The Ring of Fire by Morgan Miles Craft

Author:Morgan Miles Craft
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morgan Miles Craft
Published: 2022-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

The route to Kabir Chaura, the Muslim quarter where the musicians and weavers historically lived, took them north, through neighborhoods and alleys less populated with tourists. Passing an unseen border, evidence of their emergence into the areas populated by Muslims began to show. Wide eyes peeked from behind doorways and curtains, and brilliant mandala tapestries hung from the verandas. Fewer Shiva lingam altars decorated alcoves and corners, and goats tied to door handles bleated in doorways, more Muslim food than Hindu pets. Saris and women became less frequent, with only the occasional burka-clad wife winding along the passageways, dragging children along. They registered the scents of fragrant curries and grilling meats wafting through the alleys, countered by the smell of fresh cow dung and clouds of burning incense. Food and fuel and ritual, the cycle of life, thought Max.

New sounds echoed down the lanes, including the wooden clack-clack-clack of handlooms and the singsong of workers communicating over the devices that marked the official entrance to the quarter. In an open doorway, two young artisans in white-knit Muslim caps worked a loom under a single light bulb, calling back and forth in ethnic Urdu, which sprung from the collision in the 15th century of the Persian and Sanskrit languages. Urdu music made up the background soundtrack as they wound through the lanes, echoing off the ancient walls. Rounding a corner, they came across the brightly lit counter of the Dhandara Lassi Shop. A bench in the front sat three Muslim men and their young sons, focused on their clay pots of lassi.

“Shall we have a street lassi?” asked Raj. “Varanasi is famous for it.”

Dhandara Lassi was a hole-in-the-wall establishment they learned had served the same yogurt recipes for 100 years and across four generations. Kumar Dhandara prepared the delicacy the same way his great-grandfather had, using a big wooden hand churner called a madani to froth whole milk yogurt into a creamy spoonable dessert. Dhandara served its lassi traditionally in baked-clay terracotta pots, with the yogurt made from cow’s milk and its creamy fat, then topped with a sweet buffalo milk cream, called malai. Kumar added mango, pistachios, almonds, cardamom, honey, and tiny edible flowers. Reaching into a glass jar, he presented them with a choice of small green cookies to add to the dessert.

“Bhang cookies?” he asked. “Lord Shiva’s two favorite things are cannabis and cows, so this is a holy offering atop the best lassi in Varanasi. You make Shiva happy, and you don’t have to leave it on an altar.”

Max and Lilah shrugged with a “sure, why not?” and three laced Shiva wafers were added to their concoctions. They strolled, dipping the cannabis wafers and savoring the generations-old desserts with wooden spoons as families flowed around them. The green cookies were pistachio-based, sweet, earthy, and enhanced by herbaceous cannabis. Having sampled many of the earth’s delicacies, Max knew what to expect from the ingested herb and figured Lilah knew her way around it with her experiences in the voodoo world.

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