My father Dr Madhav Joshi

 

This was originally posted on my Facebook page on January 1,2021.

My father Dr Madhav Joshi

Long read alert !!

Somewhere
in the early 2000s my father decided he would live the American dream. I was in California and my sister Minal was settled in Dallas, Texas. The family was still reeling from the loss of my brother. Not sure if it was to forget the pain of that loss or because there was no more a child in India to stay back for, Baba packed his bags and came to Los Angeles upon invitation from friends who wanted him as a chef in their new restaurant.

Dr Gyandev Patel is a dear friend of mine , having met during my residency years at LA County Hospital. But his temperament matched more with that of my father and the two struck a friendship that broke the barriers of age,language and convention. It was Gyandev’s first venture into owning a restaurant and he persuaded my father to come join him. Tandoor restaurant in Anaheim was the first job Baba took upon arriving in America.

I have never seen him happier than he was in those days . He was in his sixties then but could embarrass a 20 year old with his energy and enthusiasm. His natural charm and desire to know new people from all walks of life only added to their wholesome appreciation of his cooking. His signature dish was the batata wada. People literally drove over 100 miles just to savor those wadas. Not just the Indian American customers but White , Hispanics and Black Americans all became regular visitors to the restaurant for the wadas. Baba would personally make those and then attend to the guests and chat with them . Nothing made him more happy than to see his guests enjoy his food. Even to this day when I meet people in Los Angeles they recall him for the best wadas they’ve ever had ! 

Indeed he had the rare gift of making genuine friends notwithstanding barriers of age, race, gender,social status, language, nationality or ideology. 

The story of his cooking however goes back decades before his debut at Tandoor. 

Having lost his father when he was only 2 years of age, his childhood forced Baba to stay with various siblings and relatives a few years at a time. In a state of constant transition he learned to cook for himself. He gave a lot of credit to his elder sister Venu Oka for his cooking skills . Once in medical college he started experimenting with non vegetarian food as well. If he liked what he ate in a restaurant he had to recreate the taste till he got it right . Or make it even better . This restlessness to master things would stay with him until the end.

He and my mother were classmates at Podar Medical College in Mumbai in the early 1960s. Upon graduation they got married and took up a job as medical officers at Khopoli Municipal hospital in 1964. 

Less than a couple of years into the job Baba made plans to start their private clinic and later bought land to build a home and thereafter added their hospital on the property.  Both my parents practiced medicine with old school ethics. Service was the focus . Never money. They would carry an oil lantern to accompany villagers to their homes on other side of the hills in the middle of the night to help with a difficult labor. Or treat tribal people free of cost. Patients would walk into our bedroom to fetch my mother to rescue a daughter in law who was in labor or call upon my father to suture a badly wounded son at odd hours .

In my childhood , at my home , our Baba was in charge of the kitchen. Aai dedicated herself to the medical profession, handled a very busy career running a maternity home. For breakfast, lunch, dinner we kids turned to Baba. Nobody, I mean nobody , to this day has served a tomato omelet like my Baba. He had magic in his hands. From common Marathi foods like thalipeeth, ghavan, upma , misal to non Marathi foods like kheema , dosa, medu wadas he would make it all better than any restaurant could . Very rarely did we visit restaurants in our childhood. 

Our Sunday lunches were special with mutton or chicken , freshly brought from the market . Mutton rassa, paya soup , and fresh hot pav from the bakery was what we waited for on Sundays . In later years Baba had taken to paneer dishes . Paneer tikka Masala became another signature dish. Childhood memories take me back to celebrations of Kojagiri Poornima with mutton curry and KhasKhas doodh sitting on top of the historic Amrutanjan Bridge near Khandala. This iconic bridge incidentally was pulled down in 2020 !! 

In 1975 or so, I remember hiking up Raigad fort with Baba in heavy rains , a large tiffin in hand with bhakris and mutton rassa. It was a big celebration that year marking anniversary of Chhatrapati Shivaji’s coronation. 

Yet another vacation that comes to mind was in Goa. He would carry all his pots and pans and tools on such trips. We reached Panaji at night. On the way he had stopped to pick up fresh catch of Mackerels ( Bangade) and upon reaching our destination cooked them for our dinner. 

My childhood memories are countless but it would be really an injustice to not mention my brother’s munja. It must have been 1982. Literally the whole town was invited plus our large extended family. Easily 1000-1500 guests were served homemade food ! I have not eaten a better Shrikhand again in my life like one made on that occasion. From buying milk , setting yogurt at home, then hanging it in muslin towels to draining the water and then mixing sugar, cardamom and saffron into the chakka........for 1500 people ! I saw it with my eyes or I would not have believed it . And really the quantity was much beyond feeding 1500. It lasted us for months even after giving away to family members to take home. 

2 decades later he would go on to cook for the guests at his grandson’s ( my son’s) munja in the USA.

