Of Clay Pots and Cardboard Boxes: The Tale of a Changing Palate

Of Clay Pots and Cardboard Boxes: The Tale of a Changing Palate

There was a time, not too long ago, when the scent of curry leaves tempering in mustard oil or the quiet whistle of a pressure cooker was enough to bring a family to the table. That table—round or square, simple or ornate—was where stories were shared, values were passed down, and palates shaped by ancient wisdom found contentment in lentils, rice, and seasonal greens. Today, the aroma of samosas and halwa has slowly been replaced by garlic-soaked stir-fries or cheese-drenched pizzas arriving in cardboard boxes. The question arises—why are the youth of India turning away from their traditional kitchens and embracing foreign cuisines with such fervour?

A Philosophical Hunger

Indian food is not just sustenance. It is a philosophy simmered over slow heat. From the sattvic meals of yogic traditions to the rich thalis of Kerala or the temple prasadams in Odisha, every bite is embedded with a sense of purpose—spiritual, medicinal, or celebratory. Ancient texts like the Charaka Samhita remind us that food is the first medicine, that digestion is central to health, and that spices are not merely flavour but function.

Yet, the modern generation, adrift in the fast-paced corridors of technology and consumption, seems to have lost the patience to absorb such depth. In a world ruled by ‘on-demand‘ services, the slow rhythm of grandmother’s cooking loses to the buzz of a delivery app.

Science of Seduction: Why Junk Wins

Processed and restaurant-prepared foods are often crafted with scientific precision. Sugar, fat, and salt—combined in specific proportions—create what’s known as a “bliss point”, an irresistible trigger for our dopamine circuits. While traditional Indian meals emphasise balance—sweet, sour, bitter, astringent, salty and spicy—the palate conditioned by industrial food production craves instant gratification.

Moreover, the youth live in a paradox. On one hand, they seek six-pack abs and clean diets, but on the other, they are tethered to the cycle of hyper-palatable snacks and late-night bingeing. Scientific studies reveal that such behaviour is not just about taste, but habit-formation and emotional conditioning. Food becomes a comfort, a rebellion, even an identity.

Culture on the Back Burner

Food is identity, memory, and belonging. A plate of khichdi on a rainy day, kadhi chawal in summer, or saag and makki roti in winter is more than nourishment—it’s a cultural bookmark. But in many urban homes today, the kitchen lies silent, its fire dimmed by the lure of convenience. Microwave meals have replaced hand-ground masalas; social media recipes trump age-old family secrets.

This is not to say Chinese or Italian food is inherently lesser—it has its own philosophy and integrity when authentically prepared. But the irony is that much of what we consume in their name is far removed from their traditional roots—replaced by deep-fried adaptations, synthetic sauces, and frozen ingredients. Meanwhile, the legacy of one’s own cuisine gathers dust.

A Poetic Rebellion

Where once turmeric was the golden thread that stitched health and harmony, now it is exoticised in global cafés as “turmeric latte.” Ghee, once ridiculed, returns to shelves as “clarified butter” at premium prices. Ironically, the West has begun to appreciate what we are discarding.

In a strange reversal, the Indian youth are discovering their roots through the eyes of the world. Perhaps the rebellion will come full circle. Perhaps there will be a return to clay pots and copper utensils, to the crackling of cumin in ghee, to food that speaks not just to the tongue but to the soul.

The Middle Path: Tradition Meets Modernity

All is not lost. A silent movement is afoot. Food bloggers are reviving heirloom recipes. Wellness enthusiasts now swear by millets, once dismissed as poor man’s grain. Mindful eating, Ayurvedic diets, and organic farming are turning heads. The answer, perhaps, lies not in rejection but reconciliation—of blending the old with the new, the rustic with the refined.

A modern kitchen can still be the sacred temple of nourishment. The act of cooking, like prayer or poetry, is a conscious offering—a reminder that what we eat today becomes our thoughts tomorrow.

A Song of Fire and Fragrance

Let not the song of traditional Indian cuisine be silenced by the noise of fast food wrappers. Let the roti still puff over open flames and let the tadka still sing in iron pans. As Tagore once wrote, “Let my country awake”—may we, too, awaken to the value of the food that grew with our soil, our seasons, and our stories.

In the kitchen of our ancestors,
There simmered more than stews—
There bubbled love and patience,
And wisdom’s ancient hues.

Let’s not lose to cardboard comfort,
What clay once proudly bore—
For – in every grain of lentil,
Lies – a truth we must restore.