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NDTV
07-07-2025
- NDTV
Dum Ke Roat Recipe: What Goes Into Making Hyderabad's Beloved Cookie
Hyderabad's food story is not all about biryani and haleem. The city's identity is also steeped in its bustling bakery culture. Trays of Osmania biscuits, cream buns, and airy sponge cakes beckon from glass counters and street-side stalls. From the Irani cafés of Abids and the suburban bakeries of Toli Chowki to the hip cafés in Hitech City, these spots have become everyday sanctuaries for tea drinkers and snack hunters. Each bite reflects a blend of Mughlai, Turkish, and Deccani influences that are stitched into the city's culinary fabric. At the heart of this legacy sits dum ke roat - a dense, saffron-kissed cookie that is baked low and slow. Once a sacred offering, it has now become an all-season favourite. Packed with khoya, ghee, semolina, and crushed dry fruits, the cookie is chewy, rich, and deeply nostalgic. Today, dum ke roat is more than just a sweet treat. It is a bakery-born icon, loved across homes, communities, and airport snack counters alike. Also Read: 7 Iconic Eateries In Hyderabad To Experience Old-World Charm History Of Dum Ke Roat: How Hyderabad's Traditional Cookie Became An Icon The origin of dum ke roat dates back to the early 1900s, when Mir Osman Ali Khan, the seventh Nizam of Hyderabad, is believed to have introduced the sweet as part of a religious gesture. During a city-wide procession, he distributed roats while praying for the well-being of his grandson. That moment sparked a tradition. Every year, households would prepare dough at home and take it to communal ovens for the slow-baking process. Though rooted in prayer, the cookie eventually made its way into homes and bakery counters. Its rich flavour and comforting texture slowly cemented its place as a permanent fixture in the Hyderabadi sweet scene. Where To Eat Dum Ke Roat In Hyderabad: Best Places To Try Dum Ke Roat In Hyderabad If one place defines dum ke roat, it is Subhan Bakery in Nampally. Opened in 1971 and now run by Syed Irfan, Subhan sticks to traditional methods. The cookie is still baked with pure ghee, freshly made khoya, saffron, and a generous mix of cashews and almonds. While demand surges during Muharram and Ramzan, Subhan keeps the ovens going year-round to serve loyal regulars. Also Read: 5 Iconic Bakeries You Must Try In Hyderabad Other legendary spots for dum ke roat include: 1. Pista House: Known for their haleem, their roat version is slightly firmer - perfect for shipping across cities and even abroad. 2. Karachi Bakery: Famous for their fruit biscuits, Karachi Bakery's roat holds its own, widely enjoyed across Hyderabad and beyond. 3. Niloufer Café and Nimrah Bakery: These popular chai stops offer roat that pairs perfectly with Irani chai. Think quiet comfort in every bite. 4. Bakewell Cake House: Located in Mehdipatnam, this bakery is known for its Gur Roat - a jaggery-based version laced with dry ginger that adds an earthy depth. Dum Ke Roat Recipe: Step-By-Step Guide To Hyderabad's Traditional Cookie Do not be fooled by its simplicity - baking dum ke roat is a test of patience and balance. The right technique and ingredients make all the difference. Ingredients: Sooji and maida or atta Khoya Pure ghee Sugar or jaggery powder Crushed almonds, cashews, pistachios Aromatics like cardamom, saffron, nutmeg Milk and a dash of rose or kewra water Method: Soak and grind dry fruits to a coarse paste Warm the khoya and mix with sooji and flour Gradually add ghee, sugar, and aromatics Gently knead the dough, let it rest, and shape into thick discs Bake the discs on dum for a caramelised top and soft centre This slow-baking technique gives dum ke roat its iconic texture - crisp at the edges and chewy inside. The richness of the ingredients ensures that every bite is layered and memorable. Also Read: You Must Not Leave Hyderabad Without Trying These 9 Street Foods! Why Dum Ke Roat Is A Must-Try Hyderabadi Cookie For Every Season Whether picked up from a bakery in Toli Chowki or packed into a flight snack box at the Rajiv Gandhi International Airport, dum ke roat is a flavour capsule of Hyderabad. It carries memories, rituals, and a certain emotional weight that only food rooted in tradition can. Next time you sip tea in the lanes of Abids or browse biscuit tins at Subhan, do not leave without tasting this quietly iconic cookie. Advertisement About Somdatta Saha Explorer- this is what Somdatta likes to call herself. Be it in terms of food, people or places, all she craves for is to know the unknown. A simple aglio olio pasta or daal-chawal and a good movie can make her day. For the latest food news, health tips and recipes, like us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter and YouTube. Tags: Dum Ke Roat Recipe Hyderabadi Cookie Hyderabad Biscuit Culture Show full article Comments
Time of India
08-06-2025
- Politics
- Time of India
Who's afraid of Mysore Pak? The bitter taste of India's language wars
