This is a sequel to one of my very early posts dedicated to what is, statistically, the favorite food type of the Bengali community worldwide – fish. In North America, where I currently live, fish is generally subsumed under the term "seafood", which I find a bit unsettling since most varieties of fish commonly eaten in the eastern part of the Indian Subcontinent, where I hail from, come from freshwater bodies. Historically, the rest of South Asia has had mixed feelings towards the eating of fish as well as towards fish-eating peoples, as evident from scriptural (smriti (स्मृति)) sources and their interpretations. Nevertheless, the vast corpus of Sanskrit belles lettres does include a few snippets celebrating (or humorizing) the consumption of aquatic lifeforms by human beings. In this series, I will share the ones that I have collected thus far.
P.S. I apologize in advance if the glorification of non-vegetarian food offends you (and, if it does, please do not read any further); I promise that I will soon post material on vegetarian delights too!
(1) Whoever accuses Bengalis of being risk-averse has evidently never taken a close look at our meal plates. A regular item on our menu is the climbing perch[see this and this], Anabas testudineus. This tough, air-breathing, "walking" fish is chock-full of tiny sharp bones that would be enough to deter the most voracious predator. Suffice it to say, a fancy name for this creature in Sanskrit is krakacapRSThI (क्रकचपृष्ठी), "saw-back"! Its more common appellations are kavayI (कवयी) and kavikA (कविका), both cognate with Bengali kai (কই) [which is not to be confused with the Japanese koi although pronounced the same way], Assamese kawoi (কাৱৈ), Oriya kau (କଉ), Hindustani kavai (कवई) – words that were Anglicized to kay and kavay by Monier-Williams. The Hindustani name sumbhaa (सुंभा) is also recorded in some lexicons. Obsolete scientific names include Cojus (/ Coius) cobojus, Perca scandens (/ vagabunda), and Lutjanus (/ Lutianus) scandens.
(1) Whoever accuses Bengalis of being risk-averse has evidently never taken a close look at our meal plates. A regular item on our menu is the climbing perch[see this and this], Anabas testudineus. This tough, air-breathing, "walking" fish is chock-full of tiny sharp bones that would be enough to deter the most voracious predator. Suffice it to say, a fancy name for this creature in Sanskrit is krakacapRSThI (क्रकचपृष्ठी), "saw-back"! Its more common appellations are kavayI (कवयी) and kavikA (कविका), both cognate with Bengali kai (কই) [which is not to be confused with the Japanese koi although pronounced the same way], Assamese kawoi (কাৱৈ), Oriya kau (କଉ), Hindustani kavai (कवई) – words that were Anglicized to kay and kavay by Monier-Williams. The Hindustani name sumbhaa (सुंभा) is also recorded in some lexicons. Obsolete scientific names include Cojus (/ Coius) cobojus, Perca scandens (/ vagabunda), and Lutjanus (/ Lutianus) scandens.
The following couplet suggests that Bengal's love-affair (depending on the definition of "love", of course) with kai maachh goes back at least nine centuries.
Devanagari text:
अजाजीजम्बाले रजसि मरिचानां च लुठिताः
कटुत्वादुष्णत्वाज्जनितरसनौष्ठव्यतिकराः|
अनिर्वाणोत्थेन प्रबलतरतैलाक्ततनवो
मया सद्योभृष्टाः कतिपयकवय्यः कवलिताः||
कटुत्वादुष्णत्वाज्जनितरसनौष्ठव्यतिकराः|
अनिर्वाणोत्थेन प्रबलतरतैलाक्ततनवो
मया सद्योभृष्टाः कतिपयकवय्यः कवलिताः||
Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:
ajAjIjambAle rajasi maricAnAM ca luThitAH
kaTutvAduSNatvAjjanitarasanauSThavyatikarAH|
anirvANotthena prabalataratailAktatanavo
mayA sadyobhRSTAH katipayakavayyaH kavalitAH||
kaTutvAduSNatvAjjanitarasanauSThavyatikarAH|
anirvANotthena prabalataratailAktatanavo
mayA sadyobhRSTAH katipayakavayyaH kavalitAH||
– Anonymous
Loose translation: Tossed in a paste[see notes] of cumin and (then in) powdered pepper, and thoroughly doused in very strong (cooking) oil, they were spicy and hot enough to twist[see notes] the tongue and the lips – I wolfed these few kavay fish down as soon as they were fried, without even getting up to wash myself[see notes]!
Source: Vidyakara's Subhashita Ratnakosha Verse 1148. It is believed that this Vidyakara was a senior Buddhist monk at the Jagaddala Mahavihara in North Bengal in the 11th-12th centuries. Moreover, to the best of my knowledge, it is the inhabitants of the eastern part of the Subcontinent only (Bengalis, Oriyas, and perhaps the Assamese) who have traditionally had a taste for this species of fish. For these reasons, I conjecture that the verse was written somewhere in this region.
