India's veg diplomacy: Why PM's all-vegetarian banquets challenge global dining norms

A senior diplomat who was in New Delhi last week for the AI Summit confessed that he was not overly enamoured of the vegetarian-only fare served at the Prime Minister's lunch and dinner for visiting global leaders. "But the other foreign delegates who sat on either side of me simply loved it; they had never tasted such a variety of vegetarian flavours!" he said with a smile and showed me the menus whose offerings ranged from kurkure nadru to ramdana anjeer ladoo.

Actually, it is not at all uncommon to find foreign tourists revelling in the sheer variety of vegetarian eating options in India, especially streetside snacks and fast foods. Given that India's primary red meat, goat, is unfamiliar to most non-Asian palates and even 'beef' is usually buffalo, many foreigners happily stick to vegetarian instead. They are clearly less agitated by the absence of meats in their meals when in India than many of our own concerned brethren.

A majority of Indians are not vegetarian, of course; there is a long tradition here of eating meat, poultry, fish, molluscs, eggs - and even insects among some communities. But even if only 39% of Indians are "strict" vegetarians today, that still means 540 million people, which is more than the entire populations of US, UK, France and Italy put together. Yet the culinary world still dances to the old tunes set by epicures and chefs of countries like those, not India.


Western food traditions and protocols remain the 'gold standard'. Why else is a French tyre company's assessment of restaurants still taken to be the last word on epicurean standards? Do its experts know the intricacies of Indian techniques and flavours enough to recommend what is good or bad to others? Palates, like all the senses, are subjective and influenced by genetics and milieu; what appeals to one person's senses need not have the same effect on another.

Animal protein was given pre-eminence in some culinary traditions for good reason. Europe's weather ensured meat prevailed over vegetables because winter drastically reduced the latter options; surviving on plant-based foods was impossible. Extreme climates also restricted cuisines of Central Asia and Arabia. But thanks to globalised markets, no ingredients are unavailable now, nor do most occupations require daily consumption of high proteins like meat today.

Human diets have undeniably changed in consonance with the times: we do not eat what our ancestors ate. Concerns for the planet and animal welfare have been chipping away at old diets, even though there are fluctuations in the appraisal of meat-based foods when it comes to individual health. A change is therefore logical but old habits clearly die hard. 'International' dining protocols are still set by the same nations that have dominated discourse for centuries.

Any distinct change, however, is resisted as imposition or derided as stupidity even in the internal discourse in India, forgetting that existing norms were hardly organic. Why should official banquets in a building that is no longer called Viceregal Palace inevitably begin with a soup, followed by fish course, a palate cleanser, meat and dessert, with vegetables relegated to 'sides', as decided by the colonial rulers? Especially since most Indians do not eat that way.

India has taken a bold step in the convention-ridden world of diplomatic dining by serving only vegetarian food official banquets. That is being deplored as an imposition. Just because India's top leaders are vegetarian, they reason, it does not mean everyone they host must follow suit. Yet Indians do not expect or demand meat, fish or even eggs when invited to dine at the homes of vegetarians. This tenet of our Indian etiquette needs to be disseminated worldwide.