Big city girl, small town

Over four days, I travelled to rural Maharashtra to cover stories of hope and change for our pre-election coverage.

Over four days, I travelled to rural Maharashtra to cover stories of hope and change for our pre-election coverage.

DAY ONE: Headed to Satara in the company-hired car. Fortunately the driver wasn't the chatty type.
Unfortunately he was the nose-digging type — one hand on the wheel, the other in the nostrils. Spectacular roads, lined with vast expanses of lush farms on either side. Bombay could learn a lesson or two.
Reached Satara and hunted for what Satara calls hotels — inconsequential buildings in varying states of disrepair with names suffixed with 'Executive.' Every last one booked to capacity. We didn't see a single person around.
On the highway, we found the hovel from hell, misleadingly christened 'Smile Lodge.'
My room was furbished with peeling pukey-pink wallpaper, and bed sheets soiled with what I deduced to be dirty footprints.
But the most loathsome part of the room was the bathroom. It was just a sad, stale, depressing hellhole. They had the audacity to put a smiley sticker on every door. Sadists.
Ate all meals at The Maharaja — the Taj of Satara. The restaurant simply said "Dinning". So we dinned.
Me: What juices do you have?
Earnest waiter: None. We have canned juices only madam.
Me: Ok. Which flavours?
EW: Orange.
Me: Ok get me one.

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20 minutes later, a mug of freshly squeezed yellow liquid is served.
I sip it. It's a mix of pineapple and other unidentifiable flavours. Definitely not orange.

Me: This is not canned orange juice.
EW: It's freshly squeezed orange juice madam.
ME: But it's yellow!
EW: No, I saw the orange being squeezed.
ME: But it's YELLOW!
EW: Madam, when a fresh orange is freshly squeezed, it looks like this only. I'll show you the orange.
ME: But… It's YELLOW! And it doesn't even taste... Never mind.
EW: I swear madam, its orange juice.
ME: OK, it's orange. Thank you.

DAY TWO: Lovely drive to Sangli. Gorgeous sunflowers in full bloom all the way. Stayed at the Shreyas Executive — luxurious paradise after Smile.
The reception had a signboard saying: 'Cheak-out time: 11 am.' I love how small towners spell words the way they pronounce them.
Dined at a restaurant that specialised in Maharashtrian thalis and Chinese food.
If I ever open a museum of Maharashtrian relics, the menu of this joint will occupy a spot there.
Sample this:

Sweet corn plane soup
Mini stron soup
Mashrum soup
Plan rice
Veg sizwan firde rice
Sham sabera (?)

DAY FOUR: Visited Sakhara village in Yevatmal district near Nagpur. Had the best time. Village women are chillers.
They cracked one-liners and gave each other high fives. It's amazing how genuine they are; completely untainted by city life.
Left with a warm glow inside.