A steel plate of dal bafla lands in the middle of the table, and every hand reaches for the ghee at once. Here bafla is a group project. One cousin breaks the wheat balls, another pours the dal, and an uncle explains why his mother made it better. Weddings, Sunday lunches and temple days all end up around the same dish.
After lunch, the town climbs Tekri, the goddess hill in its center, by steps or by ropeway, then wanders down to the Pawar chhatris by Meetha Talab. Spring gets hot before the monsoon, while winter brings dry sunshine and cool nights. A Local Friend walks you into their own lane, where the best bafla is cooked at home.
