A Toast to the Spirit of India: Jin Jiji and Kumaon & I

Indian Express

11-05-2025

In a world swirling with spirits, where amber flows in crystal goblets and juniper dances with citrus under chandeliered ceilings, an Indian gin has risen — not just to the top shelf, but to the summit of global acclaim. Jin Jiji, a name once whispered with curiosity in boutique bars, now rings across the world with wonder. Crowned in London — the cathedral of cocktails, the altar of artisanal alcohols — as the best spirit in the world, it is not just a win for a brand, but a toast to a boy, a vision, and a country that once watched from the wings and now stands center stage, glass raised, gaze steady.
At the heart of this historic highball is Ansh Khanna — Delhi-born, globally bred, mountain-souled. A young man whose eyes carry the calm of still waters but whose spirit burns with the quiet, constant flame of ambition. Not the loud, restless kind. But the cultivated, considered, contemplative sort. The kind that watches before it walks, tastes before it tells, and dreams in textures, top notes, and terroir.
From high school hallways in India to lecture halls in the United States, from the limestone lanes of Tuscany's vineyards to the minimalist magic of Japanese distilleries, Ansh has traveled— never as a tourist, but as a taster. A seeker. A sipper of stories. His passport bears stamps, but more importantly, his palate bears memories. The minerality of a Loire Valley white, the peppery bite of Timur on a Himalayan breeze, the sweetness of Goan cashew kissed by coastal sun — all catalogued, considered, and one day, distilled.
It was in this crucible of curiosity and craft that Jin Jiji was born. Not as a gimmick or a grab at global glamour, but as a genuine gesture. A gin that could speak of India without shouting. That could evoke not just spice, but subtlety. That could carry cardamom and chamomile in a single sigh. That could echo the elegance of Devanagari script in its label and the depth of Darjeeling in its lingering finish. A gin that could sit on the mahogany bars of Michelin-starred restaurants across New York and London and say, with quiet confidence: Namaste.
That this gin — born of Indian soil, Indian soul, and Indian ingenuity — was awarded the world's best is not just poetic. It is powerful. For decades, India has exported its raw ingredients, outsourced its flavors, and watched others bottle its essence. But Ansh reversed that recipe. He brought the ingredients home. He distilled not just spirits, but sovereignty. And with every sip of Jin Jiji, the world now tastes a new kind of India: complex, charismatic, contemporary.
But the story doesn't stop at that gold medal in London. Because Ansh, for all his finesse, is not one to rest on laurels. He doesn't just bottle brilliance — he builds legacies. And in that spirit, he has joined hands with another visionary: Samarth Prasad.
Where Ansh brings the polish of the global palate, Samarth brings the pulse of the mountains. Raised amidst the ridges of Uttarakhand, heir to a family that helms the largest experiential hospitality chain in the state, Samarth has always seen the Himalayas not just as a postcard, but as a promise. A place where hospitality is not industry, but inheritance. Where circularity is not a trend, but tradition. And where every herb, every hand-foraged root, every high-altitude bark has a story worth sipping.
Their partnership is not poetic by accident — it is poetic by design. Together, they have created Kumaon & I — India's first provincial dry gin. A love letter to a landscape. A tribute to terroir. A testament to the idea that the future of fine spirits is not urban and imported, but regional, rooted, and radically Indian.
Crafted from fresh Himalayan spring water and 11 botanicals native to the Kumaon region, Kumaon & I is not just a gin — it is geography in a glass. Himalayan juniper. Black turmeric, grown above 10,000 feet. Timur, with its fruit-forward fire. Galgal, the citrus of childhood summers. Kalmegh, bitter as truth and just as healing. All slow-distilled at source, all carried with care by women-led cooperatives, all traced from root to rim.
And then, there's the name: Kumaon & I. Three syllables that shimmer with layered meaning.
'I' as the individual —the drinker, the dreamer, the one who raises a glass and tastes a memory.
'I' as the ingredient — indigenous, intuitive, intentional. Chosen not for trend, but for truth.
'I' has the intent — to uplift, to empower, to protect, to give back.
This is not branding. This is belief. A belief that business can be beautiful. That distilleries can be democratic. That every bottle can carry not just notes of juniper and citrus, but notes of justice, community, and care.
Because Samarth's mountain roots aren't just metaphors — they are missions. From Aipan motifs on the bottle to zero-waste distillation processes, every detail of Kumaon & I is earth-aligned and community-conscious. The women who draw the art drink the same spring water that infuses the gin. The families who farm the ingredients are the ones whose futures the brand is investing in. This is circularity not as a concept, but as commitment.
And through it all, Ansh remains what he has always been: the orchestrator. The boy with the unbroken spirit. The Delhi son with a global gaze. A man who can blind-taste a gin and tell you where the coriander was grown. Who can pair a Darjeeling with a Danish tonic and make it taste like monsoon. Who can walk into a Tokyo bar, order his own gin with humility, and walk out thinking of what to make next.
Together, Ansh and Samarth are not just making spirits. They are making India matter. In the most elegant, elevating, everlasting way possible.
This is not the story of a product. This is the story of a phenomenon. Of an India that doesn't need to be explained or exoticized. Of an India that can be distilled, dignified, and drunk with pride. Jin Jiji in London. Kumaon & I on the rise. Two boys, two backgrounds, one beautiful belief—that the soul of a country can sit in a bottle, and when the world sips it, it should feel like a homecoming.
So the next time you see a bottle of Indian gin on a foreign shelf, remember: this didn't happen by accident. This happened because two young men believed that the mountains had a message, that the botanicals had a voice, that India didn't have to borrow brilliance—it could brew it.
Raise your glass. To the boy from Delhi who tasted the world and returned home to rewrite its flavors. To the man from the mountains who bottled his backyard with dignity. To a partnership that pours not just gin, but grace.
To Jin Jiji.
To Kumaon & I.
To India — spirited, soaring, and finally sipped as the best in the world.