STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHS
Being a photojournalist is a blessing and a curse. It takes me to unimaginable places, letting me witness historic moments from ground zero. But behind the lens lies a hidden cost. Documenting wars and tragedies has left me emotionally scarred and with an unspoken burden of death and destruction. The signs are clear: I am standing at the threshold of post-traumatic stress disorder. The trauma of constant exposure to human suffering has started to reshape my view of the world, reminding me that sometimes the price of capturing history is more than we bargain for.
Once always on the move, whether for work or adventure, I withdrew into myself after the Covid-19 lockdown in 2020. The world outside was overwhelming. Movies, once my escape, now felt too violent. Books collected dust, and even the thought of a broken world order drained my spirit. I feared venturing out, even making new friends. Except for work, my world had shrunk, and I was too scared to expand it.
I sought solace in brewing speciality coffee, experimenting with everything from pour-over to syphon. I soon realised coffee culture had evolved beyond brewing my own coffee. Now, it is about global connections to source beans of different character, small-batch roasters and the artistry behind every bean character. Yet, despite the craft and science, brewing coffee had started to feel like a mundane task.
During a restaurant photo-shoot for THE WEEK, I reconnected with an old friend, Radhika Misra, a freelance PR consultant. When she offered me coffee, I declined, saying, “I only drink coffee I brew myself.”She replied, “Like craft chocolates!”That word caught my attention. I learned that a revolution was unfolding in India’s craft chocolate scene, with cacao grown in south India winning international awards. I knew that chocolates are beloved by all―from children to soldiers. In fact, during my time in the war zone in Donbas, a Ukrainian soldier taped a chocolate box cover over my helmet to hide the ‘PRESS’ letters on it to shield me from enemy snipers. That ‘cover-up’ made me look as if I was the ‘Millennium Golden Nut’! To think such a bittersweet superfood was thriving in India was thrilling. And so, I set out to explore the rich, distinctive flavours of the Indian craft chocolate.
THEOBROMA: WHEN THE ‘FOOD OF THE GODS’ CAME TO GOD’S OWN COUNTRY
Before I embarked on that delectable journey, I wanted to understand India’s cacao story. With global cacao prices soaring to Rs900 per kilogram in mid 2024, farmers in Kerala, who had once abandoned cacao for more profitable crops, were now regretting their decision. Cacao is not native to India; it was brought in during colonial times, just like tea. Cacao traces its origins to the Amazon basin, where it was considered “food of the gods” by the Olmecs, the Maya people and the Aztecs. The Maya people called their bitter, frothy beverage Chocolhaa whereas the Aztecs called it Xocolatl. Cacao beans were even used as legal tender by some Mesoamericans. Europeans introduced it to the rest of the world in the 16th century, and today cacao is largely cultivated in West Africa and Southeast Asia. Forestero, Trinitario and Criollo are the most popular cacao varieties.
In India, cacao was first planted as a garden tree during the British rule, but large-scale cultivation didn’t begin until the 1960s in Kerala, promoted by industrial chocolate makers. Over the years, it spread across south India. Now Andhra Pradesh leads in production, followed by Kerala, Karnataka and Tamil Nadu.
So, my first stop had to be Andhra Pradesh, where farmer Boyapati Venkateshwara Rao showed me around his multi-crop farm in Gangannagudem village in Eluru district. And that is where I first laid my eyes on a cacao tree, nestled under the shade of towering coconut trees. The tree was a riot of colours―from green to yellow to scarlet―thanks to the cacao pods. “Those are our organic workers,” joked Rao, pointing to the flies around the decaying pods. He cracked open a ripe pod for me to taste. I expected it to taste like chocolate, but it had sweet and sour notes, tasting more like a lychee. “We ferment it well to get the chocolate flavour,” Rao explained, seeing my amazement. With cacao prices rising, farmers like him are seeing a new opportunity.
As I travelled across Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, I met farmers who had embraced the bean-to-bar movement, crafting chocolate from their own beans. Unlike mass-produced varieties, these chocolate makers used 100 per cent cacao, creating some of the finest and most distinctive chocolates. India’s cacao revolution wasn’t just about growing beans and making chocolates―it was about crafting a new chocolate culture.
