A delectable presence

Deep-rooted as a basis of our existence, food has come to play a significant role in our social and cultural lives. Over the centuries, one can find the recurrence of food imagery across arts, folklore, music and literature, which gives us a keener understanding of those worlds

Puneetinder Kaur Sidhu

More than one reviewer of my European travelogue from a decade ago arrived at the same conclusion: that I basically ate my way around the Continent. I’m not saying that’s untrue. For me, travel and food is an un-divorceable pair, and have found that restaurant menus are, by and large, peppered with the history and culture of their geographical locations. Storytelling around food was not something I consciously attempted to weave into the narrative. That it showed up as a subliminal text is a clear indication, at least to my mind, of how deep-rooted food is as a cornerstone of our existence. And because all of us physically, emotionally, and interpersonally thrive on food, it has come to play a significant role in our social and cultural lifestyle. It, therefore, comes as no surprise either that food made an early appearance in art, craft, folklore, music and literature. Its depiction — in imagery, as a motif, symbolically, even metaphorically — has spanned civilisations, cultures, geographies, and eras long gone. It has, in a fashion, left an indelible imprint in society’s collective memory.

Literary meals

Dr Harpreet Gill, Associate Professor, Department of English, MCM DAV College, says, “Food to literature, I feel, is what background music score is to cinema. It is an intertwined part of the narrative. It engages the senses, establishes relationships, reflects socio-economic stratification and gives glimpses of a culture. It is both literal and metaphoric. From piety to gluttony, from starvation to celebration, from scarcity to abundance — paying attention to the food, being served or not being served, leads to a keener understanding of the world being depicted.” She elaborates further, “Oliver Twist’s famous entreaty — ‘Please, Sir, I want some more’— exposes the gluttony and cruelty of the board members and the plight of orphans in Victorian England. The Cratchits in Dickens’Christmas Carolembedded family and warmth into Christmas dinner. And probably also contributed to good old plum pudding being christened as Christmas pudding. Goscinny and Uderzo’sAsterix and Obelix comic series customarily end with a feast, where the entire community comes together and celebrates their victory, and in this happy image, we look for the gagged and tied Cacofonix. It is a tradition.”

Mango manifestation

This recurrence of food imagery across arts and folklore serves as a trail of information-rich clues about the times of its inception. Were it not for its presence in the wall relief of Queen Hatshepsut’s funerary monument in Thebes, for instance, we would not have known that the pungent peppercorn had made its way to Egypt in the 15th century BC. The tiny spice’s preservative properties had found a place of much importance in the burial chambers of mummified Pharoahs. In this manner, the arts invite us to feel a specific place at a particular time, with food-related elements completing the sensory experience.

In the Indian context, nothing strikes a countrywide chord in the way the mango, our national fruit, does. A symbol of prosperity and fertility, it has long held writers, singers, artists, weavers, and designers in its spell. The 13th century poet Amir Khusro called it the fairest fruit of the country­ —Naghza tarin mewa Hindustan. In a later (circa 18th century) miniature painting from the Deccan School, he is shown seated under a fruit-laden mango tree with his spiritual master, the Sufi mystic Nizamuddin Auliya. Ibn Battuta, the Moroccan traveler, who visited India during the reign of Muhammad bin Tughlaq, reveals his fascination for the mango in the profusely detailed notes he made about its texture, variety, flavour and usage in his travel journals.

Traditional adornments also depict the fruit in abundance; themanga malai, a gem-encrusted necklace strung with mango-shaped pendants in gold is one of the most famous pieces of jewellery from the Malabar region. Regardless of what you call it —ambi, kairi, paisley — the mango finds an equally wide representation in Indian textiles. Whether it is the fine needlework on Kashmiripashminas, or thekalamkari block prints of Andhra Pradesh, craftsmen have skillfully employed, in plenty, the use of the stylised mango in their creations. It also came to be embroidered on to the coolchikankari muslins that Nur Jahan introduced to her tropical wardrobe. In much the same fashion, the mango motif can be spotted in the borders of Paithani silk saris of Maharashtra. Beyond their usage as motifs, extracts from seasonal fruits and vegetables have long been employed to dye cotton and silk yarn.

