Eat what is not (un)popular

Our choice of food is driven by our cultural standing and the social structure we belong to. What we eat must determine our social status, and it does so by telling us about our identity in the society. The dominant food is what is essentially elitist in its creation. The elitist menu is what each geographical region has on its range, guided primarily by what is hugely popular amongst the elite. What is palatable to the mainstream gets popular coverage and becomes the identity of the region itself. An individual’s eating practices play a vital role in determining social status, which is closely aligned with class divisions.

What the poor (or the Dalits) eat every day? The social walls of caste and class are so strong that the upper castes never get to know about the food culture of the lower castes. In other words, the food culture of the upper caste/class has been considered the food culture of the entire society. Come to think of it, the food culture of most marginalized social groups continues to get ignored. Written as a memoir with recipes, Shahu Patole's Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada explores the politics of food culture and how it reinforces social divisions. However, food also holds the transformative power to connect communities and preserve cultural identity.

Like the food culture of Punjab is narrowed down to makke-ki-roti and sarson-ka-saag, and the Konkan region gets distinction as a land for fish, curry, and crab, the Maharashtra as a whole is summed up into puran poli, aloo bonda, and kande poha. The identity of regions is equated to particular dishes, all belonging to the upper-class. In the process, a vast local biodiversity gets missed out. Many traditions and practices are equally lost, and so are essential components of the recipe. These recipes can’t be recreated as these are based on the local products, local practices, and local wisdom.

Dalit kitchens offer an exquisite culinary landscape. The wide variants of bhakri are in vogue but only the generic is commonly consumed - pithala bhakri (gram-flour and sorghum roti), khandeshi bhakri (mashed eggplant curry), varhadi bhakri (coarsely ground chillies and garlic) and many others are often ignored.

Food chronicler Shahu Patole has drawn the rich repository of dalit culinary traditions. Cooking is a time-consuming process, women being at the centre of what finally gets cooked. That is not all, cooking entails a great deal of attention to detail, and warmth and affection. Far from being documented, the cooking practice is only sustained through inter-generational transfer of recipe. What is ignored gets lost forever! Patole has made a pioneering effort to document dalit food culture and history, through the culinary practices of two communities – Mahar and Mang.

Why should the dalit kitchens get such a significance? Should the culinary skills of the poor be counted? What is its use in the social structure? They are probably so far in the social and cultural façade to deserve any attention. Yet, they deserve attention. For instance, many beans are best suited under dry situations and may have multiple usage under varying climatic conditions. As dalits use less oil for cooking, the recipe could be healthy. There could be numerous uses the dalit recipe can be put to, provided it gets systematically studied.

Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada is a book of culture and customs. It shows many culinary traditions as special dishes. There is something novel about their novel food culture. However, there is little doubt that dalit food culture was often ignored. Many dalits don’t acknowledge what their forefathers ate, the deep-rooted shame and guilt continue to disturb them. The process of erasing social history has already begun. It would be rather naïve to assume that the woke writers and bloggers are oblivious to this development.

Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada

by Shahu Patole

HarperCollins, New Delhi

Extent: 356, Price: Rs. 599.

Commissioned by the Hindustan Times, Printed on www.raagdelhi.com on Oct 8, 2024. 

Is language not a wild beast?

Language is a human invention that is bound to evolve with time to suit changing communication needs.

Threat to the existence of languages seems unreal to Lane Greene for whom language is like a wolf, robust, organic and evolving to suit the changing conditions in the wild. With infectious enthusiasm, the polyglot columnist considers the deep strangeness of language to be its savior against potential vulnerability. After all it is a human invention that is bound to evolve with time with different users contextualizing it to suit their communication needs. If that be so, why shifts in expressions and meanings of words should be worrisome? It is only the purists who love one dialect may take it as an imminent sign of linguistic ruin.

Written words do abide by grammatical conventions, but it is the spoken language which is continually in flux ‘providing speaker a menu of options for getting ideas effectively into the reader’s mind.’ Each language has two sides to it - one formal and the other normal, with the formal having a limited role. Profiling the changes that are sweeping the language (English), Greene wonders when the purists will appreciate normal English as relevant because ‘formal written language isn’t the only form of language that matters.’ Language is a many-faceted thing. Slang and dialect, jocular and off-beat, teen-speak and text-driven, and, corporate jargon and political ramble. Do these forms pose a threat to language or enhance its versatility? While this could be open to differing interpretations, it does show that each facet fills a distinct need. ‘Not all language is well behaved, nor does it need to be.’

Erudite and ebullient, Talk on the Wild Side argues that decentralized changes are not only acceptable but inherent to language. Else, neither will language live nor will it continue to be spoken by people. Humans have done important things with languages, and continue to do without letting them fall apart into pieces. The wild side of language is that it is adaptable, but that hardly applies to native languages which easily fall prey to the hegemony of dominant languages. That being not the subject of his inquiry. Greene instead argues that language doesn’t fall apart even when people do novel things with it or adapt it to suit varied needs. Every language, therefore, remains a unique product of human genius.

