Bijay Rai, a friend of the late Aviv Atzili's Black-Eyed Peas Dal Recipe

“A Place at the Table” is a commemorative project that documents the favorite dishes of those lost on October 7 with the help of their families.  

Bijay Rai covers the black-eyed peas in a pot with plenty of water, sets them on the stovetop, and begins to cook them until they soften. It’s a routine he’s performed at least once a week for years. But since his friend Aviv Atzili was murdered on October 7, the little black-eyed peas seem to gaze back at him, their dark centers filling his eyes with tears. Even as he walks through the shuk’s market stalls, the black-eyed peas seem to stare at him, flooding him with memories of someone he loved.

For 12 years, Aviv managed Kibbutz Nir Oz’s blacksmith shop, tractor garage, and agricultural machinery. To Bijay, who worked under him for all of that time, Aviv was much more than a manager. “Aviv was my father, my brother, my friend — everything to me. I think about him all the time. We did almost everything together,” Bijay says, his hands moving quickly and skillfully as he chops vegetables thinly. The perfectly chopped onions and tomatoes form the base of his famous dal, which he always made a double batch of because he knew how much Aviv loved it and how it reminded him of his many trips to India.   

Bijay was born and raised in Nepal, where he owned a small restaurant. He met Doreen, an Israeli traveler who he would later marry. Together, they moved to Kibbutz Nir Oz, where they raised their family alongside the Atzili family.

On Friday morning, October 6, Bijay cooked his dal, as he always did, making a double batch — one for his family and one for the Atzili family. That evening, Liat Atzili, Aviv’s wife, recalls that they went out to eat at a restaurant, but throughout the meal, she and Aviv could only talk and fantasize about Bijay’s dal, which was waiting for them at home for Shabbat lunch — a meal they never got to enjoy.

On Saturday morning, October 7, when the attack began, Liat locked herself in the safe room, while Aviv joined the security squad to defend the kibbutz. As soon as he heard gunshots, he realized there were terrorists in the kibbutz and rushed out to fight, she recalls. There were only three members of the squad, who managed to band together under fire and fight bravely, but it was a hopeless situation.

Liat was kidnapped and taken to Gaza and released after 55 days as part of the hostage deal. A day after her return from captivity, she learned that Aviv had been murdered and that his body was being held in Gaza. The couple’s children survived. Aya, the youngest, was in the Arava that Saturday, participating in a pre-army service year. The older children, Ofri and Neta, were in their apartments at the kibbutz at the time of the massacre and managed to escape.

Aviv was born in 1974. A man of the land and a lover of people, everyone who knew him speaks of his sense of humor and rare patience. The team at the locksmith shop and garage he ran included the late Yoram Metzger, Haim Peri, Arie Zalmanovicz (Zalman), and Yossi Silberman. The locksmith shop and its people were a central part of the kibbutz’s life, says Liat. “The bonds within the team, the pride of the group, and the sense of belonging were very important to Aviv. They would eat meals together, spend time together, and at the end of the week, they would gather for a beer at the locksmith shop. There was even a time when they hosted concerts at the shop. It was much more than just a workplace. They were one big family.”

Aviv spoke about his work in an article about him in Ha’aretz in 2019: “Because of my daily work with agricultural machinery, the quick answer when I am asked what I do with my life is that I am a farmer. The work is dictated by the seasons, as is the monitoring, care, and repair of the tools in the field. There are periods when I spend a lot of time in the field, sometimes at inconvenient hours and in unpleasant weather conditions, but going into the field is almost always good for the heart. It doesn’t happen too often, but when I get to see the spectacular sunrises and sunsets in the Negev (if I manage to filter out the frustration of being at work instead of at home during those hours…), I almost always manage to lift my nose above the dust and absorb the power of beauty.”

In addition to his work as an ironworker, Aviv was also an artist. In recent years, he began painting, using metal parts of old tools he found in the fields — sometimes rusty and bent — and breathing new life into them as art. In the last year of his life, his work gained recognition. In a group exhibition at a gallery in Tel Aviv, which closed on October 7, 2023, Aviv was the only artist to sell all the works he exhibited.

Since that Shabbat, Bijay has been unable to return to work at the blacksmith shop. The absence of Aviv and the murdered members of the team is felt deeply between the walls. Bijay also could not bring himself to cook the dal he used to prepare for his friend, despite his wife Doreen’s requests. Now, for the first time since Aviv’s death, he’s agreed to make the spicy stew that his dear friend loved.

Did you prepare this recipe? Share a photo of it and tag it #A_Place_at_the_Table  to honor the memory of the late Aviv Atzili.