Flavors of Words

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In the land where Bengali thrives and flows,

Friends gather ’round and merrily propose,

“Your language is truly a joyful spree,”

But why, I ask, what’s the mystery?

“You call it water, yet you eat it too,

Oh, water for eating? What can you do?”

With a smile, I say, “Yes, indeed,

If our menu’s mastered, hunger won’t impede.”

“How does that work?” they ask, intrigued and keen,

As we Bengalis consume things quite unforeseen.

We drink, but not just that, oh no, it’s true,

We float, we dive, in waters we imbue.

Not just water, Bengalis embrace with glee,

Milk, tea, coffee, they sip delightfully,

Even sharbat finds a place in their glass,

And yes, the drink you’re thinking, they do not surpass.

It’s not just liquids, but more to explore,

Bengalis light cigarettes, bidis galore,

Weak stomachs that can’t digest much more,

Yet they too partake in the “gas” that they store.

Is anything left to be devoured, you say?

When opportunities arise, they munch away,

Even in trouble, they’ll “eat trouble,” it’s told,

In adversity’s grasp, they’re still bold.

Though I can’t claim to know it all,

Bengalis, indeed, are diverse in their thrall,

With multifarious tastes that unfold,

In Bengali’s world of food, stories are told.

Bengali cars run on petrol, it’s heard,

Diverse preferences in each model stirred,

Skyward the kite soars, a “gote” it’s named,

On earth, crickets chirp, flames in night’s frame.

And what of eating in other tongues,

Has any poet penned gastronomic songs?

“Khai Khai Kore, Keno?

Es Bosh Ahar-e,

Khaob Ajob Khawa,

Bhoj Koio Jahaare…”

The search for epicurean verses beyond,

Leads to the Bengali poet who so fond,

Started poetic life with words of food,

Kazi Nazrul, a taste so shrewd.

“Milk we boil till it’s thick,

With banana’s tender quick,

Sending messages with every spoon,

Sputtering sounds in silent tune,

Caterpillar cries upon the leaves.”

And then there’s Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar,

Who penned “Dudhe Bhat,” a foodie star,

His wedding wish unique and grand,

“A son of mine, milk and rice in hand.”

So even in vows, food remains supreme,

In Bengali language, a recurring theme,

“Rice and milk, why ask for more?”

Such curious cravings they explore.

A love for flavors, a gourmet’s delight,

Bengali poets, their verses take flight,

Exploring tastes with words so bright,

From nimbu to kathal, in every bite.

Even the great Swami Vivekananda knew,

A pure mind makes cuisine taste true,

“If you can’t relish a simple dish,

Monastic life, you cannot relish.”

In Kolkata, a foreign soul once roved,

Observing food habits that Bengalis loved,

They pondered breakfast, already lunch’s plight,

And contemplated dinner before the night.

So, why not embrace this Bengali creed?

To eat water and fulfill every need,

For in this language, a culture resides,

Where food and words harmoniously collide.

Bengalis enjoy “Khaipha” in every hue,

With such diversity, they dare to imbue,

And while some might laugh or tease,

In every dish, their heart’s delight they seize.

So, let Bengalis savor and munch with glee,

In the land where Bengali flows so free,

Their culinary journey, unique and bold,

In this tale of flavors, stories are told.