11-02-2004, 12:33 AM
Another article by DBS on Dr K.T. Achaya from Hindu archives
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->Thammu Achaya â tribute to a gastronome scientist
ON THE 5th of September, India became poorer by losing a distinguished citizen â the food and nutrition expert K. Thammu Achaya of Bangalore. Born 79 years ago, of Coorgi parents in Kollegal, Tamilnadu, Dr. Achaya distinguished himself as a scholar, specialist in oils and fats, historian, writer, music analyst, photographer and conversationalist. The term `renaissance man' is no longer used in the media â and for good reason since there are so few of such people who excel in diverse fields; he was one of them.
Dr. Achaya was known for many things but for scientists, historians and gastronomists, he was famous for his books. Some such as Cottonseed Chemistry and Technology (co-authored with K. S. Murthy), Every Day Indian Processed Foods, Oilseeds and Oil milling in India- A Cultural and Historical Survey, and Ghani: the Traditional Oil Mill of India were for the specialists. But others such as Your Food and You (NBT 1974), Indian Food: A Historical Companion (OUP 1994), A Historical Dictionary of Indian Foods (OUP 1998) and The Story of Our Food (UPIL 2000) were for all, and the impact of these has been remarkable. Indian Food: A Historical Companion has, at my last count, been favourably reviewed and cited in more than 650 journal articles, books and websites. A Historical Dictionary of Indian Foods is a handier and easy-to-refer (but certainly not a `dumbed-down') version. And if there is a gift you wish to give a youngster, may I recommend the eminently readable little book The Story of Our Food? It delights as it instructs.
The most impressive thing about Achaya was his disarming simplicity and friendliness. He could roast you alive for your errors without hurting you! When, in one of my articles on the introduction of chillies into India, I had suggested that perhaps Marco Polo might have done it, he wrote me a beautiful (collectible) letter. In it he said: "You will probably one day put together these fine essays, and may consider deleting the possibility of Marco Polo bringing the chilli to India, since he had no contact with the New World that might have made this possible". Touché!
What did Rama and Sita eat?
It was with the same grace, facility and scholarship that he shattered many other myths and ill-proven beliefs. He did it with thoroughness, appropriate references to original literature, and by writing in a gentle way that offended none. He had no axe to grind or an agenda to push. I have always been interested in knowing what our ancestors had for their daily meals or on special feasts. We know that Lord Krishna was fond of butter. But what did Lord Rama and Devi Sita eat when they were banished into the forests? Or what did Kannagi and Kovalan of the ancient Tamil epic poem Silappathigaram have for supper? Sure enough, the man to turn to was Dr. Achaya, who researched into the ancient texts and commentaries to find answers. For example, what was served as a meal in the court of the Kingdom of Ayodhya was highlighted by him by digging into the Ramayana, and narrated in his book The Story of Our Food. Tamil Sangam poems and epics mention quite a few dishes, both as meals and as snacks. Meat, fowl and fish are written about but strangely enough, the vegetable spread in all these â be it Ramayana, Silappathigaram or Manimekalai, appears rather sparse. What were the vegetables that Lord Rama and Devi Sita ate? Or Kannagi, Kovalan, Madhavi and King Nedunchezian, for that matter? Alas, it was rather bland fare on this score â brinjals or eggplant, okra or ladies' fingers, drumsticks, gourds of various types, spinach and related greens, onion and ginger, and of course black pepper. Certainly not many that we eat today â potato, tomato, peas, tapioca, groundnut, chillies, cauliflower, cabbage and so forth; Dr. Achaya points out that all these are `exotic' imports, brought by the Portuguese and later.
Good Lord! Idli is not Indian!!
But where he really pricked my Tamilian bubble was with his well argued case that Idli is not really an Indian invention, but might have been imported from Indonesia! In Box 19 of his Indian Food: A Historical Companion, on the snacks of the South, he first points out that while early Tamil Sangam literature talks of Dosai, reference to Idli comes only after 920 AD. Even as late as the 17th century, the Indian Idli missed three elements of its modern version â use of rice grits, fermentation overnight and steaming of the batter. Steaming is an ancient Chinese method and Xuan Zang, the Chinese traveller to India in the 7th century, says that India did not have a steaming vessel. Apparently, cooks who accompanied the Hindu kings of Indonesia during their visits home during the 8th to 12th centuries AD brought fermentation techniques with them, as also perhaps steaming methods and vessels.
