Religious dietary restrictions and childhood malnutrition in India

Prajeet, Stalin and Bibiana were walking in the ashram grounds. Prajeet was the only orphan. He came from Madra Pradesh, a few states to the north of Tamil Nadu, where the three children now lived. Originally, Aunty and the other orphans had lived in Madra, but when Aunty became a traditional Catholic sister, she moved the ashram to Tamil to be closer to the traditional priests who offered the traditional Latin Mass there. Aunty wanted to raise the orphans in her care in the religion of the Church and wanted the traditional sacraments to be available to them. Stalin and Bibiana were not orphans, but both attended the school that the priests had set up for the orphans in Tamil. The priests welcomed locals into the school. Stalin was a border with the orphan boys who stayed at the priests' rectory. The girls stayed at the ashram with Aunty. Currently, classes were being held at the ashram and the boys would bus over to the ashram where Aunty and the girls were. The male teachers would bus over with the boys (the female teachers were already there staying at the ashram).

It was recess time after lunch and Stalin, Prajeet and Bibiana were walking away from the mango tree, talking about life outside the ashram. Bibiana and Stalin were from different villages in Tamil but they shared enough similarities that they could talk about things together. Prajeet was interested in what they had to say. Even though his native language was Telegu and Stalin's and Bibiana's was Tamil, Prajeet had learned enough Tamil to understand what they were saying. Likewise, Stalin had learned enough Telegu to understand what the boys from the north were saying around him as he lived in the ashram with them. All the children were also learning English as well.

The boys from Andra called Stalin kaka, which means crow, because being from the south of India, his skin was darker than theirs. They did this teasingly: all the boys had nicknames. A fatter boy from a village in Tamil who also attended the school was nicknamed doobada, which means fat. He spoke English very well and was attending the priests' school because his parents wanted him to continue to learn English from proper English speaking teachers -- that and the school was free.

Stalin was named after the Russian dictator: in India, parents often named their children after famous people, regardless of the reputation those famous people had. Thus, there was a George Bush who had come through the school, as well. It made the American teachers who volunteered at the school for six months at a time laugh when they heard the names of some of their pupils.

Bibiana was an anomaly in her town. There were very few Catholics in her village: before her parents had moved there from Kerala, they had been around more people like themselves -- but now they were vastly outnumbered by Hindus. The Hindus did not eat meat: cows roamed the dirt streets through the town where the priests' rectory and Aunty's ashram were located. The cows were considered sacred animals by the Hindus -- but an outsider would not think it to look at them, as they seemed to roam aimlessly among the litter. The streets were very dirty and garbage typically lined them. Goats would eat the garbage and cows would eat what little grass seemed to grow along the roads. Cows were always trying to get into Aunty's fields where the ashram was. Whenever a cow got in, the man who looked after the grounds would chase it out with a stick or the children would throw rocks at it. If the children ever found a viper or a cobra on the premises, Aunty herself would come out with a stick and beat it to death. The children were deathly afraid of snakes -- and for good reason, as these snakes were deadly.

Currently, Bibiana and Stalin were talking about food: they had just eaten and were discussing the deserts that they both liked: they liked kulfi and kheer. Then they began to talk about idli and dosa, which were dishes they never got to enjoy in the ashram and boys' dormitory. Their meals there mainly consisted of rice with a meager portion of sambhar. Only on someone's birthday did they receive a treat -- an individually wrapped sweet candy that Aunty or Brother from the rectory would provide (usually an entire bag that the birthday boy or girl would pass out to his or her schoolmates). "Mm, dosa!" now said Stalin. He had a big smile on his face as he rubbed his belly remembering fondly this dish. "What is dosa?" asked Prajeet. Stalin explained, "Dosa -- you know, it is like this," he said flattening out his hand and then taking his two hands and folding them together. "Dosa!" "I don't know!" cried Prajeet smacking his forehead. Bibiana laughed out loud: she was delighted by the comical antics. She also liked to laugh a lot.

