Mr Bhatnagar and the Written World
With a recipe for dhokla, a Gujarati snack
In the late 1920s and early 1930s, when my parents were born, life went on in the Indian countryside as it had for millennia. India did have many languages and writing alphabets. Yet outside the major cities, only the elite few were educated and had access to books.
The clergy knew the written word. Hindu priests performed rituals in Sanskrit for their constituents. The Muslim imams read their Quran in the mosques. So did the Sikh granthis. They read their holy book day and night in the gurdwaras.
Most people were illiterate. There were a few scribes in the villages. One would be hired to write an occasional letter to a relative across the country. The recipient of the letter would take the letter to be read by a scribe on their side.
Against this background, both my grandfathers somehow managed to become literate. My paternal grandfather was a teacher and later became the principal of a high school in Simla, the winter capital of British India. He could speak and write Hindi, Punjabi, Urdu, and English. My maternal grandfather was fluent in written and oral Punjabi and Urdu. He could speak Hindi. I don’t know if my grandmothers could read or write. I doubt very much that they did.
Both my parents did go to school. My father finished his Master’s degree. All my uncles became professionals. My aunts finished some school. Parents indulged in education only if they could spare the money or their children’s time. (Kids were supposed to help with whatever work the parents did.) Most of the raising of children was left to the mothers. I doubt if my grandmothers ever read a book to their kids. Among the rich, tutors were hired. Teaching was left strictly to the professionals.
Before my father’s first diplomatic posting, my parents were very laid back about our schooling. It was the widening of their horizons that led them to take an interest in my siblings’ and my education. They came to believe in education so much that they sacrificed all their income (and sometimes more) to send us to the very best schools.
In 1956, we were posted to Mombasa, the second-biggest city in Kenya. I was six years old and got enrolled in a school. I was a good learner (and I still am, if I may say so). We were taught the English and Punjabi alphabets from primers. I never had a story read to me nor did I own a book.
My parents became very good friends with a family who hailed from Bombay, a major cosmopolitan city. “Uncle” — Indian children call all adults “uncle,” “aunt,” “grandmother,” or “grandfather,” depending on their age — introduced my father to tennis, badminton, photography, and other leisure activities. On weekends, we would take ferries across the small bay to the mainland to indulge in beach-combing. On hot summer days, we would go to the rocky outcrops jutting out into the Arabian sea to catch the stiff cool breezes. I would peer down a hundred feet or so and see beautiful colored fish swimming in rocky pools washed by the ferocious waves.
Uncle was a constant presence in our life. One evening, my parents went to a party and Uncle came to babysit us. He nestled me and my brother on either side of him and produced a book. He opened it and started to read. I listened with my mouth agape — like my grandchildren do now when I read to them. I had never heard anything so amazing! I must have loved the book.
When I woke up the next morning, I found the book on my pillow. He had left it as a present. My very own first book. It was called Bimbo and Topsy, by Enid Blyton. I was hooked. I was hooked for life!
I would do very well in schools. And I often got awards for best performance in different subjects and classes. The awards were always books. Enid Blyton books.
When I was a bit older and had access to a library (our school library in Pakistan), I read every book I could lay my hands on. I read my brothers’ books, even the kindergarten books of my kid brother. These were more interesting than the ABC primers from Africa. I travelled in seven countries via my other brother’s geography book.
When I was twelve, we went to Belgium, and I did not go to school. We lived in Brussels, within walking distance of both the British library and the American library. I would visit both libraries at least twice a week. I would start reading on one end of a shelf and continue on to the other end.
The habit has persisted. I still read a lot of books.
I do have one regret. I wish I met Uncle again later in my life. I got too busy with my children and career to think of my own childhood. I wish I had visited him in India on my many trips back. I would have liked to have asked my father for Uncle’s address. At least I could have written and thanked him for opening the written world to me.
I have a very poor memory, especially for names. There is one name, though, that I never forgot. Uncle’s name was Mr Bhatnagar.
Recipe for “dhokla,” a savory Gujarati snack
I have chosen this recipe because it was in Mombasa that my mother started to experiment with Gujarati snacks. Africa had and still has a large migrant population from the subcontinent, and most of our neighbors were Gujarati.
Ingredients (serves 8–10)
1 cup semolina flour (this is related to cream of wheat but it’s best to use fine-ground “sooji,” available at Indian stores)
1/4 cup gram flour (“besan,” available at Indian stores)
1 cup plain yogurt
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons oil (in my recipes, this always means vegetable or canola oil)
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2-3 hot green peppers (finely minced)
1 one-inch piece of ginger (finely minced)
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon of turmeric (optional)
2-3 teaspoons Eno salt (available at Indian stores; you can substitute baking soda, but Eno is better since it has no taste; if you can’t find any, you could try this recipe to make it at home)
Seasoning (to be added separately)
2 teaspoons oil
5 or 6 fresh curry leaves (available at Indian stores)
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
1 teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons water
Chopped fresh coriander leaves (for garnish)
Instructions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Whisk everything together except for the water, Eno salt, and of course the seasoning ingredients. When they are well mixed, add the water and whisk again.
When the oven is hot, add the Eno salt and whisk well again. (Use 2 spoons of Eno first. If the batter is not frothy, add the third teaspoon.)
The batter should be the same constituency as cake batter. Pour it into a greased 9 x 9 round or square cake pan. Cover with aluminum foil and immerse the pan in a water bath. (I use a tray with a lip, filled with a cup or two of water.)
Bake for 45 minutes, or until set. Check if it’s done by poking a toothpick in the pan. The toothpick should come out clean.
Cool and cut into one-inch square or diamond-shaped pieces. Arrange in a serving tray. Season with the garnish described below.
Seasoning (add just before serving for the freshest taste)
Heat some oil in a very small pan. Add the curry leaves and mustard seeds. When they sputter in the oil, add the sugar and water. Turn off the stove. Pour this mixture over the dhokla. Sprinkle with fresh coriander leaves.
Serve with tamarind or mint chutney (recipes will be given at a later time). If you don’t have any of these, you can serve plain or with ketchup.
Kulwant Pandey is a retired computer hardware engineer who enjoys gardening, cooking, knitting, sewing, and reading. She lives outside Poughkeepsie, NY and is the mother of Vidhu and Nandini (who edits these posts). Stay tuned for further stories with recipes — and please leave questions and recipe requests in the comments below!
