THE BONG PALATE

Some of the memories that I have preserved of my visit to Kashmir with my parents in the late seventies include the heart stopping beauty of the valley of Pahalgam, the rows and rows of chinar trees, the shikaras in the Dal Lake, the unforgivable beauty of the Kashmiri girls, signboards showing ‘Indo-Kashmir’ emporia and not to forget lots and lots of our Bong kindred from Kolkata. They had travelled miles just to be in that place about which it has been said “Gar firdaus, ruhe zamin ast, hamin asto, hamin asto, hamin asto” (If there is ever a heaven on earth, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here).

You cannot miss them anywhere. I mean us, the Bongs. They are everywhere, from the hills to the coast, in buses, trains, boats, shops, hotels and not to miss hordes of them on horseback or even in‘ dolis’ making their way to Kedarnath or Amarnath. As the Goddess Durga arrives on Earth from Kailash each year with her children in tow, the Bengali family too embarks on its annual pilgrimage. The only difference being that the Devi chooses one of these modes of travel – Ashwa (horse), Gaj (elephant), Nouka (boat) or the Palki (palanquin)- we Bongs choose Kundu or Banerjee Specials to help us criss-cross the country.

Actually you can spot them from quite a distance and you will never be wrong in identifying them. They usually move in groups- Pishima, Kakima, Dada, Boudi, Jethu, Thakuma, Sonamoni, Potla, Bonti- a strange medley. Occasionally, you come across a few honeymooners- dressed heavily in colourful silks and costume jewellery with the man invariably carrying the young missus’ handbag- and sometimes an all stag group consisting of office colleagues or college friends.

Courtsey: Times of India- Internet

It is actually very easy to identify members of my tribe. Be it in Kashmir or Mount Abu or Udhagamandalam. The men, usually leading the group like flag bearers, will be armoured with mufflers, monkey-caps, brilliantly coloured sweaters and jackets, which would button up with great difficulty especially at the waist, and finally yards and yards of grey-brown shawls. Children, walking like robots behind their fathers and uncles, their movement restricted by the protective gear supplied by their much concerned mothers, and covered  from head to toe in such a way that, apart from their little eyes, not much is visible. Finally, the rank and file will be made up of lots of waddling ladies, with due respect to their generous waistlines, their sarees and shawls fluttering gaily in the wind. The mothers and grandmothers are usually armed with lots of ‘jholas’, water-bottles, flasks and goodies. The current generation, though, is more smartly dressed, thanks to the malls which have mushroomed everywhere and the television soaps, leading to some changes in their wardrobes whereby they tend to blend more homogeneously with the crowd. Even though salwars may have replaced the sarees, trousers the dhotis and backpacks, the ‘jholas’, the patented monkey caps and mufflers are still there. A closer look will help you recognize your Bong friends unmistakably. Now, coming to the point; the mission of one and all in the group is experimenting with gastronomic delights.

One of the most common sights, wherever you go, is that of a Bong mother running after a cantankerous child pleading with him to have a bite of something, the child irritably reacting “Aar khabo na !”(Don’t want to eat any more) and the father angrily coming out with a ‘fatwa’. This is usually followed by lots of angry outbursts, coaxing, cajoling with finally the child putting an end to it all by exclaiming, “Kheye kheye morbo na ki?” (Do you want me to die eating?). The case is put to rest.

On this Kashmir trip, we came across one such group who, having been away from home for quite some time, had almost gone berserk and were desperately on the lookout for some Dada- Boudi’s  eatery that could satisfy their dried up palates. “They make the most mouthwatering Aloo-posto and chochchori.” My father, who liked experimenting, instead suggested savouring the trout curry being sold at a nearby local joint but they were quite resolute about their mission. “No, no too much aloo parathas with dollops of butter have worked havoc in our tummies, so we want something light.”  Poor Dad backed out, even refraining from mentioning the ‘Gushtaba’ and ‘Rista’ , Kashmiri meat delicacies, we had tried out the night before. So our Bong friends continued their search for the much popular Dada- Boudi joint till they met with success and even gave us the directions to it in our next encounter with them. I salute their perseverance and indomitable spirit!

Perhaps, it is this spirit that takes us across the length and breadth of the country from Kashmir to Kanykumari, from Dwarka to Shillong. I am sure that we Bengalis constitute one of the highest number of Indian tourists, at least, within India. Despite ‘sambhar-rasam’ not really being our cup of tea, the Bongs’ favourite tourist destination still remains ‘South India’. Every Bong has definitely been there once, either with family or friends or on honeymoon. Idli-dosa-uttapam may not be our favourite cuisine and our stomachs may even revolt against them at times, despite each one of us carrying sufficient stock of Gelusil and Digene, but we have definitely braved the trio just to see the Temple of Meenakshi or the Forest of Periyar.

