Tracing the ancient food history of Bengal
Tuhin Saiful Islam
Published :
Feb 11, 2026 10:56
Updated :
Feb 11, 2026 10:56
Long before fast food and sizzling curry became a social media obsession, the Bengal Delta had already lived through thousands of years of quiet, complex food history. In Bengal, that history was not shaped in the courtrooms of the royals, the rajmahals of the zamindars, but by the waves of rivers, vast rice fields, monasteries, and the everyday survival of the commoners as well. What we eat today is only the loudest chapter of a much older story.
Archaeological records indicate that communities around the Bengal delta were growing rice, pulses, and oilseeds as early as 2000 BCE. An archaeological site in Wari-Bateshwar, one of Bangladesh's ancient sites, reveals evidence of a settled agrarian civilisation that extended trade connections beyond the subcontinent.
Food was here utilitarian, seasonal and closely intertwined with water. This required a change to the delta, and the kitchen was where the strength lay.
Rice, which has become a given, had been a civilisational breakthrough. Ancient varieties-aus, aman, boro-were not only crops but also calendars, which determined labour, festivals and hunger periods.
Traditional Bengali food at a young age consisted of boiled rice, lentils, wild greens, freshwater fish, and fermented foods. No spice, no fat meat was spared. Food was related to the land, but not to royal taste.
Fish was introduced in the Bengali plate not as a luxury but as a need. The rivers were numerous, Padma, Meghna and Jamuna and this abundance of waterways was the source of freshwater fish as a daily source of protein.
Preserved fish and other fermented preparations are already described in ancient literature, and preserved catch using the sun long before refrigeration. Shutki, as we know it, was originally a survival strategy that was developed over many centuries.
A major, yet often overlooked, influence on Bengal's ancient food culture was Buddhism. Since the Mauryan era, Buddhist monasteries have been common in modern Bangladesh, particularly at Paharpur and Somapura Mahavihara.
The monastic food regulations were biased towards moderation, vegetarianism, and communal food. The predominant foods were rice, vegetables, pulses, and milk-based foods. Too many spices and meat were discouraged, enabling a food culture of temperance rather than overindulgence.
According to historians, this Buddhist heritage permanently influenced the cuisine of the Bengali people, particularly the focus on delicate flavours, boiled cooking methods, and respect for ingredients. Even modern plain food, such as dal, steamed vegetables, and lightly spiced fish, recalls that modest philosophy.
New layers were introduced with the introduction of Islam in the Bengal delta during the 13th to 16th centuries. The Turks, Persians, and the Afghan people brought wheat, meat-based cuisine, slow-cooked gravies, and aromatic spices. Nevertheless, the local foodways were not destroyed by these influences; instead, they were intertwined.
Early Muslim households in Bengal adapted their cooking to local ingredients, using river fish instead of lamb and rice instead of bread as their main foods.
Biryani itself, contrary to the common misconception, was not an immediate or universal dish. Early Bengali Muslim food was mainly rice-based and simple. According to the archival records of Mughal administrators, rice, fish, vegetables, and lentils were the standard rations of soldiers and clerks in Bengal. Courts and festivals were meant to prepare rich meat.
The colonial rule also altered the Bengali kitchen. Much British writing of the 18th and 19th centuries, e.g. district gazetteers, traveller diaries, missionary accounts, depicted Bengali cuisine as either raw or overcooked, more of what the colonials would find palatable than factual. What they did not comprehend was that scarcity, floods, and famine affected Bengal's food supply.
The famine in 1943 in Great Bengal made a significant impact on food memory. Cooking became about survival. Recipes were modified, portions were decreased, and ingredients were changed.
The habits influenced by that trauma are still passed down to the older generations today, such as avoiding rice waste, emphasising simple meals, and distrust of excess.
Another change was experienced in post-partition and post-independence Bangladesh. Urbanisation, remittances and globalisation gradually transformed aspirations. The culture of restaurants was extended. Mughal cuisine, such as korma, rezala, and biryani, was used as a symbol of feast and prestige. This trend has been concentrated more in recent years by social media, making biryani the national obsession, and, at times, a shortcut to culture.
However, reducing Bengali cuisine to a single dish like biryani would be a sin. It does not consider the prehistoric wisdom inherent in eating the seasons, fermenting and simplicity. It is amnesic of the village kitchens, where food was not measured by recipe, but by memory and by hand.
It disregards the monks, the farmers and fisherfolk and those mothers with their silent innovations that kept generations going.
The history of Bangladeshi food is not only about taste but also about place, faith, struggle, and survival. Rice moulded by rivers, fish stored by sun and salt, vegetables cooked tenderly to create a balance and meals eaten without spectacle were some of the elements before biryani went viral.
It is important to remember that there is nothing wrong with rejecting modern tastes in remembering the past. It is about acknowledging that our food identity did not start in royal kitchens or on Instagram feeds.
It started a good long time ago on the riverbanks, in monasteries, in flooded fields, where there was no food as performance, but as life.