This Bengali Girl Gave An Entire Lecture On Roshogolla To Her North Indian Friends At The Office Cafeteria
I was having lunch at the office cafeteria. My face was grumpy and my tummy was hungry. So, somehow, I had to start taking small bites from my thali. In the corner most section of the plate, lay a small round sweet coated with coconut. A meal without a sweet can never be a relishing meal for me, for I am a Bengali. So, this particular round piece of sweet, that had made its place on my plate, was my only motivation to go ahead with this boring meal.
That sweet little round thing was DANADAAR….a sweet that comes it few other colours back at home. I never ever liked eating this, but being so far away from home, I had to be satisfied. I was yearning to gobble down some nice, hot, delicately soft, heavenly Rosogolla. Just then, one of my colleagues who was having the same meal, suddenly said, “Yaar aaj toh Rosogolla diye hai thali mein, maza agaya”. I felt furious in my heart(How could they call a Danadaar as Rosogolla?) and my hands immediately starting twitching, so I protested for my Rosogolla (love of my life). Hearing this, another colleague gave me an ever more maddening reply, “Yaar humare liye toh kuch bhi jo white ho, round ho and sweet ho, Rosogolla hai”.
How could they say such about my Rosogolla? I had to make them understand what it meant to me and all other Rosogolla lovers across the world. Hence, I started explaining them what was a Danadaar and how was it different from a Rosogolla. I told them about how a Rosogolla is made. I told them about the kilos and kilos of cottage cheese or Chhana, that are everyday transported to the big sweet shops way before sunrise via the local trains(I wish I could tell them more about the Krishnonogor, Naihati, and other locals. I controlled my emotions and separated this as a topic for another day).
I told them about that Nakuldana that stays hidden inside the beautifully hand-crafted round balls of chhana. I told them about the famous outlets of Nakur Chandra Nandy, Balaram Mallick, Nalin Chandra Das, and many more. I told them about the Parardokan; almost each of them mastering the art of making Rosogolla, yet each claiming to be the best. I told them what it felt like plucking out the maximum number of grey hairs from your grandfather’s head in a group of cousins. For the winner would be given a Bhaar of Rosogolla. I told them what Nolen Gur was; why the pairing of Nolen Gur and Rosogolla was a perfect example of mankind’s greatest creation.
Last but not the least, I told them why we were not supposed to utter a single word while gulping down a Rosogolla. For they never knew what BISHOM KHAWA meant. They were never scolded by their mothers, and probably they had never heard her saying shaat shaat with a pat on their back.
By then, they got to know what Rosogolla was and why you just could not give any other sweet that name. They knew what those little balls of happiness meant for the true Rosogolla fans. They started consoling me and asked, if I would ever be so possessive about my boyfriend as I was for my Rosogolla. I laughed out loud and taught them how to correctly pronounce the love of my life, ROSHOGOLLA .