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Imagine a world, where a man follows his wife to her home after marriage, where the youngest daughter inherits all the properties and where children inherit their mother’s family name. A community where daughters are celebrated, where women head the family and where girls are educated without giving it an afterthought. Now stop imagining, for it is real. This is the norm, taken for granted customs in “the abode of clouds”, i.e, Meghalaya.

The Khasi people meaning, “Children of the Seven Huts”, are an indigenous ethnic group of Meghalaya. The Khasi people are the native people of Meghalaya and are the largest ethnic group in the state.

When our kind driver Mr.Kamal explained all this to us, we were nothing short of being shell shocked. We thought he is making it up. It took us a while to let those facts sink in. He also told some other interesting tidbits about Khasi. That they OCD on cleanliness, and we were witnessing it right in front of us – the clean roads, crystal clear streams running in everybody’s backyard, and lines of clothes hung every morning. Mr. Kamal said that just like how most of us automatically wake up and brush our teeth, Khasi people wake up and wash their clothes. No matter how chilling cold the weather is, I could see collages of clothes, neatly hung, in the front yard of everybody’s house every morning. Khasi people are very particular about hygiene, be it personal or social. The proof is- Asia’s cleanest city – Mawlynnong – is in Meghalaya. The local Villagers proactively clean their villages together every Sunday.

Because Khasi is Matriarchal- the rates of crime against women are extremely low. I could see young girls and women roaming the streets in the dark alone without any fear of any attack. I, as a woman myself, found this place almost utopian and liberating. It is the women, in Khasi, who are the breadwinner. Mr.Kamal said, “Khasi women are very strong “. No doubt about it. He said there is no concept of “arranged marriage” here. Everyone has to choose their own partner. However, is there a downside to this? I wondered. I asked Mr.Kamal “What about men?”. He laughed and said, “Men have their own responsibilities. They must look after the house. They must look after the children, cook, wash and clean the house”. This is a complete flip from how the world normally functions right?. He continues, “They get 200rs from their wives at the end of the day, so that they can go and hit the bar with their friends”. What do I have to say now? Did I by any chance walk through a tunnel that transported me to a different universe? I wanted to know more, like, was there any male foeticide? What about the boy’s education? Mr.Kamal said that no infants or fetuses are killed based on gender, but girls are more qualified than boys in education because men’s education isn’t given much importance. However, everybody gets to go to school. So there is an almost 100% literacy. After school, it is mostly daughters who are pushed into higher education. Woah. We all were gobsmacked. Is there anything else in the world that is more shocking?

Yes, there is. Our Airbnb host, Ms.Ann was worried about her two sons. She wanted to make them financially independent so that they don’t end up becoming “house-husbands”. She wanted to send them for higher education outside Meghalaya. She was also worried about boys being ill-treated by their future-mother-in-laws. (Why is it that Moms-in-laws are always the scary ones all around the world?) I almost choked on my sandwich when she said these things. I asked her if she had heard of sexual violence against women, to which she replied yes, but only on National news( that comfortably ignores this part of India). She too was surprised by the customs of the rest of the country. She too wondered why many girls, outside Meghalaya, were treated so badly. We both wondered and wondered about each other’s world, customs, and traditions.

As I was leaving Meghalaya, I realized that Matriarchy is better than Patriarchy (Of course I am biased, but also statistically speaking, crime rates are lower in this region in general, and also everyone is fairly educated), however, both have their own downsides. We all should learn to be empathetic enough to stand in each other’s shoes and come to a consensus to live together and respect each other and offer equal opportunities to everyone. After all women and men have been co-living for millions of years. Don’t we all think it’s time?

Majuli, the largest river island in the world, is located in the state of Assam. This gorgeous island, in the midst of sea like the Brahmaputra, can be reached by ferry from a small town called Jorhat.

The moment we stepped down at Majuli, we were dead hungry and curious about the local cuisine, so we went straight to a small restaurant and ordered a thali. I, as a vegetarian, dreaded that I might have very limited options, but to my joy, the veg thali was a humble thali with a lot of local cuisines!

It had rice, nimbu tenga , simple potato bean dish, elephant apple pickle, torkari, daal, and 3 different chutneys of whose name I do not remember (my bad, I shouldn’t have trusted my brain to remember it). Nimbu Tenga is a special and delectable kind of lemon which is squeezed over rice before you begin eating. This is a common practice in Assam. I found this strange, but once I tried it, I asked for two more slices of nimbu Tenga. God, it tasted so delicious. Not too tangy or strong, just the right amount of lemony lemon. On the other hand, elephant apple is a small shrub that is kind of a thick flower. Elephants are fond of this shrub, and that’s how they get the name. It is a wild shrub and not meant for commercial consumption, but luckily I got to taste this very local cuisine. Torkari is nothing but a simple assortment of wet vegetables (This word, “Torkari“, sounds eerily similar to Kannada word “Tarkari” which also means vegetables…hmm, what’s the connection? ).