As can be seen, his research into food science was thorough and imbued with a sense of historical continuity. <b>For example, he points out how in 300 BC, the Arthasastra described the balanced meal of a gentleman as 500 g rice, 125 g dal, 56 g oil and salt. This is the same in essentials as the recommended balanced diet that the Indian Council of Medical Research laid down in 1987 AD.</b>
Mr. Oils and Fats
Specialists in the field regarded his professional books Fats and Oils in Human Nutrition (written a s the FAO Food and Nutrition paper 57), Indian Dairy Products (coauthored with K.S. Rangappa), Interfaces between Agriculture, Nutrition and Food Science, his chapters in the book Textbook of Human Nutrition, as well as his articles in the NFI journal (Concerns over vegetable oils, July 1984; Fat intake in India, April 1986; Fats in breast milk, October 1986), as authoritative, well-researched and advancement to our knowledge in the field. Indeed, the saying in the field was "when in doubt, ask Thammu". (Though, as Runku Advani wrote in the February 25, 2001 issue of The Hindu about him: "Slim and dapper, he has does not seem to have overly partaken of the substances upon which he has glinted through the microscope").
Dr. Achaya had a cosmopolitan, yet demanding taste in art and music, and readily told apart the inspiring from the imitative or the inflicting. Listening to some pleasing film songs of Ilayaraja, he at once pointed out to me how they were direct lifts from the Brazilian Samba and Bossa Nova songs. I am told that while at Hyderabad he was one of the singers of a city choir.
The legacy that he leaves behind
More often than not, we sing the praises of those who made a mark in `basic' or `pure' sciences, and tend to sideline or ignore equally valuable ones who toiled in the softer sciences such as food and nutrition, agriculture and veterinary sciences, and the like.
Dr. Achaya had to his credit his 150 research publications, 11 patents, 8 books, 19 Ph. D students, and the walloping citation number of over 650 for his major book. And he was honoured with several national and international professional awards and prizes.
Despite these, I feel he should have been recognised even more both by the scientific establishment and by the government. Here was a man who should have got at least a Padma Bhushan, for the effective way in which he made us understand our rich heritage in food and nutrition.
Recognition of this type sends signals that we hold such scholars and such research in high esteem, and motivates others. We need more Achayas in our country to point out to us what are valuable in the traditional Indian diets, and how we can conquer impaired and unbalanced nutrition in Indians using these time-tested and affordable items of native cuisine.
There are but a handful of such scientist-advocates left, and Achaya's legacy will need to be carried forward. We look to institutions like the home science colleges and universities across India, the National Instititute of Nutrition, Central Food Technological Research Institute, Defence Food Research Institute, Nutrition Society of India, Nutrition Foundation of India and similar organisations to carry the torch forward and make it shine brighter for a healthier nation and the world.
D. Balasubramanian
dbala@lvpeye.stph.net
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->Thammu Achaya â tribute to a gastronome scientist
ON THE 5th of September, India became poorer by losing a distinguished citizen â the food and nutrition expert K. Thammu Achaya of Bangalore. Born 79 years ago, of Coorgi parents in Kollegal, Tamilnadu, Dr. Achaya distinguished himself as a scholar, specialist in oils and fats, historian, writer, music analyst, photographer and conversationalist. The term `renaissance man' is no longer used in the media â and for good reason since there are so few of such people who excel in diverse fields; he was one of them.
Dr. Achaya was known for many things but for scientists, historians and gastronomists, he was famous for his books. Some such as Cottonseed Chemistry and Technology (co-authored with K. S. Murthy), Every Day Indian Processed Foods, Oilseeds and Oil milling in India- A Cultural and Historical Survey, and Ghani: the Traditional Oil Mill of India were for the specialists. But others such as Your Food and You (NBT 1974), Indian Food: A Historical Companion (OUP 1994), A Historical Dictionary of Indian Foods (OUP 1998) and The Story of Our Food (UPIL 2000) were for all, and the impact of these has been remarkable. Indian Food: A Historical Companion has, at my last count, been favourably reviewed and cited in more than 650 journal articles, books and websites. A Historical Dictionary of Indian Foods is a handier and easy-to-refer (but certainly not a `dumbed-down') version. And if there is a gift you wish to give a youngster, may I recommend the eminently readable little book The Story of Our Food? It delights as it instructs.
The most impressive thing about Achaya was his disarming simplicity and friendliness. He could roast you alive for your errors without hurting you! When, in one of my articles on the introduction of chillies into India, I had suggested that perhaps Marco Polo might have done it, he wrote me a beautiful (collectible) letter. In it he said: "You will probably one day put together these fine essays, and may consider deleting the possibility of Marco Polo bringing the chilli to India, since he had no contact with the New World that might have made this possible". Touché!
What did Rama and Sita eat?
