For Meena and Kasturi, friendship didn’t need grand declarations or extravagant gestures. It thrived in the small, unassuming joys of life, like sharing meals that felt like warm hugs.
Sundays became Meena’s secret rebellion against routine. She would tiptoe out of the house, pretending to go play, but her destination was always the same: Kasturi’s home. The familiar aroma of Dalma would greet her as she walked in. Kasturi’s mother, Sunita, had caught on quickly. She would start preparing Dalma with extra care on Sundays, knowing Meena would come by.
Dalma wasn’t just food; it was an experience. A humble medley of lentils and vegetables, tempered with panch phoran—an aromatic mix of five spices. Meena loved how it was finished with grated coconut and fresh coriander, which gave it a sweet, earthy touch. She would sit cross-legged on the floor, her plate piled high, savoring every bite.
“This is amazing,” Meena said one afternoon, her mouth half-full.
Kasturi grinned. “Told you, we Oriyas know how to cook.”
“You’ve got nothing on Ma’s fish curry,” Meena shot back, but there was no real competition.
On other days, it was Kasturi’s turn to visit Meena. She would eagerly watch as Meena’s mother worked her magic in the kitchen. The Bengali-style fish curry was a marvel—soft, succulent fish swimming in a thick mustard and posto (poppy seed) paste, the kind that clung to every grain of rice.
“Wait for it,” Meena whispered dramatically one day as her mother added a few drops of mustard oil and a slit green chili to the steaming curry. “That’s the secret.”
“You’ve come just in time, Kasturi,” Meena’s mother, Lokkhi, would say, carefully flipping fish pieces in the bubbling mustard-posto curry. “Sit down, beta. It’s almost ready.”
Kasturi took her first bite and sighed. “Okay, fine. This is better than Dalma.”
They laughed, teasing each other about whose food was superior, but in truth, they loved it all. These meals weren’t just about the food; they were about the stories shared across the table, the giggles over spilled chutney, and the music of their cultures blending harmoniously.
In between bites, they would sing songs—Meena teaching Kasturi old Rabindra Sangeet melodies “Amar Sonar Bangla”, while Kasturi introduced her to folk tunes from Odisha “Mu Odia Pu Bhari . Sometimes, they’d dance in the courtyard, twirling until they collapsed into giggles.
They hummed those tunes endlessly, trying to blend them together, weaving a melody of their own—one that was neither entirely Bengali nor completely Odia but something unique, something that belonged to them.
Despite their cultural differences, their love for food and these carefree moments created a bond that felt unshakable. For Meena, Kasturi was her home. Someone close in the land of the unknown. Her days would start playing with Kasturi and end with meals shared with her. Even their families grew fond of each other and would occasionally visit over tea time.
Life was finally getting on track, and the Ghosh family felt settled in.
PS: I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
Image courtesy: Canva Dream Lab
Cerebration 
Bangal is known for its fish curry but this is the first I’ve heard of delma!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, Dalma is quite popular in Odisha almost like a national dish. Thanks for taking the time to read and sharing your thoughts!
LikeLike
If you have a good recipe for Dalma, please share. I’m very tempted to try it now 😀
Shared love for food and music is a great ice-breaker and goes a long way in bonding people for sure.
LikeLiked by 1 person
hmm. this post smells like a delicious meal! I am tempted.
One data point show that raising a child costs parents more than 1 crore. Despite this, people continue to emphasize family relations. Perhaps one reason may is the stories across the meal table, righto?
Good to see the relationship growing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yeah may be! Well I am thrilleld that the story was able to tempt you! Thanks for staying with the story
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very well written! And yes, friendship hits a different high when you share the love of food. lol !
LikeLiked by 1 person
Haha true! Thanks for staying with the story!
LikeLike
I’m now curious to know whether you are a Bengali or an Odia. And how you know so much about the other one. I’m neither of the two, but you seem to have captured some cultural nuances and details.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This comment truly made my day! It actually reassures me that I’m doing justice to both cultures. Can’t thank you enough. And as for who I am… hehe, let’s keep that a mystery until the story ends (wink wink).
LikeLike
Such a sweet ode to friendship! I am so glad that Meena is settling in. Also, your food descriptions made me salivate, Pinki! I hope you will be submitting a story for the Blogchatter Anthology – the theme is ‘Food’.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much! I’m so happy you enjoyed it – and yes, Meena is finally finding her footing. I’m thrilled you liked the food descriptions too!
And yessss!!! I am participating in the Blogchatter Anthology! Currently working on my story – (fingers crossed).
LikeLike
True Friendship needs no language all that needed is the emotion… The emotion called love , compassion and a pinch of understanding can make a bond called friendship succesful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Absolutely! You have rightly mentioned the most important ingredients for a successful relation/friendship- love, compassion and understanding
LikeLike
Aww, I love how their friendship is built around food. I can almost smell the Dalma and fish curry!! It’s so heartwarming!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much Felicia. I am glad the story could deliver on taste and emotions!
LikeLike
This part has my heart because in our neighborhood in Chittaranjan, we used to have different delicacies from different corners of India. Sorshe-posto fish curry is love.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Absolutely😋 thanks for stopping by!
LikeLike