Fish and Rivers: The Whispering Waters
Let us begin with the price of fish. In Ramesh Chandra Dutt’s novel Sansar (published in 1292 BS), shortly after the protagonist Bindu arrives in Kolkata, her maid tells her, "Why wouldn't one find large Koi fish, Ma? But can one even touch them? They ask for two, three, or four paisa apiece. And oh, don't even mention Magur fish—a large Magur costs four, six, or eight paisa." Hearing this, Bindu exclaimed, "You don't say! Do people in your Kolkata not eat or drink anything? Do they only ride carriages and horses? Anyway, bring some Tangra or Parshe fish, and get a paisa worth of Mourala fish; I shall cook a sour stew for Babu."
রমেশ দত্তের 'সংসার' (প্রকাশ ১২৯২ বঙ্গাব্দ) উপন্যাসে নায়িকা বিন্দুকে কলকাতায় আসার পরই তার ঝি বলচে, "বড়ো বড়ো কৈ মাছ পাওয়া যাবে না কেন মা। তা সে কি ছোঁয়া যায়। এক একটা দু পয়সা তিন পয়সা চার পয়সা চায়। ওমা, মাগুর মাছের কথাটি কইও না, একটা বড়ো মাগুর মাছের দাম চার পয়সা ছ পয়সা আট পয়সা।" নাম শুনে বিন্দু বললেন, "বলিস কি রে? তোদের কলকেতায় লোক কি খায় দায় না, কেবল গাড়ি-ঘোড়া চড়ে। আচ্ছা, ট্যাংরা কি পার্শে আনিস, আর এক পয়সার মৌরলা আনিস, বাবুকে অম্বল রেঁধে দোব।"
In the late-autumn months of Kartik and Agrahayan, climbing perch (*koi*) were traditionally caught using an ingenious trap known as the 'Hede Kal'. Alongside a pond or creek harboring koi, a narrow channel would be dug, with a deep earthenware pitcher buried flush at its end. Trailing roots of aquatic caltrops and weeds were laid across the channel to provide cover. A mixture of roasted fenugreek and parched rice powder (*chire/chal bhaja gura*) was sprinkled at the mouth of the vessel. Enticed by the fragrant bait, the climbing perch would wriggle along the moist ditch using their stiff pectoral spines, slip over the lip into the jar, and find themselves trapped, unable to scale the smooth interior.
Koi can also be snared simply by disturbing weed clusters; if the fish's sharp, comb-like opercular spines snag in the dense roots of aquatic leaves, it cannot easily extricate itself. Down toward coastal estuaries—in Canning and Diamond Harbour—fishermen enclose mudflats with bamboo fencing at high tide, catching trapped fish bare-handed as the waters recede.
কৈ মাছ—“কৈ ভাজে গণ্ডাদশ মরিচ-গুড়িয়া আদারসে” — (কবিকঙ্কন চণ্ডী)
Tel Koi (Climbing Perch in Rich Spiced Oil)
Climbing perch (Koi fish):
“Koi bhaje gandadash morich-guriya aada-rose”
(They fry climbing perch by the tens, seasoned with crushed black pepper and fresh ginger juice.)
— Kabi Kankan Chandi
Select large, mature climbing perch. Clean them thoroughly while keeping them whole. Make one or two diagonal incisions along the body so the salt and spices penetrate deep into the flesh. Marinate the fish with salt, turmeric, freshly cracked black pepper, ginger paste (or fresh ginger juice), and optionally, onion paste (or juice) to taste, finished with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.
Fry the fish until distinctly crisp. For the signature tempered oil (tel jhal), add a pinch of fenugreek seeds alongside cumin to the hot oil.
Temper the oil with cumin seeds, bay leaves, fenugreek seeds, whole dry red chillies, and whole garam masala; add a pinch of asafoetida (hing) or chopped onions if preferred. Add red chilli paste, coriander paste, ginger paste, and turmeric paste, sautéing gently until the spices lose their raw aroma and release their fragrant oils. Stir in salt to taste, followed by a splash of warm water to form a rich gravy. Once it comes to a boil, drop in plump, soaked raisins. Let the fish cook through, then take it off the heat, scatter freshly slit green chillies over the top, and cover with a lid to rest.
