With time, the silbatta has become a reminiscence of the past. A forgotten gem. Yet, every dent and groove etched on its surface holds a memory, a tale of the countless meals it had helped create!
The traditional grinding stone, the silbatta, is vital in our kitchen history, sparking nostalgia for a bygone era while representing traditional and culinary heritage. Apart from being a simple kitchen utensil, it symbolises the care and love infused into preparing food. Comprising of two basic parts— the sil and the batta; it consists of a flat, slightly concave stone (called the “batta”) and a cylindrical stone roller (the “sil”) used to crush and grind spices by hand.
The smaller stone (batta) is moved on the bigger stone (sil) back and forth to grind the ingredients to the desired consistency. This age-old method, which boasts Ayurvedic and scientific benefits, also allows for precise control over the texture and consistency of ground spices, preserving their flavours and nutritional value, and the stone itself is considered rich in minerals. It’s traditionally crafted from sandstone, valued for its grinding capabilities.
Our summer holiday visits to my grandmother’s home were incomplete without her cooking the traditional dishes. She whipped up finger-licking chutneys and curries for which the masalas were painstakingly ground on the silbatta. Early in the morning, we would wake up to the wafting smell of delicious dosas or idlis served with coconut chutney or treated to khichdi with mint and coriander chutney for lunch. Sometimes, while she would be busy grinding spices to perfection, she would narrate captivating tales while we kids sat around, listening to her.
While we all thought that it was a vigorous exercise for her wrinkled arms, our little eyes would remain transfixed on the silbatta as we watched in amazement as the fresh coriander, chunky salt, and garlic transformed into a green paste, amidst our growing anticipation of tasting the chutney. A particular order of grinding was followed: the wet ingredients first and then the dry ingredients. The smell of the freshly ground spices would linger in the air long after our meals. Upon returning home, I would often cajole my mother to replicate those same dishes, but they never matched up to the same standard as my grandmother’s cooking, much to my mom’s chagrin!
My mother explained that the vigorous movement of the stones produces heat, which merges the natural oil of the spices and other ingredients, bringing out all the flavours and a distinct aroma that make the food tasty and healthy. Despite the convenience offered by the mixer grinder, it still fails to replicate the distinct taste of the silbatta.
Sometimes, if we were lucky enough, we’d witness the hawker visiting our neighborhood once every month crying out loudly, “sil-batta banwaa lo!”. He carried a jhola with him, which contained several sils in different sizes. He used to also ‘repair’ old sil-battas whose ‘pocks & dots’ had begun to disappear due to prolonged use.
My granny would bargain for a new sil, and important parameters like the size of the stone, its thickness, colour, etc. would be discussed in a lengthy conversation. “Itnay kam daam mein nahi hoga, thoda aur do”, he would say. “Arey tumsay hi to laytay hain, bus itna hi doongi”, my granny would reply. And then reluctantly, he would nod and start the most fascinating part, the chiselling! I loved watching it, as the ‘pattern’ of chiselling the stone slab was either spiral, concentric, herringbone, arrow-like, or simply parallel straight lines. Even the punch’s angle differed in different parts of the stone surface.
In the past, newlywed brides were gifted a silbatta as a symbol of fertility and prosperity. And any wedding would be incomplete without the traditional haldi ceremony where the neighbourhood ladies gathered together, sang folk songs, and took turns grinding chunks of haldi into a fine paste, which would then be used as a body/ face mask on the bride/groom. This was a sure-shot way to achieve the shaadi wala glow! The same would apply to the mehindi ceremony, where the tender leaves from the tree were plucked and ground to a fine paste and applied with the help of a thin stick. This was long before mehindi cones made their way into our lives.
With time, the silbatta has become a reminiscence of the past. A forgotten gem. Yet, every dent and groove etched on its surface holds a memory, a tale of the countless meals it had helped create!
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