dried in the sun, and crows source dry twigs.

Baigan Bharta Brigade

Lead: Chandramohan the Peacock

The peacocks, being natural fire-dancers, were put in charge of roasting the baingans over open flames. Chandramohan, still shimmering from their last performance, flipped his plume and declared, “We roast with rhythm!”

Dal Dynasty

Lead: Kachhua aunty, the turtle matriarch from Kaushambi

Known for her slow simmering skills and age-old mixed dal recipe, comprising arhar, yellow moong, chana, and pink masur, Kachhua aunty waddled in with a massive earthen pot. “Low heat, high heart,” she muttered.

Baati Battalion

Lead: Croak the Frog

A complicated operation. Croak managed a team of energetic mongooses, who dug like their lives depended on it. “No half-baked battis here!” he croaked.

Ghee Patrol

Lead: Steve himself

Steve took this role seriously. With a team of wild bees and a buffalo named Jhumroo, he ensured there was fresh butter and desi ghee in abundance. “Remember,” he said gravely, “a dry baati is a national tragedy.”

Entertainment & Funk

Lead: The Peacock Posse, with backup vocals from the Goat Ensemble

Song, dance, and a surprise tabla solo by a raccoon, in a little pope hat, named Gopi. Chandramohan choreographed a special peacock pirouette, while Croak practiced a funky frog flip.

By evening, kandis (crisp cow dung) fires crackled, dal bubbled, and the unmistakable aroma of roasted baigan, tomatoes, potatoes, sizzling spices, and ghee hung heavy in the golden air.

Steve stood on the central chowk platform, looking out at the organized chaos with pride. “This,” he whispered to Croak, “is the kind of diplomacy I like. Through stomachs to hearts!”

Croak nodded, “And no sabotage this time,” eyeing the peacock posse.

Chandramohan twirled into the square with a perfectly roasted baingan balanced on a leaf plate. “My friend,” he cooed, “this one sings!”

Once the dal had sizzled and cooked with all the spices, Kachhua aunty took it off the fire to add tadka later.

Tons of atta kneaded; roasted baigan, potatoes, and tomatoes peeled and mashed; garlic, onion, green chilli, dhania, and a dash of salt, along with locally sourced sirka (vinegar) and freshly processed mustard oil added. Baigan Bharta: ready.

To the sattu were added kalonji, hing, garlic, and salt, loosely mixed and stuffed into a ball-sized atta dough, placed gently on the dying embers of the kandi—mind you, not too hot, not too cold.

Kachhua aunty began preparations for dal tadka: in a large pan, she added desi ghee, not too stingily, and in went the zeera, hing, black mustard seeds, and dried red chillies.

The villagers of Pratapgarh, humans and animals alike, began to gather, drawn by the smell and the beat. Long banana leaf plates were rolled out, pots lined up, and the celebration began.

Steve, glass of mango panna in hand, raised a toast.

“To unity in diversity! To dal, baati, and bharta!”

“To funk and food!” the crowd roared back.

Pic: courtesy of Google Images. Traditionally dal/bati is being prepared