It is officially spring in India, with Basant Panchami being celebrated across the length and breadth of the country on February 14. The grey skies of January have given way to cerulean blue skies of February, and all around you, vibrant flowers adorn the shrubs and trees almost as if they’re giggling with happiness as they sway to the cold breeze. In almost every step, I’m reminded of Shelley’s lines from his poem, ‘Ode to the West Wind’, where he says, “If winter comes , can spring be far behind…”
Back in my kitchen, as I chopped plump cauliflowers and red carrots to make the khichuri for Saraswati puja, I chuckled at the memories from my childhood spent across small hill towns. Multiple communities lived together and celebrated every festival with gusto.
On the day of puja, we would be invited to the house of our neighbours from Bengal. I would carry my mathematics text book to be placed at the goddess’ feet and seek her blessings to help me sail through the dreaded subject! After the puja, we would be treated to a feast of khichuri, labra (a Bengal-origin mixed vegetable main course), beguni (fried aubergine fritters coated with besan), chaatni (a chutney prepared with tomatoes, dates and raisins) and papad (or papor, as the Bengalis would call it). The meal would end with a payesh that was polished clean by us. Over time, I learnt that was the quintessential puja fare at not just their house—it is so in all of Bengal.
Meanwhile, at my Punjabi household, there would be zarda—sweetened rice flavoured with cardamom, saffron, dried fruit. Soaked basmati rice is cooked with cardamom and a pinch of saffron and turmeric, and then later mixed with ghee, sugar and dry fruits like cashews, almonds and pistachios.
This dish is somewhat similar to what Bengalis have as basanti pulao—reminding me once more of the kind of cultural exchanges that took place between the eastern and north-western frontiers. But this isn’t just so in Punjab or Bengal—in Jodhpur, Rajasthan, I came across a dish called Binach. Gurugram-based home chef, Surabhi Bhandari, is one among many who hail from the region, and have flaunted it as their Basant Panchami fare on their Instagram.
A somewhat different fare on this auspicious day is served in Maharashtra. The course of food here are hot, hearty puran polis—flatbreads stuffed with sweetened chana dal, and cardamom to flavour it. It is topped with tup or ghee, and served with a flavourful amti—a sweet and savoury daal.
In Himachal Pradesh, the course is slightly different. Noida-based, Himachal-origin home chef, Nikita Kuthiala, tells me that their household, too, would traditionally cook dishes with a yellow hue. “It can be meethe chawal, kadhi, rerhu or makke ki roti, which would mark the significance of the day,” she says.
Given that the day is a true confluence of cultures from across India, there is perhaps no place better to experience the unity in India’s diversity, than in the National Capital Region. One such example is the gorgeous Basant celebrations in the dargah of Nizamuddin Auliya, in Delhi. The annual celebration dates back to the 12th century, and marks the arrival of spring.
What you truly realise with Basant Panchami celebrations is a preview of our annual festive season that begins in September. It is a day when everyone comes together to eat food that is not just connected in colour, but in its very soul. It celebrates the produce of the season, and adds joy by amplifying the celebrations to everyone, from across any community or social strata.
It was, hence, no surprise, that on the day, I found all of my neighbours at my residence have a very similar menu to what I’d made. In times of strife, there’s perhaps no greater way to find ties that unite us—than over a hearty, soulful festive meal.
Vernika Awal is a food writer who is known for her research-based articles through her blog ‘Delectable Reveries’