Food for thought from fauji kitchen

We are today grappling with intolerance, divisive narratives and trumped-up ‘fassad’ (tension/violence), mischievously described as ‘food jihad’. Coupled with this is the advocacy for vegetarianism and forced abstention during specified periods, disregarding dietary preferences and livelihoods. As a disclaimer, having grown up in Rajasthan, I am to a great extent an “exception-tarian”, or one who imbibes non-vegetarian food but only occasionally. Fauj did make me a “mauka-tarian”, enjoying whatever is served with love, and in good faith.

My first experiment in culinary re-ordering was as the second-in-command, 63 Cavalry. A forced bachelor who would dine in the mess, I pointed out the skewed menu with a daily overdose of non-vegetarian dishes.

I called for adhering to the age-old tradition of a chana-bhatura lunch on Tuesday and South Indian fare for the Sunday brunch. I was surprised to see the dining members ladling out pickle from jars with chana bhatura. We had three new pickles — chicken, mutton and pork! Pickle being an essential accompaniment, I was stumped. I simply gave up when they served keema dosa on Sunday.

The second effort was in trying to post our Sikh cook, Chanan Singh, from the headquarter squadron to the Sikh squadron and to move Mohanan, a South Indian, to the headquarters. The Sikh soldiers, having got addicted to Mohanan’s tadkas, were literally up in arms and simply refused to part with him.

When my wife Anita joined me, all married officers were invited for the much-awaited party. Unknown to us, the bachelors had taken the licence to shoot vermin. Shakeel served us the most relished pork chops. When I told him that he need not serve it, it was humbling to hear his response: “I am the host, you love it and I don’t eat it.”

During another tenure, the mess cook in the Brigade headquarters, lovingly called Pandeyji, dished out the most delicious mutton rogan josh despite being a staunch vegetarian himself. In the same Brigade, we had the elite 18 Cavalry with three squadrons (equivalent of a company). Alpha squadron comprised Jats, who can drink but not eat mutton as per the squadron norms, though some did it surreptitiously. Bravo had Hindustani Muslims (HM). They eat their halal meat and are not permitted alcohol. The Charlie squadron was of Rajputs, who were allowed both meat (but only jhatka) and drinks.

The roof of the langar (cook house) of the Jats collapsed and they chose to set up a temporary langar with the Muslims.

Meat goes with rum so the Army issued it on meat days. As the Brigade Major, I was in the shared langar and a bit worried. The good old Muslim senior JCO walked up to me and, as if anticipating my thoughts, told me: “Sahib, don’t worry, no Jat will be allowed to consume meat in our langar and break his dharma, but I can’t guarantee about the headquarter squadron.” The headquarter has a mixed, all castes’ staffing on a deputation basis and some Jats do consume mutton there.

The wise JCO’s parting words still ring in my ears, “After all, we follow deen-imaan and dharma.”

I wish all of us could be true to ourselves, and let others be — to each his own. There’s much food for thought there.