An era has ended in Cuttack. Raghu, the humble custodian of the city’s most beloved street food, has passed away. For nearly six decades, his dahibara aloo dum has not merely been food, but a ritual, a memory, and a binding thread across generations of dedicated fans who queued up eagerly for that leaf cone of baras soaked in tangy curd and topped with his fiery aloo dum.
Over the years, little ever changed. Evening after evening, Raghu would arrive punctually at his fixed spot – first near Barabati Stadium when I was in school, and later in Bidanasi – bringing with him a set quantity of dahibara and aloo dum in large aluminium dekchis, carefully balanced on a cycle rickshaw. The aloo dum always retained its warmth till the very last ladle, not because of insulation, but because it vanished so quickly into waiting hands.
This summer, I finally made a pilgrimage of sorts to his home. A young and enthusiastic guide, Chris, led me down a quiet, winding lane dotted with contemplative cows, to the kitchen where this legendary dish had been prepared day after day, year after year, with unwavering precision. One of his sons was tending to the simmering aloo dum over a crackling wood fire, while another was preparing the paraphernalia for the daily journey to Bidanasi. And there was Raghu himself- bare-chested, in a simple lungi, lying on the floor in gentle repose under the shade of the courtyard. A picture of humility, almost blending into the rhythm of his household, yet filling the space with an unmistakable aura.
The wood fire that gave his aloo dum its earthy warmth, the blackened kadhai that had witnessed countless afternoons of stirring, and the heap of red chillies drying in the sun -all of it transported me beyond the sweltering heat into a state of quiet ecstasy. It felt less like a visit to a kitchen and more like the culmination of a pilgrimage.
Raghu was never one for flamboyance. He let the food speak for him. And speak it did – in the satisfied sighs of teenagers, in the hurried steps of office-goers grabbing a plate before dusk, and in the nostalgia of old Cuttackias returning from afar who felt instantly at home with that first bite. His gentle words and quiet smile became as much a part of the experience as the dahibara aloo dum itself.
Now, Raghu has passed, and with him goes a part of Cuttack’s living heritage. Yet the flame of his legacy will not die. His sons, already carrying forward the craft with care, will ensure the queues remain, the flavours endure, and the tradition continues.
Raghu’s physical presence may no longer grace that lane or his spot in Bidanasi, but his spirit will linger – in the aroma of tangy curd, in the fiery bite of aloo dum, and in the collective memory of a city and its diaspora .
Raghu is gone. But every time someone who has been in his presence , bites into dahibara aloo dum anywhere in the world, Raghu’s quiet, humble aura will be there.
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Remembering Raghu Bhaina | His Dahibara Legacy Stays Eternal
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An ordinary life 