The taste of casteism

We Indians love our food. Every corner of the country has its own chorus of spices, snacks, and signatures, all competing for attention, all offered up with a certain swagger; our culinary culture is often described as a mosaic of traditions, a glorious testament to our eternal diversity.

- AMRITESH MUKHERJEE

But what of the dishes you never see on Instagram and that no one frames as heritage? What of the food that's never found on tourist trails?

Food is a critical part of any culture. It locates you. It shapes how you're seen and how you see yourself. It carries histories, hierarchies, and inheritances. What you eat is what you are. But if what you eat is invisible, are you invisible, too? That's the question at the heart of Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada by Shahu Patole, translated by Bhushan Korgaonkar. Through recipes, folktales, religious texts, and his own experience, he details the culinary practices of the Dalit communities in the Marathwada region, particularly the Mang and Mahar castes.

The original Marathi title of the book, Anna He A-purna Brahma, is a play on the popular Marathi prayer, anna he purna brahma, meaning "food is the complete truth, the eternal life-creating force". By changing a single word — apurna, or incomplete — Patole reminds us that food, like divinity, is unevenly distributed. When caste determines who eats, what they eat, and how they're judged for it, food becomes a site of exclusion.

"Food habits and caste cannot be separated in Indian culture," Patole writes. "Just as caste is cemented at birth, so is diet." After all, as Sant Tukaram wrote: "A monkey may bathe and wear a tilak on his forehead, but that doesn't make him Brahmin. A Brahmin, however, may deviate from his path, but he is still the greatest in the entire universe."