A book on the commerce of Bengali mishti

Sociologist Ishita Dey’s book, Sweet Excess: Crafting Mishti in Bengal, maps an exciting and insightful gastronomic journey through the sweet-making industries of West Bengal and Bangladesh (erstwhile East Bengal). As readers follow her through this landscape of shared histories and cultures, cleaved by borders, they sit for a while in Baby Ghosh’s humble kitchen in West Bengal’s Krishnanagar, watching her deftly lift sar or a thick layer of cream (the base for the region’s heirloom sweets sar bhaja and sar puria) from kadhais of bubbling milk; or stop at Bijoy Modak’s sweetshop, also in Krishnanagar, to observe skilled karigar Krishna Sanyasi make mango sandesh in wooden moulds; or hop across the border to sample Natore’s legendary kancha golla, and indulge in massive coils of syrupy shahi jilipi in Dhaka during Ramzan. Along the way, the reader discovers the intricacies of the craft and taxonomy of mishti-making, understands the process of acquiring GI tags, appreciates the labour forms and supply chains within the mishti industry, and more.

Sweet Excess is a layered exploration of a single taste (sweetness) or a food item in its myriad avatars: as a cultural touchstone, a festive treat, a sacred offering steeped in ritual value, a common consumable, an artisanal product and the fruit of intense labour. It uses the theoretical framework of “excess” as an analytical tool to understand where mishti or sweetness—an indulgence rather than necessity—fits in, especially in lands with long histories of food insecurity. Dey clearly distinguishes between “excess” and “indulgence” or “luxury” when understanding sweetness as being essential to a certain cultural identity even if it’s not a nutritional necessity.

The book scrutinises mishti against complex political histories, stories of migration and displacement, questions of gender, caste, skill and identity, ecology and environment, cross-border dynamics, labour and labouring bodies, and legalities around sweet-making. It examines the oft-overlooked production challenges faced by the craft itself, and the struggles of the craftsmen who straddle a tricky line between their roles as guardians of a time-honoured craft and wage labourers.

The seeds of this book were sown while Dey was a doctoral student at the Delhi School of Economics in 2009. Food historian Michael Krondl was visiting Kolkata and she accompanied him on his explorations of the city’s mishti scene. “At the time, I was researching labour in special economic zones. Later, Michael pointed out to me that there’s a sociological project to be undertaken around questions of labour in sweetshops,” says Dey, who is currently an assistant professor at the department of sociology at South Asian University, Delhi. “This was also the time when the sweet industry was witnessing the advent of mechanisation. I was primarily interested in understanding this changing production scene, new methods of mechanisation, and whether a new labour form was taking shape,” she adds. These initial questions morphed into a multi-layered investigation into the life of mishti, both in public and private spaces across West Bengal and Bangladesh.

Refreshingly, the book shifts focus from Kolkata and Dhaka, which dominate conversations around Bengali cuisine, to the districts. “Scholar Utsa Ray in her phenomenal work on Bengali food culture tells us about a strong regional consciousness that exists within Bengali cuisine,” says Dey. Several factors informed her choice of field sites, such as long-term access, degrees of mechanisation or artisanship, and so on. “I was also conscious, from the point of view of ecology, of the ways in which borderland fragmented these geographies,” she adds.

Most importantly, it was the diversity of the region’s mishti, both in terms of raw material and techniques, that informed Dey’s choices. “While chhana (cottage cheese) always hogs the limelight when it comes to Bengali sweets, there are other crucial base materials and ingredients like kheer and sar that go into making mishti,” she says. “Besides, there are numerous intricate techniques and processes that go unnoticed. For instance, I was bowled over by the technique of crystallising poppy seeds that coat a sweet called posto kadam (after its visual resemblance to kadam phool or bur flowers) in Chapainawabganj (in Rajshahi, Bangladesh).”

Dey’s book moves beyond the intricacies of craftsmanship to explore the intersections of mishti-making with politics, policymaking and, most importantly, the socio-religious hierarchies that have informed the craft and the industry. In fact, central to her argument is the caste-rooted nature of making mishti and how the confectioner’s caste-based identity shapes the life of mishti. In Bengal, professional Hindu sweet makers or confectioners are called modaks or mayaras, after the eponymous caste.

“In Bangladesh, mayara is more of a linguistic category than a caste category,” says Dey. “There, the mythic association of sweet-making is with the Ghoshes.” The sweet-making business is no longer restricted to the Ghoshes or the mayaras. It has evolved and expanded riding on the strength of modern innovations, technology and global aspirations. But it is the invisible labouring bodies the book is dedicated to that is still at the heart of the mishti milieu.

Priyadarshini Chatterjee is a food and culture writer who divides her time between Kolkata and Mumbai.