Jul 03 2015 : The Economic Times (Delhi)
How To Preserve A Sweet Tradition
In the diabetes capital of the world, should anyone care if a sweet seller shuts shop, other than to cheer good riddance?
When the sweet shop in question is 225 years' old, things are a little different. Ghantewala, in business since 1790, has sold traditional Indian sweets made in pure desi ghee from its place near Delhi's Red Fort to Mughal epigones, lesser aristocracy , visitors to Dilli and to New Delhi, tourists and regulars, connoisseurs and gourmands, the rich and the not-so-rich. It had been an icon, in other words, of the culture of Old Delhi, a fixture on the itinerary of heritage walkers. The shop was living tradition, its closure leaves a cultural void.Modernity takes its toll. Ice cream, chocolate, frozen yoghurt and doughnuts find a place on the modern Indian's sweet palate because sohanhalwa and habshi barfi yield theirs. That retreat from monopoly to competition and coexistence is natural, and welcome.
Respect for tradition cannot mean rejection of the new in a globalising world. But is obliteration of tradition inevitable?
That has to do with a missing policy on protection of living heritage. And when that living heritage is part of a bustling commercial place, only very complex policy , including spatial planning and traffic management to facilitate consumer access, and its careful execution will fetch results.
If the Amazon jungles are the world's lungs, should the rest of the world not compensate Brazil for forgoing the revenue to be had from clearing the forest? If the revenue from alternate uses of the prime property is much higher for Ghantewala's owner than that from running a sweet shop, should there be a policy to compensate him for keeping tradition alive? Or should we step back from history's path, consoling ourselves that nostalgia is sweeter than Ghantewala's offerings?
When the sweet shop in question is 225 years' old, things are a little different. Ghantewala, in business since 1790, has sold traditional Indian sweets made in pure desi ghee from its place near Delhi's Red Fort to Mughal epigones, lesser aristocracy , visitors to Dilli and to New Delhi, tourists and regulars, connoisseurs and gourmands, the rich and the not-so-rich. It had been an icon, in other words, of the culture of Old Delhi, a fixture on the itinerary of heritage walkers. The shop was living tradition, its closure leaves a cultural void.Modernity takes its toll. Ice cream, chocolate, frozen yoghurt and doughnuts find a place on the modern Indian's sweet palate because sohanhalwa and habshi barfi yield theirs. That retreat from monopoly to competition and coexistence is natural, and welcome.
Respect for tradition cannot mean rejection of the new in a globalising world. But is obliteration of tradition inevitable?
That has to do with a missing policy on protection of living heritage. And when that living heritage is part of a bustling commercial place, only very complex policy , including spatial planning and traffic management to facilitate consumer access, and its careful execution will fetch results.
If the Amazon jungles are the world's lungs, should the rest of the world not compensate Brazil for forgoing the revenue to be had from clearing the forest? If the revenue from alternate uses of the prime property is much higher for Ghantewala's owner than that from running a sweet shop, should there be a policy to compensate him for keeping tradition alive? Or should we step back from history's path, consoling ourselves that nostalgia is sweeter than Ghantewala's offerings?
