Janmashtami:Taaley Taaley Pa Feli Haath Duliye

'BABY NONO'- IN MY SON"S WORDS

It was getting dark. Visibility was zero as strong winds and heavy rain lashed at the car. I could see Ma squinting through the harsh glares of the oncoming cars, the rain and the wind.

She was driving our camel-colored Maruti van with Didi sitting next to her, while I and my sisters sat at the back. Didi had turned sixteen that year and had acquired an elevated status to sit next to Ma as she drove to Bardhaman from Durgapur, a two-hour drive. Baba was away touring Bhilai Steel Plant and we were going to Bardhaman for Janmashtami. It was a tension-filled drive. Never had Ma driven on her own so far accompanied by her daughters only.  It was unsafe and scary to venture out so far with the ‘girls’. And we had strict orders to keep our ‘tools’ handy. Ma had a long iron rod lying near her feet, Didi had a sharp sickle on her lap, I had a tangi and my kid sister had a stick. Quite like Ma Durga and her girl -gang beginning their homeward journey. :-))

There was tension and anxiety in the air…there was also excitement and anticipation! Janmashtami had always been a grand affair at my aunt’s place in Bardhaman. For us Pujas would begin with Janmashtami and not Durga Puja. All our relatives would arrive from faraway places bearing with them gifts for Durga Puja which would be at least a month or two away. We would all fast breaking it after every one hour with sharbaat and chai. The women would occupy the long, red verandah engaged in multifarious activities while the men would be outdoors purchasing items for the puja, meeting the priest, holding last minute discussions with the decorator, hanging tooni bulbs (tiny, multi-colored bulbs strung on a wire) outside the house, looking after the elderly members of the house. Janmashtami was a busy day for all. We all had our respective duties. While the mothers would squat on the floor making delicacies for the deity, painting alpanas, arranging items for the puja, cooking bhog for Lord Krishna; younger girls like us would be entrusted with running errands, passing important messages between the men and the women and making garlands. It was fun. The puja would start late at night as Lord Krishna was born at midnight. Evening we would spend time dressing up in bright Benarasi saris from ma’s wardrobe.  Rendered clumsy by the heavy saris we would all sit in a corner of the terrace and listen to Thammi (paternal granma) and Didima (great grandmother) tell us ancient tales of Lord Krishna and the demons. 

‘Those were the best days of my life’! I am ready to do anything to get them back…if only that could happen!! :-((

Janmashtami is no longer a grand affair today. Relationships have turned sour (thanks to the property related squabbles), no maids or enough manpower to assist in the grandeur, mounting expenses (a simple Narayan Puja costs around thousand bucks today), no one to take on the responsibility of organizing the festival on a large scale, younger generation married or settled far and hence no one to take on the onus of a Janmashtami. 

TAAL AT THE VEGETABLE MARKET

Thankfully Janmashtami these days is a holiday and I get ample time to prepare in advance.Janmashtami is synonymous with taal , the fruit of the palm tree (Palmyra Fruit). Taal is a MUST for the puja. It’s customary in our family to offer it to the Lord first. The pulp of the fruit is used to make a variety of dishes like taaler bora (they look like small round pakoras which are sweet), kheer and payesam, luchi and even pan cakes. It was only yesterday that I heard cakes can also be made from the extract. Amazing isn’t it? It does good to let your imagination run wild at times! :-))

Janmashtami today is about hunting the perfect taal. Now that is what I call an art! Following are some criteria’s to spot the ideal taal (Well, the credit goes to my hubby who has an eye for a ‘good’ taal).

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•  Go by the look of it!

Has to be dark brown with tinges of maroon. The darker the color, higher the chances of it being sweet. (Don’t worry some fruit sellers even paint them. They even apply a coat of oil to make it shine and glisten)

• ‘Taal poreche’ (taal has fallen) was a popular cry when there used to be storms and strong winds and we would all rush to pick them up.

Well, the taal should have fallen from the tree ‘on its own’ (now what the heck does this mean). A ripe Taal usually falls on its own but in most cases the fruit-sellers cut the raw fruit, bring them down and artificially ripen them. Such taals are in abundance and need to be identified as they turn out to be bitter.

• Trust your nose man!

Yes, it’s a common saying that no matter how much you want to keep your taal private, you have to share it with all. It has a strong aroma, the whole house smells of it. So know your taal by the aroma of it. A rich aroma indicates a good taal as well. But too ripe a taal can be risky. It can have worms inside! Most taals when they fall from the tree crack their shells. Check for worms which creep in.

• Let’s not go by the size!

At times smaller the taal, the better it is. 

• Bengalis are known for ‘hoarding and speculating’.

Please don’t buy taals in advance.  There’s no guarantee how much time it takes to ripen. A Taal bought in the morning can ripen in the evening attracting flies and ruining its potential.

Hope this checklist does you good. Please feel free to add some more!! A taal in Kolkata before Janmashtami can cost you around twenty-five to thirty bucks depending on its size and also the market from where you buy.

TAALER BORA

TAALER PAYESH

Extracting the pulp is the most tedious job and unarguably the most crucial aspect. It’s tough. My spondylitis is bound to aggravate during this time of the year. It can take hours depending on your sincerity. The trick in making a thick puree of taal lies in the amount of water that one uses. The lesser the water, the thicker the puree, the better the taste and yes, tougher the process. On the other hand use of more water makes the process easier and faster. And it requires patience! My mother-in-law is an expert in this! She can sit for hours making the taal extract! 

With the extract ready….you can go ahead and make anything that your heart or your stomach desires!

MY JANMASHTAMI CELEBRATIONS ONLY FOR YOUR EYES!

