We are days away from the book launch of "Cooking Up Feminism" and right in the midst of welcoming Spring with Nowruz (Persian New Year) and Ramzan | Ramadan, 2023. Let's celebrate with a beautiful bowl of Kheer. I invited Nature Artist and Poet, Sheniz Janmohamed - who has guest-facilitated for "Cooking Up Feminism" - to submit her dairy-free recipe of this beloved sweet dish, enjoyed in a variety of unique ways in countries across South Asia.
When I was growing up, kheer (Indian rice pudding) was my favourite dessert. While it wasn’t a dessert we made at home, it was one I always ordered when we went out for special meals or occasions. There was something about the first spoonful of rich, creamy kheer that enlivened all my senses and awakened the nostalgia of my ancestral homeland— India. When I switched over to non-dairy alternatives, I missed the familiarity and decadence of kheer. It was during one of the silent retreats with my Teacher that I was introduced to a healthier, vegan version of rice pudding, singing with notes of cinnamon.
Dairy Free Kheer by Sheniz
During the pandemic, I’d make myself warm bowls of kheer, sit by the window and watch chickadees flit about the trees. It was a small comfort on long, dark days of uncertainty. It brought me back home, and hugged me in the reminder that even though I felt alone, I wasn’t. I had the recipes of my ancestors and teachers at my very fingertips. ~ Sheniz
Ingredients:
1 cup of basmati rice
1 cup of unsweetened oat milk
2-3 tbs of honey or agave syrup
1 tsp of vanilla extract
3-5 stems of saffron
1 tbs of cardamom powder
1 tbs of rosewater
A sprinkle of cinnamon
A sprinkle of nutmeg
Garnish:
2 tsps of slivered almonds or pistachios
1 tsp of edible rose petals
Steps:
Soak a cup of basmati rice for about 10 minutes. Rinse it of stones and husks.
Boil rice and strain, setting aside for later.
Heat a cup of oat milk in a pot on medium heat until it begins to simmer.
Swirl in 2 tablespoons of honey or agave syrup. Add according to your sweet tooth :)
Scatter in 3 - 5 stems of saffron and stir until the mixture turns a pale golden hue.
Add in 1 tablespoon of cardamom powder.
Sprinkle in cinnamon and nutmeg.
Swirl in a teaspoon of vanilla extract.
Add rice and lower temperature to medium.
Stir gently until it achieves the consistency and taste you like— you can add in more milk or hot water if you want it runnier.
Gently stir in one tablespoon of rosewater before garnishing— rosewater tends to get lost in cooking, so it’s best to add at the last stage before serving.
Garnish with crushed edible rose petals and nuts, then serve.
Thank you for sharing this wonderful, sweet recipe with our community, Sheniz! Stay tuned as we launch "Cooking Up Feminism" in book form on March 25th, 2023.
Some years ago a British friend stopped by for a visit. After we finished our dinner, he proceeded to excuse himself to use the washroom. Some time lapsed, and he emerged scratching his head, utterly confused, as if he had seen a hippopotamus in there.
“Mariam!”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something? I hope you won’t think I’m being rude.”
“Ok. Sure. Go ahead.”
“I don’t see any plants anywhere. I’ve looked and looked, really. I can’t for the life of me understand why you have this watering can in there?”
I threw my head back in laughter. My dear friend was holding a Lota.
The Lota is a rounded vessel with a spout predominantly found in South Asian toilets in Pakistan and India, as well as other Asian countries, albeit in different shapes, varieties and forms. It can be made using a myriad of materials such as plastic and/or stainless steel. The Lota is used to wash the privates, both front and back, and is an integral component of toilet hygiene customs in the Indian subcontinent and also amidst the diaspora. Of the versatile uses of the Lota, I have also seen it being used as a watering vessel for small plants, since the pour of the water is soft and mindful.
I exhausted my resources looking for peer-reviewed journals on the Lota through my institution’s archives. Research yielded a Lota de Macedo Soares in a countryside near Samambaia in “The Burglar of the Tower of Babel,” but it seems like the tower lacked South Asian toilet hygiene customs. The Lota was not to be found there. I found a Lota in The Journal of Parasitology, but instead of a vessel, I believe they were referencing a freshwater fish from the lota lota genus. There’s a suburb in the city of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia named Lota. A quick Wikipedia search describes the Lota as a vessel that can be found in the Indian subcontinent as far back as the 2nd millenium BC, and it not only informed personal hygiene customs and rituals, but variations of the Lota, made with brass, copper, and other materials, were extensively used in prayers, sacred rituals and communal ceremonies. We must thank the Chalcolithic period cultures of South Asia for gifting the world this beautiful vessel that continues to serve purpose and function in South Asian homes within the subcontinent and across the world, a testament to the obstinance of South Asian culture to submit to the British Empire. The Lota survived, fought, overcame and outlived British rule. The Lota escaped colonization, and continues to do so.