“Vegetable dyes have been used by the traditionalrangrez to create patterns and richly coloured textiles for both functional and sartorial requirements of communities. It is through this association that we’ve come to identify colours asbaingani, jamuni, piaji, santari, andangoori, among others,” shares Delhi-based Shilpa Sharma, creative entrepreneur & craft evangelist. “These natural dyes are said to impart properties beyond mere aesthetics. Some colours are believed to be cooling in the heat and warming in the cold.”

Folksy Punjab

Closer home, the once-vibrant tradition of weaving drawstrings —azarbands ornadas — of Punjab employed theambi as a decorative element. Paeans have been sung about the ‘reshmi naaley’ of Patiala, a city that also boasts of delicate footwear withtilla-work as a longstanding handicraft. It is hard to find a pair without the paisley. Likewise, Punjab’s most well-known embroidered textile,phulkari, is an intricate study of interplay between the creator and her surroundings. Traditionally made on hand-wovenkhaddar ormalmal(as a result of vast farmlands under cotton cultivation in the Malwa region), thebagh is covered entirely in floral motifs, while thesainchi is a narrative of daily village life and often includes human elements. Suchphulkaris, though rich in stylised motifs depicting wheat, coriander, cauliflower, bitter gourd, rolling pins et al, see theambi make only an occasional appearance. I suppose that’s why we sing about the fruit instead, to make up for that other anomaly! “Ni ambiyan nu tarsengi, chhad ke shehar Doaba”, laments a lover on discovering his beloved is moving on and away.

“Rut bhangra paan di aayi, ke ambiyan nu boor pai giya”, goes one of several duets that celebrate the advent of spring. A time of much significance for an agrarian land as it also coincides with the harvest season. The reference to crops, seasons, festivals and fields is but expected. Indeed, Punjab’s lilting folksongs are a lyrical manifestation of its hardy, happy and spirited people. Songs like “bajre da sitta ve assaan talli te maroreya” also celebrate the voice of the woman, giving her agency to articulate her existence. Confident in herself, she compares her sulking lover’s pliant return — “Ruthra jaanda mahiya ve asaan galli wich moreya” — to the millet cob she bends easily in her palm. “Mele nu chal mere naal kude” (see box) in Asa Singh Mastana’s earthy voice is perhaps the finest example of the joie de vivre Punjabis are synonymous with. Thrilled at the bountiful harvest that waits, the farmer invites his wife to accompany him to the Baisakhi fair, promising her an outing replete with fun, food, and shopping. Ultimately, a joyous celebration of labour!

Box:

Mele Nu Chal Mere Naal Kude

Aj saare chhad janjaal kude, aj saare chhad janjaal kude mele nuu, ahaa, mele nu chal mere naal kude, ho ho, ho ho

kar buha samb shtaabi ni, le pakad sandook di chaabi ni koi soot tu kad gulabi ni, pa tille di gurgaabi ni le booteyan waala rumaal kude, mele nu…

ni vaisakhi aj manawange, vaisakhi aj manawange, mele te bhangre paawange, ral se peeng chadawange

te baeke authe khawaange, ladduaan da, ahaa ladduaan da leke thaal kude, mele nuu, ahaa, mele nu….

kankaan diya faslan pakiyaan ne, kankaan diya faslan pakiyaan ne, ghar saade barkhta vasiyaan ne, mera pyaar tere naal boodha nai

sone da kadaa deya choorha nai, rab keeta, ahaa rab keeta hai malamaal kude, mele nu…

tere nain jo peeti bhang ude, tere nain jo peeti bhang ude, te waang tamaater rang ude, koi nazar na tenu laa deve,

jaadu na akh da paa deve, rataa rakhi, ahaa, rataa rakhi roop sambhaal kude, mele nu…

BREAK QUOTE

Regardless of what you call it —ambi, kairi, paisley — the mango finds an equally wide representation in Indian textiles. Whether it is the fine needlework on Kashmiripashminas, or thekalamkari block prints of Andhra Pradesh, craftsmen have skillfully employed, in plenty, the use of the stylised mango in their creations. It also came to be embroidered on to the coolchikankari muslins that Nur Jahan introduced to her tropical wardrobe. In much the same fashion, the mango motif can be spotted in the borders of Paithani silk saris of Maharashtra.

Quote unquote

“Food to literature is what background music score is to cinema. It is an intertwined part of the narrative. It engages the senses, establishes relationships, reflects socio-economic stratification and gives glimpses of a culture. It is both literal and metaphoric.

— Dr Harpreet Gill, Associate Professor