Chhabilal is my maternal uncle (mama). He used to tell us that his chop is inspired by the Bengali aloo chop. Mama is also known as Chop Baje. He got the name from the crispy outside and juicy inside aloo chops that he prepares. He also initiated fish sales in Malekhu Bazaar. My mama told us that one day a Chepang boy came with a handful of fish from the Trisuli river to sell at his chop shop. After purchasing half a kilogram of the fish, he fried it and put it in the shop’s showcase. The fried fish was such a hit that it sold out immediately. The next day, Chop Baje was at the Trisuli river searching for that same Chepang boy to request him to bring back more fish.
Did you know that the original Malekhu was not where it’s located today? It was just near the old Malekhu bridge. This bridge was washed out by the tributaries of the Trishuli river in 1993. Then the bridge was moved towards the Trishuli river. Before the market was at a bend on the road but later when the road was straightened, the whole bazaar had to move. The old bazaar still exists in its original location but nowadays it only serves the local crowds only. Chop Baje started his business with only half a kilogram of local fish and one kilogram of potato (to make aloo chop). He never imagined the whole market would be so popular that a single person’s sales could go up to 200 kgs. Before the pandemic, local business owners used to sell up to 1500 kgs of fish but most of these fish came from Janakpur and other Indian towns. I tried to replicate my mama’s recipes but it never tasted the same. The fried fish in Malekhu tasted different because of the ambience of the place. The crowded environment, the rustic cooking method, the easy placement of the eateries next to the highway, the noise of passing vehicles and their horns—all these beautiful factors came together to lend the food a unique flavor. But given the recent circumstances, I think that the taste of Malekhu will soon become a distant memory. Malekhu which used to sell items produced locally sells imported fish and chops now. The overexploitation of the Malekhu and Trisuli rivers has emptied them of fish. To make things worse, the sand mafia is illegally mining in the river. As a result of these activities, local Chepang people who used to depend on the river for income are now jobless. To make businesses sustainable, the community of Malekhu should come forward and brainstorm solutions. In my view, they should consider community-based local fisheries. While fish consumption has been one of the most important sources of income for the locals, community-based local fisheries for sustainable business will greatly benefit the ‘Farm to Fork’ concept, and fish lovers would enjoy having local fish. This will also ensure that a new generation of people can enjoy the local fish from Malekhu or even the Trishuli river. Imagine the marketing genius of pre-booking the delicacies before arriving at Malekhu. This would allow the locals to prepare your dish in advance with love and care. In the fast and wild rivers, you can find different varieties of fish. The fish found would be local, organic, and carry the fresh taste of the mountains. I would recommend one of the best local fish to be the Jal Kapoor (Pangasius) which just melts in the mouth. With the right approach to reviving Malekhu, our grandchildren can enjoy Jal Kapoor there just like our forefathers used to.