Notes: My interpretation above is influenced by D. H. H. Ingalls' (versified) translation:
जम्बाल → paste: The primary meaning of the word jambAla (जम्बाल), according to the authoritative lexicon Amarakosha, is paGka (पङ्क), "mud"; however, this latter word is often used in compounds to denote a paste, pulp, or mash, e.g. चन्दनपङ्क, "paste made by mixing sandalwood powder with water"; कुङ्कुमपङ्क, "paste made by mixing kumkum with water", etc. Hence, I have translated अजाजीजम्बाल as "cumin paste" rather than as "cumin swamp" (I think Ingalls presumed that the author was exaggerating here, but he probably just replaced पङ्क with a synonym).
व्यतिकर → twisting: The synonyms of the word व्यतिकर, given in Sanskrit thesauruses, translate roughly to either "destruction / calamity" or "mixing / confusion / entanglement"; I decided to go with Ingalls' "twist[ing]" because that, I think, is consistent with the poet's intent.
अनिर्वाणोत्थेन: This obscure word appears here as an adjective of the word मया, and hence describes the author. nirvAna (निर्वाण) literally refers to the act of extinguishing (whence its more popular philosophical sense is derived) but is also used to describe the traditional "bathing of an elephant" by a mahout (गजमज्जन), evidently because bathing lowers body temperature. The author (or perhaps an entire community in some part of South Asia at some point in time) could have generalized the meaning of the word to "bathing / washing", and applied it to human beings as well. In most Indic belief systems, special preprandial ablutions are customary, and eating while standing is frowned upon – this is perhaps why Ingalls ("I didn't wait to wash or sit") has interpreted the adjective under consideration as a combination of अनिर्वाण, "unbathed / unwashed", and उत्थ, "standing up". However, I have only ever seen उत्थ being used as a suffix in compounds, so I have interpreted अ-निर्वाणोत्थ as "not getting up for a wash" (न निर्वाणार्थम् उत्तिष्ठति): although the verse itself is unclear on the topic, I am guessing that the author himself fried his fish on a low traditional oven while sitting / squatting, so that he would need to get up to wash himself prior to the meal. But I am unsure of the grammatical validity of either reading. In any case, it is clear that the poet admits to throwing tradition and decorum to the wind just to convey his sheer eagerness for the deep-fried delicacy.
(2) Devanagari text:
Source: Vidyakara's Subhashita Ratnakosha Verse 1148. It is believed that this Vidyakara was a senior Buddhist monk at the Jagaddala Mahavihara in North Bengal in the 11th-12th centuries. Moreover, to the best of my knowledge, it is the inhabitants of the eastern part of the Subcontinent only (Bengalis, Oriyas, and perhaps the Assamese) who have traditionally had a taste for this species of fish. For these reasons, I conjecture that the verse was written somewhere in this region.
Notes: My interpretation above is influenced by D. H. H. Ingalls' (versified) translation:
I rolled them in a cumin swamp
and in a heap of pepper dust
till they were spiced and hot enough
to twist your tongue and mouth.
When they were basted well with oil,
I didn't wait to wash or sit;
I gobbled that mess of koyi fish
as soon as they were fried.
व्यतिकर → twisting: The synonyms of the word व्यतिकर, given in Sanskrit thesauruses, translate roughly to either "destruction / calamity" or "mixing / confusion / entanglement"; I decided to go with Ingalls' "twist[ing]" because that, I think, is consistent with the poet's intent.
अनिर्वाणोत्थेन: This obscure word appears here as an adjective of the word मया, and hence describes the author. nirvAna (निर्वाण) literally refers to the act of extinguishing (whence its more popular philosophical sense is derived) but is also used to describe the traditional "bathing of an elephant" by a mahout (गजमज्जन), evidently because bathing lowers body temperature. The author (or perhaps an entire community in some part of South Asia at some point in time) could have generalized the meaning of the word to "bathing / washing", and applied it to human beings as well. In most Indic belief systems, special preprandial ablutions are customary, and eating while standing is frowned upon – this is perhaps why Ingalls ("I didn't wait to wash or sit") has interpreted the adjective under consideration as a combination of अनिर्वाण, "unbathed / unwashed", and उत्थ, "standing up". However, I have only ever seen उत्थ being used as a suffix in compounds, so I have interpreted अ-निर्वाणोत्थ as "not getting up for a wash" (न निर्वाणार्थम् उत्तिष्ठति): although the verse itself is unclear on the topic, I am guessing that the author himself fried his fish on a low traditional oven while sitting / squatting, so that he would need to get up to wash himself prior to the meal. But I am unsure of the grammatical validity of either reading. In any case, it is clear that the poet admits to throwing tradition and decorum to the wind just to convey his sheer eagerness for the deep-fried delicacy.