However, this weakness has not deterred us from moving or venturing out of our homeland or trying out and experimenting with the cuisine of other people and other cultures. You go visiting to any part of the country or even outside it, our Bong friend is there eating, enjoying, berating, suggesting and experimenting with all types of culinary delights. Everything may not suit his weak digestive system, his cravings for his machh- bhaat may resurface, but he will all the same venture out. In Kolkata you may even come across a simple middle-class guy, who may not have travelled much beyond the Puri-Digha-Darjeeling circuit, but he has in-depth knowledge of where to get the best Chinese, Thai, Mughlai and even Malabar specialities. I guess this love for travel and food has got something to do with our genes. Perhaps, another Bong, Dr Siddhartha Mukherjee, may throw some light on this in his latest book on the intimate history of genes.

Now with boundaries fading, Bong Bravehearts are touring the world – Dubai, Bangkok, Singapore, Hongkong and London having become favourite destinations. Though we start missing our maachh-bhaat and mangsher jhol after a week of travel, we do not hesitate to try out all the local cuisine. However,here is a note of caution -do not be surprised if, after trying out all the authentic Chinese ,Thai, Italian cuisines, on returning home your Bong friend concludes that the Chinese served in Kolkata’s Chinatown and  the Thai served in the neighbourhood restaurant are the world’s best!

As most of my readers know, most Bengalis, have a problem with ‘b’ and ‘v’. However this, like all our other handicaps, has never ever stopped us from venturing forth and leaving our footprints on distant lands. This brings to mind a little anecdote. A friend’s father, during his trip to Mumbai, joined us in trying the famed ‘Vada Pav’. Standing at the counter and, perhaps being  intimidated by the size of the pav, or the huge potato vada inside it or the red masala being drizzled on it, he quietly asked the vendor if instead of a ‘Bada Pau’ he could be given a ‘Chhota Pau’!!    

Though I have never been to the USA, my friends settled there often let me have a sneak peek into their lives through FB posts and pics. I am impressed, to say the least, that my Bong friends out there, resplendent in their Kanjeevarams and heavy duty gold jewellery, are celebrating all festivals from Dugga Pujo to Saraswati Pujo , from Jamai Shashti to  Poush Parbon in true Bong style with a touch of the ‘phoren’- champagne in their hands but eyes looking longingly at the Galda Chingris (lobsters) staring at them and the Smoked Hilsas beckoning them from the lavish spread on their tables. It only proves that the Bong’s gastronomic longings are actually insatiable and unconquerable and wherever he is, his quest will continue.

Courtsey: Times of India- Internet

Yes, we are a fishy lot and we love our fish (and meat, a close second) delicacies. We think, stink and dream of fish. There may be a few odd ones but they do not count. Our neighbours may not like the smell which emanates from our house while frying fish but we could not care less. We become like fish out of water if we are deprived of its flavours and tastes for too long. Let me be honest, we are not wholly partial, we love our veggies too (like our friends in Kashmir who had become homesick for Aloo Posto and Chochchori) but up to a point. For instance, mark the expression on your Bong colleagues who come out of a wedding feast where only vegetarian fare has been served. They gorge themselves on all the veggie delights but their expression betrays that somewhere, something has gone amiss. There is in them a feeling of incompleteness. Even though they may have taken second helpings of the ‘Malai Koftas’ or the ‘Hariyali Kebabs’, a craving for something more is left in them. A wedding feast without fish kabiraji , chingri malaikari and kosha mangsho is unimaginable to a Bong no matter to what caste, creed or religion he belongs!!

For us all the three Ps- Pujo, Parbon and Parinoy ( Durga Puja, Festivals and Weddings)- are synonymous with good food. A visit to the Durga Pujo pandal without trying out the luchi-aloor dum, Mughlai parathas(our very own Bong creation), dal-puris, egg rolls, mochar chops, not to forget standing in the queue for the Bhog (Prasad), is unpalatable. In any puja pandal it is fun to see the mad rush to the food counters made by devotees the moment ‘Pushpanjali’(offering of flowers to the deity) is over. As the priest recites the mantra in Sanskrit, the hands remain folded and the eyes closed, but the minds of the fasting Bongs start wandering to another territory – malai chamcham or mishti doi ?

In Bong weddings, too, we do not care too much for ceremonies and rituals. In fact, they are getting cut short by the day with inter-caste, inter- community and inter- continental marriages rising in number. As I understand, though, the feast is getting more and more sumptuous and global. In fact Bong weddings are occasions when cousins and friends enter into gluttonous competitions with each other – who can have the most number of fish cutlets, steamed bhetkis or rosogollas .  Most pre and post wedding debates, too, centre around one topic- food.

With malice toward none and love for all, I hope I can safely say may our tribe increase and may we spread this love for eating and travelling to every nook and corner of this beautiful planet.

DS