Paan

The funny thing about places you've never been to is that they are full of details you never imagined. It's been almost a month now, and I still haven't gotten tired of noticing all the differences. When I take a cab ride, it's impossible for me to sit back in my seat. I've tried. I feel an irresistible compulsion every time to lean forward and watch everything go by--sidewalks, houses, colors, cows, laundry, garbage, rivers, street vendors, children, workmen, women nursing their babies on the backs of scooters, bizarre advertisements that make no sense, etc. The whole city is full of little things like this, and they're interesting regardless of their size. Although there are far too many of them to recount, I thought I would use a few of my posts this summer to show you some of the common aspects of life in this city that feel very uncommon to me, and that I didn't know anything about until I got here and had to figure them out. One of these is paan.

In Pune, and all across India, the legal, mild stimulant of choice is a snack called paan (the "aa" is pronounced like the a in "father"). Paan is more popular here than coffee, more popular than alcohol, and even more popular than cigarettes, although it often contains a comparable amount of tobacco. It stops just shy of tea in terms of how ubiquitous it is. Basically, paan is the nut of the areca tree wrapped up in the leaf of the betel tree and chewed, with some lime--the mineral, not the fruit--spread on the leaf to help activate it. In practice, however, it's never that simple. Paan can contain a variety of ingredients and spices--anything from tobacco flakes to cardamom to coconut and maraschino cherries.

To get paan, all you have to do is find a paan wala and tell him what you want. Paan walas are the guys who make and sell paan at little stands or pushcarts on the sidewalk, and they are everywhere. Imagine trying to find a Starbucks in midtown Manhattan--that's about how easy it is to find a paan wala. They are recognizable because they all have a big golden dish on display full of little golden bowls that hold all the ingredients they can put in the paan for you. Usually, there is also a gold statue of Shiva on the table, garlanded with fresh flowers. Shiva seems to be the patron saint of paan walas, and I wish I could tell you why. Once you order, the paan wala will mix up the paan right in front of you and hand you a little green packet that you hold together with your thumb and forefinger. It costs about 10 cents. Generally street food isn't so safe here, but I have friends who chew paan all the time and have never gotten sick. You just want to steer clear of the guys who soak the betel leaves in water to soften them. You never know how clean the water is.

When you get the paan, here's what you do: put the paan in your mouth and gently bite the leaf to break it a little bit. Then, when it's punctured, you tuck it into your cheek, and from here on it's basically like chewing tobacco. You don't swallow any of it, you just suck on the paan and chew it a little, and when enough spit builds up in your mouth you eject it into the street. If you want you can pull pieces of the areca nut out of the leaf and turn them over in your teeth. They are about the size of raisins, but they stay as hard as peach pits. Your spit will turn bright red, and whatever you spit on will get stained. Consequently, most of the sidewalks and public areas here are dotted with red streaks. Kind of like seeing cigarette butts everywhere in the US.

The first time I tried paan, which was my third day here, none of this was explained to me, and I had my first opportunity to make a proper American fool of myself in India. My friend Cary, who loves paan, offered to bring me to his favorite paan wala, and since I had only ever heard the word "paan" and had no idea what it was or how it worked, I was eager to try it. "Do you like tobacco?" he asked me, as he was ordering. "Sure", I said. Why not? What I didn't know is that he meant a LOT of tobacco. The paan he made for me contained lime, areca, cardamom, a spice mixture, tobacco flakes, tobacco powder, and tobacco resin, which came out of a tiny black jar and was spread on with a little metal spoon. Cigarette filters were invented to keep tobacco resin out of your body. When I got the paan, I bit into it too hard and broke the leaf apart completely and tried to chew the ingredients. Then, afraid of swallowing by accident, I started spitting all over the place. But by the time I thought to start spitting--about 10 seconds in--I was hit by the sharpest, strongest nicotine high I have ever experienced. Giddy and confused, and barely able to stand up, I just stood there grinning like an idiot with paan juice dripping down my chin, making attempts to spit now and then that were mostly failures. Sam, who was also there, had tears rolling down his face from laughter, and within a few minutes there was a street full of Indian men waggling their heads at me and laughing. Trying to clean myself up was futile, as I just got paan juice all over my hands and smeared it around my face. So I finally gave up, spit the paan out, and wandered off to buy some water to wash up with. Lesson learned. I've tried paan once or twice since then, and I've gotten better at it, but I still can't say I really like it. It tastes fine, and the areca nut gives a mildly pleasant buzz, something like drinking a cup of coffee, but I just don't like holding lots of spit in my mouth and then spitting it everywhere. To each his own.

Click here for some pics of the paan walas of Pune and their wares.