Flavors of Gujarat: A Food Journey
From steaming dhokla to sweet jalebis dripping with syrup, every bite told a story of tradition. Learning to make rotla with my grandmother's hands guiding mine — this is how culture tastes.
Maybe it was the way strangers smiled so easily, like kindness didn’t need a reason.
Maybe it was the cold desert that made me feel brave in a quiet way
Maybe it was the sunsets that made my heart feel full without saying anything
Maybe it was the craftspeople who put love into every single thread.
Or maybe it was the time with Papa — when he wasn’t busy, and I wasn’t distracted.
I don’t know exactly what changed.
But something did.
Being an NRI kid sometimes means living between two worlds. One where you grow up, and one you come back to. And sometimes, it feels like you belong a little bit everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
This trip didn’t ask me to choose.
It stitched those worlds together.
When we left Bhuj, I looked back through the car window and whispered, “I’ll come back.” Not because it’s a tourist place. But because it felt like a missing part of me that I finally found.
And once you find something like that, you don’t forget it.
This trip stitched two worlds together —
and I found the missing part of me.
From steaming dhokla to sweet jalebis dripping with syrup, every bite told a story of tradition. Learning to make rotla with my grandmother's hands guiding mine — this is how culture tastes.
I always wondered what 'home' meant. In Gujarat, surrounded by family who shares my eyes, my laugh, my stubborn streak — I finally understood.