Though the orphans in the ashram and at the dormitory did not always realize it, they actually had it much better than many children who lived outside in the villages of Tamil. Some of the children in these villages were very poor and malnourished and did not get enough protein in their diets. The children at the ashram and dormitory did not have to worry about this. The aunties who made their food would make sure that they got enough nutrients in their sambar and the orphans would often climb the mango trees to pick mangos from the grounds. The children were always showing up with some kind of fruit that they picked from the trees wherever they went. Likewise, they always had tea in the afternoon -- chai, they called it. This was a staple of the Indian diet, no matter what one's caste was. It was a holdover from the days of British colonialism.

Outside the ashram and dormitory, Hindu children lived on wholly veg diets: they did not consume eggs or beef or any such foods. The children under Aunty's and the priests' care were given these foods on holidays -- and there were many holidays in the Church's calendar -- so in this sense these orphans and the boarders who stayed there from town did have life much better.

With new leaders governing India now though there was some concern among Aunty and the priests that they might be pressured by the State to adopt the new meal plans being pushed by the Hindus. India had been taking active steps to celebrate its Hinduism for many years now. It had changed the names of many of its cities away from the Western (Christian) names given them by earlier conquerors. Thus, Bombay had changed its name to Mumbai and Madras had been renamed Chennai. Now the leaders of India were looking to promote Hinduism in the schools in terms of what school children were permitted to eat. The Hindus did not want the school children being able to have the option of eating a non-veg diet. Aunty and the priests were concerned that the State might put pressure on their school -- first, because they were of a different religion and, second, because they did not adhere to a completely vegetarian meal plan. The Western priests did not expect much interference -- however, the native Indian priest was concerned because, like most Indians, he always expected the worst from his countrymen. Aunty too was concerned and felt in many ways like an outsider in Tamil, since she, like her orphans, were from Andra.

Eric, an American volunteer teacher, happened to be walking by the three children now. Prajeet slapped his head and raised his arm and said, "You are lucky, Brother!" (All the teachers in the school were brother or sister). "Why am I lucky?" Eric asked, stopping and smiling. "You have good food, no, Brother?" Eric smiled at this: he did not consider the food he ate to be "good" -- in fact, he missed his American food very much and took every opportunity he could to get out of the rectory and visit the nearest Western establishment -- a Domino's pizzeria all the way in Chennai -- that had recently opened its doors. (This was an all-day journey and Eric could only do it on the weekends). Eric now scratched his head and answered Prajeet, "I guess so," and shrugged.

Stalin now chimed in: "Yes, Brother, you have parotta, no, Brother?"

Eric smiled. Ah, parotta. They had so much parotta he was sick to death of it. The aunty who made the food for the priests and male teachers seemed to think they all loved parotta so much: it was practically served at every meal. Eric had enjoyed it early on but now he cringed every time he sat down for dinner and opened the lid to see -- more parotta. The same went for dosa and idli, too. Parotta was a flat, doughy bread while dosa and idli were light -- the former fried and the latter fluffy like a sponge cake.

"And you have dosa and idli, no, Brother?" continued Stalin.

"Yes, we have dosa and idli," answered Eric. "You like?"

"Yes, Brother!"

"You want to have?"

"No, Brother!" laughed Stalin. "It is only for you, Brother! We eat rice only! Always always rice!"

Bibiana laughed at this ridiculous conversation. "Yes, rice!" she chimed in laughingly. Her English was very limited so this was really the extent of what she could say. (She did not get good marks at all in her English classes, which frustrated her teachers to no end -- try as they might they simply could not find a way to get through to her -- which made the other children in the class laugh).

"You want have?" asked Eric teasingly. He liked to speak to the Indians in broken English, mimicking them. "I will sneak to you. I will put under your pillow for you!"

The children laughed and smacked their foreheads and raised their arms to indicate the ridiculousness of what Eric was saying.

"You not do that, Brother! Aunty will take away and scold!" said Prajeet.

"Yes, and Fr. Thomas will beat!" added Stalin.

Eric laughed and shook his head. Some of the children did receive lashings for misbehavior from Fr. Thomas, but these instances were rare. Obviously they had an effect on the children though and instilled fear in them. "Well, maybe you will get idli one day for something special!" exclaimed Eric thoughtfully.

"Yes, for Christmas, Brother! We get special food for Christmas!" cried Stalin.

"No!" answered Prajeet. "We will have byriani! We always have byriani for Christmas!