Assam’s club culture dates back to the British Raj. Then, the British wanted exclusive watering holes and places where they could recreate the ambience of their homeland. Gradually, Indian executives were allowed entry into these clubs. So when someone said, “I am going to the club,” it conveyed a lot of things: acceptance, sophistication, an evening of enjoyment, but most of all, that the person “has arrived” and has a standing in society. Soon, the ladies wing of the clubs were started. The ladies in Duliajan, a small industrial town in Assam’s Dibrugarh, got together to enrich lives with their culinary prowess.
Well-coiffured women played Bridge and Mahjong, held garden shows and learnt knitting, tatting, etc. The women swung into action during the annual club meets and prepared delicious food to serve the entire colony. Back then, restaurants were few and readymade masalas were not available. Everything was made from scratch. Honeydew, the only bakery in the local market, occasionally supplied sandwiches.
Recently, a friend shared the dog-eared pages of a recipe book collated by the Ladies Club of Duliajan. I was immediately transported to a pre-Google era when recipes were shared over the phone and hurriedly scribbled on any piece of paper, even behind a calendar. Many a chef was thus born to dish out mouth-watering sweets, made-to-order cakes and regional cuisines. The special events apart, school holidays too meant delicious food -- over lunch and tea, affectionately served by the ladies of Duliajan. Birthday parties added to the fare. So , what I had in hand was a treasure of sorts: Usha’s Bisibele bhath, Moiina’s Biriyani, Shukla’s Chomchoms and so on!
My first school was in a garage with brightly coloured desks and children of all ages. The only teacher there was a storehouse of talents: An excellent embroiderer, a tapestry weaver, and a fantastic cook. Her needle works had a charm of their own – vibrant peacocks against a jungle backdrop, seagulls swooping into the sea to catch fish and bouquets of lilies. Often, she’d ask me if I’d like to learn. “Way beyond my ken,” I’d think and never learnt. When I was in college she decided to write an international cookery book for which I was the official taster and editor. I enjoyed the assignment immensely, especially the tasting part!
The Ladies Club of Duliajan still exists, but the ladies, now 80+ years old, no longer live there. On my birthday, a few of the recipe writers called and brought back memories of their dal-pakwan, rabadi and train cakes! The baker from Honeydew, who also called, was heartbroken that I didn’t remember him!
The song ‘ladies of Calcutta’ had topped the charts in the ‘60s; I’d like to tweak the song and dedicate it to the ‘Ladies of Duliajan.’