This was the hallmark of Baba . Everything he did was grand . Generous . There was always enough food if visitors walked in. In fact the house helpers had standing instructions that in the absence of my parents no visitors should be sent back without offering food. And if the visitor came and there was no cooked food ready, it would be ready at lightning speed in the hands of Baba.

This passion of his led him to create a wedding hall on our premises in the 1980s. Alongside he started his official catering business in the name of Ashirwad Caterers. He would cater to local students, workers who were single and other employees of banks for daily meals. He also earned the business of AshtaVinayak tour buses. Large parties , visiting theater troupes and really anyone who was looking for a wholesome tasty affordable meal would come to eat at our premises. I would argue with Baba that he works so hard and does not make any profit from all that. His answer was that he did it to feed hungry people . He truly believed Anna hey Poornabrahma, udara bharan nohe, jaanije yadnya karma !! 

This yadnya he carried across the globe , over the oceans to America where his daughters were married off. He wanted to be close to them but stay independent. Indeed he was fiercely independent. And he had made us independent like himself.

Once in the USA he worked at several places after he left Tandoor. He catered for private parties, weddings and other celebrations. He would host a stall at the Indian Independence Day celebrations in Los Angeles and at Brihan Maharashtra Mandal (BMM )conventions. A few notable occasions need mention. One was the wedding of Shruti Marathe, daughter of Shri Gopal Marathe . Gopal kaka would always reminisce how happy he and the guests were to be served authentic Marathi food at the wedding. Another remarkable occasion was the 90th Birthday celebration for the father in law of our dear friend Dr Archana Shende in Los Angeles. My Baba was 70 at the time . We laughed at the fact that a 70 year youth was cooking for the 90 year old birthday boy’s guests ! 

2015 was a milestone year in many ways for our family. Baba turned 75 that June. I turned 50 that July. And earlier in March it was 25 years since my wedding. I was vehemently opposed to any celebration. Especially for my father. I have my share of superstitions , one of them being that celebrating birthdays brings bad luck. I wanted my Baba to be hidden away from any bad luck. 

But then who listens to me ? 

My kids and my parents conspired with my close friends and family and hatched up a grand plan behind my back and under my nose to celebrate the milestones on July 11, 2015. At my home !!

About 100 guests showed up and the last one to arrive at my doorstep was........me 🤦🏻‍♀️. 

Baba had cooked an elaborate spread of things. Of course batata wadas were mandatory. Besides that there was paneer tikka, chicken 65, biryani,  and basoondi . Whoever has not tasted Baba’s basoondi has missed a great deal. And Biryani ! I could write a whole book about his Biryani. 

And so that day Baba lived his dream to celebrate the milestones. But my fears began to come true soon thereafter. 

An immediate scare happened while we drove through Oregon that July. I rang in my 50th birthday sitting beside Baba in the emergency room in Bend, Oregon. That night he suddenly started having intense abdominal pain. Turned out to be a gastric ulcer.  For reasons known only to him he had slacked off on taking his antacid pill for a few days🤦🏻‍♀️.

A few months later, he went to India and returned to inform me casually that while in India he had an abnormal EKG and was advised hospitalization but had declined it ! 

There we were again at the Emergency Room , then angiography suite then operating room emerging with a quadruple bypass !! 

Once recovered from the bypass his hands were itching to ride his motorcycle again despite my protests . Another trip to India and he returned with his left foot in a cast after having dropped the bike onto it !! The cast was placed too tight and caused compartment syndrome leading to gangrene. Our accomplished podiatrist Dr Ho salvaged most of Baba’s foot allowing him to get away with a transmetatarsal amputation.

Recovered from this surgery , Baba put on his specialty orthotic shoes and was ready to rock and roll again. 

After years of legal wrangling ,he saw his dream take shape and become a reality in 2019 when our home redevelopment project was completed.

He announced he wanted to spend rest of his life in his beloved Khopoli, in his home.

I met him twice since then , once in October 2019 , then in February 2020 just before the lockdown.

By late summer of 2020 he had survived Covid 19 infection and a fall at home causing a laceration that required 12 sutures on his head. But the third time was the final blow . Bladder cancer crept out of nowhere and swallowed him fast before we could do anything.The night before he slipped into a coma he had recited to me the entire Ganapati Atharvashirsha. Befitting that he should breathe his last on a Chaturthi day ! Blessed indeed he was . Despite his faults.

His love for cars, dogs, music and young kids is a story for another day. His role in making us who we are today is also for another day. 

His zest for life and the boundless energy and enthusiasm that exuded from inside him will be an inspiration for everyone he ever met.

He lived life on his own terms and could never be restrained within limits of any kind of convention. He followed his dreams and lived his passions to the fullest. It was not always easy on the family but he was who he was. 

Now there is the rest of life to reflect on the legacy that he left behind for me. 

Today the first day of 2021....everyone hopes for a better year ahead . 2020 was rough on everyone. Yet I have no grievances against 2020. I was richer in 2020 because I had my Baba until then . 🙏🏼🙏🏼