I Grew Up on Rice
Like many Bengalis (and South Indians), I grew up thinking rice was non-negotiable. A plate didn’t feel complete unless there was a fluffy pile of rice on it—fragrant basmati with rajma, sticky gobindobhog with posto, or curd rice on hot summer days.
Millets? I hadn’t even heard of them. It wasn’t until I began working in food—much later in life—that I stumbled upon these so-called “ancient grains.” At first, I thought of them as quirky alternatives for health-conscious people or the gluten-free crowd. But the more I cooked and read and talked to farmers and nutritionists, the more I realised millets weren’t a trend. They were our past—and very likely, our future.
Gritty, Hardy, and Built for Tough Times
One of the first things I learnt about millets is how incredibly resilient they are. Unlike rice or wheat, which gulp down water, millets are sparing. Bajra and jowar can grow in dry, depleted soils with barely any irrigation. They don’t need fancy fertilisers or endless pest control. And they mature fast—some in just 70–90 days. For a country facing erratic monsoons and water scarcity, that’s huge. I remember speaking to a farmer in Maharashtra who said, “Millets are our emergency crops. When nothing else grows, they do.” That stuck with me. These grains don’t ask for much—but they give a lot.
Forgotten Grains, Familiar Stories
As I dug deeper, I realised these so-called “forgotten grains” weren’t really forgotten—they’d just been sidelined. Every region in India had its millet: ragi mudde in Karnataka, kambu koozh in Tamil Nadu, bajre ki roti in Rajasthan, jowar bhakri in Maharashtra. My grandmother probably ate millets. Your grandmother did too. But over time, with government subsidies favouring rice and wheat, and the arrival of modern food processing, millets were pushed out of our diets—and our memories. We traded diversity for uniformity. And we lost more than flavour—we lost resilience, nutrition, and food sovereignty.
Not Just Healthy—Powerful
The first time I cooked a ragi porridge, I wasn’t expecting much. But it had this deep, nutty warmth that was instantly comforting. And when I looked into the nutritional profile, it blew me away. Ragi is loaded with calcium. Bajra has magnesium, iron, and protein. Jowar is full of fibre and helps regulate blood sugar. All millets are gluten-free, easy on the stomach, and keep you full longer. They’re not just “healthy” in a vague way—they’re nutrient-dense, disease-preventing powerhouses. And somehow, they’ve stayed affordable. In a world obsessed with imported superfoods, these grains were under our noses all along.
Back Into the Kitchen
Once I started cooking with millets, they became less of a project and more of a habit. I made millet upma with leftover vegetables, swapped ragi into banana bread, stirred cooked kodo millet into hearty salads. At one pop-up, I even served bajra risotto with smoked aubergine—and people loved it. You don’t need to make a huge leap. Start by swapping 1 cup of rice with ½ cup millet. Try ragi dosa or jowar khichdi. The flavours are earthy, the texture is comforting, and the satisfaction is real. These grains don’t just nourish the body—they change your relationship with food.
Small Grains, Big Change
It is great that millets are finally getting their moment—2023 was the UN’s International Year of Millets, and people are actually talking about them now! But here’s the thing: it’s not just about fancy café dishes or glossy magazine features. Real change means getting millets into school meals, midday lunches, and everyday home cooking—especially in cities like mine. Backing the farmers who grow them and remembering that our traditional food systems were onto something seriously sustainable.
Honestly, choosing millets isn’t just a food trend—it’s a way to build a food system that’s more diverse, packed with nutrients, and way better suited for a climate-changed world.
Don’t get me wrong, I still eat rice—but now I mix in some kodo or little millet. And yeah, I’ll always love my dal chawal, but it’s awesome to have options. Millets didn’t just shake up my plate—they made me rethink what real sustainable eating could look like in India.
