I came from Bangladesh when I was 10, and now I’m 20 and still haven’t gone back. Sometimes it feels like my memories of Bangladesh are fading, like the streets, the smells, even my cousins’ faces — but the one thing that keeps me connected is the food my mom makes.
When my mom makes murgi bhunna, the whole house smells like my grandma’s kitchen back home. She fries onions until they’re golden, then adds spices — turmeric, cumin, chili — until the masala is sizzling. Then the chicken goes in and gets all juicy and spicy. It’s the kind of food that makes you forget everything stressful — school, work, even being homesick.
My dad loves beef tehari — it’s like rice and beef but the rice is yellow and smells amazing. He always says it tastes just like the ones from Dhaka. When he eats it, I swear he gets quiet, like he’s thinking about his childhood too.
And fuchkha — that’s our family’s Friday-night fun. We poke a hole in those crunchy shells, fill them with mashed potato, chickpeas, and tamarind water. Mom says, “Don’t make it too spicy,” but then she makes it super spicy anyway. We all end up coughing and laughing together.
Even Rosh Golla these little sweet desert balls — make me feel close to Bangladesh. Dad complains about how eating sweets here isn’t as good as back home, but he still eats like five bowls.

– AA

Relationship:  Im/migrant Im/migrant