When I moved to the North of India, Karva Chauth stopped being a trope in Hindi movies and became a real live thing- dinners were delayed and events were cancelled because of it; and there were all round me, on that day the oxymoron of simultaneous fasting and celebration. I was at that time a young mother, unsure writer and part time teacher, so I just allowed it all to drift past me without engagement
When you slip a spoonful of Malaiyo into your mouth, the froth of stiffly churned milk meets the cold dew of a winter’s night on the tip of your tongue. Malaiyo is a winter dessert of Varanasi, available only on the cold misty mornings of this season. As a dessert, it checks many boxes- it's light, sweet and fragrant. It comes in a small earthen pot with the mouth the size of your palm and depth that of a thimble. It’s gone before you know it, but it’s heavy flavours linger long after you have swallowed the last fluffy spoonful. But... for any self respecting idea or dish there are always buts. Before the buts, a little about how Malaiyo is made. There’s something magical about the process when a local explains it to you You boil the milk in the Kadhai for sometime. How long? You will know when it’s done. Then? Then we leave it out under the cold sky through the night. Just like that, in the open? Of course not. We cover it with a fine mesh
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