During the late autumn and winter months of Kartik, Agrahayan, and Poush, when the climbing perch are at their prime and sun-dried mashkolai er bori (urad dal dumplings) are freshly made, pairing the fish with these dumplings unlocks the dish's true, time-honored depth of flavor. If you can procure asafoetida-infused mashkolai bori (hing-bori), lightly fry them beforehand; add them alongside the slit green chillies just as you turn off the flame, then cover and let everything rest so the dumplings soak up the spiced essence.
Traditional Bengali Tel Koi
| Prep Time | Cook Time | Resting Time | Total Time | Servings |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 15 mins | 20 mins | 5 mins | 40 mins | 2–3 |
Ingredients
For the Fish and Marinade:
- 4 large Koi fish (Climbing Perch), cleaned and scales thoroughly removed
- 1 tsp turmeric powder
- 1 tsp freshly cracked black pepper
- 1 tbsp ginger paste (or fresh ginger juice)
- 1 tbsp onion paste or onion juice (optional)
- 1 tsp fresh lemon juice
- Salt to taste
- Mustard oil for shallow or deep frying
For Tempering and Gravy:
- 3–4 tbsp mustard oil (reserved from frying)
- ½ tsp cumin seeds (jeera)
- ¼ tsp fenugreek seeds (methi)
- 1–2 bay leaves (tejpatta)
- 2 whole dried red chillies
- Whole garam masala (2 green cardamoms, 1-inch cinnamon stick, 3 cloves)
- A pinch of asafoetida (hing) or 2 tbsp finely sliced onion (optional)
- 1 tbsp ginger paste
- 1 tbsp coriander paste (or ground coriander mixed with water)
- 1 tsp red chilli paste
- ½ tsp turmeric paste or powder
- Salt to taste
- 1 tbsp raisins (kishmish), soaked in warm water
- 4–5 fresh green chillies, slit lengthwise
- 6–8 sun-dried mashkolai hing-bori (urad dal asafoetida dumplings) (optional)
- ½ to ¾ cup warm water
Instructions
- Prep and Marinate the Fish: Make 1–2 shallow diagonal incisions across both sides of each fish. Rub thoroughly with salt, turmeric, black pepper, ginger paste (or juice), lemon juice, and onion paste (if using). Set aside for 10–15 minutes.
- Fry the Bori (Optional): Heat mustard oil in a heavy-bottomed kadai. If using mashkolai hing-bori, fry them over medium heat until pale golden and aromatic. Drain and set aside.
- Crisp-Fry the Fish: In the same hot oil, fry the Koi fish until distinctly crisp on the outside. Remove gently and set aside.
- Temper the Oil: Retain about 3–4 tablespoons of mustard oil in the pan. Add the cumin seeds, fenugreek seeds, bay leaves, whole dried red chillies, whole garam masala, and optional hing or sliced onions. Sauté for a few seconds until fragrant.
- Cook the Spice Paste: Add the ginger paste, coriander paste, red chilli paste, and turmeric. Sauté (koshano) over medium-low heat until the raw smell dissipates and droplets of oil separate from the masala.
- Simmer: Pour in ½ to ¾ cup of warm water and season with salt. Bring the gravy to a rolling boil, then stir in the plump, soaked raisins.
- Finish and Rest: Gently slide the fried fish into the gravy. Turn off the heat. Scatter the slit green chillies and the fried hing-bori over the top. Cover immediately with a tight lid and let it rest undisturbed for 5 minutes so the dumplings soften and the steam seals in the aroma.
- Serve: Serve hot with steamed Gobindobhog or long-grain white rice.
Connections with Bangladesh have thinned across generations, yet our living thread remained anchored in my Maa and Baba. Deeply rooted in the soil of East Bengal, they crossed the porous borders into India during Partition as refugees—foreigners in their own ancestral land (নিজ গৃহে পরবাসী). Beyond the daily anxieties of food and shelter, they grappled for dignity and existence. They rarely expressed an overt longing to revisit their hometown; for them, "home" had meant the protective embrace of extended family, childhood companions, and village life—an atmosphere forever altered by the tragedy of division. Leaving behind extensive ancestral property and community standing, they bore that quiet emptiness throughout their lives. Yet here in West Bengal, they rebuilt their lives as proud Indian Bengalis. Bearing every hardship that accompanied the refugee stamp, they sheltered us, nurtured our humanity beyond sectarian divisions, and taught us the value of resilience and unity.
