“…There are very small fish called Kanta. We would use these or any other small fish, wash and clean them, and marinate them with salt, turmeric powder, red chilli powder, kokum and oil. We would wrap them in leaves tied with dried vines. This pouch was then kept under the ashes in the kitchen fire, sometimes for seven to eight days. We would take them out whenever needed. They tasted so good that my mouth would water constantly…”

I was totally engrossed reading this description from ‘Aaydaan’ by Urmila Pawar. It is an autobiography of a Dalit woman writer, born and raised in Konkan. But I was reminded of the stark reality in the very next line.

“I would feel ashamed sharing with other girls the fact that we eat such fish prepared in this way, let alone carrying them in lunch boxes. I would feel absolutely inferior in front of all of them…”

The reality is that we live in a society that judges others based on what they eat, speculates about their caste and economic condition, and discriminates or attacks them with derogatory remarks, glances, mockery or sometimes even with physical violence. 

Autobiographies written by other Marathi Dalit writers from regions other than Konkan, were even more terrifying that Aaydaan. All these books had passing references to their food but none provided much detail. That’s why, when I got hold of Shahu Patole’s book Anna He Apurna Brahma (Food is an incomplete truth), I read it in one sitting like a hungry soul. 

When I first heard the title Anna He A-purnabrahma, the quip on the lines from a famous Marathi prayer caught my attention. The original words ‘Anna He Purnabrahma’ means food is the complete truth, the eternal life-creating force. The prayer further asserts that consuming food is not just about filling your stomach but that it is a sacred act. Several generations of Marathis have grown up chanting this prayer before every meal. The title of the book, however, proclaimed that food is an incomplete reality. To me this had so many meanings and layers. It was this dark and deeply satirical take that pulled me towards the content instantly.

I went to meet him at his residence in Aurangabad in 2016 and invited him to Mumbai for a monthly lecture series we were hosting titled ‘Baithak’. Actor Nandita Patkar read out excerpts from his book and I interviewed him. The event was a super success because Shahu speaks as sharply as he writes. We repeated this session at a couple of other venues. The best part was that I got the opportunity to spend time with Shahu and eat the food he cooked. It opened doors to a different food culture for me. One of them was ‘oil-free’ recipes.

In earlier times, Dalit households in this region had no access to milk and milk products. Occasionally, landlords or other upper-caste villagers would give them excess or sour buttermilk. Ghee (clarified butter) was obviously out of reach. Even edible oil was scarcely available due to poverty. Neo-Buddhist (Mahar) and Mang families from Marathwada would replace oil with water, crushed peanuts or stored chunks of animal fat. ‘Water-tempering’ is a method where water is allowed to boil and then all the tempering ingredients are added, followed by the main ones. Shahu prepared a few such dishes as a memory of those days and to let me taste this oil-free platter. I absolutely relished all these ‘healthy yet tasty’ options. It’s true that oil enhances taste but some kitchen tricks can make you not miss it.   

Dal-vanga (dal and brinjal)

There is no fixed proportion of dal to brinjals. Add as much of any of the two as is available and adjust the proportions of the other ingredients accordingly. 

Recipe

Ingredients 

1. Brinjals
2. Toor dal
3. Garlic cloves, crushed
4. Red chilli powder
5. Peanut crush
6. Salt 

Optional

1. Coriander powder 
2. Turmeric powder 
3. Jowar flour.

Method 

1. Heat water in a pan. When the water starts boiling, add toor dal. 
2. Add chopped brinjals and crushed garlic cloves. 
3. When the dal is cooked, turn off the flame.
4. Add other ingredients. Mix well. Turn on heat at low flame.
5. Let this mixture cook for five minutes on low heat while stirring constantly, as it starts sticking to the bottom due to the peanut crush.  
6. Serve. Dal-vanga and jowar bhakri is a tasty combination.

Kotmiriche mutke

Recipe

Ingredients 

1. Coriander leaves 
2. Jowar flour, one portion 
3. Gram flour, three-fourths portion 
4. Soaked gram dal, half portion 
5. Wheat flour, quarter portion 
6. Green chilli chutney or red chili powder 
7. Salt 
8. Water 
9. Garlic cloves, crushed

Method 

1. Mix all the above ingredients well, like a chapati dough. 

2.   Make balls by shaping them in the fist. The fist is called muth in Marathi. The name     mutke may have its connection with this technique.
3. Heat water in a pan. Place a steamer over it. Steam the mutke in this while keeping the pan covered. 
4. Once they are fully cooked, sprinkle some cold water on them, cover and keep. This helps separate the stuck mutke from each other. 

________

Shahu has a lot of such easy, simple and delicious recipes in his repertoire. In our baithak session, we shared these recipes and some prepared and brought ‘kotmiriche mutke’. Those who attended still remember the steamy, spicy, delectable mutke that we all enjoyed after the session.

