Famine and Bengalis

In the Shadow of Famine: Bengali Food Habits – History, Practice, and Bodily Burden

About 10-12 days ago.
I went to a large wholesale store, where products are usually sold by the box and at wholesale prices. To enter and shop there, one must pay a separate fee for an annual membership. Various food samples are arranged on tables, prepared and served by female marketing staff to attract potential buyers. I stood in line in front of one such table. The female staff member was still preparing and arranging the food. Behind me, several people from different ethnic backgrounds were waiting. At that moment, a woman arrived – she appeared to be Hispanic. She went straight to the front of the line and stretched out her arm to grab a bowl of sample food ahead of everyone. The female staff politely informed her that many people were waiting ahead and she needed to be patient. Just then, another Bengali person arrived, and I said to him, “This woman is breaking the line and getting restless to grab food first!”

This is the freedom of language in a foreign land – since no one around understands Bengali, there’s no need to speak in hushed tones. But to our surprise, the woman glared at us and said, “I understand Bengali!” I was instantly embarrassed. I had criticized her right in front of her, and there was no way to tell she was Bengali. What surprised me even more was that she broke the rules, violated etiquette, and still raised her voice in self-defense! In such a situation, staying silent might have been more graceful. From her tone, she seemed to be from the Kolkata region.

Once, an Additional Secretary of Bangladesh shared an incident at the Sheraton Hotel. That day, a significant meeting was held with the country’s prominent businessmen, high-ranking officials, and politicians. After the meeting, a buffet lunch was arranged. The closing speech by the chairperson hadn’t yet ended – about 10 minutes remained. Yet most guests rushed to the food line, as if they wouldn’t get any food if they didn’t go early! The Additional Secretary and a few others patiently waited for the speech to conclude. But when they finally went to the line, much of the food was already gone. Another scene caught their eye—many people sat with plates full of food, most of which remained uneaten. Food was being wasted, while those who waited respectfully missed out.

Our national attitude toward food is filled with a strange contradiction. It’s hard to say how prevalent this “food frenzy” is among other ethnic groups. But one thing is clear – many people waste a lot of food, casually throwing away items that have just expired. On the other hand, we Bengalis – who grew up in scarcity and have experienced food insecurity – value every grain of food. We don’t want a single morsel to go to waste. Sometimes, this mindset leads us to consume excessive carbohydrates, akin to poison, just to avoid waste, harming our bodies in the process. We even hesitate to discard expired food – though expired doesn’t always mean inedible. This tendency gives rise to a kind of “eating compulsion” – sometimes habit, sometimes cultural norm, sometimes necessity. The result? Many people’s bellies become drum-like, and their physical structure becomes disproportionate. Fitness – this word is almost absent from our daily practice. Our food habits are driven by emotion and necessity. But health awareness, physical exercise, and mindfulness seem to remain on the fringes of our culture.

Food is not just a means to fill the stomach – it is a reflection of culture, history, and the struggle to survive. The excessive carbohydrate intake in Bengali food habits, especially the irresistible attraction to rice, is not merely about taste – it stems from a tragic historical reality that has genetically transformed Bengalis. Once prosperous and content, Bengalis became impoverished and destitute. Century after century of foreign occupation, greed and exploitation of agricultural production, and the resulting famines – all contributed to the development of a kind of “eating compulsion” that left deep imprints on our genetic and social behavior.

The history of colonial exploitation and agricultural plunder changed us profoundly, and its effects are still visible throughout the country – looting, corruption, and a festival of misappropriation are all legacies of that historical reality. The Bengal region – especially present-day Bangladesh and West Bengal – was historically rich in agricultural production. Its rice, jute, sugar, indigo, and other crops attracted foreign powers. Toward the end of Mughal rule and the beginning of British colonial rule, this agricultural wealth became the target of brutal exploitation. The British forced local farmers to grow indigo and other cash crops, reducing the production of food grains. The result? Multiple famines in every century, with the Great Bengal Famine of 1770 and the 1943 famine being the most devastating.

Famine and food crises became a collective memory, embedded in mutation and later genetics for survival. These famines were not just economic disasters – they left lasting impacts on the human psyche. The experience of going without food for days, the desperation for sustenance, and facing death – these memories spread across generations. As a result, a kind of “food-hoarding instinct” developed- where people tend to eat as much as possible when food is available. The dangerous competition to eat first and eat the most is a product of that instinct. It is not just psychological – it has become part of genetic adaptation.

Rice is the primary food staple for Bengalis. It is a food that can be eaten with just salt, green chili, oil, or a simple curry. Even during famines, rice was the most accessible and affordable food. This created a kind of emotional attachment and dependency on rice. Even today, many families maintain the tradition of eating rice three times a day, although from a nutritional standpoint, excessive carbohydrate intake is harmful to the body.

This habit of eating excessive rice, the mindset of avoiding food waste, and the “eating compulsion” – all have impacted our physical structure. Many people’s bellies become drum-like, and their bodies become disproportionate. Fitness, physical exercise, and health consciousness – these words are almost absent from our daily routine. We see food not just as a necessity, but as part of emotion and tradition. As a result, instead of health awareness, we embrace the “burden of not wasting,” the “resolve to avoid waste,” and the “habit of eating as much as possible.”

To analyze Bengali food habits, one must consider not just social but genetic perspectives. The bodies of people who survived famines adapted to live on fewer calories and to quickly gather and store food when available. This genetic memory has spread across generations and still casts its shadow on our behavior today. That’s why Bengali food habits cannot be dismissed as mere “food frenzy.” Behind it lies centuries of exploitation, famine, and the struggle to survive – events for which Bengalis were not responsible; they were exploited, their food snatched away, and others grew rich. But understanding that history, we now need to cultivate health awareness, mindfulness, and a culture of physical fitness. Food is not just a tool for survival – it is etiquette, sensitivity, and a reflection of the future. This must now be established in our culture.