The core idea behind this immensely readable book is that language is always changing, influenced by externalities of the times. The words may not mean the same they did a century ago, and there is nothing wrong with it because languages always evolve towards simplicity. Greene cites the word buxom, which originally meant pliable, then happy/gay, and now, a large-chested woman. The need is to accept language as it remains relevant to the context in which it is adapted. The fact that English language enriches itself by integrating words from other languages (especially Hindi) every other year bears testimony to its absorptive capacity of integrating words from other cultures. That is the dynamic nature of language.

However, there are purists who fear that such integration corrupts language, and which may eventually bring its terminal decline. Such impression may be far from truth. The vast majority of language experts today - those who really understand what language is and how it works, rather than those who focus on how they think it ought to work - sit closer to the descriptivist camp, rather than being prescriptivists. Arguing instead that the latter group is wrong, Greene feels that language can never be tamed or shaped to the will of a select few prescriptivists who keep nuances of grammar closer to their chest without realizing that the regimentation of language may bring its downfall. Language should be allowed to evolve.

Talk on the Wild Side is full of sweet spots that unfold many aspects of language in an ever-changing world. It is both a guide to the great debates and controversies of usage, as well as a love letter to language itself. It touches upon contemporary developments in technology to generate and create languages, or to help with translations. These aren’t flawless! However, letting the power of language slip into the domain of technology is fraught with political control. As language is inextricably connected to power, majority-language nationalism may lead to political upheaval. Allowing the one who’s holding the sword will eventually decide who’s mispronouncing the word. The future of language, therefore, should be in the hands of those who use it. Instead of attempting to tame it, we should allow it to roam freely and evolve in its own way. Greene is clear that neither is thought language nor grammar. Language is culture, dynamic and evolving. 

Talk on the Wild Side 
by Lane Greene
Hachette Books, US 
Extent: 240, Price: US$ 26.

First published in Seminar, #742, dated June 2021. 

Similar, but different nonetheless

In their quest to create an identity distinct from India, an Islamic identity has only proved regressive for a vibrant plural society.

For the people of any country an engagement with their lived reality plays a significant role in renegotiating an identity that is distinct from the political identity thrust upon them by the nation-state. Such an identity describes the history from below, concerns itself with the ordinary people, the ruled, and how they define and steer history rather than the rulers. It is such social history that lends color and agency to the barren economic and unintelligible political history of a country. Contrary to how a country may be seen and understood, exploring it through aspects of arts, literature and heritage offers a distinct reflection on its society and people. Pakistan is one such country whose politically constructed one-religion-one-culture identity has subsumed a vibrant narrative on its pluralist identity, typecasting it as a national security state. Through insightful and revealing essays, Raza Rumi constructs an alternate view of the country that has continued to be in transit since its traumatic birth in 1947. 

Pakistan of the present is not what it used to be in its formative years, the partying, drinking and dancing country of the seventies has long ceased to exist. Gone are the days when bars were commonplace in major urban centers, and when musical fanfare at the shrines of saints defined the cultural outlook of the country. The ruling elite had other plans, though. In their quest to create an identity distinct from India, an Islamic identity only proved regressive for a vibrant plural society. Being Pakistani is a bold attempt at capturing the multilayered narrative in search of its lost identity, dislocated in the linearization of its predominant Islamic narrative. 

Rumi argues that the country’s identity has tragically been imagined by the ruling class only within the context of militarization and jingoism, characterized by an anti-India strategic worldview which has gripped the state and society beyond redemption. It has seemingly gone beyond repair as global media has consistently reaffirmed such reductionist image of a country. Although there isn’t much being done to denounce the culture of militancy as yet, there is simmering discontent and an undercurrent of dissension emerging among the writers, artists and musicians who have begun to contest the one dimensional image of the country.

The very fact that there are poets and writers challenging the rising tide of extremism and violence in the country – regardless of who the originator of such crises may be – is a welcome shift, and a testament to the rich heritage of country’s literary history, and its dynamic present. Reflection of such expressions in the works of present generation of poets, writers, and miniature artists should be important for the region, as it reinforces the shared cultural values of love and compassion expounded by none others than Kabir, Bulleh and Lallon.

In drawing this emerging image of Pakistan, Rumi is convinced that much of it rests on the idea of civilization which a separate nation has only tried to suppress. Written with a compassionate concern, the essays dig deep to acknowledge the impact of shared sub-continental identity which the constructed reality of nationalism has only tried to undermine. One begins to empathize with the author, whose personalized sense of alienation in his own country reflects his unrequited love for his homeland which, he says is not-so-silently imploding.  

Without doubt, such genuine voices can hardly appease the repressive regimes on either side of the borders. No surprise, Rumi is living in exile after an attempt on his life that killed his driver but spared him. As an erstwhile officer in the Pakistan Administrative Service, he currently teaches at the Cornell Institute of Public Affairs and also edits the Daily Times, published in Pakistan. In challenging his reductionist identity, Rumi draws a broad canvas of the most populated multi-religious, multi-lingual and multi-cultural region from in the context of building a holistic understanding of civilizations, nations and communities.

