Kerala gets Unesco backing for Spice Route Project

Mumbai, Jan 23: Rashmi Sahijwala never expected to start working at the age of 59, let alone join India’s gig economy—now she is part of an army of housewives turning their homes into “cloud kitchens” to feed time-starved millennials.

Asia’s third-largest economy is battling a slowdown so sharp it is creating a drag on global growth, the International Monetary Fund said Monday, but there are some bright spots.

The gig economy, aided by cheap mobile data and abundant labour, has flourished in India, opening up new markets across the vast nation.

Although Indian women have long battled for access to education and employment opportunities, the biggest hurdle for many is convincing conservative families to let them leave home.

But new apps like Curryful, Homefoodi, and Nanighar are tapping the skills of housewives to slice, dice and prepare meals for hungry urbanites from the comfort of their homes.

The so-called cloud kitchens—restaurants that have no physical presence and a delivery-only model—are rising in popularity as there is a boom in food delivery apps such as Swiggy and Zomato.

“We want to be the Uber of home-cooked food,” said Ben Mathew, who launched Curryful in 2018, convinced that housewives were a huge untapped resource.

His company—which employs five people for the app’s daily operations—works with 52 women and three men, and the 31-year-old web entrepreneur hopes to get one million female chefs on-board by 2022.

“We usually train them in processes of sanitisation, cooking, prep time and packaging... and then launch them on the platform,” Mathew told news agency.

One of the first housewives to join Curryful in November 2018 shortly after its launch, Sahijwala was initially apprehensive, despite having four decades of experience in the kitchen.

But backed by her children, including her son who gave her regular feedback about her proposed dishes, she took the plunge.

Since then, she’s undergone a crash course in how to run a business, from creating weekly menus to buying supplies from wholesale markets to cut costs.

The learning curve was steep and Sahijwala switched from cooking everything from scratch to preparing curries and batters for breads in advance to save time and limit leftovers.

She even bought a massive freezer to store fruits and vegetables despite her husband’s reservations about the cost.

“I told him that I am a professional now,” she told news agency.

‘Internet restaurants’

Kallol Banerjee, co-founder of Rebel Foods which runs 301 cloud kitchens backing up 2,200 “internet restaurants”, was among the first entrepreneurs to embrace the concept in 2012.

“We could do more brands from one kitchen and cater to different customer requirements at multiple price points,” Banerjee told AFP.

The chefs buy the ingredients, supply the cookware and pay the utility bills.

The apps—which make their money through charging commission, such as more than 18 percent per order for Curryful—offer training and supply the chefs with containers and bags to pack the food in.

Curryful chef Chand Vyas, 55, spent years trying to set up a lunch delivery business but finally gave up after failing to compete with dabbawalas, Mumbai’s famously efficient food porters.

Today Vyas works seven hours a day, five days a week in her kitchen, serving up a bevy of Indian vegetarian staples, from street food favourites to lentils and rice according to the app’s weekly set menus.

“I don’t understand marketing or how to run a business but I know how to cook. So, the current partnership helps me focus on just that while Curryful takes care of the rest,” Vyas told AFP.

She pockets up to $150 (Rs 10,000 approx) a month after accounting for the commissions and costs, but hopes to earn more as the orders increase.

In contrast, a chef at a bricks-and-mortar restaurant takes home a monthly wage of between $300 (Rs 20,000 approx) and $1,000 (Rs 70,000) approx for working six days a week.

With India’s cloud kitchen sector expected to reach $1.05 billion by 2023, according to data platform Inc42, other companies are also keen to get a slice of the action.

Swiggy, for example, has invested 2.5 billion rupees ($35.3 million) in opening 1,000 cloud kitchens across the nation.

Back in her Mumbai kitchen, Sahijwala is elated to have embarked on a career at an age when her contemporaries are eyeing retirement.

Over the past year, she has seen her profit grow to $200 (Rs 15,000 approx) a month, but more importantly, she said, “My passion has finally found an outlet.

“I am just glad life has given me this chance.”

Feb 14: India will never forget the martyrdom of the security personnel killed in last year's Pulwama attack, Prime Minister Narendra Modi said on Friday.

He termed the slain security personnel were "exceptional individuals" who devoted their lives to serving and protecting the nation.

On February 14 last year, a convoy of vehicles carrying security personnel on the Jammu-Srinagar National Highway was attacked by a vehicle-borne suicide bomber at Lethpora in Pulwama district of Jammu and Kashmir. Forty Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) personnel were killed in the attack.

"Tributes to the brave martyrs who lost their lives in the gruesome Pulwama Attack last year. They were exceptional individuals who devoted their lives to serving and protecting our nation. India will never forget their martyrdom," tweets PM Modi one year since the Pulwama attack.

