Kajalie Shehreen Islam

Years ago, my sister wrote a song to go with the tune of a popular patriotic Bangla song. The lyrics went something like, "Food is my life, food is my death, food is my happiness, food is my peace."

Now, my sister is a little overweight, and she never hears the end of it for being overly interested in food. And, in truth, there seems to be very little she doesn't like to eat. To her, everything -- from lobster to any sort of bhorta -- is "behester khabar" (sound effects: a long, dreamy or satisfied sigh -- depending on whether she has had the dish or has just heard of someone else having it).

But she is definitely not the only one I've seen or heard being this excited over anything edible. While thinner people get away with it more easily, we must admit that food and all the thrills surrounding it are a huge part of our culture.

But is it really that? Is it "Bangali culture" that is so food-obsessed, or does it just seem that way because that is how it has come along over the generations, partially due to the lack of any other interesting forms of entertainment?

My grandparents' and even parents' generation is all into the ghee and doodher shaur and roshogolla material. I have uncles, each of whom eat over a kilogram of beef in one sitting. These days, people are more conscious about their diet, weight and health in general, yet my best friend still gets herself swollen up over beef and shrimp which she is allergic to but just can't resist, whether at home or at any sort of food festival in town. I myself have all sorts of cravings, for everything from phuchka and biriyani to Chinese food, fried chicken and spaghetti; not to mention my incurable chocoholism. (My best friend and I are actually known for having had two plates of spaghetti each on one particularly hungry afternoon, as well as for going to two restaurants for two subsequent main courses during a single meal).
Anytime anyone wants to go out in Dhaka, it seems to be all about the food. Phuchka or chotpoti? Kebab or biriyani? Fast food or gourmet? Local, continental or oriental? Cake at some newly-opened confectionary or ice-cream at some popular parlour? When parents, siblings or children are due to visit from abroad, the first thing we do is save up food, whether korbanir mangsho, ilish maachh or mango which will not be available at that time of year. Do we have no other source of entertainment, or do we choose food over all the others?

My sister is planning to come home from abroad in December, and, among her many ambitious plans for her two-week stay here (which include going to our village as well as Cox's Bazaar, Fantasy Kingdom and each and every one of our relative's houses), is that of eating out every day. She carefully avoids adding explicitly that scrumptious, mom-cooked meals are also on the daily itinerary. I was encouraged to hear that she also planned to go on morning walks with my father -- until she mentioned the reason behind this sudden enthusiasm for exercise being paratha and pigeon for breakfast at the park. (Yes, the various walkers' clubs actually have great big eating parties at least once a week. And how can I even blame them? The only afternoon my mother and I ever tried to go for a walk at a nearby park, we ended up sitting around eating peanuts! So much for burning calories.) From her sad tone of voice when talking about food over the phone from the US, one would think my sister hardly eats there, but witnesses have claimed her fridge and kitchen cabinets to always be full and her weight, somehow, always on the increase.

As I said, I myself, not being quite overweight yet, get away with eating to my heart's content (though my other sister says I should wait and see once I'm 25 and my metabolism starts its descent towards rock bottom). Even with my father piling the rice on my plate, despite repeated warnings from other quarters that he is the one responsible for my sister's current heaviness. For my father, we can never eat enough. If I eat a little less than usual during even one meal, he will appear at my door with his various bottles of homeopathic to heal my ailing appetite and get my poor stomach functioning properly again.

The other time he comes into my room is to chase me with fruits, which he will literally stuff into my mouth -- the screams and choking/strangling sounds of which have been fearfully witnessed by my friends on the phone. This, accompanied by his own childhood reminiscences of sibling squabbles over murgir raan, maachher matha and chhaanaar roshogolla; wistful stories of other people's children who eat korolla; and my own history of climbing up on a stool and eating whole bunches of bananas hanging by the window when I was four (which for the death of me I can't remember!).

My poor sister, however, does not usually get much encouragement anymore (only a little when she comes down for a two-week vacation!). But then, she hardly needs it. Not only because she herself has caught on to the blissful joys of eating, but because, even if her immediate family does not support her gluttonous activities, everyone and everything else around her -- in fact, our "culture" as a whole -- sure will.