“It’s the only way of life”

At 4 am, Brijesh Kashyap’s household in Hata Madan Lal is wide awake. They start hand-churning a mixture of milk and cream—boiled and cooled the previous night by his wife Sheela, and sister-in-law Sugandha—to make malai makkhan. I watch as the mixture is cooled in a brass vessel on a bed of ice. Brijesh ji and his brother Jitendra take turns to churn the liquid over two hours, using a hand-held mathni or churner. They make it look so easy. They produce 70-80 kg of makkhan daily for regulars. 

Ask a Lucknow-wala about malai makkhan and they will tell you about its sugary-lightness. The saffron-flavoured cloud, embellished with varq and dry fruits, melts upon touching the tongue. Growing up, scooter trips in winter to the busy Gol Darwaza in Chowk, where Gaya Prasad Makkhan Stall is located, were much awaited between my siblings and I. 

I returned to Gol Darwaza this February, not to eat makkhan, but to talk to Brijesh ji. He has been a part of the makkhan-making process in his home since he was five years old. Ever since his grandfather began the trade, every member of the household has grown into making makkhan. “It’s the only way of life,” he says, recounting how his uncle—who first added cream to the recipe—and the rest of the mohalla do this work. He welcomed me into his home, to learn about the science, techniques, and oft-romanticised traditions that have been in his family for three generations—or 80 years. 

“Why don’t you mechanise the process,” I ask, after hours of watching him churn milk and cream. “The heat of a motor will turn the milk buttery instead of frothy,” says Brijesh ji, his smile suggesting the obvious. 

Once churned, the foamed milk is mixed with sugar and saffron, beaten with a stick, with the first batches sent to Gol Darwaza for sale at 7 am. The remaining churning is completed by the rest of the family. 

Over time, makkhan sellers at Gol Darwaza have risen from two to 20. Some even sell it as spring turns into summer, due to unseasonal demand and hyperconsumerism. We’re in the last leg of makkhan season and Brijesh ji is yet to enjoy a full serving. For locals like me, that is unimaginable.