Welcome to the Brown History Newsletter. If you’re enjoying this labour of love, please do consider becoming a paid subscriber. Your contribution would help pay the writers and illustrators and support this weekly publication. If you like to submit a writing piece, please send me a pitch by email at brownhistory1947@gmail.com. Check out our Shop and our Podcast. You can also follow us on Instagram and Twitter.
Lahore To Kayalpatnam: How Partition Changed a Family Cuisine by Sumaiya Mustafa
Fifty-six years ago, one of my grand-uncles brought home his wife for the first time. It sent shockwaves through the family, rippling into the neighbourhood, and even throughout our whole town of Kayalpatnam, all of who strictly practise endogamy - the custom of marrying only within the limits of a local community or tribe. The bride, shy and terrified, now my grand-aunt, Waheedha Wapicha, belonged to a different community, one that was outside her husband’s including our’s. However, the core of her identity has many layers and peeling through each layer unmasks a story that can be traced back to Partition and the birth of two nations.
In just one night in 1947, a line was decreed upon millions stripping them of their heritage, identities, and homelands that had taken them lifetimes to establish and cultivate. Fault lines in faith that were once overlooked and ignored became visible with a thickened underscore. Suddenly these newly drawn lines mattered. Mobs and riots began to threaten the lives of many. Unseen lands began to sound more secure than the homes they had spent their whole lives in. People journeyed to strange new lands they imagined would welcome them at arrival and grant them safety. Many would never make it. In all, the head of the subcontinent was roaring with fatal howls leading to one of the largest refugee crises in history. Our collective history is fully etched with it.
Offbeat within offbeat
Having grown up in the southernmost part of India, very close to the edge, the northern part of the same nation has always felt too far to me. Bollywood was my only window, though partially misguiding, to learn about the many different cultures that resided in the shared landmass. Nevertheless, the fascination for new cultures has always been strong with me. From a very young age I enjoyed eating Rajma Chawal, Kadhi Pakode, Paranthas, Methi Pooris, Jeera Pulao, Boondhi Raitha, Moth sprinkled salads, and many more, all thanks to my grand-aunt, Waheedha Wapicha (Wapicha is the word for one’s paternal grandmother or grand-aunt in our dialect of Tamil). Her cooking was so different from the food my family and other extended families ate. She had a blessed pair of palms. It’s another matter that my own identity as a Tamil speaking Muslim from coastal Tamil Nadu is so offbeat from the mainstream Tamil Nadu - I don’t even wish to get started with that because you will never hear the end of it - but at the same time I am very tempted to elucidate upon the cuisine of my own community. As a maritime trading group in coastal Tamil Nadu that floated across the erstwhile Indian Ocean ports, our cuisine is more inclined with the port towns of South East Asia than the mainland Tamil Nadu. So, to me, as someone who pauses at every pot and spoon in every kitchen to figure out its “why”, I was curious to know why my grand-aunt’s cooking was so different from ours as well as the entire town of Kayalpatnam.