Why Mughlai paratha isn't Mughal at all

Among the many snarky comments bandied about after the renaming of the Mughal Gardens behind Rashtrapati Bhavan as Amrit Udyan was the possibility of Bengal’s Moglai Porota (referred to as Mughlai Paratha by those who know no better) becoming Amrit Porota. The genesis of this heart-attack-inducing street food is unclear—all theories are disputed—and it has many “authentic” versions, but the inappropriateness of both old and new names is evident. There is nothing nectar-like (Amrit-ish) about fried bread, especially if the oil is questionable, so that name is a non-starter. Indeed many ‘Mughlai’ dishes must have the ‘greats’ of that dynasty turning in their maqbaras. Over-spiced, greasy, and now chilli-hot too, only the later Mughals rather than the first six would have had the palate or stomach for what passes for ‘Mughlai’ cuisine now, but actually isn’t. Just like that British-made garden on Dilli’s Raisina Hill. Akbar’s prized chronicler Abul Fazl has listed many royal ‘Mughlai’ dishes in Ain-i-Akbari including (but not limited to) keema pulao, shullah, bughra (a meatball dish also mentioned in Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri), kabuli, khushk, do-pyaza, yakhni, halwa—and khichri. The next three emperors largely stuck to these dishes, with Jahangir adding western curiosities like pastries. But barring do-pyaza, yakhni and halwa, none of these are known today as ‘Mughlai’. Several ‘later’ Mughals had long reigns but very little actual power, and thus also had lots of time to devote to culinary (and other) pursuits. But unless there was a huge change in their palates’ and alimentary canals’ ability to withstand extreme chilli-heat and grease, today’s Mughlai repertoire cannot truly be blamed on them either. The spicing up (rather than watering down) of Mughal cuisine probably began after their dynasty was finally divested of power by the British. The later Mughals did like extravagantly spiced dishes, so the cuisine of the royal inhabitants of Qila Mubarak now called Red Fort (and later the city outside it called Shahjahanabad) was rich but not necessarily red chilli-hot. Fish, poultry and all sorts of meats went into pulaos, qormas and kebabs. However, what the last Mughal dynasts gorged on—venison, partridge, quail, duck, pigeon etc—are expectedly not part of what passes for ‘Mughlai’ cuisine these days. Indeed, the emergence of goat meat as a popular option was probably an Indian subcontinental phenomenon as the Mughals’ central Asian roots meant that sheep was the traditional ‘mutton’. Luckily, the Mughals had discarded their peripatetic central Asian ancestors’ practice of eating horses and oxen! Babar’s favourite fermented mare’s milk drink koumiss was possibly one of the earliest Turko-Mongol customs discarded by his descendants in humid Hindustan. But fowl play is evident in the supposedly classic ‘Mughlai’ delicacy, Murgh Musallam that now features garam masala and chilli powder, and is also seen as a target for renaming due to its supposed antecedents. But it has nothing to fear (except perhaps a necessary de-spicing) as it was tasted by the Moroccan traveller Ibn Batuta during the Delhi Sultanate and thus predates Babar by a couple of centuries and chillies too, which came in with the Portuguese after 1498. So what are the chances that the Moglai Porota is not Mughlai either? Very high, many would reckon. More so as the many Mughal chronicles never mention it. The confusion could stem from the first word as pronounced in Bengal: Moglai. Remember this is the same place whose famous prawn dish Chingri ‘Malai’ Curry’s name does not signify cream—malai, even from coconuts—but a mispronunciation of the word Malay, that indicated its easterly roots. Could the Moglai Porota then have a similar oriental angle? Could Moglai and Malai both be a serendipitous garbling of a common place of origin? Well, there is indeed a dough-and-filling concoction from that east Asia that looks and tastes suspiciously like the Moglai Porota. It is called Martabak or Murtabak and is supposed to have arrived in Malaya and Indonesia via Tamil Muslim or Arab traders and derived its name from mutabbaq or ‘folded’ in Arabic. Some also believe it started out from Kerala as mutta-bar or egg paratha and went west to Yemen where it became a staple of the Indian-dominated merchant and sailing community there. And thence it travelled east on ships to the Spice Islands where it became martabak or murtabak. Much like the Chingri Malai curry it could then have made its way back east to Bengal as ‘Malay’ porota which turned into ‘Moglai’! But with no documentation, any guess is equally valid. One theory—the most prevalent on the internet but unsubstantiated—is that it was “invented” to tempt Emperor Jahangir’s jaded palate by a chef who hailed from (and retired to) Bardhaman in Bengal. He then proceeded to popularise this ‘Mughal’ paratha back home presumably after that Emperor’s death in 1627, which then miraculously survived 500-odd years of culinary vicissitudes to retain its stature as a favourite ‘Moglai’ street food in Bengal today. Hmmm! Another theory takes this paratha back even further, clinging to the fact that Bakhtiyar Khilji, a ‘Turkic’ marauder from Afghanistan captured Bengal in 1203, defeating King Lakshman Sena and destroying the fabled learning centres of Nalanda, Odantapuri and Vikramshila on his way. Because of his ‘Turkic’ origin, gozleme—a Turkish stuffed flatbread—is touted as the precursor of the Moglai paratha and his short reign is said to explain its Bengali domicile. The Turkish gozleme does look very much like the Moglai Porota and Martabak, with the same envelope shape, though current fillings differ. But even if we set aside evidence that fried flatbreads were a part of the subcontinental diet since at least Harappan times (and certainly from the Mauryan era onwards), how did a Turkish paratha get credited to the Mughals although several centuries of Turco-Afghan rulers held sway over Bengal, Bakhtiyar Khilji onwards? Babar defeated Bengal’s Nasiruddin Nasrat Shah in 1529 only to have the Bihar-born Afghan Sher Shah Sur recapture it after a brief occupation by Humayun. The Sur dynasty was succeeded by the Afghan Karranis and Bengal only became a Mughal Subah during Akbar’s reign. So did the Turkic gozleme morph into Mughlai paratha in disputed Bengal as a gesture of allegiance to the new ruling dynasty? Or is the origin of the ‘Moglai’ porota even more circuitous? Kolkata’s Anglo-Indian snack pantheras are quite similar to Moglai porotas except they have an added coating of crumbs. Replacing a paratha dough with a flour crepe but retaining the egg and mince stuffing would be just the sort of thing the ‘Moghs’ of the Chittagong and Arakan Hill tracts with their fabled ability to adapt desi dishes for vilayti (British) palates might improvise. Could Moglai porotas be a reverse engineering of Mogh-lai pantheras? The Mogh connection with Myanmar (via the Arakan hills, now Rakhine) is also bolstered by the fact that this egg-and-mince stuffed fried flatbread is also called ‘Rangooni paratha’ in Surat,a  city with traditional trading ties to the east and west of India. Then there is Mumbai’s favourite _baida rot_i which can be traced to trade ties too. So a “Mughal” origin seems the least probable among all theories unless it can be traced to Bahadur Shah Zafar in exile, of course… Proof of a link to Zafar and his descendants would mark a fortuitous convergence of both Mughal and Mogh-al roots and give credence to the name Moglai porota. But then what of all the equally valid examples of the existence of egg-and-mince fried flatbreads in places where the writ of the unfortunate last Mughal emperor did not run and also that predate the dynasty? Perhaps it’s best not to overthink—or overstate—its Mughal origins and simply enjoy it! The author is a freelance writer. Views expressed are personal. Read all the  Latest News,  Trending News,  Cricket News,  Bollywood News, India News and  Entertainment News here. Follow us on  Facebook,  Twitter and  Instagram.