Bin the Chinese food debate
Food has the potential to draw out the knives for nationalist, regional, nutritional or mere family hospitality reasons
One of the many things a leader can do and others can’t is to make others do something. So when Go Corona Go became a hymn for those who wanted to invoke the other powers to fight the pandemic, was it the popularity of Ram Das Athawale which made it happen or the sheer catchy beat? It might take some time for most people to recollect Athawale’s portfolio in the Union council of ministers but he is certainly recognised for keeping social media abuzz with his unusual and sometimes weird takes on grave matters of national importance.
This time, Athawale’s fight is against Chinese cuisine because of the aggressiveness of the People’s Liberation Army i n Ladakh’s Galwan Valley. Athawale himself may not like Chinese food like many in his generation who have been brought up on traditional Indian fare, but Chinese food is very much Indian now considering that it was the first foreign cuisine that ordinary Delhi dwellers started lapping up in the early 80s when food vans became popular i n South Extension, Lajpat Nagar and a host of local markets across the capital city. The price: ~10 a plate which could be shared by at least two people of average appetite.
Whether the Union minister can name even three Chinese dishes is doubtful. Beyond noodles and Manchurian, most
Indians probably can’t even recollect names of five dishes from the aggressive neighbour whom Athawale wants to take on for a belly war. However, food certainly is a sensitive topic across India. Forget international boundaries, regional and religious divisions come to fore even with a humble samosa — whether the stuffed snack from Bengali Market’s Nathu’s is better than those sold on Kolkata streets — and whether the ubiquitous poha is Hindu food or Muslim.
Just a few days before Athawale made his nationalist credentials known at the altar of Chinese noodles, there was a raging debate on whether parota as it is called in southern India or paratha in the north should attract a higher rate of 18 per cent goods and service tax (GST). It was ruled that this Indian bread is a “rich man’s food” and, therefore, cannot be equated with the poor man’s roti or chapati, eaten in the north, central and in some eastern states as a staple. The fight between parota and roti became one of class and not just about region alone.
With some oil, clarified wheat flour ( maida) and a little longer cooking time, roti becomes parota but most Indians do not eat it as a regular dinner or lunch item. It is either restricted to special occasions or when cooked with healthier whole wheat, north India’s paratha is eaten for breakfast. A trip on national highway number 1, starting from Delhi right up to the Pakistan border, will reveal the variety of parathas that can be devoured with loads of butter and pickles.
Roti, on the other hand, is essentially made of whole wheat flour but those who cannot afford or those who have to sell it cheap at roadside stalls often use a less nutritious form of flour which renders the bread a white colour instead of giving it the healthier light brown tinge. But the unhealthy nature of clarified flour is a great leveller since those eating parota or non-whole wheat roti are both taking in no nutrition, only calories. The oil in the parota and the accompanying helping of mutton or chicken means some more fat for the “rich”. Certainly, 18 per cent GST on packaged parota or paratha is justified in the hope that the fatty content will become less palatable for people with unhealthy eating habits.
Packaged Malabar parotas are, nonetheless, a great saviour when the summer heat makes it stressful for Indian women to fry puris, when their families invite scores of guests to showcase their culinary skills or have a hearty get together. But the 18 per cent GST could hurt the party budgets of households.
In essence, food — whether Chinese or Indian — has the potential to draw out the knives on grounds that could be nationalist, regional, nutritional, or merely about a family’s hospitality. Should then any of it be taxed more or banned outright? Policy makers should not be swayed by anything but one ground: Individuals should be free to choose whether they want to eat something according to what suits their pocket or sentiment or whether they want to dump it into mental bins of little consequence.