E-Kantipur

APR 03 - As far as Om Prasad Dhaubhadel can remember, he is the fifth generation to continue his family business, even if it’s only on festivals now. Like most Newari surnames, his too is derived from his profession: Dhau, meaning curd, and Bhadel, meaning seller. The Dhaubhadels are not just any curd maker though; what the family has been making for centuries now is the king of curds, the Juju Dhau.

And, like the amalgam that the Dhaubhadels’ home-city of Bhaktapur has become, the Juju Dhau today faces a cultural question: whether to succumb to the mass demands of the consumers and move away from the traditional way of preparing the curd, or to stick to old traditions and suffer a loss of income.

Juju Dhau may be as famous as the Bhaktapur Durbar Square, and definitely a more-savoured product of a city that has maintained its cultural heritage even in modern times. Traditionally offered at all festivals and celebrations (which are, sometimes, incomplete without the curd), Juju Dhau is thick, and naturally sweet. And while ice cream, kulfi, and all manners of toffees and sweets have been introduced in Bhaktapur as a replacement offering, nothing has routed the King Curd from its throne.

Dhaubhadel’s family doesn’t make curd on a daily basis anymore, and he himself has moved onto a more sedentary profession of being a “culturalist”, helping out with local tourism and youth groups. Yet, when the festival season of Tihar comes near, his family makes and sells up to 2,500 litres of Juju Dhau a day. “Everybody likes Juju Dhau,” he says, “Maybe, ice cream has become more popular, but the demand for Juju Dhau has never gone down.”

The production of Juju Dhau differs from that of normal curd in various ways, and each of the many long, tedious, and tiring steps is laced in tradition. The curd is made from the freshest of buffalo milk. Yes, it has to be buffalo, and that too a buffalo that has been fed the freshest and the greenest grass. “Cow milk is a poor substitute, because it lacks the fat needed for Juju Dhau, and certain proteins,” says Dhaubhadel. The milk is then heated in a large kadai. Any smaller utensil will cause the milk to burn. The milk has to be cooked on a traditional stove with firewood. Khuwa, and other assorted spices that include cloves, cardamom, cashew nuts, and coconut shavings. And no, sugar is a definite no-no.

The tradition does not end here. Juju Dhau is prepared in, and sold in clay pots called bhingats. The bhingat is soaked in water beforehand to prevent it from absorbing any water from the milk while it curdles. Half the bowl is filled with the heated milk, and a spoon of an older Juju Dhau is added to let the lactobacillus go to work. After the solution cools, more milk is added to the bhingat, which is now covered by another bhingat, wrapped in cloth and hay and left to dry in a non-ventilated room without any windows, and very little light that streams through. During summers, it takes two and a half hours for the Ju Ju Dhau to curdle, while in winter, it takes four hours.

The biggest, and the most severe competition that the Juju Dhau has to face is from pale imitations (the impersonators are more yellow in colour as well). Needless to say, the long, and difficult, manufacturing process means that most producers today choose cost-cutting methods for the preparation of the Dhau. Producers also choose to freeze the curd, as opposed to let it solidify naturally, in an effort to mass-produce the Dhau.

The best test for any consumer to test whether they are buying an ‘original’ Juju Dhau is to upturn the clay bowl. Juju Dhau, if prepared according to the traditional methods, is dense enough to be hung upside down without it spilling. Frozen curd (or the mimics), on the other hand, loses its density once it is taken outdoors. Sugar is used to sweeten the curd (instead of the traditional and more expensive spices). And, in the process, consumers are duped. “Bhaktapur ko Juju Dhau haraera ahile Dhau Dhau matrai raheko cha, (There aren’t any more King Curds; It’s all plain curd),” said a local who did not want to be named.

“The biggest contributors to Juju Dhau losing its charm have to be the dairies,” Dhaubhadel says. “People cannot afford to keep many buffaloes nowadays, so they buy dairy milk. Not only is this milk watered down, but also of an inferior quality as the buffaloes producing it are malnourished. Dairies even add powdered milk to it, which just ruins the taste of the Juju Dhau and forces people to add sugar.” These impostor curds have flooded the market, and chances are that the Juju Dhau you buy in roadside shops in Bhaktapur may not be the real deal.

Dhaubhadel reminisces about the days when Juju Dhau was sold according to the weight, and was thicker than ice cream. “It is too hot for this kind of Juju Dhau today; the weather has changed drastically since those days. Besides, the milk we get isn’t as good as well.” 

Despite the competition and the difficulties, the demand for Juju Dhau has not decreased in the slightest. Large shops still sell around 200 to 300 litres a day, and even small shops manage around 80. During festivals, it is quite common to see these sales figures triple.

The modern age may have come up with substitutes and imitations, but the king of curds still reigns supreme for now.

Posted on: 2010-04-03 09:33

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