Rakshabandhan, or Balev as we know it in my mom's side of the family, has always been a huge affair. From an emotional standpoint, it's bigger than Diwali. The whole family would get together, and then the Rakhi ritual would be carried out in multiple rounds, by generation. When my grandmom was alive, her brothers would come visit to get rakhis tied. Then my two mamas, dressed in crisp white kurta-pajamas, would sit next to each other, and mom and the two masis would take turns to tie them rakhis. Till this day, my younger mama doesn't eat anything on the day of Balev until at least one of the sisters has tied him Rakhi. It was never spoken, but you could sense the silent, solemn renewal of promise between all five siblings of always being there for each other. Then it was our generation's turn. The five brothers, grudgingly dressed in kurtas and the gold chains that were worn about twice a year, would sit in a row, and the seven sisters, dressed in their finest dresses and sarees, holding beautifully decorated thalis with silky rakhis and ghee diyas, would line up against them, and then would rotate in a round robin fashion to tie rakhis to each brother. There would be a lot of screaming and laughing. The traditional kumkum tilak would turn into an excuse to paint the brothers' faces, and instead of a gentle blessing, the brothers would get a heavy, yet loving, "gubba" - smack on their backs. The son-in-laws of the family would sit ignored in one corner, while one of the elders sang "Bali bandhu bali raja" in the background.
As part of the Rakhi ritual, there is a tradition of feeding the brother a piece of mithai, which is taken very seriously in our family. Food is one of the universal ways to express affection, and the sisters of this family pour all their love for the brothers into exotic, home made confections. Everyone had a signature sweet - eldest Masi brought hand made katlis with expensive nuts, the youngest one brought the spongy and ethereal Ghevar from Surat. My mom always made her signature 3-4-5 Koprapak, as an ode to the alternative name of the festival - "Nariyeli Poornima", and for a while she switched to the crazy roller coaster. She's the rebel in the family, so making something made from Marie biscuit and chocolate was her way of breaking the mold. When I grew old enough, I started making "my" mithai, which was different from the one that mom made for her brothers. I started with simple, chocolate based ones, and with time, started trying my hand at more complex sweets. The brothers, not to be left behind in showing that their sisters were special, brought beautiful envelopes with cash, or a pretty gift, or some crazy gimmick, like that one time, when one of the brothers hid a sliver coin at the base of a paper rose!
As time went by, the brothers started getting married, and started having families, so we also started gifting a small box of the hand made mithai to each brother, so that his family could also taste the mithai made with so much care by the sister. But then some of the sisters were married too, so why exclude their families? So we started gifting a box to each of the sisters as well. By now, some of the girls in the next generation had started growing up, and started bringing their own kid friendly mithais. Somewhere along the way, a bit of a rivalry grew between the sisters around whose sweet is the best, so the sweets had gotten fancier and more elaborate, and making Balev mithai became a big project for the sisters. Also, if you do the math, between all the sisters across the three generations, each of us went home with around a dozen boxes of sweets. Which is a lot. Even for all the sweet toothed folks in our family.
Over a period of time, sanity prevailed, and the family started making rules around only bringing sweets to feed the brothers, or sisters started combining their sweets. The family started getting bigger and bigger, and the venue moved from the grand mother's living room to restaurant banquet halls. Some of the sisters moved to far away lands, and the only way for them to stay connected to these special moments was through the five silk threads sitting in another sister's thali, that she would tie on her behalf, with an extra "gubba", to be sure. After I got married into a Sindhi family, the tradition of tying rakhis to the sister-in-law was also welcomed. Once smartphones came, my brother and his wife would try and FaceTime with me, so I could feel like I'm present in the middle of that madness. A few years ago, I was sick, and in so much pain that I couldn't dress properly, so I put on just a pretty kurta on top, and FaceTimed with everyone. But FaceTime has its own challenges. The thing is, our family doesn't really believe in turn taking during conversations, so typically there are sixty people talking simultaneously, and smartphone speakers aren't really designed for that kind of an acoustic situation, which means it gets a bit difficult to really hear anything. So now I just do a quick FaceTime, say hello to everyone, and that's pretty much all I can do to feel part of the amazing family tradition. A tradition that has gracefully adopted all the changes that time inevitably brings, and yet has still managed to keep a huge family together. Like any family, there are differences and disputes. With the expansion of the family, everyone has many more obligations. There are real logistical challenges of planning and putting together an event like this, which inevitably falls on the sweet daughter-in-laws of the family. But somehow, everyone makes a real effort to come together, to keep this wonderful tradition going.
