The Sweet History of Imarti
The Sweet History of Imarti: From Mughal Royalty to Diwali Memories
The history of Imarti (also known as Jhangiri or Amriti in different regions) is as rich and intricate as its flower-shaped coils. Behind its glossy orange hue lies a tale that spirals through royal kitchens, temple offerings, and centuries of Indian culinary tradition.
The Mughal Royal Legend and the Persian Connection
The most colourful story traces Imarti’s origin to the zenith of the Mughal Empire.
The Patron Prince:
Legend says that in the imperial kitchens of Fatehpur Sikri, a young Prince Salim—later Emperor Jahangir—challenged his royal chefs to invent something new. Tired of laddoos and kheer, he wanted a dessert unlike any other.
The Inspiration:
The chefs drew ideas from the Persian sweet Zulbiya, the ancestor of Jalebi. Instead of using flour, they chose urad dal (split black gram), ground to a smooth paste, piped into intricate floral loops, fried in ghee, and dipped in saffron-infused syrup.
The Name and Legacy:
The prince adored the creation. It was christened Jhangiri—after Jahangir himself—a name that endures in South India. In the royal courts, the sweet symbolised opulence and hospitality, often served during grand banquets.
The Deeper Indian Roots
Beyond the Mughal legend, Imarti’s key ingredient hints at a far older Indian origin.
Ancient References:
Food historians cite Sanskrit texts that mention a coiled sweet called “Sudha Kundalika”—literally “coils of nectar.” This suggests that an early lentil-based confection existed in India long before the Mughals.
The Urad Dal Base:
While Jalebi uses fermented maida (flour), Imarti relies on urad dal, a deeply native Indian pulse. This ingredient grounds the dessert in local agricultural and culinary traditions, reinforcing that Imarti is likely an indigenous evolution, not merely a courtly import.
Regional Traditions:
In Jaunpur, Uttar Pradesh, the famed Jaunpur Imarti has been made for generations. The iconic shop Beni Ram Sweets, established in 1865 A.D., still follows the age-old recipe—proof that Imarti’s legacy runs deep in local memory.
Imarti vs. Jalebi: The Distinctive Differences
Though often mistaken for each other, Imarti and Jalebi are cousins, not twins.
| Feature | Imarti / Jhangiri | Jalebi |
|---|---|---|
| Base Ingredient | Urad dal (black gram) | Maida (refined flour) |
| Texture | Softer, porous, flower-shaped rings | Crisp spirals |
| Colour | Deep orange-saffron hue | Bright yellow-orange |
| Flavour | Earthy lentil aroma with saffron syrup | Tangy-sweet from fermented batter |
| Origin Story | Indigenous & Mughal kitchen innovation | Persian “Zulbiya” influence |
Both are soaked in sugar syrup, but the Imarti’s richness and depth of flavour make it a dessert that celebrates patience, precision, and artistry.
A Sweet Symbol of Celebration
Whether offered in temples, served during weddings, or gifted during festivals, Imarti continues to represent warmth, festivity, and craftsmanship. Its flower-like loops are a reminder of how India’s sweets carry not only flavour but also stories—stories of emperors and grandmothers, of culinary creativity and cultural continuity.
My Memory of Imarti: The Sweet Scent of Diwali Evenings
For me, Imarti holds more than just history—it holds memory. Every year, as soon as the Diwali season arrived, I remember seeing rows of shops preparing Imarti, their golden spirals sizzling in syrup, filling the air with a warmth that felt like celebration itself.
When I was a kid, Imarti used to be a regular evening treat—almost every alternate day, a fresh, warm box would find its way home. The joy of eating it, still slightly sticky with syrup and perfectly soft inside, was unmatched. Each bite carried that comforting sweetness that only home and childhood can offer.
Even today, whenever that familiar aroma wafts through the air during Diwali, it takes me back to those carefree evenings—the laughter, the chatter, and the simple excitement of waiting for that first syrupy bite.
And honestly, it wasn’t until I started researching for this story that I discovered something surprising—Imarti isn’t made with maida at all, but with urad dal. Somehow, that made it even more special to me—a sweet that’s been part of my life for so long still had something new to teach me.
It’s funny how food does that—how one dessert can hold history, flavour, and memories all at once. For me, Imarti will always taste like Diwali evenings, family laughter, and the comforting sweetness of tradition.
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