After eating up to the I-can-barely-walk level, I went crawling back to the car (hired cab). Did you know that Majuli is the cultural capital of Assam? That’s because saint Sankara introduced people of Majuli to a monotheistic form of Hinduism called Neo Vaishnavism. Sri Sankaradeva encouraged his disciples to reach God through art and so established 22 satras (similar to temples), with each satra having its own art form. We visited the Kamlbari satra where the mask-making art is world-renowned. We saw the famous artist Mr. Chandr himself at work.

Made with Bamboo, cow dung and clay, these masks depict some of the most unique interpretations of mythological character, Ravana being my favorite.

Mr.Chandr went ahead, with enthusiasm, to explain all the various masks he has made. These masks are used during the yearly raas festival with great pomp and rigor. We will have a dedicated post to discuss just this.

Mr.Chandr talked about raas and let us try on some of the masks.

Handloom is one of the major occupation among localities and their tribal handloom is world-famous. Handloom being our next stop, we saw the entire handloom run by an army of women. It helped them live a financially independent life. Looking at the quality and hard work done by these women, we purchased some traditional shawls and coats. Though expensive, they were worth it. The women here also trained and taught future generations the art of hand-looming.

Apart from handloom and art, most people here are engaged in paddy farming. Majuli has a rich and diverse agriculture tradition with more than 100 varieties of rice being grown here. We were all awestruck when we heard about the Komal Saul a unique type of rice that can be eaten after immersing the grains in warm water for 15 minutes! We also couldn’t believe that bao dhan rice grows underwater! Thanks to abundance of sweet Brahmaputra water around, these rice were remarkably unusual. We couldn’t help but buy them off the shelf immediately. After experimenting with both of them, we regretted not buying more. Both had their own novel flavor and fragrance. It could be eaten with just nimbu tenga and salt.

By the end of the day, we were feeling ethereal. We didn’t want to leave this mystical place but we had to for the last ferry was calling. Taking home many new experiences was transcendental. Lost in the depth of the beautiful Brahmaputra and this river island, we had to go back with a heavy heart.

These people, culture and art forms, the innocence untouched by any kind of modernism need to be protected and nurtured. I definitely wish to visit this place once again. In fact, I encourage everyone to experience and visit this place and help the world recognize and remember Majuli and it’s people. I was surprised by how little we have explored the world and how unique some traditions and cultures are just within India. From rice to raas, from Raavan to Raghav, from small river island Majuli to large majestic Brahmaputra, Majuli was a world within itself that transformed itself into gods abode for art and spirituality.

While our chatty and an absolutely kind gentleman Mr.Kamal was telling us about different tribes of Meghalaya and their practices (which deserves yet another post), he took us to a secret gem, where tourists seldom go, called “Garden of caves”. While we unassumingly bought an entrance ticket of 20 rs, we were gobsmacked by what awaited us. I obviously am not capable of describing what beauty transcended on us, I will try my best to share to the best of my capability. While we entered, we were welcomed with a tiny rapid falling into a cave. It felt like the cave teased us in a “come hither” way, but totally overwhelmed us with what it had in store.

This followed by two more astonishing waterfalls covered in mist and mosses left us gaping at the mouth. The scenes from Avatar? Well, this was better than that. We spent at least 30 min at each of these places. The water was glistening and clear. I had no fear of drinking few (hand) cups of water from it, and to my knowledge, cave water tastes the best.

While we took more than an hour and a half to savor the beauty of all of it, we also observed how environmentally friendly and sustainable living was just a norm in Meghalaya. In most of the places, even garbage bins were made of bamboo baskets.

While going deeper into the garden (actually, it was kind of a forest I would say), we saw a path that lead to “medicinal water”. There at the entrance, awaited a sweet young girl called Tabitha. She welcomed us with a genuine smile, unlike the manufactured smile that the hospitality industry has created.

