When Food Was a Blessing, Not a Rush — Countryside Life with Millets

✉️ Dear Reader, 

Food is the only thing we work for, the one comfort that carries us through our days. But sometimes, I wonder — what happens when it no longer gives us what it once did? 

There was a time when every meal had a story. The grains were hand-washed, the vegetables freshly picked, and the air filled with the sound of something cooking slowly. Now, food comes wrapped, ready, and rushed — quick to make, quick to forget. Even children fall tired too soon, their bones weak, their eyes strained. 

We began choosing shortcuts, all in the name of time. But when food loses time, it quietly loses its soul. 

After all, we all wish for the same simple thing — to live well and to end each day with a warm, comforting meal. 🍲 

Growing up in the countryside with my grandparents, I lived close to the soil and its gifts. The days began early — with the sound of the hand pump, the smell of boiling milk, and the gentle chatter from the kitchen. Meals were cooked fresh and served with love, and the heart of every plate was millets, especially ragi, the humble finger millet. 🌾 

I belong to a warm land, where the sun stays long and kind. On those hot afternoons, we had our own ways to cool down — a glass of buttermilk, a sip of coconut water, or a bowl of ragi porridge that carried both taste and comfort. 

I still remember my grandmother shaping ragi rice balls for lunch — soft, round, and earthy. They were served with mango chutney, coconut chutney, red chilli pickle, and a simple vegetable curry whose aroma filled the whole house. 

Sometimes she made a drink — ragi flour stirred in hot water with a pinch of salt, then mixed with buttermilk once cooled. It eased the body’s heat and left behind a calm that no bottled drink could ever give. 

Ragi carries quiet wisdom — calcium for strength, iron for vitality, fiber for balance, and protein that gently nourishes from within. It’s food that understands the body — steady, grounding, kind. 

It brings joy to see millets finding their way back into our lives again. People speak of them, cook them, write about them — yet, they still need a little more love, a little more space in our kitchens. 

Because promoting only matters when we begin to live with it — when we cook it, taste it, and pass it on with the same care our elders once did. 

With warmth and love,

✍️ Raasi