If Pakistan is not a monolithic mass of popular imagination, so is the entire region which has historically been a multi-layered composite of immense diversity, argues Rumi. For peace and prosperity to dawn on this region, there is a compelling need to revisit and revive its rich traditions because “whether it is fighting communalism in India, or extremism in Pakistan and Bangladesh, the Sufis, Bhaktas, mystics, and Bauls have much to offer to make South Asia a safer and more prosperous part of the world community.”

Being Pakistani: Society, Culture and the Arts is a call to listen to voices of shared interests, and similarities in culture. Rejuvenation and preservation of our cultural memory is essential to our collective survival, else a thousand years of history will get rubbed into the dust of jingoism.

Being Pakistani
by Raza Rumi
HarperCollins, New Delhi
Extent: 302, Price: Rs 399.

This review was commissioned by The Hindustan Times.

History as a moving procession

Chandni Chowk may have been subsumed under the great metropolis of the modern capital city but it has held onto its charm.

True to her words, Swapna Liddle kept aside theoretical arguments in weaving a chronological narrative of the last three and a half centuries of the lived-in history of Chandni Chowk. Far from being a museum of the bygone era, its unchanged by-lanes have kept alive its distinct culture of adapting to changing times without losing its contemporary relevance. History may be the most cruel of all goddesses, but Chandni Chowk has seen history as a moving procession. It has been part of the making and re-making of the city during its glorious and inglorious journey.    

First part of the book reads like a heritage walk wherein the author guides the reader into the making of the Red Fort and the walled city, much of it during the politically stable period under the reigns of both Shahjahan and Aurangzeb. The aura of royal power, which ascended on Delhi on April 18, 1648, only added to the spiritual significance that the banks of river Yamuna enjoyed. By alighting from the boat at the Nigambodh ghat, Shahjahan had drawn upon the spiritual power that the populace associated with the site. This spot on the bank of the river is considered to be blessed by Vishnu, where knowledge of the Vedas could be gained simply by taking a dip. Ironically, it is now known for the city’s biggest cremation ground.  

The second half of the book captures the history as it unfolds following the tumultuous years during 19th and early 20th century, following the decline of the Mughals till the emergence of an independent India. It is intriguing how the city held on to its cultural vitality during this period, developing an education system based on an indigenous language alongside its long-standing literary tradition. This was the age of Ghalib, Momin, Zauq and the Emperor Bahadurshah Zafar/ Their poetry worked as the literary balm for the aching souls and the severed bodies. Though there were only 137,977 people living within the city walls during the mid-nineteenth century, cultural amalgamation was reflected in people taking part in each other’s festivals and celebrations. The city had emerged as a cohesive group for diverse religions. 

History is often written from either of the two perspectives - mysticism or cynicism – the history that lies somewhat outside history or the one that the historian draws meaning into. But Swapna Liddle has viewed history of Chandni Chowk as a constructive outlook over the past, reporting the events based on facts and drawing conclusions based on objectivity. Consequently, the narrative records the past with historical accuracy. One can only concur with William Dalrymple that it is a much needed introduction to the history of the Old City of Delhi.  

The history of Chandni Chowk has known many turning points, where each quest for succession to the throne was borne out of intrigue and violence. The city may have been mute witness to the victor and the vanquished, but the people within its walls rarely resisted their resentment against injustice by its rulers. Noticeable is their angst that spewed out on the streets when Prince Dara Shukoh, heir apparent and Aurangzeb’s elder brother, was publicly paraded and insulted. What followed was a public outcry, stones and dirt was pelted on the procession led by Jiwan Khan who had treacherously captured Dara to hand him over to the Emperor.       

Despite his half century rule over the empire, Aurangzeb was strongly despised by the people. There is a deep repugnance for the manner in which he conducted himself during his long rule even today. Although that part of history cannot be dispensed him, surely his name can be from existing historical memorabilia. It may not be out of place to mention that the road bearing the name Aurangzeb was wiped out from the city. However, the same city acknowledged the contribution of Dara Shikoh recently by naming a street after him. After all, he was the one who drew parallels between Sufism and Vedanta, and had translated the Upanishads into Persian. 

Chandni Chowk makes for an absorbing reading. It may have been subsumed under the great metropolis of the modern capital city but it has held onto its charm. It continues to be one of the biggest trading hubs; its narrow lanes continue to provide interesting insights on its glorious past. There is something mysteriously attractive about the place; its history seemingly still thrives in its narrow streets. Swapna Liddle only adds historical flavor to the unending fascination for this old city. 

Chandni Chowk: The Mughal City of Old Delhi
by Swapna Liddle
Speaking Tiger, New Delhi
Extent: 176, Price: Rs 399 

First published in Deccan Herald dated Feb 26, 2017.