Cuisine ingenuity sparked by lack

This fascinating work by Patole, a first-of-its-kind attempt to document Dalit food history, also serves as a telling socio-political commentary, writes Pranati A S

The Marathi title of Shahu Patole’s book, ‘Anna He Apoorna Brahma’, itself is a form of resistance. The title is a satirical commentary on a religious quote, ‘Anna He Poorna Brahma’ which means food is the complete truth. Patole’s title translates to ‘food is an incomplete reality’. 

In the modern world of vegetarianism versus non-vegetarianism, where upper-caste NRIs living in first-world countries call out meat-eaters for contributing to global warming and Indian ‘satviks’ turn their noses up at ‘non-veg’ food, an English translation of Patole’s book was the need of the hour. Translated by Bhushan Korgaonkar, Dalit Kitchens Of Marathwada discusses the food cultures of the Mahar and Mang castes of Maharashtra from 1950 to 1972. 

Chambhar, Dhor, Mahar and Mang, in that hierarchical order, are the original castes among the Dalits in the state. The Chambar and Dhor castes practised untouchability against the Mahars and the Mangs, and they did not consume forbidden meat. 

Before delving into the food culture, the book gives a background of Dalit castes and subcastes, untouchability among the untouchables, Dalit literature, marriage culture, forbidden meat, survival, farming, funeral practices and sacred feasts, among a host of other topics. A first-of-its-kind attempt to document Dalit food history, it also serves as a socio-political memoir with the welcome addition of recipes. The author details the social norms and politics behind the evolution of eating certain plants, preserving food for later and the use of certain ingredients. For instance, peanuts. Crushed peanuts are mentioned in several recipes because peanut harvest was one of the many jobs they did. The labourers were often paid in the form of groundnuts and sometimes, with broken peanuts known as fut — considered as waste by the upper castes. Peanut pithla, a thick paste (resembling hummus) was served with bakhri (jowar roti). Incidentally, peanuts are referred to as ‘badavara badami’ (poor man’s almonds) in Karnataka. 

The Mahars and the Mangs used peanut crush in tempering and explored recipes like peanut khalbut/ khalgut (curry). Peanut crush was also used to make curries thicker. Patole details the food preparations for various events — festivals, weddings (a sweet dish called shidori was mandatory), a postnatal diet which included the juice of neem twigs, teltikudi (a fistful of dried coconut, peppercorns, garlic cloves and oil), a dish made from epiglottis (produces more milk in the mother).

Caste-based food mentioned in Marathi Dalit literature have been chosen by the author, for the simple reason that they are honest experiences of the writers.

Necessity and evolution

Most people believe Dalit communities consume mostly meat. At least for the Mang and the Mahars, meat was a rare indulgence.  Dalit food mainly evolved from starvation and survival. The author mentions how the monsoons that came as a boon for many, was some sort of a bane for the two communities. Heavy rain prevented agriculture and other work that required them as labourers. They had to survive for about four months without daily wages. At this time, they relied on certain sprouts of weeds that grew during the rain. Mushrooms and certain fruits like ambadi (roselle) fruit, unripe figs (dodya) and tamarind flowers also became part of the cuisine. 

‘Some of these greens seemed to come into existence only to satiate the hunger of these two castes,’ writes Patole. Tender leaves of the tarvat (Senna auriculata) plant were used in the preparation of a sabji (pallya) served with bakhri.

The wild gave the two castes many such plants — pathaari (country dandelion), rajgira (amaranth) and hagarya ghol (purslane) among others. The juice of ambadi leaves or mashed dodya was kneaded along with flour when their kitchens ran short of flour. 

The Mahars and Mangs mostly depended on the corpses of animals that died naturally (pad). Cattle considered holy were said to turn impure after death. Their edibility depended on the time of their death and the meat of such an animal was called helya.  No animal parts were wasted. From the blood (a scrambled delicacy is prepared), to the tongue, brain (bheja), epiglottis (fashi), mesentery (undwar)liver, kidneys, heart, and intestines (wajadi), all parts were consumed. The leftover meat (chaani) was dried and preserved for later, difficult seasons like the monsoons. Over time, the communities got inventive and made tasty dishes with minimal ingredients. Evidently, eggs, milk and dairy products such as ghee and butter hardly find a mention. In fact, the author mentions how puran poli (holige/obbattu in Karnataka) is traditionally eaten with milk. Milk was rarely available to the two communities so they made gulavani (jaggery and dry ginger boiled in water) as a replacement. Animal fat was used as a substitute for oil while cooking meat — either when they ran out of oil or to save oil which was expensive. 

The author uses humour to lighten the mood. ‘Who’s farting as if an undwar is being torn apart?’ — a common metaphor referring to the stench released when the undwar of an animal dead for too long is torn open. Another such term was hurda funkane, which refers to the blowing of ash particles from roasted kernels of jowar. It was used for “useless men” who only appeared for the “last visible and easiest task”.

Some of the questions that Patole raises are not just powerful but also leave the reader unsettled. Moreover, it makes you question your privilege. Sample this: ‘How can the food that has nourished so many generations be unholy?’; ‘If leftover, stale, partially eaten and discarded, half-cooked, scorched, rotten food….is tamasic, why would anyone eat it? The fact that someone eats it suggests that they don’t have any other option.’

Basic but sumptuous!

Since the book came with recipes, I decided to try some of them. Belonging to the 'Shudra Varna', at home, we eat all parts of the animal (mainly sheep, goat and pork; beef is considered forbidden) — blood is cooked in our villages even today, intestines (boti), heart liver and all other parts are a part of our cuisine. Similar to the chaani of the Mahars and the Mangs, my father says, back in time, leftover meat in his village was dried and stored for future use. 

The vegetarian dishes took me by surprise, the sheer variety of greens, flowers, tubers, fruits and vegetables used especially. Sadly, most of these are hardly sold in markets today. I decided to make the yesur masala, an important ingredient in most recipes. I followed a bitter gourd recipe and a mutton keema recipe —  yesur is an ingredient in both — and also made bhakris (jowar rotis), a staple of the two castes. Basic but sumptuous!