Amma and Akki Hapla

Amma and Akki Hapla

Amma* is very busy in summers. I realise this again after four years. She needs to make sure we are well equipped for monsoon. We receive heavy rainfall from early June to late September. So all the masalas, haplas (papad), chips, pickles, balkas, sandge, etc. needs to be prepared and dried. Like every year amma is busy this April too. Lockdown could not stop her from working.

During school times, I would be her help. First, she would prepare the yard where she dried everything. I would go with her to collect cow-dung which she then mixed with water to besmear the yard. Those were uncivilised times when cow-dung was not used to cure any disease. Once she was happy with the yard, rest would follow. 

Amma

My favourite of all she made is akki hapla (rice papad). Amma does all the mysterious calculations - when to soak rice, for how many days and when to make the batter. She calls moushi, my brother and me to taste the batter; however, it's me who gets to decide if it requires extra salt or chilli powder. The batter is kept for a day before the main event, making haplas.

She wakes up early than usual that day. She's worried if we start late it'll get too sunny as the day progresses and sitting in front of the hearth can be strenuous. After two rounds of scoldings, we would have breakfast and join her. 

Our task is to evenly spread the batter on a plate, which is then steam cooked and dried under the sun. She puts one ladle of batter on each plate. To evenly spread the batter you need to keep rotating the plate till the batter is spread all over. It is not as easy as it appears. I always end up having more batter on one side. So, amma checks all the plates before they are steam cooked. She needs to continually check if the woods are burning, steam is not escaping from the container, and most importantly we don't eat most of the cooked papads. 

Yes, this is why I like akki haplas the most. Soggy haplas are delicious but also bad for the stomach. After eating to my half satisfaction, as amma won't let me have more, I would be sent to put haplas to dry in the yard. Fearing of losing my chances to gobble up haplas inside, I would finish the task quickly without even noticing the scorching heat. 

Every time amma hears the kaa kaa sound, I would be sent to shoo away crows. It didn't matter if the crows were in the neighbouring road. This was the only part which I hated in the entire process.

That day ajja would not get tea at 11 am. Even on those days, he did not skip reading The Hindu. He would be least bothered by what was happening in the other part of the house except that he missed his tea.

We would finish by evening. 

I was reading 'This Mandal Mania' a few days back. I was disappointed when I realised whatever amma is an expert in is not considered as knowledge, everything she learnt from her parents and grandparents in the agricultural household. 

In the article, K Balagopal writes "What is most offensive is the definition being adopted for knowledge, competence, etc. We have inherited from Brahminical Hinduism a most undemocratic definition of knowledge, that dismisses it as not worth knowing all that the working people know by the very nature of the work they do. They possess knowledge about cultivation, about weaving, about masonry and smithy, and even about the proper cremation of a dead body. This knowledge has been the basis of the reproduction of society's material life, and yet Brahminism would not recognise it as knowledge." 

He further writes "And so only knowledge about the Srutis and Smrtis was recognised as knowledge. If a democratic revolution had properly taken place in India, and if modern science and technology had grown out of the knowledge the working people possess, perhaps we would have broken philosophically with this Brahminical epistemology. Instead of that, we have completely destroyed even the basis for the traditional knowledge the working people of this country possess and grafted on to our economy. The science and technology borrowed from abroad in the form of textbooks which again has been monopolised by the very same Brahmins who have established a monopoly of book knowledge." 

This understanding of knowledge has made online classes compulsory. It does not consider other forms of learning as knowledge. This form of knowledge is complicit with banging pots and plates in the balconies. This understanding of knowledge is why migrants are walking thousands of kilometres. 

We made haplas this year too. A lot has changed. Gas has replaced firewood, the cow-dung besmeared yard is now taken by the concrete yard, crows don't call often, and moushi was in Bangalore. But, amma's haplas taste the same. 

* I call my grandmother amma. 

  By Vivek Jadhav