She cheerfully told us about the medicinal water and faith that local people have in their magical powers. I was curious to see it. Lo and behold, what I saw a small stream of water falling into a stone pitcher. On the side of it, I saw two bamboo lotas (glass) to drink water from it! What an ingenuine idea! As we spoke more to Tabitha, she told us about her village. Her village of 200 people, run and maintain this garden with the revenue generated from the ticketing. Every Saturday, children, young and old people clean the garden as well as the village. It is a ritual they have been following for years.

The income that Tabitha gets here, has helped her educate her two younger brothers and look after her single mother. The naivety and innocence of these villagers. They worshipped nature in the truest sense. Until then, we assumed that this garden belonged to the government. But Tabitha enlightened us with this new information. This village, right here, without the help of govt for income or jobs, has set an example for self-reliance and sustainable living. Villagers, irrespective of their income status, came out together to look after their much-treasured nature. I could not help but feel moved by this gesture. We also look down on villagers for not knowing better, but are they? That day changed the outlook on many aspects of living such as self-reliance that Gandhi always told us about, independence from the government, sustainability and egalitarian society. This is exactly why I travel.

Every region in the world has its own version of the long wormy threads of rice or wheat dough (or millet, the current showstopper). The Indian vermicelli is called “Shavige” in Karnataka, “Sevai” in Tamil Nadu as well as in most parts of the country. You must be living under a rock if you haven’t tasted the kheer made during Id or Shavige upit made in South Karnataka. Somethings are too perfect to be true and Shavige is one of them. The versatile Shavige can be made into a dessert or spicy chilly lemony savory or as a replacement for rice as the main course. Shavige is the polymath of food I say. But but but.. Howzit made yaa?

I remember my amma (my grandmother) doing a rigorous method of preparation. She would soak the rice overnight, dry it in the hot sun the next day and powder the rice in the stone grinder (Whaaat?!). She would then mix it with water and press it in the Vatthu mane (Phew!). The joy of seeing long threads at the other end surrounded with veil of hot steam brought joy to us. We would excitedly take turns to press the rice dough. I remember pulling the threads out and putting it straight in my mouth. In Mangalore, they eat freshly made Shavige with coconut milk or fish curry. In south Karnataka, they mix it with chilli, onion and lemon thadka.

I had been to Malnad a few days ago and I saw this being made at home. I was flooded with nostalgia and childhood memories of preparing it. I was excited just like I was when I was a child. I couldn’t help but click pictures and videos lest we forget the method due to the advent of machines and factories. The method of preparation of dough was slightly different here though. Of course, each house has its own inventions and taste and this was no less!

A few days ago I visited a tiny hamlet called Kigga, 10km from Sringeri, buried in the forests of western ghats. At Devarmane farm, in the middle of a dense jungle, cut off from the outside world, I was rubbing my hands to warm myself up on that cold and misty morning. I could hear nothing but the calls of hornbills and peacocks. After some time I could hear the crackling of the firewood, a sign of water being heated for bathing. Believe me when I say that the water smells amazing and different when it is heated with firewood. Taking bath in the sweet water of river Thunga that smells like burnt wood, in the misty morning among sounds of the birds, are stuff dreams are made of.

While I refreshed myself, I was offered a lota of the famous Malnad coffee while the breakfast was being prepared. I was curious about the old fashioned kitchen with a traditional oven, butter churning pole, stone wet and dry flour grinder, and all other things indigenous. I met a frail thin old woman called Girijamma. I heard that in the entire household she was the only one who could make akki rotti, or rotti made of rice flour, with bared hands, without the need of rolling pin or even a hard base to beat it. As much as I would like to consider myself to be cool city folk, I was literally dumbfounded. And like city folks I had to record it on my phone. I was also told that no new generation of the populace had learned this skill, which made it more compelling for this act to be recorded. It was a bittersweet moment. Bitter because this tradition might vanish in a few years but happy because I could at least watch this.

Try googling Edvi and you will not find any proof that it exists, but it exists.

The other day, I had been to my friend’s house for his father’s birthday. His mother offered something I had never come across before. It was Edvi with chewda, a great combination. It was somewhere between a parata and a puri but with a crunchier exterior and soft interior. The rich spices in it just hit my tongue.

I asked aunty what is this thing, this surprising little crunchy delight. She cooly (and as cute as a button!) said that it is Edvi, also called vadapa. It is a special Maratha snack made during Dussera festival. The taste left me a lasting memory. After a few days I had this sudden urge to eat it again, but sadly the aunty had gone back to her hometown. I pestered my friend for the recipe and he gave me her number (along with a bag full of Edvi. Yay me!). Finally after two days of sad luck gods finally showed me some mercy and let me speak to her. AND.I.GOT.THE.RECIPE.

