Bhakri (flatbread)
Bhakri is central to an everyday meal. It is mainly made of jowar or bajra. Bhakri made out of yellow jowar was also eaten. This is the crop grown during kharif or monsoon season. Children used to hate yellow-jowar bhakri because it was bitter. A tagari or katvat – a large, deep plate like a round tray – was used to knead the dough and also to flatten and roll out the bread. These plates were usually made of wood from trees such as neem, mango, jamun, rosewood and babool. But the Mahars and Mangs could not afford rosewood, so neem or other cheaper wood was used in their homes. Bhakris made in neem plates had a bitter taste. These wooden plates would warp and crack from their constant contact with water. The plate had two small handles to hold it firmly in place when using it for kneading or flattening out a bhakri.
Over time, the wooden plates became outdated and iron and brass ones became popular. A saying related to these metal plates was common in rural areas: “If your mind is clear and straight, you’ll see Ganges in your plate.” Just as you can see your reflection in a clean, polished, unbent plate, so will it be if you possess a pure, pious, straightforward mind: the blessings of holy Ganga water will come to you automatically. Usually, after the men finished their meal, the women, especially the mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law, would eat together from the same plate.
When grains were first used as food; they would be crushed between two stones or sometimes roasted, soaked and ground. Bhakri, chapati and bread would have been later inventions. Bhakris must have been made by hand before the making of plates on which to flatten them. Until as recently as 1980, older women used to make bhakri by flattening it with their hands. Equipment like the pol-pat and belan (rolling board and rolling pin) was not available in every house (and would not be much use for bhakri as the dough is very friable) and these devices were used only in the festive season for making puran poli and chapati, which are made from wheat flour. Women would borrow the pol-pat from others. If they couldn’t get hold of any, they would use the back of a plate as a rolling board and a blowpipe would substitute for a rolling pin.
The use of milk, curd and ghee was rare in these communities. Even if someone from these castes kept a cow or a buffalo, they did not have their own land, space or fodder to graze them. So that would lead to quarrels over land use. So, in general, they had to rely on upper castes for all milk products.
Getting hold of buttermilk, the cheapest of the lot, was also not that easy. In order to get buttermilk from rich households, they had to do some chores in return. Few of this community could keep a cow or buffalo as they lacked the means. Women would go and ask for buttermilk for their young children – hopefully without having to do anything in return. There was no surety that it would be given. Sometimes they would not ask for it straight out as they felt ashamed, and would start with roundabout small talk as a way to work towards the request for free buttermilk. Hence the saying, “Don’t try to hide, don’t try to bilk, when you all you want is the buttermilk.”
Sometimes upper-caste people would themselves invite the people from these communities to take away the excess buttermilk. If it was sour, it was given even more generously. When they got a large quantity of buttermilk, Dalit women would make many dishes such as ambil (buttermilk cooked with water and flour), kadhi (chickpea flour and buttermilk curry), taak-kanya (small dumplings in buttermilk) for the next two or three days. There were sayings made based on the tradition of accepting buttermilk, which reflect the pragmatism and sense of humour of the Dalit community: “I’m not hungry, I’m good … Is there some buttermilk and some food?” or “Says ‘I’m rich, I’m cool’ – and scrapes the dustbin like a fool.”
They refer to those who pretend to be superior and refuse an offer initially but later come back when the best is over and then accept the leftovers.
An old clay jar was used to store salt. This would be covered with a cloth or a plate. Flours, grains, pulses and other things were stored in clay or metal bins of various sizes. These jars would be arranged in the form of a pyramid, with the largest at the bottom. Most of the time, they used to put dried “hingan” (a kind of fruit) in the flour to ward off the evil eye. This fruit with natural cleansing properties surely warded off insects if not the evil eye. Some people would put neem leaves in the grain. This was also an effective pest and insect repellent.
Cooking tips (or tricks)
From time immemorial, the culture around food has evolved and established itself in every part of the world based on the country, state, district, village, locality, religion, caste, environment, climate, social condition, geographical location and composition, culture and availability. In Maharashtra, geographical conditions do play a role. But the culture of these two castes is artificially bound by man-made religions and the caste system and that, too, defines their unique food culture. Food rejected by religion was acceptable for these two castes. Like every other community, these people also defined and developed their own food habits on the basis of availability, affordability and allowability.
Cooking is a time-consuming process, be it vegetarian or non-vegetarian. In Maharashtra, control of the kitchen has primarily remained with women, irrespective of caste and religion. It is the women who developed our food and taste habits. Meat takes longer to cook than vegetables. The time required depends on various factors – what kind of animal it is, which body parts are being cooked, what kind of utensils are available, what kind of fuel is needed or at hand and so on. It has to be calculated in detail, incorporating all the known tricks of cooking meat. That is not enough, though. Along with the tricks, like any other style, non-vegetarian cooking entails a great deal of attention to detail, and warmth and affection.
These castes were involved in manual labour and women had to work outside of their homes as hard as men. In addition, women were also responsible for cooking, fuel, water and children. They would always think about how the food could be made edible, in a sufficient quantity, and in a minimum amount of time just before everyone’s hunger spiked.
The calculations for the proportions and quantities of ingredients and items were etched in their heads due to long experience. Equations of mouths to be fed and the quantities to be prepared needed no calculation. There were no fixed guidelines as to how many bowls of a particular thing to take, how many tablespoons of this and how many teaspoons of that. They never bothered about exactly how much salt and chilli powder to add – a spoonful or a bowlful. While narrating recipes for these vegetarian dishes, experience took centre stage rather than the precise proportions of ingredients. Even though all the ingredients are the same, the taste changes the moment you tweak the proportion of one or more.
In these castes, the food that is being made or evolved has emerged out of necessity and not out of passion and experimentation. Every woman made food in her own way and each dish had its own distinct flavour. This applies to women of other castes as well. So, no one ever said, “This is exactly how my mother would make it.” (An expression used in advertisements of branded masalas in the Indian market, which have homogenised the country’s cuisines.)
The main reason for the lack of development of a larger number of recipes and delicacies by women of these two castes is their independent status and hard-working lifestyle. As it was a working-class, there were no restrictions on the women to stay indoors. Rather, they had to work hard to make ends meet. They did not have a religious obligation to perform rituals like Chaturmas – the four months of abstinence and fasting. On the contrary, it was the class that depended on the labour and productivity of this working class that used to observe Chaturmas and other religious rituals. Neither the men nor the women of this lazy, privileged class ever had to perform any outdoor physical labour. Their women had plenty of leisure time. Therefore, arts such as painting, handicrafts, culinary art, classical singing and playing instruments were lapped up and advanced by this class. They had the necessary tools and time to experiment. They also had religious protection and social approval, which was most crucial.
Excerpted with permission from Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada, Shahu Patole, translated from the Marathi by Bhushan Korgaonkar, HarperCollins India.
