Of fish and fowl: Non-vegetarian food spices up political debate in India’s West Bengal state

KOLKATA – There is a lovely Bengali saying that captures Bengal’s cultural cornucopia: “baro mashe tero parbon”. It literally means “13 festivals in 12 months”, and refers to the region’s busy annual calendar of celebrations.

Among them are the Bengali New Year and the iconic Durga Puja, a celebration of the goddess Durga’s victory over the demon Mahishasura. Add to these the plethora of other festivals – celebrating food, music, theatre and so much more – that the West Bengal state government organises round the year to uphold Bengali culture and mobilise support.

On March 6 and 7, the people of Kolkata, the state’s capital, flocked to one such festival – the Bengal Fish Fest, featuring a range of cultural programmes as well as fish delicacies.

The Bengali love for fish is legendary. It is more than a dietary staple – their festivals and weddings are incomplete without fish. Imbued with deep cultural relevance, fish symbolises fertility, prosperity and auspiciousness for the Bengalis.

This fondness for fish – and other non-vegetarian food – has now been catapulted to the political centre stage as West Bengal heads into an all-important election scheduled for April 23 and 29.

The governing All India Trinamool Congress (TMC) has propped it up as something intrinsic to the Bengali identity, pitting it against the vegetarianism that rival Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and affiliates have foisted on many parts of the country.

That even something like food has been dragged into the political debate indicates how intense the battle is.

Would BJP restrict sale of fish in Bengal?

West Bengal, which has been governed by the TMC since 2011, is one of the few states in India where Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s BJP has never been in power. The BJP has also never governed the southern states of Kerala and Tamil Nadu, both of which also go to the polls in April.

A fourth consecutive win for the opposition TMC in West Bengal this time would represent a remarkable victory against the BJP juggernaut that governs in a majority of Indian states. “The BJP is trying to gain, while the TMC is trying to sustain,” said Mr Sayantan Ghosh, the author of Battleground Bengal, a book on the upcoming election published in February.

Placing food right at the centre of this key political battle, West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee claimed on Feb 17 that if the BJP were to come to power, “they will not allow us to sell fish and meat in the market”. The party has made several such accusations since.

The provocation was a remark earlier in February by BJP leader Vijay Kumar Sinha, the Deputy Chief Minister of the adjoining state Bihar, which, like West Bengal, is dominated by non-vegetarians. More than 99 per cent of West Bengal’s population are non-vegetarians, compared with Bihar’s 89 per cent share.

He said that the state government would ban the open display and sale of meat in Bihar near educational institutions to prevent “violent tendencies” among children. It would also prohibit the sale of meat in the open near religious sites and in crowded public places, which he said was necessary “from a health perspective” and for “social harmony”.

The damage to BJP’s popularity from such remarks was potentially significant in fish-loving West Bengal, prompting a rebuttal from the state’s BJP president Samik Bhattacharya, who gave the assurance that “Bengalis will have their fish and so will Biharis”.

The party, he added, was “only against the open sale of beef", which, by the way, continues to be legal in West Bengal and also eaten by certain Hindus.

In an interview with the ABP Ananda news channel in March, Mr Bhattacharya was seen relishing fish at a table, in yet another passionate defence of Bengali non-vegetarianism. “How will Bengalis survive without fish?” he said, digging into his lunch.

Fears of vigilante attacks

Any form of restriction on the sale of fish and meat in West Bengal may be unthinkable, but the fear is not entirely unfounded.

In January, a vendor was thrashed in Kolkata by a group of right-wing Hindus for selling chicken patties near the venue of a Hindu religious event. It was one incident in a spate of vigilante attacks on meat and fish sellers in BJP-governed states, including one where some people threatened the closure of a fish market in a Bengali-dominated neighbourhood in Delhi.

Many fear that right-wing Hindu elements will be emboldened to carry out more such attacks in West Bengal if the BJP were to come to power, especially on Muslims – who make up nearly a third of the state’s population – and others who depend on cheap fish and meat for their livelihoods, as well as protein needs.

The BJP has imposed temporary and location-based bans on the sale of meat and fish in different parts of India, including in several north Indian states.

Mr Modi, a vegetarian himself, has even criticised those who consume meat and fish during the nine-day Navratri festival honouring goddess Durga, and the Hindu month of Saawan, a period when many Hindus go vegetarian.

His party also refuses to give children eggs at government school meals despite kids wanting to eat them and experts saying it is necessary for their proper nutrition.

All these have led to an impression that the BJP seeks to foist a singular interpretation of Hinduism and vegetarian-first dietary practice that suits its political interests, particularly when it comes to mobilising its core constituency of upper-caste vegetarian Hindus. This is despite Hinduism encompassing an array of diverse traditions, including animal sacrifice, and more than 70 per cent of India’s population identifying as non-vegetarian.

Banking on the Bengali identity

Bengalis, for instance, cook meat and offer it while worshipping Kali, a Hindu goddess. And while many Hindus in India’s Hindi-speaking heartland abstain from eating meat during Navratri, those in Bengal, and indeed other parts of the country, relish eating fish and meat in the same festive period.

This BJP reliance on “emphasising vegetarianism, Lord Ram and a monolithic Hindu identity” has alienated many Bengalis, who feel that their traditions have been sidelined, writes Mr Ghosh in his book.

He told The Straits Times that the TMC has branded the BJP as a party that represents neither Bengal nor Bengali identity. It is a notion strengthened by BJP’s dependence on its non-Bengali speaking political heavyweights from outside the state rather than its second-rung local leaders from West Bengal.

“It essentially boils down to this Bengali-versus-non-Bengali identity that the Trinamool is playing on,” he said.

Yet, the BJP, which vociferously bans the sale of beef and espouses vegetarianism, can look the other way when it serves its interests.

In certain Christian-majority states, such as Nagaland and Meghalaya, where eating beef is common, the BJP does not advocate any such ban there to avoid angering the public and to retain its hold on power.

The idea that the BJP could impose any form of restriction on the sale and consumption of fish or meat in West Bengal seems far-fetched. The party realises that any such move would make it unpopular, even though concerns remain about how Hindu vigilante groups may behave with the BJP at the helm in the state.

For now though, Bengalis continue to enjoy their fish and meat. “No one can impose control over another person’s taste buds,” said Mr Chayan Das, a 35-year-old cost accountant in the city, waiting to have his prawns cleaned at one of Kolkata’s thousands of neighbourhood fish markets. “It is unthinkable.”