Ever the aviation geek, I realised recently that — barring the now-defunct Mumbai-Karachi flight — the Mumbai-Muscat flight of two-and-a-half hours is the shortest international flight out of my home city. Yes, even the direct flight to Kolkata is longer for us Mumbaikars. But then, there has always been some sort of close affinity between Oman and India for centuries. An invisible bond that lasts to this very day. At Mumbai’s street shopping hub of Colaba Causeway, one can still see scores of visiting Omani merchants go about their business, easily identifiable by their turban, the massar. A friend in the henna export business tells me that her number one clients are Omani: no Omani bride’s trousseau is complete without loads of the stuff that she has applied on her hands and feet, much like an Indian bride would.
And it’s the same story, albeit told a bit differently in the souks of Muscat. Especially at the bustling Mutrah Souk in the old quarter of the city, just besides the beautiful Muscat Corniche. Here, the default lingua franca is Hindi, with both Omani and vendors from the Indian subcontinent peddling their wares in the language. As I sit down for a meal of a decidedly biryani-meets-yakhni-pulao lamb and rice dish called suwa at a local Omani home a little outside the town of Jabreen, my host Nadir greets me in shudh Hindi. And guess what? He’s never been to India. His linguistic skills are courtesy the many Indians that call Oman home.
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At the airport in Khasab, up north in Oman’s rugged Musandam Peninsula, as I wait to board my return flight to Muscat, the official checking my passport claims to have seen me shopping the night before in the town’s Lulu Hypermarket. And why wouldn’t I? It’s one of Khasab’s ‘hot-spots’ on Friday with scores of bargain hunters shopping till midnight. As one of West Asia’s largest supermarket chains, Lulu has 18 such mega marts across Oman selling everything from bisi bele bath paste to Arabic baklava. Once again, an Indian connection springs up in the form of a certain Yusuff Ali M.A. who hails from Nattika, in Kerala’s Thrissur District and who founded Lulu in the year 2000.
Doused in sweetness
The ubiquitous fried dumplings called luqaimat that I am served at almost every kahwa coffee session are dead ringers for the East Indian community’s fuggias. The only difference is that the luqaimat are doused in either honey or date syrup and served as sweets as opposed to the fuggias’ savoury role in mopping up curries. The laban that’s almost always served after a heavy meal is another doppelganger: this time of India’s cooling chaas. The only distinguishing factor is that this buttermilk iteration is generously spiked with salt and thicker in texture than the spicy chaas. Interestingly, this cultural intermingling also works in the opposite direction, with Omani flavours often influencing desi ones. And this is made amply evident when I visit the Nizwa Souk. The Omani halwa that I pick up at one of the shops here, I’m told, is what the gooey, translucent Bombay halwa is based on. This saffron-pistachio-date sweet that I am offered a taste of is bolder in flavour with a lingering taste of spices like cinnamon, cardamom and nutmeg… from, you guessed it, India.
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The Mumbai-based writer and restaurant reviewer is passionate about food, travel and luxury, not necessarily in that order.