Gaurav Masale

Out on Jamathi Road in Bodwad, the smell of spices is usually the first thing you notice when you get close to our place. We spend our days grinding and mixing, so there’s always a fine layer of powder on most surfaces. It’s a noisy job because the machines are old and they like to make a bit of a racket when they’re running full tilt. We get a lot of local folks coming in, sometimes with their own crops, wanting to get things processed. The heat in Bodwad can be something else, especially when you’re standing near the grinders all afternoon. We don’t have any fancy packaging machines that do everything at the touch of a button; a lot of it is done by hand, filling bags and sealing them up one by one. It’s a straightforward business. It’s just about getting the spices ground right so they taste the way people expect. The floor needs a lot of sweeping, and the bags are heavy to move around, but it’s the work we’ve got. We’ve been on this road for a while, and most people around here know where to find us if they need their masalas. The back of the shop is where we keep the raw supplies in big jute bags. They’re heavy to lift, and my back usually feels it by the end of the week. We have a small radio that plays local stations, but you can barely hear it over the sound of the mill. We don’t have a fancy delivery truck; it’s usually just a local guy with a cart or a small van. The farmers come in and tell us about the weather and the crops, and we listen while we work. It’s a very local way of doing things. We weigh everything out on the old scale because we trust it more than the digital one that sometimes flickers. The floor is stained from years of spices being spilled. It’s just how we do things.