More than the idea of quenching thirst, the word ‘peya’ in Maharashtra embodies nourishment, ritual, tied to memory and the rhythm of daily life. From the taak served after a heavy wedding feast to the tang of raw mango in kairiche panhe, drinks in this culinary tradition are never just accompaniments, but experiences in themselves. Some are served at weddings, offered after meals, sipped leisurely at cafés, or brought fresh by the roadside. Some beverages are rooted in Ayurveda, designed to balance digestion and restore the body; others are celebratory. What unites them all is their reliance on local, indigenous ingredients like mangoes, kokum, buttermilk, and palm nectar, transformed into something that nourishes while delighting the senses.
Here are five quintessential Maharashtrian drinks that embody this philosophy:
If mango is the king of fruits, then raw mango—kairi in Marathi—reigns over the other beverages in Maharashtra. The arrival of panhe is almost ceremonial, marking the beginning of sweltering afternoons. Sweet, tangy, and faintly spiced, this drink is prepared by simmering green mangoes until their tart flesh softens into pulp. Mixed with jaggery and a touch of cardamom, the result is a golden nectar that balances sharpness with mellow sweetness.
Beyond taste, panhe is packed with nutrients: raw mango supports liver function and is high in vitamin C, while jaggery restores essential salts. But for most Maharashtrians, its significance lies less in its health benefits and more in its familiarity.
If panhe is simplicity, piyush is indulgence in liquid form. A cousin of lassi but thicker and richer, piyush blends shrikhand—the saffron and cardamom-scented yoghurt dessert, with buttermilk or curd. Nutmeg lends it warmth, while saffron strands often float on its creamy surface. The result is a drink so decadent it often doubles as a dessert.
Its origins trace back to Tambe Arogya Bhuvan in Dadar, Mumbai, where piyush was reportedly first crafted in the pre-independence era. The name itself, meaning “nectar,” is fitting: one sip and you understand why it has endured through decades. Piyush is not a drink of thirst, but of leisure — best enjoyed slowly, in small glasses, as if to stretch out the sweetness of tradition.
Travel along the Konkan coast and you will inevitably be offered a glass of solkadhi. Its delicate blush comes from kokum petals steeped in water, blended with the creaminess of freshly extracted coconut milk. Spices like green chilli or garlic are often added, giving each sip a gentle kick that lingers after the sour-sweetness of kokum fades.
For coastal Maharashtrians, solkadhi is a digestive, a palate cleanser, and a staple of hospitality. Poured over rice or sipped after a seafood-heavy meal, it provides balance both on the plate and in the body. Kokum, indigenous to the Western Ghats, is prized for its cooling and medicinal properties, while coconut milk grounds the drink in the geography of the coast. The two together create something unmistakably Konkani: light, refreshing, yet complex enough to demand attention.
Where piyush and solkadhi are steeped in ceremony, taak is part of daily life. Essentially, buttermilk seasoned with cumin, ginger, coriander, and sometimes green chillies, taak is found in almost every Maharashtrian home. It is offered after hearty meals, served at weddings alongside masale bhaat and jalebi, and poured for guests as a symbol of hospitality.
What makes taak remarkable is its adaptability. It can be spiced to taste, thickened or thinned, served plain or dressed up with herbs. But in every form, it functions as a quiet remedy — aiding digestion, soothing the stomach, and providing a sense of calm. In a culture that values balance at the table, taak is not just a beverage; it is reassurance in a glass.
Distinct from the kitchen-made drinks, neera is harvested directly from the palm tree. The unfermented sap, collected at dawn, is sweet, frothy, and rich in minerals. Sold fresh at neera kendras along highways and village roads, it must be consumed quickly — within hours it begins to ferment into toddy, acquiring alcohol.
To many Maharashtrians, neera is a reminder of nature’s abundance—a drink that needs no elaborate recipe, only careful collection. Nutritious and naturally probiotic, it is both a health tonic and a cultural marker, connecting communities to the land and its trees. A glass of fresh neera at sunrise is an experience as close to tradition as one can get.
No conversation about Maharashtrian drinks is complete without tipping the hat to Pallonji’s Raspberry Soda, the neon-pink fizzy that has achieved cult status in Mumbai and beyond. Introduced by the Parsi-owned Duke & Sons company in the 20th century, and later produced under Pallonji’s brand, the soda became synonymous with Irani cafés.
From the homely comfort of taak to the coastal elegance of solkadhi, and from the fleeting sweetness of neera to the fizzy nostalgia of Pallonji’s Raspberry Soda, these drinks are more than recipes; they are memories poured into glasses.