Panta Bhaat: How the humble fermented rice has become a summer weekend staple for me

Weekends are my perfect lyadh days. While I line up multiple tasks that need my attention on weekends, I don’t strive to complete them with the same efficiency and speed as I would on other working days.

I do things at my own pace.

And, my pace could be slow for many, but it is stubborn and persistent. It helps me meet my deadlines at work and lets me stay focused on my targets. Most importantly, it helps me take a back seat on the weekends. That’s when I feel more at ease, with myself and my surroundings.

‘Lyadh’ – in colloquial Bangla, means just that.

It means the art of doing nothing at all, of lazing around. Or it could mean taking your own sweet time in doing things. I fall into the latter categorisation.

Lyadh means different things to different people.

It could mean aimlessly watching the world pass by through your little window, gazing up at the clouds and making stories, striking up a conversation with the stars, rewatching mindless comedy classics, or simply putting your feet up and reading a book or listening to your favourite music, and dreaming away.

Basically, ‘Lyadh’ can be anything and everything that lets you unwind fully, where you don’t engage much at the cerebral level.

My idea of Lyadh-ing on a lazy summer Sunday is to have a leisurely brunch of ‘Panta Bhaat’, followed by an afternoon siesta.

What a pure bliss that is.

Of late, Panta Bhaat has become a staple food in our household during the summers. It has made its way to our home through me – or so I would like to believe.

While my parents enjoy Panta Bhaat, they are not fixated on having the fermented meal every summer weekend as I am. My love for Panta Bhaat has deepened over the last few years, especially because it tastes good, makes my tummy happy and lyadh-ing post that, feels even more justified.

This rice dish has many versions and is known by different names in different regions of India - Panta Bhaat in West Bengal, Pakhala in Odisha, Poita Bhaat in Assam, Geel Bhaat in Bihar, Pazhamkanji in Kerala, among others.

The first step in preparing Panta Bhaat (Bengali version) is the fermentation process. Usually, the leftover parboiled rice is soaked in water overnight, which then ferments the next day. A dash of lemon, preferably Gondhoraj lebu (a type of lemon grown in Bengal), is squeezed into the rice and is mashed with a bit of mustard oil and salt. It can then be had with onions and green chillies.

Along with this, there are several accompaniments to go with Panta Bhaat, like mashed potatoes, batter-fried vegetables, lentil fritters, and fried fish.

This mildly fermented rice dish was born out of utilitarian needs. Back in the day, when refrigerators were not so common, this was a meal meant for the working people. Moreover, the process left no food waste, as leftover rice was made into a dish that sustained them for a long time.

The oldest historical record of this fermented meal, which is widely reported, dates back to the 17th century. It is attributed to the Portuguese traveller Fray Sebastián Manrique, who visited Bengal and noted that Panta Bhaat, accompanied by salt and green, leafy vegetables, was the main meal for people across all communities.

While it’s evident that we have been consuming fermented foods since ancient times, their popularity has surged only recently. Did we recognise their health benefits too late?

I have been having fermented food items in my diet for many years now. Some of my preferred fermented Indian food items are - Idli (fermented rice cakes), Dosa (made from fermented batter of rice and lentils), Kanji (fermented drink made from black carrots and spices), Pickles (aachar in Hindi, made from fermented vegetables or fruits) and my all-time favourite – Dhokla (fermented snack made from chickpea flour). All these are rich in probiotics, fibre and essential micronutrients that promote gut health.

But ‘Panta Bhaat’ tops my list of favourite summer foods. Its high-water content makes it a hydrating meal, perfect for the scorching heat of Delhi-NCR. And, for me, it goes even deeper. It feels as though my soul immerses itself in a bowl of Panta Bhaat, relishing its cooling properties.

I know it sounds a bit exaggerated and surreal, but that’s exactly what I feel.

Here is a picture of what my plate of soul food looked like last weekend. The add-ons included - bhaaja, or fried lentil and seasonal vegetables, alu makha, or mashed potatoes with mustard oil and green chillies, and fried Ilish (hilsa) fish.

Panta Bhaat Photograph: (Anushree Bhaumik)

If Wim Wenders’ Oscar-nominated Japanese drama “Perfect Days” ever gets made into an Indian version, I propose that the filmmaker include the often-called ‘peasant's meal’ in the narrative.

Panta Bhaat and lyadh-ing go in “perfect” sync with the theme of the film.

They all make a compelling case for a life that is simple, slow, light, and easy.