On milk and moustaches...

Despite my best efforts to truly understand the collective psyche of northern Indians, there are still two obsessions I cannot comprehend: milk and moustaches. Let's consider the latter first. Evidence would suggest that I am not adverse to facial hair, and indeed, I am not. There was even a dark month during my first year at university when I sported a soup-strainer. And even then, I knew it looked horrible. That was, in fact, the point: moustaches are funny. If you agree with this last statement, prepare to split your sides in India. My informal polling suggests that, at least in northern India, 20% of adult men are bearded (mostly Muslims and Sikhs), 45% clean-shaven, and a miraculous 35% have moustaches. That’s a whole lot of potential cops.

For centuries, Rajasthan has been known for its absurd moustache arrangements. The moustache waxing performed by the Rajput warriors, a hallmark of India’s chivalric aesthetic, would have made Hercule Poirot seem an awfully unkempt git. The great Mughal Emperor Akbar, known for his free-thinking tendencies regarding culture and religion, adopted this Rajput custom when he subdued the region in the latter half of the 16^th century. Shearing off the traditional Muslim beard of his forefathers (and progeny), Akbar took on the handle-bar moustache look. The only other man to ever successfully pull off the handle-bar moustache was not born for another four centuries in England. His name was Lemmy Kilmister and he played bass for Hawkwind and Motorhead, but that is something else entirely.

(One of these guys was India's greatest ruler. The other once penned a song called "Love Me Like a Reptile." Can you guess which is which?)

While moustaches have shrunk in the interceding centuries, they still remain wildly popular for reasons unknown. I’m not just talking about popular amongst certain groups. Think of an American film star with a moustache… difficult, no? In South Asia, many of the most popular actors have them, including Rajinikanth, the highest paid actor in India, who recently set a record for highest salary ever for an actor in an Indian film ($4 million for Sivaji, see picture below). Still a leading man at age 57, it is said Tamil women (notoriously starstruck according to Delhi sources) publicly swoon at the sight of his moustache. This all just goes to show that there’s no accounting for taste.

Speaking of tastes, northern Indian people love milk… a lot. No weather is too hot, nor illness too vomit-inducing to temper the passion for bovine lactation. Even in my bourgeois neighborhood, cows frequent the streets. They often just lay there blocking traffic. Many of us have seen California’s “happy cows” campaign to market the state’s dairy products; cows in Delhi are not too happy. For sacred animals, their owners sure let them get rather thin and dirty. When I wake up early enough, I usually don’t, I see children milking them. This begs questions about homogenization and pasteurization which are probably best left unanswered. One of the few shops in my neighborhood is a sort of outdoor “milk bar” (about as far from the Clockwork Orange version as one could possibly get) or one-stop dairy vendor. They sell dairy products exclusively, milk, cheese, ice cream, if you need lactase to digest it, they have it. Servants queue at a gleaming steel machine every morning with large jugs into which the household’s daily milk consignment flows, after the Rupees have been inserted.

I don’t get it. Aren’t these people supposed to be lactose intolerant? I have been led to believe that only northern European-descended folks (Jews usually excepted) continue to produce lactase throughout their lives. What the hell is going on here?

Also, who decided any dish could be improved by adding a tablespoon of fresh cream? Vegans, run for the hills, you are about to be deveganized whether you know it or not. There’s no point trying to explain that you don’t want a heavy dairy product with your lentils, it’s easier to explain to the Chinese that shredded meat is still meat (I don’t recommend trying this if it can possibly be avoided). Fortunately, vegan I am not and I cope.

Now, I’m afraid I must make a confession which forever prevents me from accepting/receiving acceptance in Indian society. Paneer (I’ve heard it called cottage cheese. Imagine if tofu was made from milk) is gross. That’s right, I said it. I’ve tried, Krishna knows how I’ve tried, to acquire a taste for paneer. It’s in so many dishes where one would not expect to find it. Maybe it won’t be disgusting if I mash it up. What if I only eat it mixed with palak (spinach)? It feels kind of like tofu, it can’t be that bad. I’ll just close my eyes. No, paneer is irredeemable. Americans, get this: you know murg makhani aka butter chicken? It’s rather a favorite northern Indian (Mughlai) dish served at your local Indian eatery. Over here, they have butter paneer. Just to be totally clear, that is paneer (cottage cheese) cooked in a sauce consisting mostly of butter and cream. I don’t know how anyone can eat that. I’ve eaten some weird stuff and Indian food is great, but I now have to draw the line at paneer. The days of “it’s not so bad” are over. Get that crap off my plate.

“Sir, would you like me to add paneer to that dish to make it extra delicious?” No, no I bloody well would not.

Now playing: "Killed by Death" by Motorhead. Here is Lemmy Kilmister in what is quite possibly the greatest music video ever imagined. Unfortunately, Akbar did not make any music videos because he preferred to keep it real.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=gV6noHEd6XE