Brace yourselves: the Union Health Ministry is coming for your samosa, a supposedly Hindu dish, or is it secular? Maybe with a Central Asian origin in samsa.
Even jalebi is stated to have come from Persia. But both fresh/taaza samosa, jalebi and pakora became great dishes for Hindu or any religious celebration. Though some claim that spiralling shlokas of yore testify to jalebi’s indigenous character.
According to new proposals, central government offices may soon display “Oil and Sugar Boards”- visual guilt-trips to warn you about the trans-fat crimes committed by our beloved billion-dollar job-giver snacks on a small scale.
Although the new proposal does not directly target samosas, jalebis, pakoras, or other fried foods, there is a widespread perception that the government is indirectly targeting these items. Many also view that powerful market players with vested interests are fueling this narrative to undermine small roadside vendors.
Basically, the samosa is now India’s newest “national threat”. Somewhere between corruption and traffic, it’s been found responsible for obesity, lethargy, maybe even bad moods. Or is it another corporate ploy to capture the poor man’s samosa meal?
But here’s the catch: while health babus want to banish jalebi from office canteens, the same jalebi stars in Republic Day high teas and embassy buffets as “India’s culinary heritage.” It’s like banning Bollywood songs from weddings because they’re too loud, while blasting them at Republic Day parades.
And remember the varieties. A cauliflower Bengali samosa is different from a more authentic Allahabadi samosa or a samosa bomb from Punjab laced with chhole.
Deep-Fried Hypocrisy
Yes- samosas, vada pavs, pakoras, and jalebis aren’t exactly smoothies. But they’re mostly made fresh, on the spot, and without chemical preservatives. In a world drowning in vacuum-packed “energy bars” that taste like cardboard and promise immortality, our street food at least has soul.
The real villain isn’t the samosa. It’s the ultra-processed, flavour-engineered snack bar with “NO ADDED SUGAR” written in large font size and a sugar substitute longer than Aadhaar number. Yet, there’s still no mandatory “red mark of doom” on these shiny packages. No warning. No label. Just confusion wrapped in plastic.
Then, this noble effort to change what government staff snack on is sweet, but where are the alternatives? Telling someone to stop eating kachori without offering a healthy option nearby is like banning slippers in government offices without giving shoes.
Food fights are national pastimes, as is food super censoring. What one eats is not the issue, but what the other should not is a matter of ‘nicety and social stigma’. Our ongoing food arguments fringe on being absurd: “Does chai count as water?” Ask any bureaucrat in Delhi or Kolkata or Mumbai, or Guwahati. Many officers gulp down “eight glasses of fluid” a day- all of them cutting chai.
Tomato riots – Prices hit Rs 200/kg, and suddenly, samosa chutney disappears, marriages are postponed, and tomatoes have Y-security.
Rasogolla war – Bengal and Odisha are locked in a cultural custody battle over who gave birth to this syrupy icon. Rosogolla supposedly have a Portuguese origin as they entered Bengal with their cheese. Meanwhile, diabetes looks on, quietly sharpening its knives.
Why no egg in school? Apparently, giving protein to children is controversial if it comes in a shell.
Garam masala – Some workplaces tried banning “strong-smelling” foods like biryani in tiffins. And yes, even spicy biryani is not a crime, if it does not have a religion.
Extremes
We sweat in tropical heat, commute on footboard physics, and still manage to eat roadside Indian-Chinese with schezwan that could melt steel. Our gut is not just an organ- it’s a national monument.
We’ve eaten stuff we probably shouldn’t have. Shared pani puri in crowds. Gulped water from copper vessels and plastic pouches. We survived the COVID-19 that brought Europe to its knees — and bounced back with turmeric milk and kadha that tasted like boiled revenge.
Samosa? That’s child’s play.
Rail Snack
Let’s talk about the Railway’s snack list. It has four dozen items: dosa, idli, samosa, cutlet, pakoda, and bonda. The cheapest healthy snack? A boiled egg at Rs 9. The cheapest temptation? Jalebi at Rs 6. Now tell me: when you’re running late, sweaty, angry, and broke, are you reaching for the egg or that glorious sugar spiral?
Without affordable, tasty alternatives, these “oil boards” may end up doing the opposite — driving people toward packaged snacks that sound healthy, cost more, and do more damage. And bulge corporate profits!
Food Not Policy Bags
Look, nobody’s saying we should deep-fry our health into oblivion. But instead of turning food into the enemy, how about teaching food literacy? Let’s talk about portion control, not pakaudaphobia. Give people the freedom to choose — just make sure there are real choices. That means boiled chana, fruit bowls, millet laddoos, and salads that don’t cost as much as an AC bus ticket.
And let’s stop acting like sugar and oil are national security threats. Oil has Vitamins A and D. Sugar is energy. Salt? Still not a terrorist, thank you.
Fry-Up
This is India. The land where we pour ghee over sweets and then complain about cholesterol. We serve laddoos at political rallies and then ban trans-fat at the office. We confuse nutrition with tradition and policy with panic.
Let’s be real. Banning samosas in the name of health without offering real, tasty, low-cost options is like banning umbrellas during monsoons and handing out wet towels instead.
Till then, let the samosa be. Let the jalebi swirl. Let the chutney flow.
And maybe—just maybe—let the health ministry take a bite of reality.
And at least no more war on secular Hindu samosa, jalebi and pakora. They are great job givers!
