Bonded over besan laddoo

Mixed marriages carry with them their own baggage. While there is a confluence of different cultures, there is sometimes a clash over which culture will prevail in the household. People label these matches as cosmopolitan, which is intended to portray them as being liberal and open-minded. But reality throws up challenges.

If Punjabi and Konkani are to coexist in London, for the sake of conjugal harmony, there is an unspoken understanding that English will dominate and other languages will be sidelined, though both parents cannot resist the urge to teach Hindi and Konkani whenever possible. My brother, who is sailing in this boat, cannot resist the urge to teach Hindi to my niece and nephew. He has taught them to greet in Hindi ‘Namaste’ with folded hands. Our help over here was stunned when they wished her ‘Namaste’ upon meeting her. My brother’s chest swelled in pride upon seeing the fruit of his labour.

However, the cuisine that prevails in the family is primarily South Indian. I think making wafer-thin dosas is cumbersome and labour-intensive. But my sister-in-law cooks dosas and uttappams with utter ease and satisfaction. The kids love the food she dishes out. She cannot knead the dough Punjabi style to make chappatis. When we went to visit them one fine day, my nephew asked for podi, to my utter surprise. I thought he was talking about the Punjabi delicacy of puri and aloo sabji. Actually, he was referring to South Indian chutney powder that serves as an accompaniment.

I can’t help but marvel at the umpteen chutneys that my sister-in-law conjures up in a jiffy.

Their family is a typical example of unity in diversity, and the unity is reflected in their common liking for all sweets, be they North or South Indian. My nephew drools at laddoos from the north in all varieties, motichoor, besan, or panjari. Reciprocally, my brother relishes payasam, Mysore Pak, rava coconut laadu, and coconut burfi. My sister-in-law has fallen in love with the kheer my mother makes, where milk is thickened diligently and broken rice is cooked and topped with dry fruits.

My brother craves Punjabi food, especially paranthas that come with varied stuffings such as aloo, mooli, palak, methi, gaajar, and paneer, to name a few. He is overjoyed when they are invited for lunch or dinner by Punjabi couples in his apartment building. My sister-in-law finds his delight at eating Punjabi fare downright funny.

Recently, my sister-in-law could not refrain from forwarding a poster she had seen at a Punjabi restaurant that read, “I am a Punjabi, and I only see the first five letters of cholesterol.” After all, chole is the staple food of all and sundry in the North. It can be had with rice, puri, kulcha, naan, or tandoori roti. So, it is indeed very dear.