#ismaili

Hi everyone

I'm gonna be on hiatus for a few days following the death of Mawlānā Hazar Imam yesterday. As an Ismaili Muslim this is the death of our religious leader, so I'll be spending time with family and community in mourning in the coming days.

In the meantime, @allthecanadianpolitics is a great source of news and politics

You can read more about the death of Hazar Imam and his son and successor Rahim Al-Hussaini here (source: Al Jazeera), here (source: Global News), and here (source: AP News)

Maryam is getting dressed for her traditional Wakhi wedding. At the top of the frame in the background, the Ismailia spiritual leader looks as if he is blessing her. Beliefs remain strong but traditions are evolving in the valley. Wakhi people have often praised the high education rate in the community, which probably has allowed Maryam and her future husband, from the new generation, to choose each other. The short ceremony will start soon at the Jamatkhana, the place of worship. While the restricted ceremony takes place, children will carry on the tradition by hiding the groom‘s shoes. A few rupees will be enough to get them back!

A love letter to finding your home - told through banter, family drama, and of course food.

This book was just the laugh and comfort I needed. I originally picked it up on its release day and then again on March 21 but was so exhausted I never got past page 2 either time. I'm glad I picked it up again when I had the chance to essentially "binge" read it.

The story of Reena and Nadim had me giggling and smiling like a woman in rom-com heaven.

I definitely need to find myself (or I guess I need my parents to find me) a Nadim! Based on Reena/Heron's description of Nadim's forearms, dimple, and butt, not only does he seem physically irresistible but he's also funny and is willing to cook with Reena and support her dreams! I think I've found myself another book boy friend (and guess what Mom and Dad, this one's Ismaili!)

This book was full of the joy you feel when catching up with your best friend over some chai and snacks mixed with the giddy feelings of talking to someone you really like (and maybe see a future with).

Can't wait to read Heron's next.

Afghan teenage girl with nice eyes, Badakhshan province, Khandood, Afghanistan. Taken on August 13, 2016

Afghanistan, without the burka. In the area i visited, Pamir, the burka that covers the full body is used by women when they go out of their homes, or when they go in the Ishkashim market, runned by Sunnis men, who are very conservative (they call them the long beard). In this area, most of the people are Ismaili, following the rules of Aga Khan, praying 2 times a day, not going to the mosque...

This project is an excursion in the study of food - a reflective activity in what is pieced together in our kitchens, what ends up on our dining tables, what seems like a unit of survival but also transcends boundaries of mere sustenance. Food, as a cultural construct, offers impetus for cultural identification, one that allows for selective categorisation - those units of people around us whom are ours, and those who are not, based on what they consume and how much it aligns with our pattern of consumption.

What drew my interest to the study of food, and more specifically, the study of Ismaili Khoja food, was the peculiarity of nomenclature. More specifically, it is the nomenclature of muthiya - one, that if you do a quick Google search, will offer a multitude of recipes and images of green steamed dumplings. The recipe on Tarla Dalal’s website, just three searches in, starts with a description of this dumpling. It is, “a fist-shaped steamed snack that is much loved by the Gujaratis” and “doodhi (gourd) and onions when combined with an apt combination of semolina and flours (...) yield delicious Doodhi Muthias”. The muthiya I’d grown up with, however, looked awfully dissimilar, for what I’ve grown up turning my nose up at, and what my mother has called muthiya, is a particular kind of meat stew from Western India. A stew, and this I realised only two years ago, that is called by a different name by Hindu Gujaratis of Surat - undhiyu. Undhiyu is essentially the same, just without the meat characterising the Ismaili Khoja version of it. A search of “undhiyu” on Google yields a few hundred results - muthiya with meat, and various iterations of that do not lead to a recipe of the dish I’m familiar with. 

I attempt to pose questions regarding identity, fluidity and belonging through this project. Who are the Ismaili Khojas of Gujarat, and how does their historically multivalent identity translate to the kitchen? What about their food is so distinctly “Khoja”? What about their food is so “Gujarati”? In a constantly evolving world, in the light of evolving cultures and essentializing identities, how does food play a role in community solidarity? These are questions that have guided my line of inquiry. 

Documentation of this nature implies a sense of static, immovability of culture. Khoja identity over the past hundred years has evolved drastically.  An oft-used methodology in studying food as a critical method for examining broader sociocultural questions is combining ethnography with a review of historical literature, methods I’ve used as guiding tools for my project.