"I pay homage to the martyrs of Pulwama Attack. India will forever be grateful of our bravehearts and their families who made supreme sacrifice for the sovereignty and integrity of our motherland," tweets Union Home Minister Amit Shah.

Jun 9: Prime Minister Narendra Modi wants all 1.3 billion Indians to be “vocal for local” — meaning, to not just use domestically made products but also to promote them. As an overseas citizen living in Hong Kong, I’m doing my bit by very vocally demanding Indian mangoes on every trip to the grocery. But half the summer is gone, and not a single slice so far.

My loss is due to India’s COVID-19 lockdown, which has severely pinched logistics, a perennial challenge in the huge, infrastructure-starved country. But more worrying than the disruption is the fruity political response to it. Rather than being a wake-up call for fixing supply chains, the pandemic seems to be putting India on an isolationist course. Why?

Granted that the liberal view that trade is good and autarky bad isn’t exactly fashionable anywhere right now. What makes India’s lurch troublesome is that the pace and direction of economic nationalism may be set by domestic business interests. The Indian liberals, many of whom are Western-trained academics, authors and — at least until a few years ago — policy makers, want a more competitive economy. They will be powerless to prevent the slide.

Modi’s call for a self-reliant India has been echoed by Home Minister Amit Shah, the cabinet’s unofficial No. 2, in a television interview. If Indians don’t buy foreign-made goods, the economy will see a jump, he said. The strategy — although it’s too nebulous yet to call it that — has a geopolitical element. A military standoff with China is under way, apparently triggered by India’s completion of a road and bridge near the common border in the tense Himalayan region of Ladakh. It’s very expensive to fight even a limited war there. With India’s economy flattened by COVID, New Delhi may be looking for ways to restore the status quo and send Beijing a signal.

Economic boycotts, such as Chinese consumers’ rejection of Japanese goods over territorial disputes in the East China Sea, are well understood as statecraft. In these times, it’s not even necessary to name an enemy. An undercurrent of popular anger against China, the source of both the virus and India’s biggest bilateral trade deficit, is supposed to do the job. But is it ever that easy?

A hastily introduced policy to stock only local goods in police and paramilitary canteens became a farcical exercise after the list of banned items ended up including products by the local units of Colgate-Palmolive Co., Nestle SA, and Unilever NV, which have had significant Indian operations for between 60 and 90 years, as well as Dabur India Ltd., a New Delhi-based maker of Ayurveda brands. The since-withdrawn list demonstrates the practical difficulty of bureaucrats trying to find things in a globalized world that are 100% indigenous.

Free-trade champions fret that the prime minister, whom they saw as being on their side six years ago, is acting against their advice to dismantle statist controls on land, labor and capital to help make the country more competitive. Engage with the world more, not less, they caution. But Modi also has to satisfy the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, the umbrella Hindu organisation that gets him votes. Its backbone of small traders, builders and businessmen — the RSS admits only men — was losing patience with the anemic economy even before the pandemic. Now, they’re in deep trouble, because India’s broken financial system won’t deliver even state-guaranteed loans to them.

The U.S.-China tensions — over trade, intellectual property, COVID responsibility and Hong Kong’s autonomy — offer a perfect backdrop. A dire domestic economy and trouble at the border provide the foreground. Big business will dial economic nationalism up and down to hit a trifecta of goals: Block competition from the People's Republic; make Western rivals fall in line and do joint ventures; and tap deep overseas capital markets. The first goal is being achieved with newly placed restrictions on investment from any country that shares a land border with India. The second aim is to be realized by corporate lobbying to influence India's whimsical economic policies. As for the third objective, with the regulatory environment becoming tougher for U.S.-listed Chinese companies like Alibaba Group Holding Ltd., an opportunity may open up for Indian firms.

All this may bring India Shenzhen-style enclaves of manufacturing and trade, but it will concentrate economic power in fewer hands, something that worries liberals. They’re moved by the suffering of India’s low-wage workers, who have borne the brunt of the COVID shutdown. But when their vision of a more just society and fairer income distribution prompts them to make common cause with the ideological Left, they’re quickly repelled by the Marxist voodoo that all cash, property, bonds and real estate held by citizens or within the nation “must be treated as national resources available during this crisis.” Who will invest in a country that does that instead of just printing money?

At the same time, when liberals look to the business class, they see a sudden swelling of support for ideas like a universal basic income. They wonder if this isn’t a ploy by industry to outsource part of the cost of labor to the taxpayer. Slogans like Modi’s vocal-for-local stir the pot and thicken the confusion. The value-conscious Indian consumer couldn’t give two hoots for calls to buy Indian, but large firms will know how to exploit economic nationalism. One day soon, I’ll get my mangoes — from them.