Ool guthibo Jaane-ne Nejaane.. This popular number from an Assamese film was one of
the first songs I heard just after I had got married. Ironically, it symbolized my transition
to becoming an essential Assamese buari even before I knew it. How, you may ask? Read
on…
Many years ago, having recently married into an Assamese family, I was scouring recipe
books for the quintessential maasor tenga that I had decided to cook for one Sunday
lunch. I stumbled upon the late Sabina Sehgal Saikia’s recipe for Bilaahi maasor tenga,
which to date remains one of my favourites. Why Maasor tenga, you’d ask? Well, the
answer is simple. The Assamese love their tenga, I was told. And so, it is with great
trepidation that I went on to cook the popular dish. Needless to say, my rendition of
Sabina’s recipe was well, a hit, and I was duly and proudly anointed the good Axomiya
buari!
This marked the beginning of my love affair with everything Assamese.
Over time, and after many recipes of tenga, and pitika and other delectable items of
Assamese cuisine, I started acquainting myself with other aspects of Assamese life.
My transition from a Punjabi girl with very north Indian antecedents to an Assamese
began with the mastery of the Axomiya language. Unlike my experiments in the culinary
department, this proved to be more difficult to accomplish; despite my understanding of
Bengali. In fact, even to this day, I just can’t seem to roll my Rs with the same flourish!
The urge to master the language actually had humble beginnings. It started with those
raised eyebrows, a bemused look, or those of utter confusion on the face of my domestic
help, who bore the brunt of many a slip. One particular incident comes to my
mind; even till this day my husband doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease me about it.
I remember asking my new domestic help (of course, from back home) to serve some
jolopias. The poor thing spent a good twenty minutes rummaging the kitchen before my
hubby realized that I had made another faux pas. With laughter in his eyes he asked the
maidservant to get green chillies or jolokias as they are correctly called. I don’t know
who was more relieved, the maidservant or me!
My eventual mastery of the language opened up a whole new world. Thanks to my
music-mad hubby and culturally active in-laws, I spent many a lazy Sunday afternoon
listening to Assamese music. Be it the soulful timbre of Bhupen Hazarika’s voice or
the folk renditions of Zubin Garg , amongst his other popular songs or the foot-tapping
numbers of Joy Baruah - the music of Assam has always warmed our hearts and home
with its lilting and beautiful melodies. I must admit, the joie the vivre, so intrinsic to the
social fabric of Assam, was infectious.
Before I knew it, I began to embrace all aspects of Assamese culture – from the gorgeous and graceful mekhala chadors, to the mesmerizing beat of the Dhul and the gentle sway of the Bihu dancers, to the fascinating stories of its glorious past, and most of all, a gaiety and exuberance that seemed to exude from all facets of their lives.
This gaiety is perhaps what personifies the land, coupled with a gentleness of spirit and
the grace of its people. It is something that they carry with them wherever they go. It is
something that I have tried to weave into our lives. It is something that I hope my three-
year-old son learns as he begins his journey into boyhood. As for my part, it is something
that has helped my transition to an Axomiya buari be a pleasurable one. After nearly a
decade of marriage, I have - in more ways than one - mastered the art of Bhat Randha…
while Ool Gutha can wait till my little boy goes to school. For now, I am proud to say
that I am a born-again Assamese, truly!
the first songs I heard just after I had got married. Ironically, it symbolized my transition
to becoming an essential Assamese buari even before I knew it. How, you may ask? Read
on…
Many years ago, having recently married into an Assamese family, I was scouring recipe
books for the quintessential maasor tenga that I had decided to cook for one Sunday
lunch. I stumbled upon the late Sabina Sehgal Saikia’s recipe for Bilaahi maasor tenga,
which to date remains one of my favourites. Why Maasor tenga, you’d ask? Well, the
answer is simple. The Assamese love their tenga, I was told. And so, it is with great
trepidation that I went on to cook the popular dish. Needless to say, my rendition of
Sabina’s recipe was well, a hit, and I was duly and proudly anointed the good Axomiya
buari!
This marked the beginning of my love affair with everything Assamese.
Over time, and after many recipes of tenga, and pitika and other delectable items of
Assamese cuisine, I started acquainting myself with other aspects of Assamese life.
My transition from a Punjabi girl with very north Indian antecedents to an Assamese
began with the mastery of the Axomiya language. Unlike my experiments in the culinary
department, this proved to be more difficult to accomplish; despite my understanding of
Bengali. In fact, even to this day, I just can’t seem to roll my Rs with the same flourish!
The urge to master the language actually had humble beginnings. It started with those
raised eyebrows, a bemused look, or those of utter confusion on the face of my domestic
help, who bore the brunt of many a slip. One particular incident comes to my
mind; even till this day my husband doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease me about it.
I remember asking my new domestic help (of course, from back home) to serve some
jolopias. The poor thing spent a good twenty minutes rummaging the kitchen before my
hubby realized that I had made another faux pas. With laughter in his eyes he asked the
maidservant to get green chillies or jolokias as they are correctly called. I don’t know
who was more relieved, the maidservant or me!
My eventual mastery of the language opened up a whole new world. Thanks to my
music-mad hubby and culturally active in-laws, I spent many a lazy Sunday afternoon
listening to Assamese music. Be it the soulful timbre of Bhupen Hazarika’s voice or
the folk renditions of Zubin Garg , amongst his other popular songs or the foot-tapping
numbers of Joy Baruah - the music of Assam has always warmed our hearts and home
with its lilting and beautiful melodies. I must admit, the joie the vivre, so intrinsic to the
social fabric of Assam, was infectious.
Before I knew it, I began to embrace all aspects of Assamese culture – from the gorgeous and graceful mekhala chadors, to the mesmerizing beat of the Dhul and the gentle sway of the Bihu dancers, to the fascinating stories of its glorious past, and most of all, a gaiety and exuberance that seemed to exude from all facets of their lives.
This gaiety is perhaps what personifies the land, coupled with a gentleness of spirit and
the grace of its people. It is something that they carry with them wherever they go. It is
something that I have tried to weave into our lives. It is something that I hope my three-
year-old son learns as he begins his journey into boyhood. As for my part, it is something
that has helped my transition to an Axomiya buari be a pleasurable one. After nearly a
decade of marriage, I have - in more ways than one - mastered the art of Bhat Randha…
while Ool Gutha can wait till my little boy goes to school. For now, I am proud to say
that I am a born-again Assamese, truly!