Languages can either foster peace and understanding or serve as tools for conflict and division. In India, they are increasingly being weaponised. For instance, amid tensions with Pakistan, some shopkeepers in Jaipur renamed sweets like Mysore Pak and Moti Pak to Mysore Shree and Moti Shree, erroneously assuming the word 'pak' (meaning 'sacred' in Persian) to be of foreign origin. Ironically, in the case of these sweets, 'pak' is rooted in the Sanskrit term 'pakva' (meaning 'cooked'), with cognates in several Indian languages, including Kannada. On the other end of the country, Hyderabad's Karachi Bakery faced vandalism for using the name of a Pakistani city, despite being founded by a Sindhi Hindu refugee who migrated from Karachi in 1947. Such acts of linguistic intolerance are not isolated but part of a larger pattern where language is being used to fuel differences. Kamal Haasan's remark that Kannada is born out of Tamil sparked a row Words of Arabic origin, such as jihad (spiritual struggle), halala (permissible), talaq (divorce), sharia (Islamic law), and hijab (veil), have been used by political groups to marginalise and discriminate against communities. Conversely, innocuous Sanskrit-derived terms like bhakta (devotee), gobar (cow dung), gaumutra (cow urine), and mandir (temple) are stigmatised by opposing groups to demean and trivialise cultural practices and identities. Jai Shree Ram (Victory to Lord Rama) and Allahu Akbar (God is Great), once expressions of devotion, have been twisted into polarizing war cries. Forget humans, even AI chatbots like X's Grok have been manipulated to abuse and dehumanize people, communities and organisations using the 'unhinged mode' feature. More worrying than the language conflicts on social media is what is playing out on the streets. Skirmishes have been reported in several cities with migrant workers becoming soft targets for these 'language vigilantes'. In a nation where languages are deeply intertwined with cultural identity and pride, these conflicts over language use, words and signage strike at the heart of personal and communal belonging. But why is India's linguistic diversity — it has over 424 distinct languages — under strain? Among the reasons are the continued distrust of multilingualism by central and state govts, inconsistent implementation of the three-language policy, and the push for a 'one-country, one-language' ideology based on a European model of a nation state. Moreover, state govts are implicitly supporting this ideology of linguistic homogenization. A 2024 Kerala govt order mandated exclusive use of Malayalam in public advertisements and notices, prohibiting multilingual signs. Govts in UP, MP, Uttarakhand, and Rajasthan have been actively replacing names of villages and cities perceived as Islamic with those reflecting Hindu heritage. In MP, for instance, Mohammadpur Machanai village was changed to Mohanpur, and Hajipur was renamed Hirapur. Critics argue that such renaming erases centuries of coexistence and shared history, while proponents claim it restores a pre-colonial identity. So widespread is linguistic prejudice in India that regional variations of a widely spoken language like Hindi are stigmatised. Hindi speakers from eastern states like Bihar and Jharkhand often face mockery for their distinct accents, word choices, and oral expressions. Their mother tongues, such as Bhojpuri, Magahi, and Angika, are labeled as crude or vulgar. By linking the perceived vulgarity of Bhojpuri films and songs to the language itself, the entire Bhojpuri-speaking community is viewed through a prejudiced lens. Similarly, though Telangana Telugu and coastal Telugu share a common script and a unified cultural history, Telangana Telugu has been treated historically as inferior. In films, Telangana Telugu speakers were frequently portrayed as comical or foolish. These linguistic, cultural, and social differences contributed to the 2014 separation of Telangana and Andhra Pradesh. In fact, there is a competitive race among linguistic groups to claim the antiquity of their languages. A recent flashpoint was actor Kamal Haasan's remark that Kannada was born out of Tamil which sparked a sharp backlash. The Indian govt's 'classical' tag for certain 'dominant languages' — the 2024-25 list included Sanskrit, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam, Odia, Marathi, Pali, Prakrit, Assamese, and Bengali — has also become a coveted badge of prestige. These languages already receive significant budgetary support from both Union and state govts. Such official labels often end up intensifying conflicts and further marginalising resource-scarce minority languages like Tulu, Bhili, Gondi, Santali, Dogri, Angami, Lotha, Mizo, Garo, Khasi, Badaga, Irula etc. Far from being a unifying force, languages have become tools of polarisation in electoral politics. If India is to uphold its democratic ideals, the embrace of multilingualism must be more than symbolic. It must be actively nurtured, through policy, education, and public discourse. Languages are not just a medium of communication; they are the essence of identity, culture, and coexistence. Facebook Twitter Linkedin Email Disclaimer Views expressed above are the author's own.
