Some Puja traditions happen in temples. Others begin quietly in the kitchen at home.

Naaru, the familiar Bengali sweet made from grated coconut and molasses (গুড়) or sugar, belongs to the second kind. Simple in ingredients but rich in memory, it has been part of Bengali food culture for centuries. Naaru has been part of Bengal’s story for centuries, with a written reference appearing in Bijay Gupta’s Padmapuran/Manasamangal as early as 1484.

Naaru has long been associated with Bengali religious and seasonal celebrations. Different homes have their own recipes, proportions and techniques. Some make the deep caramel-coloured 'গুড়ের নাড়ু' (Gurer Naaru), while others prefer the lighter চিনির নাড়ু (Chinir Naaru), made with sugar.

During Durga Puja and especially around Bijoya Dashami, these little sweets take on a larger role. Traditionally, homemade naaru is offered and shared as relatives, neighbours and friends visit one another. The custom of preparing coconut and gur together and serving handmade Naaru during Bijoya has been carried through generations.

But perhaps what makes Naaru special is everything that happens before it reaches the plate.

Making Naaru, Making Memories

The process begins with fresh coconut. It is cracked open, carefully grated, then cooked slowly with gur or sugar. Cardamom may be added for fragrance, and some family recipes include milk or other small variations. The mixture needs continuous stirring until the coconut absorbs the sweetness and becomes sticky enough to hold together. While still warm, small portions are rolled between the palms into their familiar round shape.

It is not complicated. And that may be exactly why it has endured.

One person grates the coconut. Another watches the gur melt. Someone shapes each little round. Someone else waits nearby hoping to steal the first one.

In those small acts, a recipe becomes a ritual.

Narkel Naaru reminds us that Puja is not only about the grand celebrations. It is also about being home, working side by side, passing recipes from one generation to another and saving a few sweets for someone who has yet to arrive.

Because sometimes, the sweetest part of Puja isn’t what we make. It’s whom we make it with.