Roughly two-thirds of historic Bengal formed East Bengal (present-day Bangladesh), while the remaining third comprised West Bengal. In the turbulent wake of Partition and migration, West Bengal endured staggering population pressures and severe food shortages before domestic rhythms gradually normalized.
The rural districts of Bengal retained an unbroken continuum of traditional domestic customs, contrasting sharply with the cosmopolitan mosaic of Kolkata, which integrated vibrant communities from Gujarat, Marwar, Punjab, Odisha, and Bihar for trade and enterprise.
Historically, Bengal was blessed by a benign climate—spared extreme freezes or prolonged arid droughts—and sustained by a vast riverine network, fertile silt, and lush vegetation. Households kept milch cows, revering them as maternal protectors and symbols of bovine wealth (Godhana).
While orthodox traditions in parts of ancient India came to view animal protein as impure, the Bengali emerged as an unrivaled connoisseur of freshwater fish—the "silver harvest" of our river-laced topography.
Growing up, good food in our family was synonymous with fresh fish. It was an essential, daily presence—neither routine meals nor festive banquets were complete without it. Bengal also developed an entire culinary pharmacopeia around jiyol machh (জীয়ল মাছ)—resilient, live-breathing freshwater species such as Koi (climbing perch), Singi (stinging catfish), and Magur (walking catfish) that survive out of water, alongside tender juvenile carp (chara pona). Cooked as light, restorative broths, these were prized dietary supplements for the ill and wholesome nourishment for growing children.
A well-known proverb from Sylhet captures this reverence: "Mach khao te koi magur, log dhoro te sobar thakur" (Eat koi and magur for strength and vitality; align with the righteous and all will honor you).
My elders framed culinary taboos around sound ecological wisdom. We ritually abstained from eating Hilsa after late September (Bijoya Dashami) to safeguard its peak spawning cycle, welcoming it back only on Saraswati Puja with the ritual offering of Jora Ilish (জোড়া ইলিশ—paired Hilsa). Early monsoon fishermen in the Bhagirathi-Hooghly belt honored a sacred totem: the season's first catch was consecrated with vermilion, tender durva grass, and unbroken paddy grains, before being returned reverently to Mother Ganga. Similarly, households greeted the season's first arriving Hilsa with the auspicious blowing of the conch shell.
Traditional Culinary Verses: Dwija Bansidas [দ্বিজ বংশীদাস]
"পাবতা মাছ দিয়া রান্ধে নালিতার ঝোল
পুরান কুমড়া দিয়া রোহিতের কোল
কিঞ্চিত নালিত পত্র তার মাঝে আদা
লাউ দিয়া ঘন্টা রাঁধে রোহিতের গাদা
বাগুন দ্বিগুন করি তাহে লাউ যোগ
মাগুর মত্স্য সহ রান্ধে কাঙোরভোগ"
(Dwija Bansidas chronicles a feast: Pabda fish stewed with tender jute leaves; rich Rohu belly paired with aged pumpkin; ginger-scented jute greens; Rohu carp cooked into a mishmash with bottle gourd; and tender catfish cooked with twice the measure of eggplant alongside gourd—a meal fit for an ascetic's longing.)
While orthodox rituals in pre-modern Bengal imposed austere vegetarian diets on certain orders and widows—eschewing not only meat and fish but also alliums and lentils—the broader populace proudly embraced their identity as "Machhe-Bhaate Bangali" (মাছে ভাতে বাঙালি—Bengalis nourished on fish and rice). Ancient archaeological excavations consistently unearth terracotta plaques showing fish being prepped and cooked. Even within Hindu iconography, Vishnu's first incarnation appears as Matsyavatara, while Vedic astrology and palmistry revere the fish motif (*Matsya rekha*) as an augury of wisdom and abundance.
