Hail Hilsa: Queen of Fish

For no reason, yesterday I recalled a familiar Odia saying: chakiri kariba Polisi, maacha khaiba Ilishi (Dream job: Police, Tastiest Fish: Ilishi!). Hilsa, the Queen of Fish, is for the Bengalis Ilish, to be pronounced Ileeeesh with a loving, lingering caress! I rushed to the BHEL weekly market and bought a hilsa fish weighing 890 grams, much less than the ideal size of 1.5 kgs, but a great catch for Bhopal market. I’m not telling you the price; that’s easy to figure out, just ask Google.

Never had I bought a hilsa; never even searched for it at Bhopal assuming the Bengalis who every year import large consignments of Padma ilish from Bangladesh were most unlikely to allow this precious commodity to cross their state border.

‘Bengali Cut?’ the fish-seller asked. I nodded with no idea what that was. When he came to make the last piece with the tail, he held it for my inspection, and asked again, ‘Okay?’ Make it smaller, I said. He instantly knew I was no Bengali, and had never bought Hilsa.

Back at home, I looked up two You Tube recipes for ‘Sorisher Ilish (Hilsa cooked in freshly-ground mustard paste),’ for I had once enjoyed that dish at Oh!Calcutta near Chittaranjan Park, New Delhi. Even though the Hindi video maker claimed to be a Bengali, I followed the video in chaste Bengali. Overhearing from the sidelines a perplexed spouse asked: Gud goes into that recipe? No, I said, the chef is suggesting a few spoonfuls of halad gu(n)d, haldi powder.

Requested spouse to stay away from the kitchen, and not interfere with my maiden tryst with ilishi. Once I begin cooking, I never revert to the videos, confident that my memory serves good for the ingredients and the recipe.

I finished cooking in about 30 mins. Next time, I can do it even faster if all the ingredients are neatly lined up at the cooking platform.

Result: Wow! Is there more rice, I asked, and the cook said, ‘I made as much rice as every day, and it is never finished. Sorry.’ Chef with a Dash had cooked so delicious a sorisher hilsa curry that we ran out of rice to go with it!

Here is the proof of the Tryst with Hilsa:

I dedicate this blog to Shri B.K. Saha who taught me decades ago Lotus 123 (ancestor of MS Excel), and once took me to the fish market at Indore to teach me an essential life-skill - how to buy pabda fish.

Tell me, how would you know that the fish is fresh, he asked?

You inspect the gill, it should be blood-red; was my smart reply.

You’ve no experience, it is evident. The smart fish-sellers apply a little colour to the gill to fool novice buyers like you.

This is how you evaluate the fish, he said, picking up a fish and sniffing it briefly. No seller can hide the smell of fish that isn’t fresh, he said from years of experience of buying and cooking fish. He sent us a serving of pabda sorisher curry cooked by himself. That was truly yummy. Thank you, Shri Saha.

Hilsa Diplomacy

Hilsa catch in West Bengal is dwindling over the years, a matter of grave concern and culinary crisis for the Bengalis in Kolkata, Assam, and Tripura.

After Sheikh Hasina’s ouster, with Professor Muhammad Yunus taking oath on August 7, 2024; it was feared that Bangladesh would enforce total ban on export of Hilsa to India. However, such is the persuasive power of the Bengalis of India that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of  Bangladesh on 21 September, 2024 permitted export of 3000 MTs of Padma ilish - believed to be the most delicious and connoisseurs’ delight - through the Petrapole border, despite the aggravating diplomatic tension between the two countries, as a Pujo Gift! Fish, for the Bengalis, transcends politics.

How to Savour Hilsa

Hilsa is no pedestrian stuff like alu or begun (brinjal), and must not be eaten casually but with the reverence appropriate for partaking prasad which is received by the devout in small servings with the choicest portions reserved for those members of the family who matter more than others. Never to be eaten on the go or while standing; Hilsa is no fast-food and must not be served for buffet meals which would constitute a grave insult to the Queen of Fish. The partaker must be seated preferably on the floor on a mat with mind fully focussed on the sacred act of enjoying the heavenly taste of the fish that swam from the Bay of Bengal to Padma or Hooghly to delight the palate of an entire household.

Once a generous portion of rice is heaped on the plate and the maachher jhol with a piece (or two, if it’s your lucky day) of Hilsa topped with several green chilis sliced vertically are placed before you; first take in the aroma wafting from the steaming curry as you would sniff a bottle of premium wine after the first sample is poured; size up the piece (big, small, head, or tail) in your curry and devise the best strategy to make the most of it. You’re a bhadralok, no uncultured, famished barbarian; and hence the piece must not be greedily devoured but be made to last till all rice is finished in sync with the last morsel of the fish and the last drop of the jhol.

