Train journeys, millets and memories
A young bajra (pearl millet) plant (Photo courtesy: iStock images)
As a millet fanatic, I have often wondered about the start of the millet craze in me. I had no clue about millets before my son was born. On second thoughts, though, I wonder — had I come across millets, or heard about them in the passing, before finally ‘discovering’ them.
I leapfrog back to my childhood for answers. A distant memory seeps in. I am a little girl on a long train journey from the north of India to the southern tip. The train takes a long, winding route across the Deccan plateau on its way to Kerala. We pass by fields flush with numerous greenish-grey spikes atop tall grasses. Amazed, I croak “What’s that?” to my equally puzzled mother. Whatever it was, it didn’t grow in her hometown either. I wonder about it every year during our pilgrimage down south to meet our grandparents. As a child, however, I never get around to figuring out what it is.
Years later, now a teenager, I step out of the gate at a relative’s home. My parents are still inside, taking forever to say their goodbyes. Bored, I glance back at the sparsely vegetated yard, and catch my breath. A lone grass, literally a giant, stands majestically against the setting sun; its glorious crown laden with grains. Transfixed by the sight, I ask for the name of this mysterious plant, and someone replies, “Cholam”. I have no clue what that is.
Fast forward a decade and a half; my little one is starting on solids. I have zeroed in on millets after some research into the best options for homemade baby food. I buy my first pack of ragi (finger millet), and intently study the tiny deep red grains. Standing behind me, Amma tells me how she used to prepare ragi porridge for me. When I was a baby, she used to wake up before dawn and head to her trusted grinding stone (ammikkal) kept in the veranda. Amma would crush the soaked ragi and extract the milk for my morning porridge. Thanks to the nourishing food, and the love, I thrived. Soon, neighbors who used to advise Amma about the best store-bought baby food started coming to her for homemade recipes. Hearing this story from Amma makes me feel a strange connection with this grain. Eventually, the process of researching about millets becomes a journey of discovery. I read about the various types of millets, their history, their ease of cultivation and climate resilience; and wonder where they had been hiding all this while. I perk up when I see the grey spikes of pearl millet (bajra), and realize that it was this millet that I had seen on those long train journeys. I discover that ‘Cholam’ is the Malayalam word for sorghum.
A fully loaded jowar (sorghum) plant (Photo courtesy: iStock images)
Armed with newfound knowledge, I turn into a millet fanatic. I buy every type of millet I possibly can, and discover that millets are quite hard-to-get. Were they always so? I have no idea. But it is evident that they are no longer in wide circulation. After many frustrating attempts, I turn my sights to online retailers. My experiments with millet finally start in full flow. While conversing with an aunt during the festive season, I proudly tell her that I have prepared chama (little millet) payasam. Surprised, she asks me, “Where did you get chama from? I don’t think anyone grows it anymore!”
The conversation leaves me unsettled. Here is a family that, till around two generations back, always had a patch of little millet in their paddy (rice) fields; the primary reason being that the patriarch of the family liked having chama kanji (millet porridge) as a mid-morning meal. Not only do they no longer grow it now, it comes as a surprise to them that chama is still being grown at all. How did it come down to this? When, where and how did millets disappear from our plates, our fields and our minds? Did they fade away from everyone’s collective memory too?
Unfortunately, this time, my memories offer no clue towards solving this mystery.