Image 1 is a visual reference of the importance of how these objects are tied in with familial bonding, ancestral lineage and private, unseen, invisible attempts at decolonizing bathroom culture, while remaining rooted to the hygiene customs of our subcontinent’s ancestors. My mother taught me how to use the Lota through practical hygiene demonstrations, solidifying my internal knowledge systems with a specific set of toilet hygiene customs and rituals, that were transmitted to her through her mother, who was taught by her mother, creating a long intergenerational legacy of Lota power.
My mother didn’t only teach me how to use the Lota, but also emphasized, through practice, that this important component of toilet hygiene was an integral part of our faith. While a wide array of religions, ideologies, belief systems, cultural customs, hierarchies, and laws can be found in South Asia, one can access some form of the Lota, or the other, in mosques, temples, churches, schools, public washrooms etc. A common, daily life practice, that unites billions across the globe, irrespective of class, ethnic background and gender. Having visited Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Zoarastrian homes in Pakistan, I have always had access to the Lota, a symbol of a private act that signifies our unity. Those lucky enough to be our lovers, close friends and non-desi kin and chosen family gain entry into this special community of humans on the planet. My husband swears by the Lota after discovering its vast benefits and unbeatable squeaky clean results. #LotaPower
I initially posted Image 1 on Instagram and received an enthusiastic response from friends and family. A fellow South Asian migrant friend, with roots in India, shared a wonderful memory of how in her family, the vessel used, was called, a Mug. This is an interesting cultural overlap, because at our family residence in Karachi, Pakistan, buckets with plastic “Mugs” are placed in all spaces reserved for bathing. My mother would refer to them as “Mugs” as well, and sometimes, when she seamlessly transitioned from English to Urdu to Punjabi, she would say “Mugga.” She bathed her whole life, seated on a stool, with a bucket of water and a Mug. Through this method of bathing, she was able to conserve more water, which would otherwise be wasted in a stand up shower.
I have never quite been able to assimilate to North American toilet hygiene norms. While bidets and hand-held Muslim showers can be found in bathrooms in Europe and the Middle East, they’ve certainly not taken off as a mainstream practice in North America.
I often carry an extra bottle of water when I visit non-desi homes and public spaces in case I have to use the toilet. I’ve introduced the Lota to several Canadian families, many of whom have adopted the practice as a welcome new addition to their daily toilet hygiene. My friends and chosen family members often make arrangements for a Lota in their washrooms when I visit their homes, particularly those who know me well, and are familiar with the customs I value. I do appreciate these kind, inclusive, mutually beneficial gestures.
I came across an awesome work of art by Pakistani illustrator, Samya Arif, featuring a portable, collapsable Lota: https://gotalota.com/ - If you sign up on their website you’ll get a light-hearted, humorous newsletter, which is a total bonus. Where was this genius invention during my now retired raving days?
Image 5: Artwork for Gotalota by Samya Arif: https://www.samyaarif.com/
Recently, I have also seen companies like Tushy advertising easy to attach bidets. Though I could just as easily install bidets or hand-held Muslim showers in my bathroom, I prefer the traditional Lota method of my ancestors. This practice keeps me grounded to home, connected with my desi roots, carrying forward a wise and sustainable method of hygiene that has benefitted members of my community for centuries. May the #LotaPower be with you.
This afternoon, participants of our Healthy Arts for Seniors (HAFS) program convened at the Aga Khan Museum for a guided tour led by one of our long time alum, Zeni Shariff.
Zeni is a returning member of our HAFS program since four years now.
She is an accomplished artist, a published author and has been leading art tours since 2015.
What made this gathering powerful was that seniors were led by a fellow senior.
Our community’s elders deserve to see themselves reflected in the spaces and programs they engage with.
For BIPOC elders from Scarborough, Markham and beyond, creative programs like HAFS are pathways to new friendships, fresh skills, opportunities, diverse knowledge systems, and sustained curiosity.
For many participants, this was their first visit to the museum and, more importantly, new encounters with architecture, calligraphy, sculpture, textiles and historical artifacts rooted in Islam.
With Zeni’s care + expertise, and collaborative facilitation, we moved through the special exhibitions on view and also experienced the museum’s permanent collection.
Connecting BIPOC seniors with meaningful creative programming, enriching quality of life and deepening bonds with community, sits at the heart of our Healthy Arts for Seniors program.
We work inclusively to make room, witness, expand, learn together, and keep the doors open for anyone and everyone who wants to join, regardless of mobility, background, gender and orientation.
And that’s a wrap, dear friends. Our 2025 season of Healthy Arts for Seniors comes to a close.
As I always affirm, this is not goodbye, but truly the beginning of new ideas, new friendships, and the continued benevolence of gathering in community.
