Kaveri Maa lived all by herself in a remote village in Gujarat that I often passed on my way to
pay my respects to a Devi temple up in the north of the state.
I first met her when I needed to stop someplace to pee because highway lavatories weren’t
(and aren’t, as yet) a luxury in every part of the country – least of all its remotest corners.
She let me into her home, through to the back of it where I relieved myself with a cow and
her new born calf for company. This mother-figure to Hindus lay languidly in a haystack and
watched intently as I went about my business.
I walked towards the cow to make some quick conversation, when Kaveri Maa came rushing
in with a bowl of what I instantly understood to be Bari – a sweet dish prepared from a cow’s
colostrum – the first form of breastmilk released by a lactating cow after giving birth.
Despite my repeated attempts to deny myself the pleasure of this incredibly rare dish, Kaveri Maa
insisted I eat. She wouldn’t let a guest leave without serving her something.
I was contending with a growing guilt as well as an irrepressible greed to indeed dig into this
delicacy. And so, I did.
Kaveri Maa stood petting her adorable calf, watching me with affection, relishing her Bari. It
was Art – rare, delicious and made with feeling. I am glad to this day, that I didn’t deny
myself this invaluable treat and that I asked how she had prepared it, right after her cow, her
Maa, a Maa, had given birth.
She took three cups of the colostrum that the calf could no longer drink because she had
had too much.
(Kaveri Maa was sure to tell me that this is such a nutrient rich, vital, powerful and dense
milk, hence, so incredibly crucial to a new born’s immune system and general well-being that
until the calf is fully fed, it is never used for another purpose. This is precisely why colostrum
is so rare to find. Because there’s rarely or barely any of it left behind.)
She then boiled it in a slightly wet with water pan, pouring in and stirring the 3 cups of milk
gradually.
As the milk thickened into a somewhat grainy texture, she added a cup of sugar, bit by bit,
stirring it steadily in to mix with the milk preparation.
As the sugar dissolved and the milk preparation got denser, she added half a tea spoon of
cardamom powder.
Stirring further until the consistency got thicker, she then added a table spoonful of pure
cow’s ghee (clarified butter).
Upon stirring for a bit longer and with the heat, the mixture intensifies into a dryer, more solid
preparation, at which point the heat is turned off and the Bari is ready to be pressed into a
bowl and garnished, if you will, with pistachio or almond or an assortment of nut powders.
Kaveri Maa gave me a rare lesson in giving that day. Truly, she had let me into her home
and her very motherly heart. It taught me forever that there isn’t a bigger indulgence more
necessary than a “Maa’s Milk”.