The Wire
05-06-2025
- Politics
- The Wire
Vandalism of Karachi Bakery and the Weaponisation of Food to Portray a Shallow Form of Patriotism
A branch of the famous Karachi Bakery in Shamshabad locality of Hyderabad was vandalised by workers of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) on May 10, amidst the then ongoing Operation Sindoor. The attackers, who wore saffron shawls were seen stepping on Pakistani flags and specifically vandalising the name 'Karachi'. Karachi Bakery was established in 1953 by Khanchand Ramnani, a Sindhi Hindu who migrated from Karachi to Hyderabad following the partition of India in 1947. He named the bakery as a homage to his hometown. Over the years, Karachi Bakery has become a part of the culinary fabric of Hyderabad, famed for its biscuits, especially the Osmania Biscuit. It has also emerged as a pan Indian brand, with branches in various cities across the country. Multiple attacks on Karachi Bakery over the years In the past few years, Karachi Bakery has had to face multiple attacks and protests from right wing forces only because of its name. In 2019, in the aftermath of the Pulwama terror attack, the shop was vandalised. Both in 2019 and 2025, one of the owners had to come and clarify that they have no links to Pakistan. Moreover, in 2019, a group of people claiming to be from a human rights organisation covered the bakery's name in one of its branches in Ahmedabad. In 2021 the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) led a protest outside the bakery's Bandra outlet in Mumbai to demand that its name be changed, which eventually led to the outlet's shutting down. Every time there is a conflict with Pakistan, Karachi bakery has to pay the price. 'We request the Chief Minister A Revanth Reddy and senior officers of administration to support to prevent any change in the name. People are putting up Tricolour in the outlets of the bakery across the city, kindly support us as we are an Indian brand and not a Pakistani brand,' the owners issued a statement after the latest incident last month. Despite the repeated attacks over years, the owners have continued to stay in the business and even expanded to the quick commerce platforms such as Zepto and Blinkit. The owner of a general store in Mumbai's Chembur says that there has been no change in the demand for Karachi Bakery products, especially the Osmania and fruit biscuits. A screengrab showing people vandalising the Karachi Bakery. Photo: X/@anusharavi10. So, if consumers are not hesitant in buying their products, it begs the question that who really has a problem with them and why? Why is it that a well known beloved Indian bakery is associated with Pakistan and consequently portrayed as a villain? This is not the only instance of food being weaponised in the backdrop of Operation Sindoor in the past few weeks. In an attempt to contribute to the patriotic fervour, Tyohaar sweets and Bombay Mishtan Bhandar of Jaipur declared that they are dropping the word 'Pak' from all their sweets like Mysore Pak and Moti Pak, assuming it stems from 'Pakistan'. Tyohaar Sweets declared they will replace it with the word 'shree'. 'People who think that pak is somehow related to Pakistan are so ignorant. It shows that they have no awareness about south Indian culture, language and practices. Paaka in Kannada means the sticky, sweet syrupy base that holds the sweet together, sometimes soft, sometimes chewy, sometimes hard, based on what people prefer. There are thousands of words with pak in them. Are all these names going to change and are those changes going to make one more nationalistic or ensure the security of the country?' Dr. Sylvia Karpagam, a renowned public health doctor and researcher who has worked extensively on the intersections of food and politics, told The Wire in an interview. Whenever there is a conflict with Pakistan we see how restaurants and food are targeted. Vandalising Indian restaurants and changing names of Indian dishes become the easiest way of portraying a shallow form of patriotism. It amounts to nothing but political narrative setting. 