Mu(n)ch in the name of culture!

Deepavali brings a LOT of enthusiasm and new energy. I sometimes thought that our lunar calendar New Year should be this day. It seriously screams of new found happiness, light, an unexplained hope and of course the delicacies that we so anxiously wait for the whole year around, to attack. About a week before the  Ammavasya of the Aipasi month, the household smells of coconut oil. The rice flour is knead along with jeera, butter, asafoetida, salt, water and oil. Its left for a while and then the ritual begins. Lest I forget, this happens on a Saturday morning when all of us are around helping out in various ways. The routine cooking is done earlier and a lady cook comes along every year this day. As far as I can remember it’s the same person in all the years I have seen. Pretty much a family member!  

You could tell from the way she wore her nine-yards sari that she was one hell of an artistic person. The chief Executive Advisor for this project is self-appointed, my grandmom. The rest of us did all the work, you see! The suththumurrukku was going to be done!  

A small pyramid was rolled out from the dough , which had the haldi and kumkum adorned on it. A moment of silence and prayers…the murukku should be done safely and if u lent your ears closer to my bro, you can clearly hear him pray that they must be crispy! ;)No jokes! For a long time, he thought that, that was the reason for the prayers! The born glutton he was, evident at a tender age of three ? Of course that stands till today inspite of all the gymming and asparagus meals he occasionally claims he has! Btw. I missed the point…the pyramid mound of dough was the vignam theerkkum(do away with obstacles) Lord Vinayaka!! There were at least four of us, including my dad who were going to do all we can to have the hundreds of murukkus churned out successfully and here were women in this house, as an act of belittling us, so feverently praying to a small mound of dough!!! Ridiculous! But anyway, as long as the big mound of dough that can be transformed to crispy(my bro’s prayers would be answered) suththumurukkus, we were fine with any magical belief.

The banana leaves were made into small neat squares of the size of a hand, over which the dough was slowly and steadily rolled by twisting it. That’s why the ‘suththu’  prefix! Now one thing is certain- this lady is an unsung Michealangelo in the making for the dexterity she had while she did this or I even compare her to Vishwakarma(he sculpted the Universe according to the Hindu mythology!).  I can vividly remember after applying coconut oil in the neatly cut banana leaf I would sit hours watching her fingers artistically rolling the dough into concentric circles. The white dough rolled out so aesthetically on the green leaf made for such a wonderful visual treat. Of course I have tried many a time and over the years can actually manage something closely resembling it but definitely not half as beautiful as hers. Remember! I had to do it between, “Don’t go near the hot oil. Watch from far ,else go outside”, from my grandmom. Skills learned under pressure and learned when you weren’t supposed to, are probably the fastest learned and absolutely thrilling to do as well , not to miss the point that such skills are a pleasure to learn too !! 

The suthu murukkus!

It took a full six hours and the suththumurrukkus were all done, packed into big containers and of course not to miss the way my mom made extra special aromatic filter coffee to go with it that afternoon. Of course my grandmom had to say the salt was less or more or something to show everyone at home she was by right the chief of the project and thus involved in the final evaluation. The light brown or deep brown had a difference. These were even removed before they were fully fried and my mom would quickly propogate that that’s the way she liked it. Tastes, methods, aesthetics and the colours of such preparations may vary and change but the truth remains that rituals kept the culture intact and the taste for such rituals and the murrukkus still run deep in our lives. At least in mine!

Last remnants of the recent experience!

Recently a colleague in school lovingly brought such murrukkus which were brought by her mom from India. We were about a few of us who ate it to the last bit. As I had mine with my make-do Nescafe, I thought to myself…culture and tradition are the everlasting identity that we can give ourselves forever. They are not part of you they are YOU! On another note, my close Chinese cubie neighbor friend had a lion’s share of this and declared that she simply LOVES it!

C'mon people, Who doesn’t!!!