"Damodar Sheth" by Rabindranath Tagore
"অল্পেতে খুশি হবে দামোদর শেঠ কি ?
মুড়কির মোয়া চাই, চাই ভাজা ভেটকি
আনবে কটকি জুতো, মটকিতে ঘি এনো,
জলপাইগুড়ি থেকে এনো কৈ জিয়ানো
চাঁদনীতে পাওয়া যাবে বোয়ালের পেটকি?"
In traditional households, fish was a vital cultural marker for married women, believed to signify marital auspiciousness. In Devi Chaudhurani, Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay depicts Prafulla defying the ascetic mandates of Bhabani Thakur only on the question of her meal on Ekadashi, underscoring how deep-seated this symbolism was.
The passion for fish transcended social barriers. It is chronicled that even the austere reformer Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar (Bandyopadhyay)—who actively dismantled caste prejudices—harbored a fond weakness for fish heads, once delightedly relishing one served by Amritalal Mitra.
From the Nath Literature:
"বড় বড় কৈমত্স্য ঘন ঘন আঙ্জী
জিরা লঙ্গ মাখিয়া তুলিল তৈলে ভাজি
কাতলের কোল ভাজে মাগুরের চাকি
চিতলের কোল ভাজে রসবাস মাখি
বেত আগ বালিয়া চুঁচুরা মত্স্য দিয়া
সুকুত্ ব্যঞ্জন রান্ধে আদা বাটিয়া"
(The verses describe scoring large climbing perch across the flanks, marinating them in ground cumin and cloves before crisp-frying in hot oil; frying Katla belly and thick cutlets of Magur; marinating delicate Chital fish belly with citrus—such as wild Shatkara (Citrus macroptera) or fragrant Gondhoraj—and preparing a bitter shukto using tender cane shoots simmered with ginger and small Bele and Chuno fish.)
The geography of undivided Bengal remains a living registry of this fish heritage: Ruidanga in Cooch Behar, Rui Pukur in Krishnagar, Chitolia, Koijuri and Koipukuria in North 24 Parganas, Koikhali in South 24 Parganas, Magurpur in Dakshin Dinajpur, alongside Magura, Shingimari, and Sholmari across the border, as well as Tapsia, Chingrighata, Tangra, and Beleghata in Kolkata.
Yet modern environmental neglect has endangered our aquatic heritage. Countless indigenous species and agricultural varieties have grown scarce. Today, we find ourselves relying heavily on interstate commerce for everyday staples; our food systems have fractured, and our indigenous fish almost seem to require "passports" to grace our tables. The enduring challenge remains: how can we rejuvenate the ecological abundance that once defined Bengal as Sonar Bangla?
Frequently Asked Questions
What is the secret to an authentic Bengali Tel Koi?
The hallmark of an authentic Tel Koi is balancing generous amounts of pungent mustard oil (tel) with fresh ginger juice, cumin, and a whisper of whole fenugreek seeds (methi). The fish must be crisp-fried beforehand, and the gravy finished off the heat so the spices settle into the flesh without drying it out.
Why are mashkolai bori added to Tel Koi in winter?
During late autumn and winter (Kartik to Poush), Koi fish reach their peak size and richness. Freshly sun-dried urad dal dumplings infused with asafoetida (mashkolai hing-bori) are prepared during this season; when lightly fried and steeped in the spicy mustard gravy, they absorb the flavors and add a contrasting nutty texture.
What does 'Jiyol Machh' mean in Bengali cuisine?
Jiyol Machh (জীয়ল মাছ) refers to live, resilient freshwater fish equipped with accessory air-breathing organs—chiefly Koi (climbing perch), Singi (stinging catfish), and Magur (walking catfish). Because they stay fresh without refrigeration, they have long been prescribed in light, restorative stews for convalescents and growing children.
What is the historical significance of Jora Ilish?
Jora Ilish (a ritual pair of Hilsa) marks traditional seasonal boundaries. Householders abstained from eating Hilsa from Bijoya Dashami (late September) to give the fish undisturbed spawning months, officially welcoming the catch back into kitchens on Saraswati Puja with ritual auspiciousness.