'Food is an easy way to divide communities' Karpagam feels that it is 'not surprising' such attacks happen, in fact it would be surprising if they didn't. ' These attacks are not unusual. the culture of extra-judicial actions, rakshaks of various objects and spaces, encounter killings etc. are valorised. Mainstream media and even so called leaders – political and religious – participate in this valorisation. People don't seem to find it ridiculous to target people who have nothing to do with terrorism or war or inter-country issues,' she added. These attacks and protests could be seen in the larger context of weaponising food to create political narratives. Food has always been politicised and used as a tool to discriminate and conduct violence. Recently there has been discourse about challenging the perceived supremacy of vegetarianism and beef eating practices. 'Food is an easy way to divide communities depending on who owns them and who eats there. Even though only 20% Indians identify as vegetarian, they dictate which foods are considered as pure/touchable and which are untouchable and impure. If there are attacks on Muslim or Dalit communities, there is a tacit support, silence and collusion by the larger society,' said Karpagam. This leads to a lot of impunity among people who are actually anti-social elements who are valorised as heros. When brutal murders happen by the so-called vigilantes , they are celebrated. This is a violation of the Constitution and rule of law. Now the Muslim community is being targeted for occupying a space that was left empty because of caste prejudices against meat,' she added. Therefore, such instances when a karachi bakery is vandalised, a Mysore Pak is renamed, a Sabir Malik is lynched to death on suspicion of eating beef, or when a Dalit man is denied entry in a restaurant in Bellari, they are just manifestations of caste and class supremacy through food. Deciding the narratives on who can eat what and where and to decide what is acceptable is a power wielded by the privileged. Such manifestations go against the ethos of our constitution and shows how food can be used to otherise identities and remains a deeply political subject. The author is an intern at The Wire. The Wire is now on WhatsApp. Follow our channel for sharp analysis and opinions on the latest developments.
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First Post
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- First Post
Mysore Pak renamed to Mysore Shree: The controversy and history of famous sweet, explained
Amid heightened tensions between India and Pakistan, some confectioners in Rajasthan's Jaipur are taking their patriotism one step further — renaming the renowned Mysore Pak as Mysore Shree. But does the famous Indian dessert have any connection to the neighbouring nation? read more What's in a name, is the famous line written by William Shakespeare. And it still resonates even today amid the India-Pakistan tensions. Several sweet shops in Rajasthan's Jaipur have taken quite a patriotic stance by changing the names of their popular sweets — dropping the word 'Pak' and replacing it with 'Shree'. So, if you go to a sweet store in Jaipur, the chances are you won't get Mysore Pak, but Mysore Shree and you won't Moti Pak but Moti Shree. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD The news comes just days after a group of men vandalised Karachi Bakery in Hyderabad, and raised 'anti-Pakistan' slogans in front of the shop. But does one of India's most beloved sweet dishes, Mysore Pak, have anything to do with Pakistan? Here's a look at what led to the famous sweet being named Mysore Pak. Sweet beginnings behind Mysore Pak Made out of ghee, gram flour, and sugar, Mysore Pak is a famous sweet across India and is traditionally served in weddings and other festivals of southern India. It is named Mysore Pak as it originated from Karnataka's Mysore (now Mysuru) in the early 20th century. The term 'pak' comes from the Kannada word 'paaka', which refers to the process of cooking food by heating, baking or frying. Legend has it that the sweet was first cooked up in Mysuru under the rule of Krishna Raja Wodeyar IV of the Wodeyar dynasty. It was 1935 and in the Amba Vilas Palace, where he lived, there was the usual hustle and bustle before lunch for the royal family. However, King Wodeyar's chef, Kaksura Madappa, was struggling to come up with an idea of a dessert for the monarch, who was also known to be a foodie. Madappa then cooked up a combination of gram flour, ghee, and sugar and served it to Krishna Raja Wodeyar. The king liked Madappa's preparation so much, he summoned him and demanded a name for it. When asked for its name, he called it 'Mysore Pak' — with 'pak' referring to a sugar syrup-based preparation in Kannada cuisine.' Legend has it that Mysore Pak was first cooked up in Mysuru under the rule of Krishna Raja Wodeyar IV of the Wodeyar dynasty. Image Courtesy: Pixabay There's also an alternate legend. One of the owners of Guru Sweet Mart in Mysuru, which is run by the descendants of Kaksura Madappa, has a slightly different take on the origin of Mysore Pak. According to him, Madappa was asked by the king to produce a 'different' sweet, one that would go by the name of Mysore. He adds that the cook used to be called 'nalapaka' - he who makes the paka, or sugar syrup. So he cooked up this dish and called it Mysore Pak. