In August 1947, the British finally left the Indian subcontinent after three hundred years of the Greatest Colonial Rule.
Post World War II, one would argue, Britain was not strong, or rich enough, to control its biggest territorial asset. But it wasn't a peaceful departure, so to speak. Their rather messy, hasty and clumsy exit was followed by, what experts call, the greatest migration in history, and the subcontinent was partitioned into two independent nation-states: Hindu-majority India, with Delhi as its capital, and Muslim-majority Pakistan, with Karachi as its capital.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
i want to interlude here, if the reader would not mind, a side note from the author, you may say, because you see, aadat sey majboor (forced by habit), which can be vexing to some, i might keep interluding in this conversation of ours, dear reader, to reveal my most innermost thoughts on the subject.
as for the greatest migration, i was itching to say, i do believe that we should come out of the habit of calling anything — the greatest of — because as it happens, we should stop pretending to have any idea of what greatness one thing holds or not, or what standard or affectedness might the comparison hold it to in this never-ending list of the greats — the greatest migration, the greatest war, the greatest violence, the greatest genocide, the greatest colonial rule — history keeps showing us what becomes the next greatest of, and mostly i think it is because we do not quite learn from the greatest of our mistakes, do we?
don’t get me wrong here, dear reader, i am not trying to undermine a great event of history, but in fact, i interject because the greatest migration did not stop at it, and as it happens, a few years later the idiocy that was the truncated map of pakistan, ’a maimed, mutilated and moth-eaten’ travesty, i.e. a slice of west and east, separated by the massive territory of indian land, caused further trouble and was divided yet again in 1971, the latter now known as bangladesh, and what we all have in common, till this date, dear reader, what we often forget, and what truly is the greatest of all greatests, i strongly suspect, a real once-in-a-lifetime creation that can send one out into the raat (read: beautiful nostalgic twilight) feeling a kind of close-to-the-chest suroor (read: ultimate internal joy) that cannot, in all earnestness, last, but also does not need to — is the Greatest Biryani.
the Greatest Biryani is the cure to all hangovers — alcoholic or not — and can clear the haze that sometimes fogs your sight and most times smogs the mughlai city of lahore, but even amid the smog that makes it hard to breathe for my countrymen, dear reader, the street and alleyway kiosks that serve fresh lahori biryani at all times of the day, will always have a surge of low-key diners lining up, and whether the best biryani hails from karachi or lahore, is a discussion for other times, but for now, let me continue, dear reader.
it is indeed the biryani, dear reader, that will in time today make you not just a reader but also my mehmaan-i-khusoosi,(the invitee; special guest here to dine or stay with, most times invited, but often found arriving at the door unannounced, but always welcomed) towards the end, for it is the greatest fuel to any ambition, and perhaps you will, at the end of this, rush into your kitchen and try to usher it up yourself, and in the process of it, become the dawat deney wala (the inviter; One who, or that which, invites), or become a chef, because everyone is a chef, i believe, michellin or not, as the word for chef in urdu rightly says, bawarchi/khana pakaney wala (the one cooking, the chef, the head cook of a large or small establishment, such as a club, a restaurant, or even a family), but that again, is a discussion for another time, because the real matter here is that the biryani is the greatest equaliser, i tell you.
so much so, i kid you not dear reader, that in 2019, a protest of 800 university students dressed up as lambs and chickens on the streets of delhi brandishing banners and lobbying to make the biryani emoji more representative on social media, and do you see it, dear reader, biryani as a communication tool, as a political rally, and on a side note, it is indeed very hard to write this way, starting backwards from the very beginning, in case the reader is getting confused, but the semantics often don’t matter as much as the fundamental origins, and if you feel too flustered to let go, don’t yet, and do understand that i do not wish to rush or confuse you, we will go back to the exposition itself, but please remember that while we have looked at the resulting greatest partition and migration briefly, and we will come back to it later, we need to go back a few steps to understand what led to it, and where the sublimely quintessential celebratory aromatic delicacy that has truly stood the test of time (dear reader, any amount of adjectives are not enough for the greatest biryani) was amongst it all, but there is so much to hear here dear reader, i dearly wish you could help me, as it is important to talk about those times, in which a kind of organically occurring cultural mixing could be witnessed throughout the indian subcontinent, and all the lands that connected each other through the vast Indian Ocean.
NEXT >
ii. themes of memory & tradition//spices
THE AUTHOR’S GREATEST BIRYANI — PREPARATION
as with any cherished dish, dear reader, the journey of preparation begins with intention and care, and here, i would say, think about preparing by choosing your preferred rice, meat, and then lay out the spices and think about how each represents a unique influence that shapes the foundation of our identities, and like the measured act of washing, setting aside, the act of preparation reflects the process of understanding where we come from, and this, dear reader, is the groundwork, a setting of the scene, an act of reverence toward what has been passed down and what is yet to come, and only once each piece is acknowledged and understood can we begin the process of creation.
in a large bowl, begin by washing the basmati rice thoroughly, and keep rinsing patiently until the water runs clear, and then soak to soften its grains, and similarly then, clean the pieces of your chosen meat, and then trim them, marinate them in yoghurt, ginger, and garlic, absorbing the flavours that will bring depth to the dish, and while you see the meat dissolve in the lemon you add next, gather your spices, each more important than the next, cinnamon, cloves, bay leaves, and star anise, and set aside, ready to play its role, each piece, like our memories, distinct yet integral to the whole, honoring the foundation of what has been passed down.
