In Hyderabad, lives a young boy called Adnan. His father runs Al-hamdulillah chicken haleem stand. But this year, business has not been great. We may talk about childhood as carefree, but in truth we know that children are inordinately sensitive to the anxieties and sorrows of their elders. There is something heartbreaking about children’s efforts to comfort grown-ups— but this is not a heartbreaking story. Adnan was worried for his father’s business and decided to help by starting an Instagram account called @pappakihaleem. Here, in the internet’s most straightforward videos, he showed us the haleem, the sherwa (shorba), the lemon wedges, the asli ghee, the spoons and ‘dabbe dabaaniyan’, leak-proof lids and even ‘the light-aan’ wrapped around the stand. Miraculously, his videos went viral and now Adnan is on many local channels, inviting us, in Dakkani, to Moti Nagar, saying “aao khao khush raho, abaad raho.” 

There is no artifice or performance in Adnan’s videos. They are not funny or snazzy. His simplicity and pride in his father’s cooking wins you over and makes you want to go try out his Pappa’s cooking. When influencers hustle 24x7 to imprison our attention, brands suffocate us with mealy mouthed pretend-politics, the unpretentious exhortation to come eat something delicious, is a relief; a simple temptation. Rooted in love and concern, Adnan’s marketing efforts are an encounter with sweetness we all need in these bitter times. 

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Now Adnan is viral, the stand has been renamed Pappa ki Haleem and business is good. Adnan is being interviewed on local channels. When asked what he wants to be when he grows up, he replies with grave earnestness: “Prime Minister”. Way to go.

Meanwhile I’m thinking, if I can’t have my nani ka khichda shouldn’t I at least have Adnan ke papa ki haleem? I mean, it is a time-honoured Indian custom to ask anyone who is coming from anywhere to bring you the eating speciality of that place. Going to Agra? Get some petha (here, I will admit ki elders requested this delicacy, some youngers—don’t look at me—call it solidified susu). Driving back from Shimla? Get Himachali meat pickle from the highway shops na. Bal mithai from Almora, Mishra peda from Dharwad, Mysore Pak from, well, Mysore, nolen gur (I swear I’ve carried back kilos) from Calcutta, Shrewsberry biscuit from Pune, Kalajuha rice from Assam, rosary sausage from Goa, farsan from precise shops in Ahmedabad. So, coming from Hyderabad? Get na, some Pappa ki Haleem. Heard it’s good for the soul.

Paromita Vohra is an award-winning Mumbai-based filmmaker, writer and curator working with fiction and non-fiction. Reach her at paromita.vohra@mid-day.com