I now celebrate Rakshabandhan in the US with a dear friend who has been more than a brother to me. Yesterday, I bought my rakhis at an Indian beauty parlor, and got henna done on the back of my hand, so I could drive back home. I saw a message on WhatsApp family group that this year all the sisters are pitching in to buy a pack of healthy nuts for the brothers. I knew this was another part of the inevitable change, but something still felt amiss. And even though my brothers in India can't eat it, I couldn't help but whip up a batch of my old signature Balev sweet, Halvasan. Here's the recipe:
Boil 4 cups of whole milk in a thick, heavy bottomed, non stick pan. Add 2 Tbsp plain yoghurt to it. In another smaller non-stick pan, heat 4 Tbsp ghee. Add 4 Tbsp crushed edible gum, saute on low-medium flame till it puffs up, and add it to the boiling milk. Also add 4 Tbsp cream (I skipped it). This should curdle the milk, but keep stirring it. Heat an extra Tbsp ghee in the smaller pan, and add 2 Tbsp coarse wheat flour (jaado lot), roast till it is golden and fragrant, and add it to the milk. Add 1 cup sugar in the smaller pan, and let it caramelize on low-medium flame till it turns amber. Add it to the milk carefully and stir. Add 3 tsp powder of cardamom, nutmeg and mace, and a few strands of saffron. Keep stirring this till the mixture becomes thick, leaves the pan, and starts to turn into a ball. Check if it is turning into a ball by adding a bit to cold water. Remove in a plate, let it cool completely before shaping into small disks. Garnish with slivered almonds and pistachios. Pack it neatly in a pretty box for your special brother :-)
Here's the original recipe. It's slightly different from the one taught by one of my friend's mom, but gives very similar results:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yg0aR8Laal8&t=654s
As part of the Rakhi ritual, there is a tradition of feeding the brother a piece of mithai, which is taken very seriously in our family. Food is one of the universal ways to express affection, and the sisters of this family pour all their love for the brothers into exotic, home made confections. Everyone had a signature sweet - eldest Masi brought hand made katlis with expensive nuts, the youngest one brought the spongy and ethereal Ghevar from Surat. My mom always made her signature 3-4-5 Koprapak, as an ode to the alternative name of the festival - "Nariyeli Poornima", and for a while she switched to the crazy roller coaster. She's the rebel in the family, so making something made from Marie biscuit and chocolate was her way of breaking the mold. When I grew old enough, I started making "my" mithai, which was different from the one that mom made for her brothers. I started with simple, chocolate based ones, and with time, started trying my hand at more complex sweets. The brothers, not to be left behind in showing that their sisters were special, brought beautiful envelopes with cash, or a pretty gift, or some crazy gimmick, like that one time, when one of the brothers hid a sliver coin at the base of a paper rose!
As time went by, the brothers started getting married, and started having families, so we also started gifting a small box of the hand made mithai to each brother, so that his family could also taste the mithai made with so much care by the sister. But then some of the sisters were married too, so why exclude their families? So we started gifting a box to each of the sisters as well. By now, some of the girls in the next generation had started growing up, and started bringing their own kid friendly mithais. Somewhere along the way, a bit of a rivalry grew between the sisters around whose sweet is the best, so the sweets had gotten fancier and more elaborate, and making Balev mithai became a big project for the sisters. Also, if you do the math, between all the sisters across the three generations, each of us went home with around a dozen boxes of sweets. Which is a lot. Even for all the sweet toothed folks in our family.
Over a period of time, sanity prevailed, and the family started making rules around only bringing sweets to feed the brothers, or sisters started combining their sweets. The family started getting bigger and bigger, and the venue moved from the grand mother's living room to restaurant banquet halls. Some of the sisters moved to far away lands, and the only way for them to stay connected to these special moments was through the five silk threads sitting in another sister's thali, that she would tie on her behalf, with an extra "gubba", to be sure. After I got married into a Sindhi family, the tradition of tying rakhis to the sister-in-law was also welcomed. Once smartphones came, my brother and his wife would try and FaceTime with me, so I could feel like I'm present in the middle of that madness. A few years ago, I was sick, and in so much pain that I couldn't dress properly, so I put on just a pretty kurta on top, and FaceTimed with everyone. But FaceTime has its own challenges. The thing is, our family doesn't really believe in turn taking during conversations, so typically there are sixty people talking simultaneously, and smartphone speakers aren't really designed for that kind of an acoustic situation, which means it gets a bit difficult to really hear anything. So now I just do a quick FaceTime, say hello to everyone, and that's pretty much all I can do to feel part of the amazing family tradition. A tradition that has gracefully adopted all the changes that time inevitably brings, and yet has still managed to keep a huge family together. Like any family, there are differences and disputes. With the expansion of the family, everyone has many more obligations. There are real logistical challenges of planning and putting together an event like this, which inevitably falls on the sweet daughter-in-laws of the family. But somehow, everyone makes a real effort to come together, to keep this wonderful tradition going.
I now celebrate Rakshabandhan in the US with a dear friend who has been more than a brother to me. Yesterday, I bought my rakhis at an Indian beauty parlor, and got henna done on the back of my hand, so I could drive back home. I saw a message on WhatsApp family group that this year all the sisters are pitching in to buy a pack of healthy nuts for the brothers. I knew this was another part of the inevitable change, but something still felt amiss. And even though my brothers in India can't eat it, I couldn't help but whip up a batch of my old signature Balev sweet, Halvasan. Here's the recipe:
Boil 4 cups of whole milk in a thick, heavy bottomed, non stick pan. Add 2 Tbsp plain yoghurt to it. In another smaller non-stick pan, heat 4 Tbsp ghee. Add 4 Tbsp crushed edible gum, saute on low-medium flame till it puffs up, and add it to the boiling milk. Also add 4 Tbsp cream (I skipped it). This should curdle the milk, but keep stirring it. Heat an extra Tbsp ghee in the smaller pan, and add 2 Tbsp coarse wheat flour (jaado lot), roast till it is golden and fragrant, and add it to the milk. Add 1 cup sugar in the smaller pan, and let it caramelize on low-medium flame till it turns amber. Add it to the milk carefully and stir. Add 3 tsp powder of cardamom, nutmeg and mace, and a few strands of saffron. Keep stirring this till the mixture becomes thick, leaves the pan, and starts to turn into a ball. Check if it is turning into a ball by adding a bit to cold water. Remove in a plate, let it cool completely before shaping into small disks. Garnish with slivered almonds and pistachios. Pack it neatly in a pretty box for your special brother :-)
Here's the original recipe. It's slightly different from the one taught by one of my friend's mom, but gives very similar results:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yg0aR8Laal8&t=654s
Comments