My paternal grandmother, my Dida, was from Banaras. She spent the first 17 years of her life there before she married my grandfather and moved to the Central Provinces, now Madhya Pradesh. She waxed eloquent about Ramnagar ke baingan until her last days. She died at a ripe eighty-four and never found a baingan like the ones from Ramnagar again. Her laung lata would melt in your mouth: crisp, flaky, glossy with syrup.
