Morsels of freedom

Chapatis, laddoos and the ubiquitous khau gallis have all stoked the fire of our struggle for an independent nation, writes Madhulika Dash

Circa 1857: East India Company’s elitist attitude and the Doctrine of Lapse had already set the ball rolling. At the ebb of their tolerance, while smaller kingdoms like Jhansi, Gwalior, Karnataka, and the Paikas (foot soldiers) from Odisha were preparing for what would be called the first war of independence, brewing in the little villages was a food reaction that would leave the colonial rulers baffled and in paranoia for a long time to come. It was what Dr Gilbert Hadow in his letter to his sister described as “the most mysterious affair going on throughout the whole of India at present.” He was referring to the chapati movement or as the British tabloid and reports would call, “the chupatty movement”.

Such was the psychological effect of this remarkable yet inexplicable event that it kept the Britishers on their toes long after the actual war was culled, and their frontrunners executed and labelled “characterless and traitors”. In fact, the ‘Chupatty movement’ remains one of the fascinating mysteries that even today is explained with theories that range from ruse to prevent cholera to a food shortage to open rebel against the execution of Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar. Interestingly, this wouldn’t be the first time that food would prove to be more of a deterrent to the Britishers than an actual revolt.

The second incident that left ‘The Crown’ equally perplexed was over sweets when revolutionaries started using laddoos, pedas, khaja and even the box itself to send encrypted messages without the chance of getting caught. In fact, sweetmeat shops and peths — which were these weekly haats set by pre-colonial rulers across India — would soon become the breeding and breathing ground for revolutionaries. Food partly was how even the tawaifs or the courtesans contributed to the war of independence. Known for their tehzeeb, wit and charm, these ladies would not only finance the mutiny, but also play informer, messenger, and even
offer their premise as the food adda for brave heroes.

The years that followed the first war of independence saw India divided into two factions: the one on the top was made of the British, their clubs and gymkhanas where the new English and Anglo-Indian cuisine developed, and the love was shared by the new breed of royals, aristocrats and zamindars who took on a western style of life. The bottom belonged to the commoners and families of defamed and executed revolutionaries, erstwhile royalty and radical thinkers thanks to the era of Enlightenment Cuisine and the Era of Excess during King Edward VII’s rule faced with forced food shortage, higher taxes, and new ingredients on the one hand, and on the other this rising culture of eat shops (restaurants were late 20th-century thing) set by khansamas who not so long ago cooked for the real royalty.

Between 1870 and 1901 food and food habits changed drastically on both sides. While the elitist outsiders began adopting native ingredients, especially vegetables and fruits into their meal, partly because of its availability and partly to avoid the maladies of hot and humid weather, the rest of India lived on street food that went from the once a lavish affair to a more practical hearty meal of poori bhaji, poha-sheera, parathas, nalli nihari and naan and a variety of fried snacks including the Konds Chaula Bara in Odisha. In fact, it was the time when two distinct cuisines made their mark in the food streets of India — first, the Kayastha food that belonged to the erstwhile bureaucrat community and that of the merchants, especially of the Marwaris and Gujaratis who had developed a food culture that was filling and could be found pan India. Hearty, satiating and versatile enough to adopt new ingredients and serving styles, these two cuisines laid the foundation of the Shahjahanabad that we see today replete with khau gallis where India ate. In fact, most of the popular dishes we see today — from bedmi aloo poori to kachori to Calcutta Roll and even the chaat galli in Indore to military cafes down South were a result of the change in the food topography that evolved from the best of native produce to food that helped nourish people, especially revolutionaries who could afford one good meal which had to be wholesome, filling and gave the energy boost. In fact, the military cafes that were originally designed by the Maratha to avoid dependency on the villagers became instrumental in curating our understanding of wholesome meals. A similar effect was brought by rice plate hotels across other parts of the country.

The dwindling economy of a country that had post-1857 unanimously given up meat in defiance forced the food makers to turn to produces that grew in abundance, irrespective of its unwanted association. Thus, began a series of dishes where potatoes became the main vegetable and frying, grilling became the preferred way to prepare the dish. However, there were a few traditional specials that continued to be a part of the new food culture like the lassi, matta, rabri milk and imarti, kullad wala doodh and a variety of halwas that served as these little bowls of joy which revolutionaries like Shahid Bhagat Singh and Chandrashekhar Azad would often indulge in. In fact, every city across India adopted newer grains and ingredients but remained loyal to a few dishes that were considered the last symbols of the rich legacy. The poha, the strength secret of Maratha warriors, was in fact one such dish that saw versions pop up across India post-1857 as one of the power meals for the heroes of the resistance. For a generous part of our modern history, these food lanes made food with an aim to not just feed a nation that had suffered quite a few man-made famines and shortages, but also to ignite the want for freedom through sweets, dishes that could be adopted with the same ease as chapatis across India, and of meals that provided strength to revolt. That explains why every Independence Day is celebrated with a laddoo and the omnipresent poori aloo (and not just the bedmi poori) — after all, these were dishes that played a key role in not just uniting a country but also feeding a nation for its freedom.