IN a disturbing escalation of cultural suppression, Sri Lankan authorities are now targeting individuals for the mere act of preparing kanji, a simple Tamil dish.

This alarming development coincides with remembrances of the 2009 genocide of the Tamil, suggesting an intent to stifle not just a community’s voice but also their culinary heritage.

Such actions underscore a brutal irony: a dish that symbolises survival during the darkest times of civil conflict is now a pretext for arrest. This crackdown is not only a severe infringement on cultural expression but also a grave reminder of the unresolved wounds within Sri Lanka’s society.

The act of making kanji, once a source of sustenance in dire times, has now become a defiant act of remembrance, drawing the ire of authorities.

The horror of these arrests is a stark testament to the ongoing struggles faced by the Tamil community – a group still fighting for justice and recognition. This reprehensible attempt to erase a cultural practice highlights the urgency of their plight and the world’s responsibility to acknowledge and address these continuing injustices.

Recent events in Sampur, Trincomalee, where several Tamils were arrested for distributing kanji in memory of the Mullivaikkal dead, illustrate a harsh reality.

Critics argue that these actions of the Sri Lankan authorities, failing to differentiate between remembrance of lost civilians and unlawful glorification of combatants, severely harm reconciliation efforts and betray a lack of sensitivity towards a grieving community.

Minority rights activists and local videos, though not independently verified, suggest a scenario where law enforcement may have overstepped its bounds, arresting individuals during a non-violent act of commemoration.

Such measures not only deepen the wounds of those still mourning the losses from the civil war but also tarnish Sri Lanka’s international image as it struggles to promote a narrative of unity and democratic values.

In the tangled web of Sri Lanka’s culinary universe, there lurks a modest hero: kanji, a Tamil treasure that’s more than just food – it’s a fist in the air, a symbol of guts and endurance in the face of turmoil.

Kumulamunai is a village outside of Mullativu where the fierce ocean slams into Sri Lanka’s shores. Here, I first got a taste of kanji’s quiet rebellion. My grandmother, a wizard in her own right, served it in coconut shells, a humble yet profound offering.

Kanji isn’t just rice porridge; it’s a lifeline, a tale of survival for the Tamil folk, especially during the brutal civil war years. In times of fear and scarcity, this simple concoction of rice, water, and salt became a beacon of hope.

The irony? This journey of mine began in Mullativu, the very place where I had my first spoonful of kanji and, poetically, where the war drew its last breath.

My auntie, Rani Sithi, whose spirit is as unbreakable as our community’s, still lives there. She survived the 2009 war. She said, “When bombs rained and despair loomed, kanji was our sustenance, filling both bellies and hearts.” Her eyes, mirroring the flames of her cookfire, spoke volumes.

Kanji’s evolution from a mere meal to a badge of defiance is tightly woven with the Tamil struggle in Sri Lanka. Post-independence, ethnic tensions surged, and the Tamils, marginalised and oppressed, found solace in their culture with kanji at its core. For us, kanji is more than food; it’s a statement of identity and resistance.

Amid the ruins of war, in refugee camps, Tamil families shared kanji – a dish needing little but offering much. Across the globe, the Tamil diaspora holds onto kanji, not just as a link to their roots, but as a symbol of their unbroken spirit.

But kanji’s story isn’t just about the past; it’s a living testament to the Tamil community’s resilience and their ongoing fight for justice. In Sri Lanka, cooking kanji is both a tribute to the fallen and a way to keep their fight alive.

As I sat with my aunt and neighbours in Kumulamunai, over steaming bowls of kanji, I saw the essence of the Tamil spirit – resilient, nurturing, profoundly human. This culinary tradition carries the scars of conflict but also the hope for a harmonious future.

Kanji, in its modesty, reflects the complex saga of the Tamil people in Sri Lanka – a tale of war and peace, despair and hope, loss and survival. And as dusk falls over Mullaitivu, the simmering pots of kanji stand as a testament that even the simplest of meals can bear the weight of history and the unyielding spirit of a people.

Kanji recipe (admittedly, each household has its own recipe):

Ingredients:

1 cup white rice (preferably a short-grain variety) 6-8 cups water (adjust for desired consistency)

Salt (to taste)

1/2 cup coconut milk (optional, for a richer flavour)

Optional Garnishes:

Sliced onion (lightly fried)

Fried mustard seeds

Green chillies (sliced or minced)

Curry leaves

A pinch of asafoetida (hing)

Lime juice

Grated coconut or coconut shavings

Boiled or steamed vegetables (like carrots, beans, or spinach)

Instructions:

Start by thoroughly rinsing the rice until the water runs clear. This helps to remove excess starch.

Cook the rice with water in a large pot. Bring it to a boil and then reduce the heat to a simmer. Stir occasionally to prevent the rice from sticking to the bottom.

Allow the rice to simmer for 30-40 minutes. The rice should be very soft and the mixture should have a porridge-like consistency. You can adjust the amount of water depending on how thick or thin you prefer your kanji.

Add salt to taste. If you are using coconut milk, stir it in towards the end of cooking for a creamier texture and rich flavour.

Serve the kanji hot with your choice of garnishes. Fried onions, mustard seeds, green chillies, curry leaves, and a sprinkle of asafoetida are popular options. You can also add a squeeze of lime juice for some tanginess.

If desired, add boiled or steamed vegetables to make the dish more nutritious and filling.

Enjoy the kanji warm. It’s commonly eaten for breakfast or as a light meal. – May 15, 2024.