Severel years went by and in 2021, I got a call from Harper Collins asking if I would be interested in translating this book. My name was recommended by Shanta Gokhale. The request brought back all the memories of the vibrant sessions, both formal and informal, and I immediately accepted the offer. However, the actual work of translation was not as easy as curating the session. Although I was well-versed in a few dialects of Marathi, the book had a rich vocabulary related to farming and cooking that I was not entirely familiar with. Even the 13th, 14th and 15th century Marathi used in the chapter about ‘References of Dalit food in the literature of saints’ was not my forte. 

I was left with no choice but to visit Shahu again—this time in his village in Osmanabad. This trip was immensely valuable as I got the opportunity to see firsthand all the equipment, most of the vegetables and the animal body parts used for cooking. Chats with Patole, his brother, neighbours and friends were insightful and thoroughly enjoyable. The highlight, of course, was to smell, see, touch and taste all the food items and recipes from the book through the numerous meaty, mouth-watering and delightful meals we had at every step of the trip. 

The most delicious was the one cooked by his mother Gunabai who is over 80 years old. “Cooking is a play of astute judgement and agile trickery,” she believes. She prepared two mutton dishes. Alani and Barbat. Alani is like a soup or stew that is commonly made in this region as a primary step in cooking any meat, while Barbat is the spicy curry made using all body parts of the sacrificed animal on religions occassions. 

Alani & Barbat

Ingredients for Alani

1. Meat, cut in pieces
2. Ginger–garlic paste
3. Turmeric
4. Salt
5. Coriander leaves
6. Animal fat or oil
7. Onions

Ingredients for cooking Barbat

1. Yesur (A mixed masala powder made using red chillies, turmeric, dried coconut, dried onions and other garam masala ingredients such as coriander seeds, cumin seeds, pepper, cloves, cardamon, cinnamon, nutmeg and many more)
2. Roasted jowar or bajra flour 
3. Salt
4. Green coriander leaves, chopped

Method

1. Mix the meat with ginger–garlic paste, turmeric powder, salt and coriander leaves. Let it rest for half an hour.
2. Chop onions finely.
3. Heat oil or fat in a pot, add chopped onions and fry till brown.
4. Add the marinated meat. Mix well and sauté. 
5. Cover with a plate and pour water into the plate. This is the ‘water-lid technique’ used across the state for letting things cook on steam. No water is added to the meat for the first fifteen–twenty minutes. 
6. Now empty the remaining hot water in the plate into the meat. Repeat this step till the meat is cooked. Add extra hot water according to how many people have to be fed.
7. Alani mutton is ready. A part of this mild curry is kept separately for the kids, the elderly, and the sick. Now proceed with the Barbat with the rest.
8. In a small bowl mix yesur, salt and roasted jowar or bajra flour. Put it in the pot of meat. Add green coriander if available. Mix well, cover and cook on low heat. 
9. When bubbles start popping on the surface it indicates the curry is ready. There is no need to add an extra tempering of chilli powder to the cooked mutton as it has already been tempered with onions and yesur.

Barbat is supposed to be eaten along with jowar bhakri. The bhakri needs to be crushed with hands, allowed to soak in the mutton curry, and eaten while crushing it again. The juices reach every grain in the bhakri, and a unique, flavourful texture unfolds in your mouth. They say that the process of digestion begins in the mouth when you chew the food. Here the process starts with your hands. 

Gunabai served both curries along with hot jowar bhakri, rice, lemons, sharp, spicy raw onion, and milder, softer onion greens. Shahu told us, “We encourage our guests to serve themselves and never request-aka force-them to eat more…”. 

“I will tell you why,” Gunabai interrupted him, “There was a woman who was an excellent cook. A guest visited her once. She cooked a delicious meal for him. Excited by the aroma and her request, he started eating. He ate a lot, but her requests wouldn’t stop. ‘Looks like you haven’t really liked it…looks like you are only saying it for the sake of it…Please have this one piece – just for me…’. He started obliging out of deference. She was also talking to him while he was eating. ‘How many children your parents have?’ she asked. He gulped down the food and answered, ‘Four if I survive your insistence to eat, otherwise three”. We started laughing. 

“Animals and babies also eat according to their hunger level,” Gunabai continued, “If they understand it, why can’t human adults? Why should we push people to eat beyond their capacity and take offence if they don’t finish everything that we cooked for them?” Urging people to eat is part of Indian culture, but so is not wasting food. Her logic was flawless. “We have been working in the fields or at people’s homes to make ends meet,” she said, “while also managing our kitchens and homes. Our only goal was to achieve maximum nutrition and taste in minimum money, effort and time. Today’s working women from all castes face the same challenge.” 

One of the objectives behind Shahu’s writing is to encourage other Dalit or nomadic communities to come forward and share their food history. “Indians eat pork, beef, blood, brain in five-star hotels or when they visit other countries as an exotic and expensive item. But when we eat the same food because it’s our traditional diet, we are looked down upon, laughed at or sometimes even killed.” The book points out this dichotomy at all levels using all flavours – bitter, pungent, sour, umami, salty and sweet.

I strongly believe in the principle of ‘live and let live’. The book was an eye-opener for me that this term applies to food as well. One must love and respect what people eat and let them eat what they have been eating without any shame or guilt. This is the real ‘culture’ and the true ‘sattvic’ lifestyle.