One year as a vegetarian changed how I think about food, compassion and health. My journey through Buddhist values, sattvic food and vegetarian nutrition.

Excerpt: After years of trying and failing, I have spent almost one year as a vegetarian. From Han Kang’s The Vegetarian to Buddhist compassion, Bengali food and finding the right plant proteins, this is what the journey has taught me.

Last year, on a long flight with ample time and nowhere to go, I read Han Kang’s The Vegetarian. The book that got her the Nobel in literature. It was the sort of book that becomes strangely suited to an aeroplane: you are suspended between places, ordinary life temporarily inaccessible, and there is nothing much to do except keep reading.

The descriptions were so vivid that at one point I remember feeling a chill through my bones. I will not say that I felt exactly what the character felt, because I did not. Her story is far more complicated, disturbing and extreme than mine. But I understood something about her refusal. When someone says, I cannot eat meat, sometimes they simply cannot eat meat. There may be no argument left to make.

I remember thinking about that while reading. And now, after almost one year as a vegetarian, I understand that feeling differently. Somewhere along the way, vegetarian food stopped being something I was trying to eat and became simply the way I wanted to eat.

I Did Not Become a Vegetarian in One Fine Day

I wish I had a beautiful conversion story, but I don’t. I had wanted to become a vegetarian for years. I experimented many times and failed many times. I would begin enthusiastically, continue for a while, then find myself returning to fish or meat. Eventually I would try again.

This time, however, I seem to have made it through to the other side.

I am also terrible at following prescribed diets. Give me a nutritionist’s chart telling me precisely what to eat and when, and some rebellious part of my mind immediately begins looking for the exit. I prefer discovering things myself. I like finding an ingredient, learning what it can do, making mistakes, creating recipes and slowly constructing a way of eating that belongs to me.

That is exactly how my vegetarian life developed.

Becoming Vegetarian in Bangladesh

There is one considerable complication in this story: I am Bangali.

Bangladesh is hardly designed to make vegetarianism effortless. We have gorom mangsho, murgir bhuna, murighonto, shutki, ilish bhapa, chingri machher paturi, curries, kebabs and biryanis that can make a determined woman briefly reconsider her entire philosophy.

And my God, our food is good.

I did not become vegetarian because I disliked fish or meat. I became vegetarian despite loving them. That is a very different kind of renunciation. These foods are also more than food. They belong to our childhoods, family tables, festivals, hospitality and memories.

There were times when I attended work events and found almost nothing substantial I could eat. Sometimes I survived on bhat and whatever vegetables were available. Sometimes I took the vegetables and gravy from a fish or meat curry and left the actual meat behind.

Was I a perfect vegetarian for every day of this year? No. There may have been one tiny puti machh, a taste of mola shutki, or one or two small bites during the entire year. I am not going to manufacture perfection for the sake of a prettier story. Those moments were exceptionally rare, and they taught me something useful: commitment is not necessarily destroyed by imperfection.

Why Vegetarianism Became Important to Me

Anyone who knows me knows how deeply I am drawn to the Buddha. I try, however imperfectly, to bring some of his teachings into ordinary life. One of the ideas closest to me is mettā, loving-kindness towards living beings.

Jagoter shokol prani shukhi hok. Sokoler mongol labh koruk.

May all beings be happy. May all beings find wellbeing.

Vegetarianism was not a universal dietary command of the Buddha, and Buddhist traditions have different approaches to eating meat. I do not therefore believe that being vegetarian automatically makes someone more Buddhist, more compassionate or morally superior.

For me, it is personal. If I can nourish my body without having an animal killed for my food, I would rather do that.

I sometimes have an almost childlike wish that if an animal comes close to me, it should have no reason to fear me. I want to belong, as much as possible, to the side of life that allows it to continue.

Human beings have hunted and eaten animals throughout our history. I accept that completely. I am not interested in judging another person’s plate. This is simply the relationship with food and other living creatures that I want for myself.

Sattvic, Rajasic and Tamasic Food

Alongside Buddhism, I am interested in the old Indian philosophical idea of sattvic, rajasic and tamasic food. These are not Buddhist categories, nor do I treat them as modern nutritional science. They come from broader Indian philosophical and yogic traditions, but I find them useful for thinking about the quality and character of what I eat.