THE GREAT INDIAN CRAFT CHOCOLATE QUEST
My journey to uncover the best craft chocolates in India began with an obsession. What if chocolate wasn’t just a sweet indulgence, but a revolution in flavour and quality? I found a hidden world of bean-to-bar chocolate makers―over a hundred of them in India. Most of them source the beans from south India. But I was after something more specific: the chocolate makers who didn’t just craft chocolate from beans, but who grew the beans themselves. The quest led me to four extraordinary brands, each with a unique origin story and a commitment to transforming Indian cacao into world-class chocolate. These weren’t just businesses; they were passions, experiments and revolutions rooted in cacao beans.
My quest began with Manam in Hyderabad, founded by the young and passionate entrepreneur Chaitanya Muppala. With his roots in Hyderabad’s legacy brand Almond House sweet shop, Muppala’s journey into chocolate began before the pandemic. He didn’t just create a chocolate brand―he redefined the chocolate-making process from farm to bar. At Distinct Origins, his cacao fermentery, every pod is treated like royalty, with workers documenting each step of the journey from harvest to drying. The scent of fermented cacao fills the air like an intoxicating brew, and it stayed with me long after I had left the fermentery. When I finally visited Muppala’s flagship store, Manam Chocolate Karkhana in Hyderabad, it felt like stepping into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Only, this one was a tribute to Indian cacao―from the bars to truffles to pralines and dragées.
Next, I travelled to Kolenchery in Kerala to meet the man behind Paul And Mike, a brand that fuses global expertise with local cacao. Founded by Vikas Temani of Synthite Group, known for its spice extracts, this brand is unique because it is powered by an industrial giant’s infrastructure and the passion of a true chocolate maker. As I toured its factory in Ernakulam, I marvelled at the sleek, high-tech machines transforming the finest cacao into award-winning chocolates. But it is the brand’s connection to its farms that really sets it apart.
The name, Paul And Mike, conjures an image of a foreign chocolate brand. But it is named after two impressive Latin American cacao farmers Temani met while he was on a research trip before the brand’s launch. Paul has an Indian connection―the cacao farmer’s ancestors migrated from India to Trinidad in the 18th century.
From Kerala, I travelled to Pollachi in Tamil Nadu, to visit Soklet, a brand that blends passion with environmental consciousness. It was founded by Harish Manoj Kumar and Karthikeyan Palaniswamy. This chocolate-making duo has turned their family farm near the Anamalai hills into a sanctuary for fine cacao. Walking through their farm felt like stepping into a jungle. Cacao pods hung from trees like ripe jewels, waiting to be harvested. The heat of the region doesn’t deter them; instead, they harness it, adding a unique character to their chocolate―spicy, fruity and unforgettable. Soklet’s ethos is clear: they are not just making chocolate; they are creating an experience, one that is as deeply rooted in their land as it is in flavour.
Finally, in the remote village of Bettampady in Karnataka’s Dakshina Kannada district, I visited the chocolate-making workshop of Balasubrahmanya P.S. and Swathi Kallegundi, the dynamic couple behind Anuttama chocolates. What began as a lockdown hobby―making chocolate for their son―grew into a full-fledged craft chocolate business. With cacao grown on their family farm, they use jaggery and dates to sweeten their chocolates, infusing them with local flavours. Their workshop, nestled amid lush greenery, is where experimentation and tradition collide. And with their unique flavour combinations, like Spicy Tang with ginger and pepper, they are pushing the boundaries of what Indian chocolate can be.
As I moved from farm to fermentery to chocolate bar, I realised that this was not just a journey through the world of chocolate; it was an exploration of India’s untold cacao story. Each region, each farm, each chocolate maker brought a new layer to the chocolate experience, which is deeply connected to the land, the culture and the people who craft it.
What struck me the most was how these chocolate makers were challenging and redefining the norms of industry. They used honest, natural ingredients―cacao grown with care, processed with precision and crafted from the heart. In their hands, chocolate was more than just a treat; it was a story, an adventure, a revolution.
I couldn’t help but reflect on the impact of cacao. The simple act of tasting chocolate had the power to release the happy hormones―serotonin, dopamine and the ultimate “bliss molecule” anandamide. With every bite, I felt connected not only to the cacao but to the journey it had taken, from farm to fermentery to my tongue. These were no ordinary chocolates; they were an embodiment of India’s rich, untapped chocolate potential.
I am savouring the last piece of an orange-cinnamon chocolate, letting it melt slowly on my tongue. The journey has been refreshing, but it has only just begun. India’s craft chocolate revolution is still in its infancy, but it is already making its mark. So, the next time you are in the chocolate aisle, remember, not all chocolates are created equal. Look for the ones that have the character, that celebrate the terroir, the craft and the quality ingredients behind them.