Why Is Durga Puja Bhog Not Always Vegetarian? The Food Traditions of Bengal

Growing up, Ashtami meant two things: first, going for the morning anjali, and then waiting for the khichuri-labra bhog, often standing in queues in the autumn heat. The exhilaration of the festive days, however, softened the long wait and made the final handing over of the palm-leaf plate especially joyous. Yet khichuri bhog is only one strand of the diverse delicacies that characterise the five days.

In older family homes, the goddess was offered fish, elaborate vegetarian dishes, mutton cooked without onion or garlic, homemade pickles and traditional sweets. Some households prepare panta bhaat, rice soaked overnight in water, for Dashami. Others did not offer cooked rice to the goddess at all.

These differences hint at a larger story: Durga Puja has no single culinary tradition. Its food reflects the coexistence of Shakta and Vaishnava worship, regional customs, caste-based restrictions and changing ideas of community. What unites these practices is not a fixed menu but the understanding of food as an expression of devotion and hospitality.

As food writer and culinary commentator, Ayandrali Dutta explains, the feast is an act of “sharing, community and belonging”. This becomes clearer when Durga is understood not only as the warrior goddess who defeats Mahishasura but also as Uma, the daughter returning to her parental home in Bengal.

A Goddess At Her Parental Home

In the Bengali imagination, Durga Puja is a homecoming. Durga leaves her husband, Shiva, in Kailash and visits her parents with her children. Her stay is brief, making the annual reunion an occasion for indulgence and celebration. Food occupies a central place in this domestic understanding of the festival. Senior consultant, We The Chefs and co-author, “The Bloomsbury Handbook of Indian Cuisine,” Sourish Bhattacharya, describes the bhog as an expression of the family’s desire to make the returning goddess feel welcome. The idea is to offer her the best food the household can afford, just as a family would pamper a beloved daughter visiting from her marital home.

Dutta similarly sees the feast as an extension of hospitality: cooking becomes an offering, while eating together creates a sense of belonging. Recipes passed down through generations reinforce this connection, turning particular dishes into markers of family memory. This understanding also explains why offerings vary so considerably. The goddess is welcomed through the customs of individual households and communities rather than through a universally prescribed festive menu. The food itself becomes a way of expressing how devotees understand their relationship with her.

Why Durga’s Bhog Is Not Always Vegetarian

The familiar vegetarian spread of khichuri, labra, fried vegetables and payesh is not representative of every form of Durga worship. The distinction between Shakta and Vaishnava traditions helps explain why.

Shakta worship venerates the goddess as the embodiment of divine power and, in some traditions, permits fish, meat and animal sacrifice as ritual offerings. Vaishnava practices generally favour vegetarian food. These approaches coexist within Bengal’s religious and culinary landscape, producing different understandings of what may be offered to Durga.

At the Sabarna Roy Choudhury family’s Durga Puja in Kolkata, for instance, the elaborate household bhog has included fish prepared in different ways, alongside pulao, vegetables and payesh. In other homes, the goddess receives a strictly vegetarian spread governed by inherited ritual rules.

During Sandhi Puja, usually held at the juncture between Ashtami and Navami, some Shakta traditions prescribe bali, or animal sacrifice. The meat, usually goat, may subsequently be served to devotees. One preparation is known as niramish mangsho, literally “vegetarian meat”, which is cooked without onion or garlic and flavoured with ginger, cumin and whole spices. The name refers to its method of preparation, not the absence of meat.

Other traditions substitute vegetables or fruits, including pumpkins and sugarcane, for animal offerings. Such differences are not simply variations in festive taste. They reflect distinct ritual practices, each with its own understanding of sacrifice and devotion. Bhattacharya also suggests that Vaishnava influences helped popularise vegetarian offerings at community pujas, even within a festival rooted in Shakta worship. This is one explanation for the prominence of vegetarian bhog, though it does not account for every household’s history.

From Family Feasts To Community Khichuri

If household bhog reveals the variety of Durga worship, khichuri reveals how food became central to the festival’s public life.

Bhattacharya traces the tradition of offering cooked rice, or anna bhog, to the Mullick family of North Kolkata. According to his account, the wealthy family introduced the practice more than 250 years ago, using its resources to prepare an elaborate offering for the goddess. He also connects the khichuri offered at Belur Math with its first Durga Puja in 1901, when Swami Vivekananda was present. Bhattacharya recalls that Vivekananda encouraged the use of vegetables then considered unusual, including potatoes, cauliflower and peas. These ingredients subsequently became familiar in khichuri prepared at Ramakrishna Mission ashrams.

