As Trump serves up a trade war, India juggles geopolitics. Between RBI’s recipe tweaks and a simmering China pot, every bite carries weight.
By Phynix
Phynix is a seasoned journalist who revels in playful, unconventional narration, blending quirky storytelling with measured, precise editing. Her work embodies a dual mastery of creative flair and steadfast rigor.
August 31, 2025 at 4:12 PM IST
Dear Insighter,
I’ve realised my travels are never built around monuments, museums, or must-see lists. They’re built around meals. Food is how I remember a place, how I decide if a day (or an entire trip) was good. You can start a friendship over a bowl of soup, nurse a breakup with a dessert, or dream incessantly about a single dish you had as a child.
There was this one plate of mapo tofu in a nondescript restaurant in Kyoto that haunted me for weeks. The tofu melted in my mouth, the minced meat had a depth of flavour, and the Sichuan peppercorns set off little sparks of numbness across my tongue.
In Tokyo, I found myself in a ramen bar crammed into an alley with half the signboard covered by another. I sat elbow-to-elbow with strangers, all of us slurping in silence. The broth was smoky, umami-rich, with a slight sweetness of miso.
And in Seoul? I fell hard for a broth. So much so that I cornered the manager and asked for the recipe. “Bone and seafood-based,” she said simply. I picked up a packaged version from a supermarket nearby, and cooked it at home with anticipation. What I ended up with was hardly the real thing.
But if I had to pick one dish that I would go back for again and again, it would be ema datshi in Thimphu. Chillies and cheese, that’s it. Sounds simple on paper, but it’s something else entirely on the plate—cheesy, fiery, warm.
And yet, for all the food I chase across the world, the thing I crave most when I’m back is still the simplest. My mother’s dal and rice with aloo sabzi or chicken curry, and my father’s beetroot or winter melon soup with egg drops. They’re not exotic, but they anchor me. That’s the paradox, I guess—you think you are of the world, yet rooted in one kitchen. Your palate travels, your soul stays home.
It feels a lot like the world right now. We’re pulled between global adventures and the need for comfort. And food isn’t the only thing heating up.
Look at Donald Trump’s latest tariff drama. His trade policy isn’t a carefully plated dish; it’s more like a chaotic hot pot. As R. Gurumurthy notes, he even fired the head of the Bureau of Labor Statistics and threatened the Fed Governor for numbers he didn’t like. It’s like firing the food critic for pointing out the soup is salty.
Ajay Srivastava lays out the consequences of an intensifying trade war: if US tariffs on Indian goods surge to 50%, our exports to the US could collapse from $86.5 billion to $49.6 billion. Apparel, textiles, and gems would be gutted. It’s a tariff shock that demands more than comfort food in response.
Tempting as it is, looking to China as an alternative partner won’t soothe the burn. Sanjay Pulipaka points out that the relationship remains uneasy: the border is unresolved, Pakistan lurks, and trade is hopelessly one-sided. Brahma Chellaney adds that appeasing Beijing won’t help India stand up to Trump; past experience suggests China exploits weakness rather than rewards goodwill.
Instead, India’s recipe for autonomy needs sturdier ingredients. TK Arun argues that continuing Russian oil imports is crucial, not just because it’s cheaper, but because it diversifies our pantry. Depending solely on American goodwill is like relying on a single, moody supplier. Vijay Chauhan advises that cushioning MSMEs and tackling non-tariff barriers matters as much as shaping future trade rules.
Meanwhile, back home, BasisPoint Groupthink notes how the Reserve Bank of India’s June gamble of aggressive easing followed by a sudden neutral stance confused markets. Words matter as much as actions here. As Babuji K reminds us, they can be stronger than rate moves or liquidity operations in modern monetary policy. And despite Rudra Sensarma pointing out that banks have passed on rate cuts, credit growth is sluggish, weighed down by global headwinds and high real rates.
Even the inflation debate circles back to the plate. Srinath Sridharan puts it best: Inflation is not a percentage point; it is the price of a plate of food. To exclude food prices from the RBI’s target is to ignore the dal, chawal, and sabzi that define most Indian households’ realities. Vivek Kumar adds that the current 4% target, with its 2% band, is working fine. It gives flexibility in a country that will always have food price shocks. Either way, the argument is about more than numbers; it’s about whose kitchen gets counted.
Beyond monetary tweaks, reforms are simmering too. Sachin Malhotra explains how the new IBC Amendment tightens processes and restores creditor primacy. And despite initial fears, Datametricx suggests GST rationalisation won’t starve state revenues; the compensation cess is still the safety valve keeping the system intact.
Corporate India is also cooking up its own responses. Krishnadevan V highlights Indian Hotels’ bold bet on Clarks—a pivot towards middle-class aspirations. On the other hand, Dev Chandrasekhar reports how NMDC, despite record iron ore output, saw margins collapse under state royalties consuming 40% of its revenue. Even the busiest business can be squeezed if the landlord takes too big a bite.
And so, we come back to food. For me, the dishes that linger are not the elaborate creations, but the ones that feel like home. Maybe that’s why dal and rice taste heavenly after weeks of global feasting. They are certain and familiar.
In a world where Trump treats data like seasoning to be altered, where India and China eye each other across the table with suspicion, and where the RBI is still perfecting its recipes, perhaps the best reminder is this: sometimes the most powerful comfort is already on our plates.
Until next time, here’s to savouring the simple amid the complex,
Phynix
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