SUNDAY afternoon at Varsha on Malabar Hill in Bombay, which is the official residence of the Chief Minister of Maharashtra, is a special time in the life of the Deshmukhs. They are the First Family of Maharashtra. Vilasrao and his warm and homely wife Vaishali; and their three handsome sons, Amit, Ritesh and Dhiraj. This is the only time the busy chief minister gets to catch up with his family, when he can inquire into what his �boys� are upto.

And there is much that Vilasrao�s sons are upto. The eldest son Amit manages the chief minister�s constituency, which is Latur in Marathwada; and the family�s businesses, a publication called Daily Ekmut and a Hero-Honda distribution agency. Ritesh, the middle son, is an architect; but his lean, elegant and brooding looks have attracted Bollywood, and he is on the verge of completing his debut film. And Dhiraj, the youngest boy, has just finished M.Com and is contemplating further studies abroad, possibly in New York.

The Deshmukhs do their �catching up� between 1 and 3 o�clock over lunch, after which the boys hang out with their friends. Vilasrao, if he is lucky, catches a nap. Before he became chief minister, the boys used to drag Vilasrao and Vaishali out for movies on Sundays. In the interval, they used to get their parents soft-drinks and ice-creams. That way Vilasrao is a shy and unobtrusive mantri. He shuns what is known as show-baazi and security. He will go to a movie hall but hide himself so as not to inconvenience the rest of the audience.

Now they watch their movies at home. Like they have their best meals at home. I called on the Deshmukhs first Sunday in July with Farzana Contractor for lunch. One day before our meeting, the hospitable Vaishali called up to inquire: �What would you like to eat?� We suggested a simple-enough Maharashtrian menu. �Okay,� she agreed. �I will tell the kitchen staff at Varsha to lay the table for six, not four, tomorrow.�

Lunch is a laidback but ceremonious affair at Varsha. A meal of several courses, each trotted out not by liveried staff, but uniformed helpers of the kitchen. The Deshmukhs I found out, are hearty trenchermen. And they are excellent hosts. It is a family tradition to eat well, to have the table groaning under the weight of good food, and nobody is ever in a hurry to get up and leave. Not even after three desserts!

They come from Latur where the cuisine is distinctly influenced by the former princely state of Hyderabad which was next door. It is a rich and robust food. Subtly-flavoured vegetables, hot aromatic meats and fish curries, thin, watery but tangy chicken gravies, and fragrant desserts. The Marathwada cooks adopted the recipes of the erstwhile Nizams of Hyderabad, took what they wanted and put it to use in their own Maharashtrian cuisine.

It is this kind of food that the kitchen at Varsha produces on Sundays. Vilasrao has wisely staffed the kitchen with old family retainers from Latur. He told me that he had developed a taste for that kind of food since early childhood and it was difficult for his palate to be satisfied with anything else now. He must have ghar ka khana every day. �I rarely go to restaurants,� he said, �and when I go to parties or dinners, I make a show of eating there, then come home and have dinner!�

The Varsha kitchen has two cooks from Latur who specialise in what they call Deshmukh gharana khana. Which is spicy, non-vegetarian food made out of Marathwada masalas and recipes from Vilasrao�s grandmother�s time. Vaishali plays a role here. She supervises the daily menu for lunch and dinner after sending out a sipahi to the market with a list she has prepared. Sometimes she gets down to doing the cooking herself, but this is rare, she is happy to let her cooks do it most of the time.

Vilasrao, I was amazed to discover, has simple tastes. His breakfast is kanda-poha or toast and milk. Sometimes, an omelette. Or a South Indian breakfast of wada sambar, idlis, that sort of thing. This again is the Hyderabad influence. And he skips lunch altogether. �At Mantralaya,� the chief minister told me, �it�s impossible to eat. The place is so crowded!� He had no idea what the Mantralaya canteen served for lunch but was familiar with its batata-wada and tea. �The tea is bad,� he said suppressing a shudder. �Maybe the contractor brews the same leaves over and again because there is such a demand for tea there!�

We assembled in the dining room at 1 o�clock for lunch. Vilasrao, who normally dresses in bandh-galas, wore a smart and starched kurta-pajama and waistcoat. Wife Vaishali, who was busy until a minute ago supervising the cooks, was dressed in a traditional Maharashtrian saree, probably from Latur. And the boys, all HBO-influenced, in jeans, smart shirts and pullovers, fancy footwear on the feet. Cell phones kept buzzing in their pockets, as if they were the chief ministers of Maharashtra and not their father.

The lunch was vegetarian and non-vegetarian. Vilasrao is fond of simple vegetarian food like jowar-roti and zunkha-bhakar, but on Sunday he must have chicken and mutton. Fish, he does not care for too much unless you can get him fresh and succulent prawns. �You don�t get seafood in Latur,� he explained to me in between mouthfuls of Sukha Mutton and Bhakri. �So I�m not used to eating fish at all. But there�s sweetwater fish, river fish, to be found in Marathwada, and I don�t like that too much.�

He is fond of talking about Marathwada. Particularly Babhalgaon, his village in Latur, where Deshmukh is a title and not a surname. �We are revenue collectors, the most important people in the village,� he said modestly. They are also agriculturalists, they have an ancestral home in Latur, where the chief minister�s brother grows sugarcane, jowar, pulses, oilseeds. And where the family owns sugar factories. The best sugar in the state, in the nation, is produced at their factory, Vilasrao told me proudly.

�It is called the Manjara Cooperative Sugar factory,� Vilasrao said. �We have received awards for our sugar, for our technical expertise, efficiency, for giving 49 per cent bonus to workers where the norm is 8.33 per cent!� He himself never took up farming. �I started my career in politics as a sarpanch in 1974 and became chief minister in 1999. It�s been a 25-year-long journey,� he said. Indeed, it has. And Maharashtra, for better or worse, is slated to have Vilasrao Deshmukh raj for another two-and-half years.

Service around the table had slackened so Vaishali got up to serve her sons some of their favourite cuts of the spicy Chicken Curry. �Dhiraj, the youngest boy, is a hardcore non-vegetarian. He must always have the chicken leg,� Vaishali proudly said. �He�s been like that since he was small. He used to cry and fight for the chicken leg!� Vilasrao gallantly passed the dishes around to Farzana. He is a careful and dainty eater. No clattering of the cutlery. No slurping and dropping of food. No using dirty fingers to pick up the water glass. Farzana remarked, �What elegant dining this is!� To which Vilasrao cleverly replied, �I don�t know which politicians you have dined with before!�

There was much prattle around the table. Ritesh said, �The food at home has always been this way, the same Chicken Curry, the same Mutton Fry. Yet, it is interesting and tasty. We eat out a lot, go to all the restaurants, but love to come home to simple khana.� The Deshmukh boys cannot remember the last time the family went out together for dinner. �Probably seven, eight years ago, to Copper Chimney, for our parents� wedding anniversary,� they said.

The Sukha Mutton and Chicken Curry got quickly over, and so did the Thali Peeth Bhaji, the Bhajia, Kheema, Varan-Bhaat, Dal and Pulao. Vaishali served the desserts. Sheera, Puran Poli and Fruit Salad with Ice-Cream. Vilasrao only had ice-cream. He is not fond of sweets. Nor, he whispered to me, of smoking and drinking. �So how do you keep in shape, then,� I asked. �I do yoga in the morning,� he replied. �And my job keeps me on my toes. What do you think I am going to do now?� �Sleep,� said Farzana. �No,� said the Chief Minister of Maharashtra rising up to go, �I am taking a chopper to Latur!