You aarggh what you ate
Humans rely heavily on innovation and it’s one of the main reasons why we’ve evolved the way we have so far. From discovering fire (made us more dangerous than the strongest elephant) to cooking food (helped us save time on digesting and thus focus on greater pursuits) to realizing grass can be edible (rice, wheat, younameit) to inventing god (religion is a byproduct of our age old beliefs, not the other way around) to seeking enlightenment (there have been many Buddhas in the annals of human history and will continue so) to making the machines work for us (industrial revolution changed the way we understand labour) to releasing information from its prison (Internet explosion — warts and all) to rediscovering a lonelier version of individuality (your phone is the only soulmate you’ll ever have) — we have indeed come a long, long way.
Yet, amid this web of ups and lows, one facet remains unequivocally charming: there is nothing that can occupy the place of food. You might have to go to Silicon Valley or Silicon Wadi to witness the bloom of technological miracles but to experience the magic of food, you can even visit the most interior of mainlands as well as the most exclusive of peninsular coasts. People who don’t know what QR code means will serve you meals, cooked in a technique perfected over centuries, that will blow your mind.
Food matters regardless of what we choose to consume or detest. Yes, it’s a personal space and nobody else can figure it out for you. However, this equation is a bit more complex than we assume. What you receive from your kitchen is a result of several elements at work; elements that dictate the terms to us — from the weather to microorganisms to plain coincidences. It’s nothing less than sorcery to accept that what we consider staple today (potatoes, tomatoes, chili, etc.) wasn’t even available on our land a few centuries ago. Similarly, if we are big on pizzas, subs and burgers today, there is no guarantee that we won’t be latching onto something else a few decades later. Of course, we’ll continue to wonder why the likes of samosas, paranthas and idlis never caught up with the rest of the world. Maybe desis make terrible cultural ambassadors.
Speaking of culture, food consumption says a lot about the way people look at life (as a concept). And this has hardly anything to do with one’s choice of diet. A vegetarian might have as much disdain for lauki sabzi as a non-vegetarian might have for snail sukka. However, what unites everyone is the sheer outlook towards other lives. Spinach might be rich in iron and good for your bones but at the end of the day, you are consuming a living being. Similarly, you might scream at the top of your voice that fish don’t feel pain but we all know how unpleasant their last moments are out of water. So strong is our bias confirmation that only hunger and appetite can explain our blindness to suffering.
So much so I enjoy bacon but my heart bleeds for the pigs made to live in miserable conditions. Isn’t this a rather strange detachment from an unbearable reality? Not sure how the vegans do it but one can only blame our inward spiral for this behaviour. I love dogs a lot that it hurts whenever those videos from Yulin float on the Internet. The fact that dogs — whether we want to believe it or not — have been an important part of our species’ diet in various civilizations — and will most probably take over that position again when we reach apocalypse as we turn bereft of nutrition — completely misses our imagination. We can’t think of our pets as somebody’s food. Obviously, we, the undisputed meat-lovers, fail to extend this benefit to those who love cattle for they can’t bear the thought of them getting killed for consumption. Perhaps the definition of ‘pet’ turns loose the moment we bring food to the table.
In this prejudiced spirit, over the course of human history, we’ve drawn lines on what is to be had and what is to be shunned. Love and hatred enters the house here. Words like halal, kosher, satvik, etc. tell us more about what we are afraid of and less about what we care for. If a Hindu person doesn’t want to have his food served by a Muslim fellow, it’s worth investigating whether he’s fine with a Muslim farmer growing the produce in the first place. Similarly, if a so-called Indian liberal expects to enjoy the freedom (forget hospitality) to consume beef in a conservative house, then can she dare to expect pork in a Muslim household? Such case studies can continue as we move from one social setting to another. Throughout, we’ll notice strains of ignorance and arrogance as people assert themselves for swallowing the “correct” food. After a point, the aforementioned lines are more about sentiments and less about the plate.
Lastly, somebody once wrote that we become what we eat. If that was so, we are living corpses, aren’t we? When was the last time you consumed something alive? And the only warm conclusion to draw here is that everybody feeds on somebody else and the world carries on spinning.
