Non Veg for a Bengali!!!!!!!!

chillibreeze writer — R S

How come the places you can flaunt your Bengali-ness aren't the proper places for any flaunting whatsoever? Every time I go to a Desi party, the various North Indians, surrounded by their language, music and friends, always get shout-outs from the DJ: “Raise your hands if you're Gujaaaraaatiiiii! Where my Punjaaaabiiiis at?” The crowds raise their arms and roar back: “Gujaratiiii! Punjabiiiii!”

The other night, I went to see a showing of "Born into Brothels" at the local university. The documentary is about the children of prostitutes in Kolkata, so all of the dialogue and characters are Bengali. During the movie, one little girl was trying to decide whether to go to a boarding school or not and the following dialogue ensued:

Little Girl: "Will we have to eat veg[etarian] there?"
Little Boy: "Would you rather eat chicken, or get a good education?"
Little Girl: "Vegetarian food is yucky."

Right when she said that last line, I felt a swell of pride in my chest. So much so that I felt, at that moment, like clenching my right fist and raising it in defiance Black Power-style and shouting, "Bengaliiiii!!" in the middle of the audience. That little girl's wholehearted distaste for the prospect of eating vegetarian food, or nirameesh, on a consistent basis, brought pure joy to me.

Hearing the girl speak about the kind of food she would eat when she was about to make a potentially life-altering decision reminded me of the many times my parents would balk at going to the temple because it was only vegetarian, or the disappointed look in my father's eyes when my mother had just told him that we would be having "nirameesh"* for dinner a second consecutive day. The next day, I inevitably spotted the arrival and subsequent cooking of fish in our household. It struck me right then: if food wasn't the defining essence of Bengali culture, then what was?

Whenever our family went to North Indian gatherings, the food always followed a general vegetarian standard. The same basic menu enacted via potluck every time was usually: choley, rajma, oily okra, oily cauliflower, potato and bean concoction, and raita. And usually followed by barfi for dessert. Which is not to say it wasn't good- it was, but each item was simple in its preparation and always vegetarian. I don't think it would be incorrect to say that at North Indian gatherings, the focus was on the gathering, and not on the food. The food was just of marginal importance.

Bengali gatherings, on the other hand, focused on the food. To honor one’s guest meant that the host, usually my mother, would go to extremes with the painstaking preparation of meat and fish, as well as sweets. In fact, vegetarian food was reserved only for religious ceremonies such as that which follows a death in the family. Otherwise, a course of vegetarian food at a social gathering risked insulting the guests. Even if a host family was of modest means, instead of hilsa fish, it would have buffalo fish, which reminded guests of rui maach, a fish commonly found in the ponds of East Bengal.

So why is this relevant? Mainly because as my friends exhort me to look for a life partner, and I contemplate the qualities that would be ideal in the other person, it's pretty clear that being non vegetarian is of major importance to this Bengali, if not paramount importance, for two reasons.

First, I could never be a vegetarian. My friend says it's a small sacrifice, but buddy you have no idea. I just love my meat too much. It’s how I was raised, and I haven't even sampled enough preparations as repetitively as I would have liked. A couple months ago, my friend and I began using a book of recipes to cook up meaty Indian dishes. A bit oily, but they were so good. Considering we only got through several so far, we still have quite a ways to go before we sample them all.

Second, even assuming I could be open to being with a vegetarian, their common attitudes toward my non vegetarian eating habits would inevitably preclude a union. When I’m with vegetarian friends, they interject "Ewwww how can you eat a dead body?!" or "You're so cruel. Don't you feel bad?" One time, I was chewing on a chicken bone, and my good friend remarked to me, "what did the chicken do to you that you have to chew its bones?"

Provocation aside, there was some substance to what he used to say. He used to joke that as Bengalis, we were the odd ones out among Indians when it came to food. Especially so when I parroted back what my father had told me: since fish were the "fruit of the sea," we were still somewhat pious, and this was no reason to discount my Hindu romantic prospects.

"Ratnesh, the Gujus blanch at the thought of meat. Tamils, the same. Hindu Punjabis, it depends, but the same goes for most North Indians....so I guess," he said with a wry grin on his face, "you'll never meet an Indian girl you can have a future with."

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