Why I’ve stayed loyal to Boroline, even when dermatologists disagreed

Chapped lips, cracked heels, burnt skin or a broken heart; as a Bengali millennial, I’m convinced that there’s nothing Boroline can’t heal. And this isn’t only nostalgia or the ‘Bengalis know better’ syndrome talking, but tried-and-tested experiences.

I’ve always had a stash of Boroline tubes tucked away, hoarded from every trip to Kolkata, handed out to friends like souvenirs. But it wasn’t until recently that I realised just how powerful that green tube really is.

One morning, I looked in the mirror and let out a small horror-movie scream. My face was covered in a rough rash, something between an allergic reaction and a hex. Usually, my darker skin tone camouflages breakouts, but this was beyond the scope of the melanin gods.

In a panic, I reached for the only thing that came to mind: Boroline.

I applied it twice a day for two days. By the end of it, the redness had faded, the itchiness had settled and the sun shone on my blemish-free skin again. It was the kind of moment that confirms what you already suspect: there truly is nothing Boroline can’t heal (at least for the Bengali).

After years of cycling through moisturisers to pacify my combination skin, Boroline is now the staple in my skincare routine.

How does one categorise Boroline? An antiseptic cream? A moisturiser? A healing balm? A generational ritual captured in a tube? Even designer Sabyasachi Mukherjee waxed poetic about it on Instagram. Boroline smells sweet, like childhood. The comforting fragrance brings back memories of our grandmothers’ beauty shelves, where talcum powder and that unmistakable green tube sat side by side. I can’t say when I adopted the habit myself, but at some point it became second nature. Boroline is now my daily moisturiser, with tubes stashed in drawers, handbags and bathroom shelves—you know, just in case.

Boroline was first launched in 1929 by Bengali merchant Gaur Mohun Dutta, as part of the pre-independence Swadeshi movement. In a mildly ethnocentric way, it became a product by Bengalis for other Bengalis, marketed during Durga Pujo and became Dutta’s pride and joy. As per their website, wartime shortages led to changes in packaging, but the company printed a note on every pack reassuring customers that the quality remained unchanged. When India became independent, one lakh tubes were distributed as a celebration, solidifying its commitment to being for and of India.