Growing up Bangali: The Moshari.

A Bangali’s arch nemesis is a mosquito.

No, I’m serious. I’ve actually grown tired of all the jokes about us Bangali folk gorging on fish and rice, eating water, or unable to live a day without indulging in the sweet, sweet essence of a full sized K.C Das rossogolla.

(While we’re on sweets, next time you want to eat Bengali sweets, try a Sondesh. With a gooey core that’s filled with liquid gur, and an outer shell made out of dough that’s infused with even more jaggery, it’s much more refined than the usual, drab rossogolla. Go ahead, relish one. You’ll thank me.)

Where are the jokes on a Bangali’s quintessential love affair with Boroline, a monkey cap, Odomos and the security of a moshari?

What’s a moshari, you ask? Allow me to explain.

A moshari (pronounced Maw-shaari) is a simple mosquito net. Yep, that’s it.

Now while that might seem a tad bit anticlimactic and somewhat of a killjoy, given the hype I’ve tried to build up, there’s more to it.

Bangalis literally design furniture and hammer nails on walls in their bedrooms, to accommodate for a moshari. Something I came across quite recently, when my family moved into a new house. Mum and I were in charge of making sure what furniture went into, or was built in, which room.

Dad, on the other hand, made it a point to see that pegs and hooks were in place to hold the mosquito net up in his room.

You see, Bangalis are the epitome of laid back, intellectual individuals who enjoy their art, food and sleep over most other worldly pleasures. We do big things when we put our minds to it, but catch us on a holiday and you’ll find us more inclined towards chilling with the family, reading books, watching a movie, singing, or hanging out with friends at an adda, than heading out into the great outdoors and spending a day under the sun. The latter’s fun, and will work once in a while, but every other weekend? Too much effort, dada.

The biggest advantage that a moshari brings? The promise of a good night’s sleep.

Mosquitoes are nasty little buggers, hear one buzz next to your ear and you’ll be irritated. This feeling is exponentially increased in the case of a true-blue Bangali, especially one who’s grown up in an area abundant with mosquitoes. This wasn’t the case with me, but it certainly was with dad, who had a garden outside his childhood home and a small lake nearby.

Does a net guarantee protection against mosquitoes? You'd think so, wouldn't you?

Lord help us all if a mosquito somehow manages to sneak into the mosquito net through a tiny hole, or while tucking the net. Lights would have to be switched on, and one person would be looking at all the nooks and crannies with an eagle eye, eagerly hoping to find (and kill) a flying black speck.

Not just that, the bloody insects don’t even have to be in the net to do damage. Rest an arm against the mosquito net, and you’d likely be bitten by one outside. Evidently, Darwin's theories apply very strongly here, and mosquitoes in and around Bangali households are better equipped at bypassing barriers. Or maybe we just pay a lot of attention to the bugs.

Growing up in a Bangali household, with my father being a doctor, I was always told to keep myself at bay from mosquitoes. When I was a kid, I used to be tucked into the ‘safe’ confines of a mosquito net (which, I admit, seemed to be cool at that time. My very own capsule / cocoon). If it was me going for a school trip, dad always packed a tube of Odomos, and advised me to swat away at mosquitoes if they ever came up to me.

Ironically, I’ve suffered from both malaria and dengue on different occasions. Sorry to let my guard down, dad.

If and when I have children, I’ll probably be relying on mosquito repellants or some other alternative to a mosquito net. Heck, for all we know, scientists can come up with a way to make human blood less appealing to the damn fliers. But I might just end up bringing out the good ol’ net once in a while.

After all, I’m a Bangali, and we do love our mosharis.

(Images from the Bollywood movie Piku)