Food from a lost homeland

A cuisine of displacement and adaptation, Sindhi cuisine has been influenced by several nations of the East and the West since it originated in Mohenjo-daro and travelled along the Silk Route, writes Radhika D Shyam

Bhee-Alu (Lotus stem with potato). PHOTO COURTESY KHUSHBOO NAGPAL

Gur-jo-singar (sev chikki), Tosho (sweet flour rolls) and Nakul (sugar coated sev). PHOTO COURTESY NEHA LULLA

Dal Pakwan. PHOTO COURTESY NEHA LULLA

Sindhi thali. PHOTO COURTESY NEHA LULLA

Recently Deepa Chauhan, one of the nine finalists in Masterchef India stirred up a lot of curiosity for Sindhi cuisine, as a representative of not only the said food but also the cultural identity that is slowly edging towards extinction, like their script. So, what are the challenges faced by this cuisine?

For any local cuisine to thrive and survive there has to be a steady supply of core ingredients used in its dishes — usually available in that region. It is a legacy that is passed on through generations and kept alive along with the related culture and language, like during celebrations of festivals for instance, which again flourish most densely within its geographical boundaries.

However, what happens when physical boundaries no longer exist? Some related losses occurred as the outcome of the Partition when Sindh got included in the newly-formed nation of Pakistan. The exodus of Sindhis from there resulted in the scattering of this community all over the globe, thus diluting their culture to mix and mingle with different regions — wherever they settled.

Traditional food often caters to the needs of the local climatic conditions. Dishes that generate heat to combat severe winters and cool our insides to beat the heat were the norm in Sindh with extremes of temperature; so, quite a few of these recipes were tweaked to suit weather conditions in new habitats. The arid condition and natural vegetation of the geographical location of Sindh ensured the abundant use of gourds, dals, gram flour and dry masalas. Is it possible to maintain culinary authenticity so far from its place of origin, when substitutes have to be resorted to in the absence of certain indigenous ingredients?

Rajkumari Chhabria a senior citizen would often lament nostalgically about missing a certain street food sold on the banks of the river Sindhu. As a child, she loved to eat kunne-ja-bhee (hot, steaming lotus stem cooked in small earthen pots and sold by hawkers on cycles in winter). Much as the same recipe was followed here, she claimed its taste did no justice to the original dish. “Neither the local lotus stems nor the sweet water of the Sindhu can ever be replicated,” she rued. Her daughter Archana Utmani, is very passionate about learning, preserving and documenting most of the traditional Sindhi recipes for future generations, a tough task indeed with very few octogenarians left now who can recollect recipes from the pre-Partition days.

Deepa rightly says, “Sindhi cuisine in India is a cuisine of displacement and adaptation. While people of my grandparent’s generation would have longed for produce and ingredients as they had back home, they were forced to compromise. Sure, they were victims of circumstances but could not afford to wallow as there was a life to lead and families to feed and they chose not to get distracted by the challenges. It probably helped that the Sindhi diaspora has been accustomed to inclusivity in their food habits for millennia. Coming from Mohenjo Daro, the cradle of civilisation and nestled on the Silk Route, our cuisine has probably seen constant change and influence from different lands of the East and West. Added to this, the sudden and forced migration across a political border compelled them to bring only their memories and techniques with them.”

The Sindhis literally came a long way from a golden era with the vark on their sweets made of a thin layer of beaten pure gold, to cleverly carrying fried pakoras stuffed with gold coins while fleeing their motherland post-Partition. Known mainly for their papads and pickles, these two dishes came to the rescue of many a Sindhi housewife during their refugee status when they made and sold them for a living.

Another challenge of modern-day living according to Deepa is the traditional food reduction on the plates, especially in the metros. “Somewhere in the excitement of exploring food, we tend to cook less and less of what we grew up on. Also, all the noise around healthy nutrition — first about fats being bad for health and then a complete turnaround by nutritionists that fats are good and essential, has left us confused. A lot of our dishes that involved deep frying are now being sautéed or boiled and have lost their original flavours. So, how do we pass on a tradition that is a bit erroneous and depends on an evidence-based approach rather than our food history?”

In the present scenario with culinary onslaughts from all over the world tempting our palates and vying to shift our attention and focus from the food of our roots, keeping a cuisine going without losing its essence will need mammoth efforts. Proper, precise documentation and making them accessible in restaurants and eateries will go a long way in popularising and propagating it. Food is after all a very important link in the evolution of culture and heritage.