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD But since its invention, it's become a huge hit and loved by many. As head chef and restaurant consultant Tarveen Kaur told the Indian Express, 'Over time, Mysore Pak transitioned from a palace-exclusive treat to a beloved household dessert. Local sweet shops began replicating the recipe, making it more accessible to the public.' From Mysore Pak to Mysore Shree Now, amid heightened tensions between India and Pakistan as Operation Sindoor was launched, some stores in Jaipur took a call to rename the famous sweet from Mysore Pak to Mysore Shree. Anjali Jain, the owner of Tyohaar Sweets, in Jaipur is one of the many who have switched the name from Pak to Shree. Jain was quoted as telling the Economic Times, 'The spirit of patriotism shouldn't just stay at the border, it should be in every Indian home and heart.' Bombay Misthan Bhandar, one of Jaipur's oldest sweet shops, also renamed the sweet. 'We want to send a clear message: if anyone dares to go against India, we will respond in every way. This is our sweet, symbolic answer,' Vineet Trikha, general manager at Bombay Misthan Bhandar, also told the Economic Times. And it seems that this name change has been welcomed by customers. One such customer said, 'It may seem like a small thing, but changing the names of sweets is a strong cultural message. It shows we stand with our soldiers.' A display of the Indian sweet along with its new name, Mysore Shree, in a Jaipur sweet shop. Image Courtesy: X Name change leaves a bitter aftertaste However, the Jaipur sweet store owners' decision to change the name of Mysore Pak to Mysore Shree hasn't been digested well by the descendants of Kaksura Madappa, the man behind the sweet. S Nataraj, a descendant of royal cook Kakasura Madappa, who still makes and sells Mysore Pak in Mysuru, told News18, 'Call it Mysore Pak — there can be no other name for this invention passed down by our ancestors. Just like every monument or tradition has its rightful name, Mysore Pak does too. It should not be altered or misrepresented.' STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD He further added, 'Wherever you go in the world, when someone sees the sweet, they should be able to identify and call it Mysore Pak. Nobody has the right to change its name.' Even Sumegh S, who is part of the family echoed similar sentiments. He told the media house, 'Mysore Pak is much more than a sweet. It holds deep cultural and historical significance for Mysuru and Karnataka. 'Mysore Pak is the pride of Mysuru, Karnataka, and the Kannadiga community. It reflects the sweetness of our people and the richness of Kannada culture. We only stand by the sweet our forefather created - Mysore Pak - which is now globally known. Do not drag it into unnecessary controversies.' And many others have also expressed their distaste for the name change. Taking to social media, one user wrote, 'The reason for this change among shopkeepers is 99 per cent WhatsApp forwards. And, ladies and gentlemen, introducing Reason 34, why you shouldn't graduate from WhatsApp University,' commented another. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD 'Paka' in Kannada means sweet syrup —not Pakistan! But Jaipur sweetshops, in their infinite wisdom have renamed Mysore Pak to Mysore Shree. Because clearly, dessert names now threaten national security. High on patriotism, low on brains? Peak clownery #MysorePak — Gautham Machaiah (@GauthamMachaiah) May 24, 2025 Another said, 'Crowd pulling, Pak & Paak has a lot of difference.' And a third wrote on X, 'This reflects the limited understanding of religion and culture prevalent in the country today. Consequently, terms like 'Paaka Kala' may be misconstrued as the art of Pakistan, and 'Paaka Shastra' as the scriptures of Pakistan. High level of stupidity going on in this country.' STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD With inputs from agencies
Indian Express
26-05-2025
- Politics
- Indian Express