However, not every household permits anna bhog. At Shobhabazar Rajbari, the family does not offer cooked rice because of its understanding of caste-based ritual restrictions. At the Jorasanko home of the Daw family, a substantial offering of uncooked rice is later sent to an orphanage for children with disabilities. In homes where cooked rice is excluded, elaborate sweets and savouries usually take its place.

The communal feast also changed the social reach of Durga Puja. Bhattacharya connects the rise of sarbojanin worship with the political and social movements of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. He argues that community celebrations offered a space where people from different backgrounds could gather and that the shared dining experience helped foster a sense of collective identity. “The last thing you do is find out what the caste or the religion of the person sitting next to you is when absorbed in a meal,” he says.

Reading Bengal’s Landscape Through Its Food

Durga Puja’s culinary traditions also reflect the region’s agricultural life. Celebrated as the monsoon retreats and autumn begins, the festival draws on rice, lentils, gourds, pumpkin, colocasia, bananas and other vegetables that feature in Bengali cooking.

The Navapatrika ritual, observed on Saptami, makes this relationship particularly visible. Nine plants are assembled and worshipped together, with the banana plant at the centre. The collection includes plants such as turmeric, colocasia, pomegranate and rice, and is dressed to resemble a married woman. Popularly known as Kalabau, the assemblage forms part of Durga’s worship. The plants have several religious interpretations, but their presence also connects the goddess to fertility and cultivation. The assemblage can be read in relation to the dietary practices of Bengalis, particularly those of eastern Bengal during the colonial period.

Dutta sees seasonal ingredients as another record of the festival’s relationship with the land. The mixed-vegetable dish labra, for instance, brings together fresh produce in a preparation suited to the season. Rice, lentils and vegetables also form the basis of everyday nourishment, making them natural components of a meal prepared for large numbers of devotees.

Fish, Cold Rice And The Farewell On Dashami

For Bengalis with roots in eastern Bengal, fish has a particularly strong place in the food traditions of Durga Puja. Bhattacharya points to the prominence of matsyamukh, the ritual offering of fish, especially in regions, some now in Bangladesh, where fish has long been central to everyday diets. Families may offer fish such as hilsa and rohu, although practices vary. These offerings provide a contrast to the vegetarian bhog commonly served at many community pandals in West Bengal.

Dashami brings another distinctive custom: Shital bhog, or cold food. In his 1931 book The Cultural Significance of Fish in Bengal, anthropologist Tarak Chandra Das documented a tradition in the Dacca district of serving rice cooked the previous day and kept immersed in water overnight, accompanied by chutney made with lotus stalk and a preparation involving boal fish. Related household traditions serve panta bhaat, or rice soaked overnight in water, with accompaniments such as lentils, colocasia greens, fish and tangy chutneys. Preparing food in advance and serving it cold marks a contrast with the lavish meals of the preceding days.

The custom is also associated with the emotional significance of Durga’s departure. One explanation is that the household, saddened by the goddess’s return to Kailash, is reluctant to cook an elaborate meal. Another suggests that she is eager to return to Shiva and there is little time to prepare fresh food. Either way, Dashami’s meal brings the domestic narrative of the festival into focus. The food that welcomed the daughter home gives way to a simpler meal marking her departure.

The Family Recipes That Keep History Alive

The bonedi bari, or old aristocratic household, preserves another layer of this culinary heritage. Recipes made for the goddess can be specific to individual families and prepared only during the annual puja.

At the Mitra residence in North Kolkata, the offering has included luchi fried in ghee, salt-free fried vegetables, an assortment of bori made from different ingredients and homemade pickles. Other families preserve distinctive sweets and preparations, from elaborate motichoor laddoos to kheer flavoured with sandalwood.

Some traditions also carry stories of feeding people during difficult times. According to the family account associated with the Bhattacharjee household in Shibpur, Howrah, a dream instruction from the goddess during the Bengal famine of 1942 led the family to offer banana stem and green amaranth preparations and distribute them among people. The practice subsequently became part of the household’s Durga Puja tradition.

But these recipes are vulnerable. Bhattacharya notes that elaborate offerings once prepared in his family’s wider circle have disappeared as culinary knowledge has not always been passed down. The loss of a dish can also mean the loss of its associated ingredients, techniques and domestic histories. Meanwhile, the public celebration continues to develop new food traditions. Bhattacharya points to the Ananda Mela, often organised around Panchami, where community members sell homemade dishes and participate in food competitions. Outside the pandal, the festive menu expands to include both Bengali specialities and foods popular in the city hosting the celebration.

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