(2) Devanagari text:
अक्षोटशुण्ठिमरिचार्द्रकदाडिमत्व-
क्कुस्तुम्बुरूलवणतैलसंस्कृतान् यः|
मत्स्यान् सुशीतसितभक्ततले दधाति
स ब्रह्मलोकमधिगच्छति पुण्यकर्मा||
क्कुस्तुम्बुरूलवणतैलसंस्कृतान् यः|
मत्स्यान् सुशीतसितभक्ततले दधाति
स ब्रह्मलोकमधिगच्छति पुण्यकर्मा||
Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:
akSoTazuNThimaricArdrakadADimatva-
-kkustumburUlavaNatailasaMskRtAn yaH|
matsyAn suzItasitabhaktatale dadhAti
sa brahmalokamadhigacchati puNyakarmA||
-kkustumburUlavaNatailasaMskRtAn yaH|
matsyAn suzItasitabhaktatale dadhAti
sa brahmalokamadhigacchati puNyakarmA||
– Anonymous
A. N. D. Haksar's translation:
Source: 15th century Subhaashitaavali Verse 2357.
Notes: The words शुण्ठि and आर्द्रक (lit. "moist"), appearing in the list of ingredients, denote the dried and undried varieties of ginger respectively – a nuance completely lost in translation. Evidently, Haksar interprets कुस्तुम्बुरू as "saffron", although all the reliable lexicons I was able to consult define this word (or rather its variants कुस्तुम्बुरु and कुस्तुम्बरी) as "coriander". I was also initially skeptical of his translation of दाडिमत्वक् as "pomegranate peel", but I was able to find at least one South Asian recipe which makes use of this plant part; I must, however, mention that the word दाडिम, which has "pomegranate" as its primary meaning, can also refer to the cardamom, a far more commonly used spice. Garnishing fish with walnut kernels might also seem interesting but, having tasted walnut shrimp myself, I am convinced that there are many palates that such a preparation would suit.
Given the cultural importance of walnuts in the Kashmiri Pandit way of life (check this out), the prevalence of fish in traditional Kashmiri cuisine, and the fact that Vallabhadeva, the compiler of the above anthology (which, to my knowledge, is the oldest source of this couplet), was from Kashmir, I am comfortable attributing this verse to a Kashmiri epicure.
What is most surprising to me is the glorification of boiled white rice served cold (सुशीतसितभक्त)! Perhaps, it was an early medieval Kashmiri quirk?
In some anthologies such as the Subhashita Ratna Bhandagara, the verse begins with धान्याकनागरनिशार्द्रकदाडिमत्वक्कुस्तुम्बुरीलवण-...: धन्याक = coriander; नागर = dry ginger / (=नागरङ्ग/नारङ्ग) orange (zest?); निशा = turmeric.
Brahmaloka, which Haksar translates as "paradise", is a word with different connotations in different religious / philosophical texts, but is generally seen as a physical realm or a "plane of existence" attainable only by some of the noblest and purest among us. In our poet's worldview, however, treating someone to fish curry over rice is enough to get you a ticket!
Each of the above snippets, in addition to being a work of art, is also (almost) a "real working recipe", much like this fellow non-resident Bengali's modern-day masterpiece.
Fish prepared with oil and salt,
ginger, pepper, pomegranate peel,
with walnuts garnished, touched with saffron,
and served on a bed of cool, white rice:
the doer of this act of merit
is bound to go to paradise.
Source: 15th century Subhaashitaavali Verse 2357.
Notes: The words शुण्ठि and आर्द्रक (lit. "moist"), appearing in the list of ingredients, denote the dried and undried varieties of ginger respectively – a nuance completely lost in translation. Evidently, Haksar interprets कुस्तुम्बुरू as "saffron", although all the reliable lexicons I was able to consult define this word (or rather its variants कुस्तुम्बुरु and कुस्तुम्बरी) as "coriander". I was also initially skeptical of his translation of दाडिमत्वक् as "pomegranate peel", but I was able to find at least one South Asian recipe which makes use of this plant part; I must, however, mention that the word दाडिम, which has "pomegranate" as its primary meaning, can also refer to the cardamom, a far more commonly used spice. Garnishing fish with walnut kernels might also seem interesting but, having tasted walnut shrimp myself, I am convinced that there are many palates that such a preparation would suit.
Given the cultural importance of walnuts in the Kashmiri Pandit way of life (check this out), the prevalence of fish in traditional Kashmiri cuisine, and the fact that Vallabhadeva, the compiler of the above anthology (which, to my knowledge, is the oldest source of this couplet), was from Kashmir, I am comfortable attributing this verse to a Kashmiri epicure.
What is most surprising to me is the glorification of boiled white rice served cold (सुशीतसितभक्त)! Perhaps, it was an early medieval Kashmiri quirk?
In some anthologies such as the Subhashita Ratna Bhandagara, the verse begins with धान्याकनागरनिशार्द्रकदाडिमत्वक्कुस्तुम्बुरीलवण-...: धन्याक = coriander; नागर = dry ginger / (=नागरङ्ग/नारङ्ग) orange (zest?); निशा = turmeric.
Brahmaloka, which Haksar translates as "paradise", is a word with different connotations in different religious / philosophical texts, but is generally seen as a physical realm or a "plane of existence" attainable only by some of the noblest and purest among us. In our poet's worldview, however, treating someone to fish curry over rice is enough to get you a ticket!
Each of the above snippets, in addition to being a work of art, is also (almost) a "real working recipe", much like this fellow non-resident Bengali's modern-day masterpiece.