Now now, the recipe is very simple, but to get the crunchiness you must press the press into extremely thin sheets. Ok, now I won’t make you wait no longer(American anyone, eh?).

Ingredients :

• Maida – 1 bowl
• Besan flour – 1 bowl
• Oil
• Water
• Salt
• Red Chilli Powder
• Ajwain (Om seeds)
• Turmeric
• Ginger Garlic paste
• Corriander leaves
• Garam Masala (optional)
• and some Excitement

Steps:

• Knead the maida flour with few spoons of hot oil(Be carefull, do not knead it with bare hand until it cools down), some salt and appropriate amount of water. The consistency should be that of chapathi dough but bit more softer. Keep this aside, covered for sometime until you prepare the other big part.
• To Besan flour add the following : Finely chopped corriander, Ginger garlic paste, a little turmeric, Ajwain seeds, salt, red chili powder and garam masala (optional). Pour a little water and knead them to chapati dough consistency.
• Prepare small balls of the Maida dough and stuff them with small balls of besan flour. This is akin to stuffing alu mix in the dough balls while making alu parata.
• Now press them to a fine thin consistency and leave to dry for 5 min
• Finally!! After such a wait, you get to fry them until they turn brown and crispy.

You can either eat it and finish em’ all or you could store them in a box and munch a little bit of them everyday leaving a trail of their crumbs all over your house. Happy eating!

The untold story of mango pickle

As per a popular dictionary pickle is a relish consisting of vegetables or fruit preserved in vinegar or brine

The term pickle is derived from the Dutch word pekel, meaning brine In the United States and Canada, the word pickle alone almost always refers to a pickled cucumber (other types of pickles will be described as “pickled onion”, “pickled beets”, etc.). In the UK pickle generally refers to ploughman’s pickle, such as Branston pickle, traditionally served with a ploughman’s lunch.

Let’s talk about the mainstream pickle, A pickled cucumber (commonly known as a pickle in the United States and Canada or generically as gherkins in the United Kingdom, Ireland, and Australia) is a cucumber that has been pickled in a brine, vinegar, or other solution and left to ferment for a period of time, by either immersing the cucumbers in an acidic solution or through souring by lacto-fermentation.

Now let’s come to India. Like language, colors, race etc., India has vast variety of pickles and majority of them are spicy. Of course it has to be!

The one illustrated here is called tender mango pickle. In Kannada (A South Indian language) it is called ‘Midi uppinakayi/ ಮಿಡಿ ಉಪ್ಪಿನಕಾಯಿ. This is somewhat different from other pickles in India. 

Its starts with plucking the raw tender mangoes from the tree. Usually these mango trees are not so common as they aren’t sweet when they ripe. They are very sour! And to become best pickle it has to be sour.  It is often observed that there exists one such tree for 2-3 villages of which these trees don’t yield every year, sometime once in 3-5 years. So there is a huge demand for them. Usually people pre-book certain number of mangoes (usually in thousands) with the property owner where that tree lies. However these days due to commercialisation, people are using all sorts of mangoes to make the pickle. Luckily there are few families who still adhere to the traditional recipe. 

Pickle mango trees are almost non-existent from the memory of the current generation. That’s about the tree!

Once plucked, these mangoes are washed cleaned and dried with cotton cloth so that there is no trace of moisture left on them otherwise they will get spoiled over the time. Also it is made sure that all the injured/bad mangoes are filtered out. 

Rest is almost same as the other pickle recipe followed in many parts of the world. These mangoes are then transferred into a large airtight container mixed with equal amount of rock salt and tightly sealed. In few weeks the mangoes would shrunk to almost 1/5^th of their original size or may be more. By the way these big containers are often stored in the attic.

As per the requirement, the mother would take out the salted and shrunk mangoes from the jar and puts the special pickle masala to it. Again the recipe of this masala is a family secret. It gets passed on over the generation. In the future chronicles, let’s talk about these masala recipes! Another interesting thing is these salted mangoes are usually kept for 3-5 years as the availability of good mango is rare.

In south interior part of Karnataka (a south Indian state), in malnad region, whenever someone visits the home, the lady of the house will serve drinking water along with 2-3 pieces of pickle or jaggery. Just take a bite from the pickle and drink the water. Legend says one tastes heaven in that moment. 

When you are feeling too much lazy to cook, most south Indians just make rice hand have it with curd and pickle

Do you know in which finger, Indians taste pickle? Now that’s some food for your thought!


Write your comments below, will meet over the next chronicle.