India is not a country; it is a continent disguised as one. Within its borders reside over a billion people speaking hundreds of languages, worshipping countless deities, and following culinary scripts that change every hundred kilometers. To understand the Indian lifestyle, one cannot simply look at the clothes, the festivals, or the yoga. One must look at the kitchen. In India, the kitchen is the temple, the pharmacy, the chemistry lab, and the heart of the home.
Furthermore, the Langar (community kitchen) at a Sikh Gurudwara defies all caste and class boundaries. Anyone, regardless of religion or status, sits on the floor side-by-side to eat the same dal and roti . This is Indian cooking at its purest: Non-hierarchical, communal, and generous. As India globalizes, the lifestyle is morphing. The joint family is dying; nuclear families are rising. This has birthed a new creature: the "Multi-tasking Indian Woman" who cannot spend four hours grinding spices.
The most radical shift in the last 30 years has been the entrance of men into the kitchen. While the mother still rules the stove, the father often rules the chai and the barbecue ( tandoor ). In urban India, cooking is no longer a gender mandate; it is a survival skill and, increasingly, a passion.
The left hand is reserved for "unclean" acts (holding the glass, passing the plate). The right hand is the fire of the body, used to break the bread and scoop the curry. Part VIII: Festivals and Fasting (The Paradox) Indian cooking is a paradox of extremes: gluttony and austerity.
An Indian household wakes up early. Before the chai is brewed, the floors are swept and swabbed with water mixed with turmeric or cow dung (a natural disinfectant in rural areas). The first ritual is often practical: lighting a lamp, ringing a bell, but most importantly, planning the meal . In traditional homes, the women of the house mentally inventory the vegetables purchased the day before and decide what will be cooked for lunch.
