The Moulds of Memory – From East Bengal to Varanasi

TEXT AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY RUPSHA BOSE
Varanasi, India

I have grown up hearing stories from my father and aunts about our Rajbari (palace) in East Bengal and how my great grandparents had to leave everything behind during the Bengal divide of 1905 carried out by Lord Curzon, then British Viceroy of India. While each of their experiences and accounts were different, one thing remained constant- that a lot of family heirlooms and treasures were left behind and lost. 

My great grandfather, Brojendro Kishore Bose and my great-grandmother, Biroja Sundori, lived a life of dignity and luxury in Mymensingh, present day Bangladesh. They supported the freedom struggle in their own way. The details aren’t too clear but due to the increasing violence and chaos, they were forced to leave. My aunts say that they had been preparing for this day and had a bit of a plan. With the help of some people, they shifted from East Bengal to West Bengal and then settled in Varanasi. 

The 1905 Partition of Bengal, a British administrative move, separated the largely Muslim east from the largely Hindu west of the Bengal Presidency. The vast territory proved difficult to govern due to its size and population. While intended to weaken Bengali nationalism, the partition instead fueled extremist movements. Amid widespread protests and riots, it was revoked in 1911. Subsequently, Bengal was further divided, not along religious lines, but linguistically, leading to the creation of Bihar, Odisha, and Assam as separate provinces.

After the family’s move to Varanasi, my grandfather, the older son, Narendra Kisore Bose became an influential businessman, a zamindar and a staunch supporter of the freedom movement. He took charge of taking our identity as Bangals (Bengalis from East Bengal) forward. After facing a lot of struggle in his initial days, my grandfather built our ancestral home with 16 rooms, a huge garden, 3 alternate terraces, an Uthoon (Aangan in Hindi), and huge hall spaces. He also made sure to instill the quintessential Bengali Andar Mahal and Bahar Mahal in the house to keep politics and profession separated from the coziness of his family life. 

I lived in that house until it was sold in the year 2000 when I was 7 years old. Despite only having been a witness to the grandeur of the house for a short period of time, it has left a lasting impact on me. My father and aunts have told me stories about my grandfather enjoying the gramophone in the evening and my grandmother being annoyed with all the children running around. 

We now live in rented accommodation and recently while shifting, my father found these sweet moulds, mishtir chaanh, made from neem wood and burnt soil, podha maati, inside an old trunk belonging to my grandmother. After a long time, I saw my father’s eyes twinkle. The best part was that this was just one day before Ganesh Chaturthi and Bappa was coming to our home the next day. 

To my surprise, all the moulds were intact and were not only for Bengali sweets, but contained a mould for modak as well! A modak mould in a Bengali household was a pleasant surprise for me. A modak is mostly considered to be Maharashtrian sweet which is presented to Lord Ganesha as it is considered to be his favourite sweet. Bengalis have a rich taste in food and sweets and we have a pretty diverse variety of sweers. But finding a modak mould was surprising even for my father. When I asked my eldest aunt about it, she had faint memories that my great grandmother was a devotee of Ganesha and thus had modak moulds made. My father immediately went shopping for items required to make modak and started making them on his own. He video called my aunts and they all had tears in their eyes. My father did not only make modaks, but other sweets using the moulds as well and the first Prasad offered to Bappa were the sweets made with love by my father.

The moulds were given to my grandmother by my great grandmother. None of my family members exactly know when the moulds were made, but it was definitely before 1905. The moulds differ in size as per the makeup of the sweets, with some in between 2-5 inches in length and some a bit bigger, at 5-7 inches in diameter.  The moulds are smooth on the bottom with smooth ridges. A few even have written inscriptions on them along with intricate designs. One of them says ‘Vande Mataram’,  and I am told that this mould was used to make sweets and distribute them as a sign of protest. What a sweet way to protest right? 

There are two more moulds with writings on them. One says ‘Bhaiphota’ or bhaidooj in Hindi and the other says ‘Phoolshojja’ or suhagraat in Hindi.  The Bhaiphota and Phoolshojja moulds have clear writings but bits of them are broken here and there. One of my favourite moulds is the Chandrapuli sweet which is shaped like a half moon. Chandrapuli sweets are white in colour and are made using khoya, grated coconut and milk.

Two large, perfectly preserved round moulds feature distinct Alpona-inspired designs on opposite sides. Alpona is a traditional Bengali folk art showcasing freehand wavy and floral motifs with geometric elements. Smaller moulds exhibit simpler designs, primarily floral, with the exception of one diamond-shaped mould displaying a geometric pattern.

Now, these moulds belong to me, says my father.  But I am scared to even touch them. I know they won’t crumble but feel like I am being given years of memories to treasure and it’s a big responsibility. As a Bengali, our cultural heritage means a lot to us. From our food to sarees and festivals to literature; we try to preserve it all in this fast changing world. By touching these moulds, some with their polished backs, some with broken ridges, and some in perfect condition; I travel back to the time I was never a part of and yet feel the presence of my great-grandmother’s hands on my hands. 

I hope I can treasure and love them the same way everyone has till now. The beauty of culture resides not only in people, but also in the memories left behind by them in tangible and intangible things.