Before you begin your meal, remember to say a silent prayer to God who created Hilsa; Varun (the Lord of Oceans), and Ganga (the river goddess) who nurtured the exquisite fish, and nudged it to swim from the seas to fresh water to breed. Thereafter, profusely and intermittently thank the lady of the house – the presiding deity of the kitchen – who cooked the delicious curry.

Now, proceed to enjoy Hilsa mindfully, staying fully focussed as in a session of meditation under the watchful eyes of a Master. Hilsa is packed with nutrition, tastes great, but is generously endowed with numerous fine bones which have the uncanny ability to lodge in your throat; surely a protective mechanism evolved by the cunning fish. It is also a parable for Life. Eating Hilsa is like a journey to the heaven of culinary delight, but the path is not a bed of roses but strewn with many thorns to negotiate which you must have the intelligence, wisdom, patience, and skill. No risk, no gain.

Noronha’s Fish Curry

On 26th January 1958, Mr. R.C.V.P. Noronha (ICS:1938), Commissioner, Jabalpur was on tour to Narsinghpur. Mrs. Noronha and their three children were also with him.   They stayed at the picturesque Barman Rest House overlooking the majestic Narmada. The next day, Mr. Noronha was to inspect Gadarwara Tehsil.

Mr. Noronha was very fond of angling. He caught a fish from Narmada, made a nice curry, and invited Mr. Manohar Keshav (IAS:1953), Collector, Narsinghpur to dine with him. The fish curry was delicious and eaten with much relish. Unfortunately, a fishbone got stuck in Mr. Noronha’s throat and caused him much distress.

Assistant Surgeon, Narsinghpur was called in. He was a Bengali. No problem, he said. Just make a big ball of rice and swallow it at once. That’d fix the problem. Much tried and tested, Sir, he said.

Mr. Noronha tried the prescribed remedy more than once, but no sooner did he put the ball of rice into his mouth than he began to chew vigorously as was his habit. He failed since he had never before swallowed a big ball of rice at once.

He abandoned his proposed inspection of Gadarwara tehsil and rushed back to Jabalpur to have the fishbone removed by a surgeon.

A fish from Narmada ended up on the dining table but took sweet revenge by causing some pain and distress to the angler and also aborting the stern Commissioner’s Inspection, much to the relief of the Collector, SDO, Tehsildar and the office staff.

***

Note:

1. As narrated by Mr. Manohar Keshav to the author on 01.09.2016.

2. R. C. V. P. Noronha was the longest-serving Chief Secretary of Madhya Pradesh (1963-68 & 1972-74). Chitra Mishra has written an excellent memoir of the legendary officer for which the link is:

Remembering Noronha (1916-1982), the Legendary Officer – Tryst with Dholpur House (wordpress.com)

3. A Tale Told by an Idiot by Mr. Noronha is a must read for all civil servants. The book has been translated by Mr. I. S. Dani into Hindi: Ek Anadi ki Kahani.

***

Postscript 

Limericks by G. Subbu, my friend 

Mr Noronha caught a fish ,
Made a curry that he thought he would relish ,
The vengeful fish, although dead , had a mind of its own ,
In the commissioner's throat, got stuck as a bone ,
And the angler rushed to the hospital in anguish !

A few old ones on Illish ;-)

The new Bangla govt is so selfish ,
Has banned the export of Illish ,
How will a Bong celebrate Durga Puja ,
Without his dose of Macch - Hilsa ,
Isn't this policy a bit hawkish ?

odi baaba, they all exclaimed in unison,
Ei tho punishment bheeshhon,
For the ilish,
Is not just any feesh,
It's nothing short of a cultural starvashon !!

Long ago , due to the crook Churchill ,
The famine brought Bengal to a standstill,
Mohd Yunus , the Nobel Prize economist ,
Has now shown a tight fist,
The Hilsa ban, during Puja , certainly sounds quite shrill !

Brinjal of the Sea

Dr. R. Kannan, a dear friend and a distinguished scholar sent me this quote, ‘Fish are the brinjal of the sea- Yagyanvalkya.’ I looked for the Sanskrit quote but without success. ChatGPT tells me that though the quote is sometimes attributed to Yagyanvalkya, it is not factual. Yagyanvalkya was a revered rishi mentioned in Brihadaranyaka  Upanishad, but his philosophical contemplation did not include such mundane matters as fish and brinjal.
CoPilot fished out the Sanskrit phrase that conveys the idea that "Fish is the brinjal of the seas":
मीनः सागरे वर्तकः" (Meenah Saagare Vartakah)
- मीनः (Meenah): Fish
- सागरे (Saagare): In the sea
- वर्तकः (Vartakah): Brinjal/Eggplant

***