One fine day, during my early childhood, I looked at the vegetable us Bengalis call "potol", and decided - Nope!
And ever since, I have not allowed even the tiniest morsel to enter my mouth, let alone pass through my digestive system. The funny thing is, I was never a picky eater, happily chomping on all vegetables, including the other cucurbitaceous ones. And perhaps that's why, my family conceded me this one quirk. Everyone who is related to me, by birth and now through marriage, knows that I don't eat potol. Thankfully, they no longer ask questions. Because, to be absolutely honest, I can't for the love of God remember why I hate potol. All I know is that I always have, and therefore I must continue resisting any attempts of its approaching me.
And approach me, it does. Bengalis, on both sides of the border, absolutely love potol. So much, that the big expressive doe eyes on our Mother goddess is called "potol chera chokh". Yes, the same beautiful eyes that you keep falling for, and then scream black magic. There's more. Bengalis, with their characteristic morbid sense of humour, refer to death as "potol tola". Which literally translates to picking up the pointed gourd. Don't ask. Potol is an emotion. Bengalis eat potol bhaja, aloo potol'er dalna, doi potol, potol diye machher jhol, potol'er dolma, potol mishti. I could go on.
But why am I writing about something I hate? Because, just today, I found out that the word dolma is of Turkish origin, and means "to fill". Mind blown. I always thought it was a Bengali word. A little bit of digging revealed that the dolma is a family of stuffed dishes popular in Central Asia, particularly in the Armenian culture. You see where this is going? The Armenians have had a long history with Bengal. In the 16th century, when their country was absorbed into the Ottoman Empire, the religious minority Armenians were forced to flee. Eventually, a settlement reached India, and in 1688, an agreement was signed with the British East India Company, giving them special trading privileges and the rights to freedom of residence and religion. In the same year, they built the Armenian Holy Church of Nazareth, at an address now famous as Armenian Street, Kolkata, West Bengal 700001.
The Armenians, who were fond of community-eating, and the Bengalis, who, well, were fond of eating, soon bonded over shared dinners and shared recipes. And that's how the "potol'er dolma" was born, as two cultures came together in an unknown kitchen.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is why I love history. Because it can get me excited about something I hate. But more importantly, because it teaches us that even the most opposites can blend together.