When patriotism becomes a food fight: The tragicomedy of Mysore shree
India finally has its 'freedom fries' moment. And it is sweet indeed. After 9/11, an American congressman renamed French fries as freedom fries because France had opposed the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq. Patriotism, it seems, could run deep and be deep-fried although French fries actually originated in Belgium. Even more ironic — it was the Americans who had named them French fries in the first place. Now Tyohaar Sweets in Jaipur has decided that it will show its patriotism by renaming Moti pak and Mysore pak as Moti shree and Mysore shree. Anjali Jain, its proprietor, told news media they had decided to remove 'Pak' from the names of their sweets and replace it with something more 'culturally resonant and patriotic'. Jain's motives might be shuddh-ghee patriotic except words actually have meanings. That meaning does not change just because it sounds like a word we do not like. A descendant of Madappa, the royal cook from Mysuru, who came up with Mysore pak using besan, ghee and sugar, wondered how the sweet could be renamed just to suit another language. This isn't even like Karachi Bakery which had to clarify that it's 100 per cent Indian and started by a Partition refugee in Hyderabad. Unlike that Karachi, this pak has nothing to do with Pakistan at all. It's a Kannada word for a process of cooking by heating, baking or frying as well as the sticky syrup made by simmering sugar and water. The roots lie in Sanskrit. Thus, in Hindi, paag is sugar syrup. In Bengali, pak means to stir and thicken. So, the Bengali sandesh might be 'naram pak' or soft or 'kora pak' which is harder. If we change them to naram shree and kora shree they would sound, quips a friend, not like sweets but new additions to Mamata Banerjee's many benefit programmes like Kanyashree, Yuvashree and Rupashree. It's not just freedom fries and Mysore pak. During World War I, sauerkraut was named 'liberty cabbage' and frankfurters were named 'liberty dogs' to score some anti-German points. After many Muslims complained about how a Danish newspaper depicted the Prophet Muhammad in 2005, some bakeries and cafes in Tehran started serving 'Roses of the Prophet Muhammad' instead of Danishes. This year, after Donald Trump launched a trade war against Canada, some cafes there decided to rechristen their Americanos as Canadianos. Of course, the coffee beans came from neither the US nor Canada. Anyway, Americano was never particularly complimentary. The story goes that American soldiers stationed in Italy during World War II found the espresso a bit too strong. They diluted it with hot water. Thus Americano is basically an espresso with less machismo. Coffee fights often get bitter. When Turkey invaded Cyprus in 1974, Greece angrily renamed Turkish coffee as Greek coffee, a linguistic counter-strike. It's interesting that patriotism so often turns into a food fight as if the best way to a patriot's heart is through their stomach (though in some Indian languages that is inconveniently called a pak-sthali). Food can bring us together. But it's also the most effective way to mark the other. Food bans are a well-established strategy to show one group or another its place in the scheme of things. By renaming a food we think we are in a sense wrestling it away from someone. Except as it turns out, French fries never belonged to the French. And Mysore pak certainly did not belong to Pakistan. Renaming Mysore pak to Mysore shree in no way ensures that Pakistan gets its just deserts. Or, just desserts. It's a bit like the Montreal restaurant who decided to rename poutine, the artery-clogging Canadian junk food where French fries are smothered in gravy and cheese curds. To show solidarity with Ukraine, it was unimaginatively renamed 'fry cheese gravy' although poor poutine had nothing to do with Russian leader Vladimir Putin. Freedom fries had a tragicomic end. The congressman who renamed it was himself disgraced. The Iraq War lost favour with Americans and freedom fries quietly returned to being French fries. In all the brouhaha, the food never changed or improved in taste. Jingoism just became added food colouring. Calling Mysore pak Mysore shree might be intended as a tyohaar of patriotism. But sadly it just shows some of us do not know our own heritage — linguistic or culinary. That is always a recipe for disaster. What's next, wondered a friend. Should the pakora become a shree-ora? Roy is a novelist and the author of Don't Let Him Know
