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What If Casteism Is Banned In India?

What If Casteism Is Banned In India?

Amsterdam – heaven for weed lovers. I had heard enough about easy access to weed in Amsterdam because it is legal over there. I had no idea how easy it is until one of my best friends visited this heaven and came back to give a firsthand account. It is as easy as getting into a cafe and finding your friends calling you to sit beside them to catch-up on life. But then, that is Amsterdam. Let’s zoom back into India. If you even mention weed here in our country, random passers-by will turn around to look at you in a way Tulsi Virani of Kyun Ki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi did. Shantham paapam! Did you just even think about weed? How could you?

In a place like Amsterdam, people have not gone rogue by smoking up. Maybe, it is only a thing in India. Also our country is fascinated with all things banned. For example, if you have written a book and it is not selling or you are not sure about anybody buying it, just get India to ban it. Voila! Your book will be a bestseller overnight. People will even risk importing it. Same is with weed. Though utilisation of weed/hemp/marijuana for industrial purpose is legal, smoking or internal consumption of weed is still illegal in India. Illegal, banned – conjoined twins. So, you go pssst in the ears of a shady guy with high hopes of not getting caught and low hopes of getting a few grams of weed. This will be the situation if at all casteism is banned in India, if at all.

Imagine casteism is completely banned in India. No one should ever mention about caste expect for educational purposes when you are trying to teach the next generation what a backward situation we were in. Everyone will be treated equally. Differentiation will be based on gender and disabilities. No quota anywhere for anything based on caste. If you discuss about your or others’ pre-existing caste, you will be jailed. Caste is the new marijuana. Since caste is banned, people will be more apprehensive, but enthusiastic about it. Even the mere idea of initiating an external conversation about caste will either excite you or make you sweat. Marriages will seem to be riskier than ever in India. It one thing that you will be spending so much money only to live with someone, and it is another thing that you will have to subtly find out about the caste without arousing suspicion of others. You need help. Here is where caste-pedlar comes into the picture. He/she has the knack of extracting the details of the pre-existing caste of the prospective bride/bridegroom. Bravo! New employment opportunity is created. It is like you will not let casteism die as long as you are obsessed with it.

I, for the life of me, have never been able to understand why caste is so important to people, especially while getting married. For goodness sake, you don’t even bother to check whether or not the person, who seems to be eligible to be your better half, has any kind of sexually transmitted disease. You don’t even check the blood group compatibility. Oh, you didn’t know such thing existed? Well, sorry, I mentioned it to you. And have you ever thought about the genetic complications that develop by breeding within your caste’s gene pool. Within your caste, you are somehow related to each other. Haven’t you heard the conversations when a new alliance is being made based on caste, how your family is distantly related to the other’s family no matter how new the relationship seems to be? You share genetic material in highest order within your caste’s gene pool. So much of in-breeding can lead to genetic disorders. You are literally killing your next generations. Expand the gene pool. Be rid of the caste because that is what hinders you. When your offspring picks up genes from a large gene pool, it has less chances of being mutated. No, don’t be happy about the prospect of mutation. These genetic mutations will not make your offspring part of X-Men, but will disable him/her, even kill.

Unlike marijuana, casteism damages a lot whether it is banned or not. A lot is already damaged. In ancient India, castes were made based on ones occupation. But how many of us still follow the caste-based or family occupation in this generation? Yes, there are few, but there are only few. You might argue that religions will still exist to differentiate us even after banning casteism. How about one step at a time? Let’s not go on a marathon before even starting brisk walk. It is unhealthy. Just like casteism. Let’s be proud of cultural diversity that we have in India, not of casteism. Well, it has been a long rant. Roll a joint!

Image Source: Gerd Altman

Cake for Helen and Carl

Cake for Helen and Carl

I am still reading The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Baurmeister. I am super excited reading about this novel. There is a recipe hidden in every chapter. Thinking about how this novel is making me happy, I am also happy that my favourite novel, Pride and Prejudice didn’t have any cooking descriptions. I would have taken ages to finish reading that classic.

At this point in the novel, Lillian, the protagonist and the master chef of the novel, is teaching her class how to bake a cake. As you must have understood from my previous blog about the choco-coffee, Lillian doesn’t believe in handing out recipes to her students and asks them to cook or bake using their senses. This time too, there is no written recipe for the cake. But here among her students, we have an old couple, who got married without a traditional wedding cake, and still are going strong despite ups and downs, and even an affair. Lillian dedicates this cake to Helen and Carl, the couple who believe in love. And I, like the last time, am giving you the detailed report of how my cake turned out as per her instructions. Given below are the instructions taken directly from the book. So they are not exactly instructions, but are parts of conversations and narration.

