The way it was: Tasting the collective good
Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan
Bush and company needed to build a new democratic Iraq. In the same spirit Nero
burnt Rome to give the Romans a better city. What a laudable and splendid agenda
There must be more than one way of cooking bhindi, or what in English we call
Lady Fingers. I wonder why in England they should be called okras. I can also
understand our baingan or brinjals being called aubergines by the French but
once again I cannot fathom why the Americans should call them eggplants? Things
can have more than one name, I suppose.
Most of us love eating bhindi cooked with or without meat. I have always found
the meat cooked with bhindi has a rather good taste of its own. Unlike the
Pashtuns, I prefer the meat cooked with vegetables. All meat has the distinctive
flavour and taste of the vegetable with which it is cooked. Compare for instance
the shabdeg meat, which is cooked with turnips with the one that has been in the
company of potatoes or karaila (bitter gourd) and you would agree with me. Each
has its own piquancy.
We don’t like our bhindi to be soggy but prefer them dry. The old desi bhindi,
which is almost impossible to find now, used to be absolutely delicious. It was
large and crisp, pregnant with scores of smooth pliant seeds, which added to the
taste. The best bhindi in town was without doubt cooked by my nani in a terra
cotta pot on slow fire. The desi plant was tall and lanky and provided only a
few bhindis at a time for the handi. The present day dwarf hybrids are like
small bushes and are leaden with a crop of bhindis but they are small and
flaccid, with very small seeds, which while eating one cannot even feel rolling
around the tongue.
Have you ever had bhindi the way they cook it in south India? They like to have
them when they are really ripe. Almost close to seeding. These hard ripe okras,
which we would consider superannuated, are then allowed to slowly simmer in
water and spices till the turgid curry becomes nice and gluey.
In England in the sixties, before fresh okras began to be imported from Kenya,
they came cooked and packed in round tins, in the south Indian style. I remember
an angrez, scanning through the menu of Shalimar Restaurant in Cambridge, ask
his companion what he thought of okras? ‘It is a most ghastly dish!’ was the
instant reply. I can imagine people used to eating fried fish and chips, stiff
sausages and kidneys, would find south Indian okra curry a bit gluey. Actually
if you have them with the thick khameeri roti as people do in Quetta they can be
quite nice. Those who insist on holding a different view can always use the
curry in urgency for sealing envelops.
Individual tastes can differ, but surely there is more than one way of doing
things. But everyone is adamant that his grandmother cooked okras the best. No
harm letting people believe that. It is hard to persuade anyone to surrender
what he believes. Beliefs are a product of lifelong personal experience and
social interaction. They are thus a valued possession. To abandon a belief is
like erasing a part of one’s self. There is often a wide gap between personal
experience and facts, between beliefs and reality. The disparity can partly be
narrowed through a richer social practice. Real knowledge is the sum total of
personal experience and accumulated knowledge of others. To gain knowledge one
needs to keep his eyes and ears open, and — mostly — the mouth shut. Only
then can a person objectively perceive and feel the fleeting moments of
revelation in the commonest things through which truth manifests its self.
All truths are transitory. There are no ultimate truths. The only permanent
truth is change. Those who assert the permanence of ultimate truths are gross or
selfish, or too lazy to adjust to what is right and must be done each new day.
There is a sense of comforting permanence in holding on to prejudices. With
prejudices life is static but steady. Life is absolved of the pressures of
constant intellectual engagements. It is extremely demanding to have to think
where one should be standing, or who one should be supporting and defending each
day. Having to judge the world and the conduct and actions of others is fraught
with the danger of having to make commitments. What would then a person do with
his bagful of tribal, ethnic, religious, patriotic loyalties? Surveying the
world from this discomforting perspective a person might discover that Hindus,
Buddhists, Jews, Christians, Muslims and others may claim to represent
monolithic truths but being humans are all a motley crowd of this and that and
what not. The majority likes not to be bothered and to be left in peace. The
vast majority of the world citizens would just like to raise their families and
lead peaceful lives doing little things and being happy in their small
achievements. This is not too much for them to demand. Is it?
The world in spite of latitudinal and longitudinal differences, with great
oceans separating the continents is full of good men and women. This was amply
demonstrated by their joint protest against the Iraq war. The war could not be
stopped because Bush and company needed to build a new democratic Iraq. In the
same spirit Nero burnt Rome to give the Romans a better city. What a laudable
and splendid agenda. Nero played the flute while Rome burnt. Bush will not stop
at burning the world, if he could have his way, to improve it.
There are always good aspects to bad things, which can help to propel events in
the right direction. The solidarity, which was demonstrated by the world
citizens, could never have been perceived before the Iraq war. Their action has
demonstrated beyond dispute that the people of the world regardless of how they
prefer their bhindi like peace better. They have carved a large area of common
perception and feelings, which needs to be strengthened and upheld. Meanwhile,
Let us oppose all kinds of martial music, regardless of the instruments it is
played with.
Prof Ijaz-ul-Hassan is a painter, author and a political activist