In the bustling urban landscape where I spent my childhood, the stories of my mother’s rural upbringing always seemed like distant echoes of a bygone era. Her tales were filled with the vibrant hues of a simpler life, where climbing mango trees to have unpeeled mangoes as a summer snack and sipping on Raab and munching Moongfali (Groundnuts) during winter chills were cherished memories. Little did I know that these narratives would come alive and make profound sense when I found myself working in the fields for my rural fellowship and fieldwork, spanning the diverse landscapes of Rajasthan, Odisha, and Tamil Nadu. It allowed me to build a close association with the communities as they fed me with their cultural delicacies.
From Pickles to Rotis to Khichdis, the diversity of dishes reflected a harmonious relationship with the land and well as per the local conditions with the very essence of this culture, with its array of local ingredients and cooking techniques. To bring this cultural tapestry to life in our urban setting, I decided to immerse myself in its flavors during a special occasion – my birthday.
The richness of a land’s culture, woven seamlessly into its various food varieties, fruits, vegetables, millets, flowers, and local recipes, was a revelation. Each culinary tradition has evolved to adapt to the weather and ecosystem which demands intense labor and offers sustenance rich in nutrition. In Rajasthan during summers, when the scorching heat prevailed, the locals turned to Chaach, a traditional buttermilk, to keep them hydrated and cool and during winters they turned to Moongfali. The intricacies of food consumption fascinated me, with Jau (Barley) cooling the stomach in summer and Bajra (Pearl Millet) providing warmth in winter, showcasing the indigenous wisdom of adapting to the local conditions.
At home after years for my Birthday, we planned a celebration embracing our roots and making it all Desi. The menu was a homage to the traditional fare: Bajra Raab as a welcome drink, Masala Papad as a starter, and the pièce de résistance – Bejad ki Roti with churned butter, Aloo Pyaaz Paneer ki Sabzi with Lahsun ki Chutney, and Gajar halwa and Rabri for dessert. The entire feast was cooked on a Sigdi, a traditional stove that provided low, consistent heat, allowing the preparation to blend flavors seamlessly.
Bejad ki Roti, a multigrain delight comprising Jau, Ghehu, and Besan Atta in definite proportions, was first cooked on a Mitti ka Tawa, preserving its nutritional value with slow heating. The final touch involved placing it on the Sigdi until it puffed, and a generous layer of freshly churned butter was applied before serving. Accompanied by Aloo Pyaaz Paneer ki sabzi, a timeless vegetable preparation from Rajasthan, and Lahsun ki chutney, the meal was not just a feast for the stomach but also a celebration of tradition.
Bejad ki Roti, a multigrain delight comprising Jau, Ghehu, and Besan Atta in definite proportions, was first cooked on a Mitti ka Tawa, preserving its nutritional value with slow heating. The final touch involved placing it on the Sigdi until it puffed, and a generous layer of freshly churned butter was applied before serving. Accompanied by Aloo Pyaaz Paneer ki sabzi, a timeless vegetable preparation from Rajasthan, and Lahsun ki chutney, the meal was not just a feast for the stomach but also a celebration of tradition.
Beyond the culinary delight, the experience was a tribute to the local economy. Every ingredient, from the flour ground at the Chakki to the vegetables sourced from a local vegetable vendor who had been part of our lives for decades. The process of preparing these dishes was a collective effort, with my brother and extended family joining forces to recreate the magic.
That birthday meal became a pivotal moment in my culinary journey, an experience that transcended taste and texture to encompass a deeper connection with my roots. In the subsequent days of my vacation, I found myself immersed in a nostalgia-filled exploration of our traditional cuisines – Methi paratha, Ker Sangri, Dal Dhokli, Macca ki Roti, Gatte ki sabji, Dahi khatai ki Sabji, Bajre Ki Khichdi – each dish a portal to cherished memories.
Evenings were spent sitting with my parents, munching on Moongfali with Gud, relishing the simplicity and wholesomeness of our culinary heritage with heartfelt conversations. It dawned on me that the food we consumed during those days was not just a treat for the taste buds; it was a manifestation of a richer, healthier cultural history enhancing local economies that deserved preservation and celebration.
As I returned to Mumbai, those few days of relishing desi cuisines lingered in my memory, a testament to the importance of preserving our culinary roots in a rapidly evolving world. The stories of climbing mango trees and savoring Raab weren’t just anecdotes from the past but living traditions that shaped my identity and fueled a newfound appreciation for the cultural wealth embedded in every bite. I realized I wouldn’t be seeking muesli or granola anymore because I have the wholesome goodness of Raab and Dalia in my life, a connection to tradition that surpasses any modern dietary trend.
About The Author
Ayushi Khandelwal
Ayushi born in Jaipur, Rajasthan, India, pursued a B.Tech in Electrical Engineering from CTAE, Udaipur. Transitioning from engineering, I ventured into theatre, igniting a passion for community work. Joining the SBI Youth for India fellowship, I immersed myself in Maligaon village, Kalahandi, Odisha, promoting energy usage from solar microgrids for livelihoods. I then dedicated myself to uplifting rural women in Udaipur’s Sarada block with NGO Seva Mandir. I continued my journey by pursuing a Master of Arts in Social Work (Livelihoods and Social Entrepreneurship) at TISS, Mumbai, where I deeply engaged with communities during fieldwork, further fueling my commitment to grassroots initiatives. My interest areas revolve around women, resilient farming practices and micro enterprises.