Sattvic Food

Sattvic food is traditionally associated with balance, vitality, clarity and contentment. Fresh vegetables, fruits, grains, pulses, nuts, seeds and simply prepared nourishing foods fit naturally into this approach. This is how I increasingly want most of my food to feel: fresh, alive, nourishing and uncomplicated.

Rajasic Food

Rajasic food is stimulating: very spicy, salty, sour, pungent or intensely flavoured. I certainly eat rajasic food sometimes. I am Bengali. There are limits to spiritual ambition.

I love mustard, chilli, achar and spices. I do not want vegetarianism to remove the excitement from food. I simply want stimulation to have its place rather than becoming the character of every meal.

Tamasic Food

Tamasic food is traditionally associated with heaviness, dullness and stagnation, including stale, spoiled or excessively processed food. This is the direction I try to avoid as much as possible.

And sattvic food certainly does not have to mean boiled sadness on a plate. A fragrant moong dal, banana flower, beautifully cooked tofu, rajma, greens with mustard, hummus, roasted vegetables or a warm vegetable stew can be deeply satisfying. If my philosophy makes dinner miserable, I need a better philosophy.

How I Finally Built My Vegetarian Diet

In the beginning I ate enormous amounts of paneer and tofu because I did not quite know what else to do. Gradually my kitchen expanded. I began cooking rajma, white beans, chickpeas, urad dal, kala dal, moong dal and other pulses. I cooked banana flower constantly, made soups and stews, experimented with lentil cutlets and kept learning new vegetarian recipes.

Today my system is much easier. I drink soy milk regularly and usually eat tofu or soy chunks during the day. I eat two eggs daily, along with dals, beans and lentils, brown bread or brown rice, leafy greens and plenty of vegetables. Nuts and seeds are also regular parts of my food.

I am vegetarian, not vegan. I still eat eggs and sometimes milk, paneer, cheese, butter and ghee. I have no particular desire to become vegan. What I wanted was a vegetarian life that I could actually sustain.

Where Does the Protein Come From?

A healthy vegetarian diet cannot simply mean removing the fish from a Bangali plate and eating the remaining rice and potatoes. Vegetarian food still needs to be nutritionally planned.

My principal protein sources are mushrooms, tofu, soy chunks, soy milk, eggs, lentils, dals, chickpeas, kidney beans and other beans, together with paneer, nuts and seeds. Pulses also provide fibre, iron and minerals, while nuts and seeds contribute healthy fats and micronutrients.

Vegetarians should pay particular attention to nutrients such as iron, vitamin B12, calcium, vitamin D, iodine, zinc and omega-3 fats. Vegetarianism can be wonderfully nourishing, but the word vegetarian on its own is not a nutritional guarantee. A plate full of refined carbohydrates and fried food can be vegetarian too.

What One Year as a Vegetarian Has Given Me

There are good health reasons to eat more plant foods. A well-planned vegetarian diet rich in vegetables, legumes, whole grains, nuts and seeds can support cardiovascular and metabolic health. But I do not want to sell vegetarianism as a miracle cure. What has changed most noticeably for me is my relationship with food.

I eat a greater variety of vegetables, greens, beans and lentils. I think about protein. I experiment more. I notice what I am putting into my body. My plate has become more interesting rather than less.

More unexpectedly, being vegetarian has made me happy.

I began this journey thinking primarily about what I would have to give up. Instead, I discovered new ingredients, new recipes and a quieter relationship with eating. I never wanted goodness to require abandoning pleasure. Food should still be fragrant, beautiful, delicious and joyful.

Perhaps this attempt succeeded because I finally stopped trying to become the Perfect Vegetarian. I learned how to become my kind of vegetarian.

A Request to My Unseen Future

I do not know what my life will look like twenty years from now. I do not know where I will be, what circumstances I will face or what my body may someday require. I therefore hesitate to make absolute promises for the woman I have not yet become.

But if I could make one earnest request to my unseen future, or perhaps to whatever quiet guiding presence accompanies us through life, it would be this: let me remain a vegetarian for as long as I live.

Not because I believe myself purer than someone eating ilish. Not because vegetables confer sainthood. Not because my journey has been perfect. I want to remain vegetarian because this way of eating has brought several things I value onto the same plate: compassion, restraint, curiosity, nourishment and pleasure. I began by thinking about everything I would lose.

One year later, I find myself thinking about everything I have gained. And I am happy here.