Blog / Recipe

The Mumbai Floods —
Candlelight Khichdi

I was in seventh or eighth standard. Mumbai. The floods came the way Mumbai floods always come — suddenly and completely, until the city stops being a city and becomes something else entirely.

My mom had gone to work that morning. She was an office superintendent at Indian Railways, Central Railways, Mumbai CST. By afternoon the water was rising and we couldn't reach her. My dad drove out to find her but couldn't get beyond our street — the water was too high. He turned the car around and brought it back. We were stuck. The electricity was cut. The house was dark except for whatever candles we could find.

And we were hungry.

My dad went to the kitchen. No electricity, no gas we were sure was safe, just candles for light and whatever was in the pantry. He found rice — ambay moré rice, the kind we kept at home. He found dals — not one, not a planned combination, just whatever was there. Multiple dals, different sizes, different colours, whatever had been sitting in the containers. He found some vegetables. He put it all together in one pot with water and cooked it on whatever heat he could manage.

What was in the pantry

Rice. Whatever dal. Whatever vegetable.
Raw ghee on top when it was done.

He called it nothing. I called it Dhir Khichdi — sudden khichdi, emergency khichdi, made-from-whatever-was-there khichdi. Raw ghee on top when it was done. Butter. Chopped coriander. A squeeze of lemon. We ate it by candlelight, worried about my mom, not saying much.

"Some dishes are about the food. Some are about the moment the food was made in."

The next morning the water began to recede. We got through to my mom — she was safe, at her sister's house. We went and got her. That evening we went to our usual Saturday dinner spot and she had a Breezer, calm as anything, like the flood had been an inconvenience and not the most frightening day of that year.


The recipe

Candlelight Khichdi
Prep time 10 min
Cook time 30 min
Total 40 min
Serves 3–4
Difficulty Very Easy
Ingredients
  • 1 cup ambay moré rice or any short-grain rice
  • ½ cup mixed dals — use whatever you have (moong, masoor, toor, chana dal — any combination)
  • 1 small onion, roughly chopped
  • 1 tomato, roughly chopped
  • 1 carrot or any available vegetable, roughly chopped
  • 1 tsp cumin seeds
  • ½ tsp turmeric
  • Salt to taste
  • 1 tbsp oil or ghee
  • 4–5 cups water

To finish
  • 1 tbsp raw ghee
  • 1 tbsp butter
  • Handful of coriander, chopped
  • Juice of half a lemon

Method
  1. Wash together. Wash the rice and dals together until water runs mostly clear. Drain.
  2. Start the base. Heat oil or ghee in a heavy pot. Add cumin seeds and let them splutter. Add onion and cook 3 minutes until soft. Add tomato and cook 2 more minutes.
  3. Add everything. Add the rice and dal mixture, turmeric, salt, and whatever vegetables you have. Stir to combine.
  4. Cook down. Add water — more than you think you need. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover, and cook 20–25 minutes until the rice and dal have completely broken down and merged. Stir occasionally.
  5. Check consistency. Khichdi should be loose and porridge-like — it should fall off the spoon slowly, not sit on it. Add more hot water if needed.
  6. The finish — this is not optional. Stir through raw ghee, butter, chopped coriander, and a squeeze of lemon. Serve immediately.
This is the most forgiving recipe in this book. There is no wrong combination of dals. There is no vegetable that doesn't belong. If you have nothing in the fridge, khichdi is what you make. The only rule is the finish — raw ghee, butter, lemon, coriander. It is the difference between something you eat because you have to and something you actually want.

One recipe, every week.

The memory behind it, the technique that matters, and the ratio worth memorising.