It was with the same grace, facility and scholarship that he shattered many other myths and ill-proven beliefs. He did it with thoroughness, appropriate references to original literature, and by writing in a gentle way that offended none. He had no axe to grind or an agenda to push. I have always been interested in knowing what our ancestors had for their daily meals or on special feasts. We know that Lord Krishna was fond of butter. But what did Lord Rama and Devi Sita eat when they were banished into the forests? Or what did Kannagi and Kovalan of the ancient Tamil epic poem Silappathigaram have for supper? Sure enough, the man to turn to was Dr. Achaya, who researched into the ancient texts and commentaries to find answers. For example, what was served as a meal in the court of the Kingdom of Ayodhya was highlighted by him by digging into the Ramayana, and narrated in his book The Story of Our Food. Tamil Sangam poems and epics mention quite a few dishes, both as meals and as snacks. Meat, fowl and fish are written about but strangely enough, the vegetable spread in all these â be it Ramayana, Silappathigaram or Manimekalai, appears rather sparse. What were the vegetables that Lord Rama and Devi Sita ate? Or Kannagi, Kovalan, Madhavi and King Nedunchezian, for that matter? Alas, it was rather bland fare on this score â brinjals or eggplant, okra or ladies' fingers, drumsticks, gourds of various types, spinach and related greens, onion and ginger, and of course black pepper. Certainly not many that we eat today â potato, tomato, peas, tapioca, groundnut, chillies, cauliflower, cabbage and so forth; Dr. Achaya points out that all these are `exotic' imports, brought by the Portuguese and later.
Good Lord! Idli is not Indian!!
But where he really pricked my Tamilian bubble was with his well argued case that Idli is not really an Indian invention, but might have been imported from Indonesia! In Box 19 of his Indian Food: A Historical Companion, on the snacks of the South, he first points out that while early Tamil Sangam literature talks of Dosai, reference to Idli comes only after 920 AD. Even as late as the 17th century, the Indian Idli missed three elements of its modern version â use of rice grits, fermentation overnight and steaming of the batter. Steaming is an ancient Chinese method and Xuan Zang, the Chinese traveller to India in the 7th century, says that India did not have a steaming vessel. Apparently, cooks who accompanied the Hindu kings of Indonesia during their visits home during the 8th to 12th centuries AD brought fermentation techniques with them, as also perhaps steaming methods and vessels.
As can be seen, his research into food science was thorough and imbued with a sense of historical continuity. <b>For example, he points out how in 300 BC, the Arthasastra described the balanced meal of a gentleman as 500 g rice, 125 g dal, 56 g oil and salt. This is the same in essentials as the recommended balanced diet that the Indian Council of Medical Research laid down in 1987 AD.</b>
Mr. Oils and Fats
Specialists in the field regarded his professional books Fats and Oils in Human Nutrition (written a s the FAO Food and Nutrition paper 57), Indian Dairy Products (coauthored with K.S. Rangappa), Interfaces between Agriculture, Nutrition and Food Science, his chapters in the book Textbook of Human Nutrition, as well as his articles in the NFI journal (Concerns over vegetable oils, July 1984; Fat intake in India, April 1986; Fats in breast milk, October 1986), as authoritative, well-researched and advancement to our knowledge in the field. Indeed, the saying in the field was "when in doubt, ask Thammu". (Though, as Runku Advani wrote in the February 25, 2001 issue of The Hindu about him: "Slim and dapper, he has does not seem to have overly partaken of the substances upon which he has glinted through the microscope").
Dr. Achaya had a cosmopolitan, yet demanding taste in art and music, and readily told apart the inspiring from the imitative or the inflicting. Listening to some pleasing film songs of Ilayaraja, he at once pointed out to me how they were direct lifts from the Brazilian Samba and Bossa Nova songs. I am told that while at Hyderabad he was one of the singers of a city choir.
The legacy that he leaves behind
More often than not, we sing the praises of those who made a mark in `basic' or `pure' sciences, and tend to sideline or ignore equally valuable ones who toiled in the softer sciences such as food and nutrition, agriculture and veterinary sciences, and the like.
Dr. Achaya had to his credit his 150 research publications, 11 patents, 8 books, 19 Ph. D students, and the walloping citation number of over 650 for his major book. And he was honoured with several national and international professional awards and prizes.
Despite these, I feel he should have been recognised even more both by the scientific establishment and by the government. Here was a man who should have got at least a Padma Bhushan, for the effective way in which he made us understand our rich heritage in food and nutrition.
Recognition of this type sends signals that we hold such scholars and such research in high esteem, and motivates others. We need more Achayas in our country to point out to us what are valuable in the traditional Indian diets, and how we can conquer impaired and unbalanced nutrition in Indians using these time-tested and affordable items of native cuisine.
There are but a handful of such scientist-advocates left, and Achaya's legacy will need to be carried forward. We look to institutions like the home science colleges and universities across India, the National Instititute of Nutrition, Central Food Technological Research Institute, Defence Food Research Institute, Nutrition Society of India, Nutrition Foundation of India and similar organisations to carry the torch forward and make it shine brighter for a healthier nation and the world.
D. Balasubramanian
dbala@lvpeye.stph.net
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->