Lillian’s Instructions for the Cake

My Cake

Separate egg whites from yolks. I did this later in the process.
Lillian put the butter into the bowl and turned on the mixer. I used about 125g of unsalted butter and softened it manually using a spoon instead of putting into a mixer.
Slowly, in an impossibly thin waterfall of white, she let the sugar drift into the bowl. I used about 100g of fine sugar powder and blended it with the softened and now air-filled butter.
Finally, when the butter and sugar reached the cloudlike consistency of whipped cream, she turned off the motor. Since I was manually blending and air-filling the butter and sugar, it took me longer time.
So, now we add the egg yolks, bit by bit, letting the air rise into them as well. Separating and placing yolks and whites of 2 eggs in separate bowls, I whipped the egg yolks well enough to make a yellow coloured free flowing liquid and then slowly added it to the butter-sugar mixture while stirring.
She remarked lifting out a scoopful and letting it fall through the sifter in a fluttering snow shower into a large measuring cup. I sifted about 200g of all-purpose flour (maida) and set it aside.
Lillian began adding some of the flour to the batter, the milk alternatively. I used about 200-250ml of cold milk and added to the batter alternatively with the sifted flour.
If you mix the flour with the other ingredients for too long, you will have a flat, hard cake. I didn’t set a timer to know for how long I was stirring the batter to blend the flour and avoid lump formation.
Lillian beat the egg whites into foam, adding just a bit of sugar at the end, as the class watched it turn into soft then stiff peak. I beat the egg whites and added sugar to it in the end. Maybe it’s because of the manual blending, no stiff peaks were formed.
When it was done, Lillian carefully folded the frothy cumulus clouds into the batter, a third at a time. Well, I did just that.
The frosting was a thick butter-cream. Since I was in no mood for frosting, I skipped this last step. If I do this, I will surely update.

There are a few things you need to know here.

  • In the novel, Lillian brings out eggs, milk, butter, flour, sugar and baking soda and places on the table. But while baking, she doesn’t use baking soda. So, I just added about 2g of baking soda to the flour and sifted both together.
  • Lillian doesn’t use any flavouring agent, either natural or artificial while baking. You may add it if you want.
  • She doesn’t mention pouring the batter into the cake mould or anything. So please use your commonsense and pour the batter into aluminium cake mould or tray, and then place it in the oven. The mould or tray should be greased and dusted before pouring the batter into it. Otherwise, half of your cake will be stuck to the mould itself.
  • About the baking temperature, I baked the cake at 180°C for 40 minutes. Preheat the oven at the same temperature for 5 minutes before placing the tray inside it.
Freshly baked cake for Helen and Carl. Just out of oven.

Freshly baked cake for Helen and Carl. Just out of oven.

The cake came out fine. Honestly, it was way more delicious than the ones baked following a proper recipe. But I am not a professional baker. I guess Lillian is right. Food turns out to be better when you follow your mood and sense than a recipe. The yellow colour of the cake is due to butter and egg yolk. Most of the recipes out there don’t recommend using egg yolks and only mention egg whites. If you decide to bake as per Lillian, do let me know what you think of it when compared to “recipe” cakes.


The Love Bag(gage)

Before leaving for Pondicherry, I went shopping for a small backpack. I didn’t want to carry a huge backpack all over Pondicherry as if I was on a trek. I am bad at shopping. I somewhat hate it. Why? I go looking for, say a bag, which makes me say “Yes, this is what I want.” I won’t have anything particular on my mind until I see “the thing.” But then, I won’t buy anything else if I don’t find “the thing.” So, there I was roaming all over the local market searching for one small backpack to take with on a leisure trip. You see, I don’t prefer buying stuff online.

After wandering for about two kilometres looking for “the bag” I went to a small shop that had displayed bags of all kinds. I went in and asked the shopkeeper for a small backpack big enough to carry a water bottle, an umbrella, wallet and a book, all I need to get through any day. The shopkeeper understood what kind of backpack I needed and showed me few designs and I kept asking him if he had any other designs apart from what he had already shown. That’s when he showed a black-coloured backpack with LOVE printed all over, with a heart shape replacing the O.

My mind went berserk looking at that backpack. As per me, LOVE had gone overboard with those prints and I felt like I would look like a despo if I were to carry it around. LOVE that would make you happy for as long as it can. LOVE that makes you dream like stupid. LOVE that makes you think you must be having a hormonal imbalance. LOVE that kills you from within. LOVE that makes even palpitations to be romantic. LOVE that makes you dart towards your mobile phone every time it buzzes announcing the arrival of a message. LOVE that makes you look at everything from a new perspective. LOVE that sometimes finds no way. LOVE that often laughs at you years later. LOVE that leaves you numb. My mind snapped out of the trance when it registered the shopkeeper still talking about how good the bag is. I finally asked him if I can remove the LOVE prints using turpentine or a paint thinner. He said no and the print stays. I sighed telling him I don’t want that backpack and started to get out of the now claustrophobic shop. The shopkeeper was by then grumbling about me saying I was passing time at his shop and didn’t want to really buy anything as if I had rejected his love and not just his LOVE bag. While I was getting out from there, the shopkeeper’s partner came in and offered the Rs.1000 worth bag for Rs.650. I thought for a second and was as though I was thinking about buying his LOVE for Rs.650. Knowing very well he wouldn’t sell it for any lesser price, I asked if he would give for Rs.500. As expected, he declined. I walked away having escaped from the burden. My mind had the last laugh.

It is a different story I found a small backpack in Pondicherry, the one that was just the way I wanted, the one that made me say “Yes, this is what I want” and that too at Rs.650. A simple small brown-coloured backpack, sans prints and motifs or embroideries, and a water bottle, an umbrella, wallet and a book could easily fit into it. It could easily compete and win over Bagwati of Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Moreover, it looked good on me. Yay! I bought it without bargaining. It felt like I had all the LOVE in the world without LOVE written all over in bold letters, contrasting colours and heart shapes. Me and my mind.