Like every year, the fervour and impact of Independence Day are not lost upon any of us. A recent conversation with a close friend had me thinking of the immense significance that the independence of food has in our lives. While this realisation is profound, it’s also important to note that the very meaning of independence of food differs for us all.
For Delhi resident and corporate executive Sameer Bawa, freedom lies in flexibility. As he says, “I’ve been blessed with the ability to choose and afford whatever I want to eat at any given time — without getting conscious of being judged for my choice.” In modern-day parlance, the importance of this is immense.
For others, the importance is also in their own diets. Gurugram-based home chef Surabhi Bhandari says that the independence of food is to “break away from guilt, break free from the shackles of ‘protein-only diets’, and go back to the basics — where food was simple, local and seasonal.”
East Delhi resident Tanu Dogra, meanwhile, adds the most poignant point of the lot. “For me, the independence of food comes with accessibility to food for all,” she says.
Last week, I started reading Shahu Patole’s book, Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada, translated by Bhushan Korgaonkar. Even before I started flipping through it, what caught my attention was the statement, ‘Anna he apoorna Brahma’ — which translates to ‘food is an incomplete reality’. The statement is in contrary to the more popular saying, ‘Anna hi poorna Brahma’ — food is the complete truth’.
To understand why, the context of Patole’s landmark narration is crucial for all. Patole’s work is fashioned as a memoir with recipes and explores the politics of establishing social divisions through food. It also provides a commentary on the concept of satvik (pure), rajasic (fit for a king) and tamasik (sinful) food — with a focus on caste-based discrimination.
In a poignant paragraph in his book, Patole states, “What is palatable to the mainstream, upper-caste circles gets popular coverage and becomes the identity of the region itself.” As you peel through its layers further, it makes you wonder about the ignorance within the portrayal of the cuisines of India — and the lens of privilege that our food has always been viewed through.
As we approach eight decades of our independence, it is, perhaps, of tantamount importance to think of this privilege — and act upon building a more inclusive, accessible culture of food for us all. Yet, it is likely easier said than done.
You see, rarely until now have many of us critics and writers of influence truly questioned what citizens beyond the elite eat every day. But, it’s important to start somewhere. In the same breath, it’s important to ask, what is served at festivities beyond our socially mainstream communities en masse? Has the nature of food consumption in marginalised segments evolved over time? Why is there so much emphasis on ‘purity’ in food, and discrimination based on prefe ences and perceived sensibilities?
A lot of this is reflected in our conditioned reflexes. For instance, seldom do we afford much thought towards the culinary choices, allergies and prejudices of the seeker of alms out on the road. I’m in line with the economic school of thought that those living below the basic means of livelihood do not have the freedom of choice — but it’s important to note that as individuals and communities start faring better, the choices that trickle in are influenced by social practices, and what is imposed across our strata. I have always maintained that food, in every sense, is political. How and what we eat depends on the demography of the social division that we belong to.
While we sweepingly speak about food as a unifying factor, eventually, we often forget that today, it also makes for a dividing factor as subconsciously, we also try to control what others should eat.
Yesterday marked the 78th anniversary of India’s independence after nearly two centuries of the British Raj. Yet, even today, one is pushed to wonder how independent our choices really are. Fundamentally, the ethos trickles down to how financially able we are, and the extent of our exposure to various cultures. Yet, there still are too few voices that speak of those who deserve representation — for only then will our inclusive dream become a reality.
Vernika Awal is a food writer who is known for her research-based articles through her blog ‘Delectable Reveries’