 A bit about the caption for this post! To me every word is associated with a song however incongruous they might be. Whenever I think of Taal, I hum this song. It brings me back fond images of a long-lost cousin who used to sing it and it was never-ending!We had to beg him, plead him to stop singing and he would simply go on and on. How I miss him!

 

Happy reading friends!  

Jhuley Jhuley Laal; The Lost Art of Jhulon

Whenever I hear Runa Laila (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runa_Laila) singing Jhuley Jhuley Laal Dum Mast Kalandar, it reminds me of the festival - Jhulon, the famous Swing festival of Lord Krishna with Radharani. This year I looked up the Ponjika to find that it’s scheduled on July 29 and it happens to be a Sunday. Whoa….we can all celebrate it together! 

My son,who turned three this year, has been listening to stories of Jhulon from us. So we thought of arranging a grand Jhulon for him. As the day grew nearer we realized that it was not feasible to arrange a Jhulon in our cramped apartment in Kolkata. We can’t do it in the balcony...a heavy/intermittent shower would wash off everything, the common space outside the door was ruled out…difficult to get permission from the ‘ill-tempered’ Secretary or someone would plunder/steal for sure. And Jhulon always happens in groups. Children of various ages usually get together to arrange a Jhulon. I went around our complex of some 400 flats talking to kids and their parents about organizing one in our complex. Well, I was in for a big shock! Not a single child knew about Jhulon. Parents had a vague look when I spoke to them! A sorrow sight it was! Nothing doing…let’s take out the kid somewhere where people celebrate it with great pomp and show. Searches on the Net revealed that only ISKCON celebrates Jhulon.So it’s only a religious event these days!

The environment at ISKCON was very different. Confined space, suffocating, too hot and humid, long queues of devotes  waiting to get a glimpse of the jhula, polite ‘Hare Krishna’ from the volunteers to control the mob from spilling into the main worship area, devotees and monks in a frenzied dance….this sums up the ISKCON experience.  It was scary. Religious places always scare me. I keep on thinking ‘what if something happens…you know maybe a false alarm…a stampede and everything would go haywire. I know I don’t have a chance of escape with my three year old…the elderly in-laws were also there’. I panicked. Controlling my nerves I quit the queue and decided to sit and listen to the devotional songs sung by the monk. 

My three year old on my lap, leaning his head on my chest,  eyes closed, hands joined in a prayer, clapping our hands, swaying to the soulful tunes…in few words we were lost. Such was the effect of the songs. My usually hyper active boy, who needs more than a curt glance to be controlled, went eerily calm and quiet. And I knew this is where I would love to bring my three year old once in a while. All those mothers out there who have a tough time controlling their hyper kids…try this out. It worked and still works for me…it might work for you as well. 

Try it out!

The crowd thinned and we finally got a chance to get an unhindered view of the jhula and the idols. Beautifully decorated it took me back to my childhood. 

Jhulon would mean for us a day when mothers did not scold us…there was no discipline…no stern looks…no silent warnings! They let us play the whole day, they let us come home late (but on time for dinner), and we could come in muddied and looking like someone from the ‘gutters’. But there were no punishments. And the best part about the day were the assortment of snacks that the mothers would take turns in sending us as if to reward us for our efforts. There would be kochuri, mishti, pakora, laddu, chirey bhaaja, chop, shingara and so much more. Lunch would be a mini picnic for us. We were a group of seven kids and since our garden was the ‘best’ and more spacious the venue would always be at our place. The day before jhulon baba would return early from office and set up a shamiyana (a polythene shelter) to protect our jhulon from rain and us from the heat. Jhulon as majority knows is the festival where Lord Krishna and Radha swing in an elaborately adorned jhula. Jhulon celebrations also comprise of children making their own decorations, like recreating a rural scenery (complete with paddy fields, clay models of cows, cut-outs of tractors, cut-outs of people farming), a school in progress (the building, children playing outside), a small town (roads, buildings, factories), a marriage scene (beautifully made and dressed puppets) etc. The themes would vary every year. Pre-Jhulon we would spend evenings chatting about how to make our Jhulon unique and ‘the best’. It was an artistic event and we all realized our potential! Someone would draw, I would make the cut-outs, Meetu would make the clay models, Anuj would ideate….it was a beautiful experience. And then we had neighborhood competitions as well. There were also prizes to be won; a grand lunch comprising our favorite dishes, an outing, a children’s movie or a box of chocolates, or a picnic.

It makes me sad…my son will never get to experience this…and I don’t have any photographs to show my son and no matter how hard I try I can’t create a Jhulon for him! 

My husband also has some interesting stories to share about Jhulon. I got to hear them on my wedding night. Sounds romantic huh? It was our wedding night. I was observing his fingers…long and stout and artistic. Well, he plays the tabla very well. I noticed a deep scar on his ring finger. An old scar but it must have been very deep and painful. And there is a story behind it. It was Jhulon Purnima. He was around seven years old then. He and his cousins were celebrating Jhulon at their maternal uncle’s place which is a tiny hamlet near Malda, West Bengal. The theme that they had agreed upon was to recreate their school environment. They had created the school (known as Paathshaala in those days) which was a mud-walled, asbestos roofed one-storied building. The group had put in their sincere efforts to create one with a cardboard box and a piece of tin to serve as its roof. Next was planting some cut-outs of trees and cows on cardboard to create the grazing ground in front of the school. It was then the time to make a small pond which overlooked the school. A Katari (sickle) was stolen from the cattle shed to carve out a hole which would then be filled with water and cut-outs of small fishes. Big brother struck a blow with the katari which accidentally sliced the kid’s finger. Finger sliced into two, the cousins fainted while the little boy sat holding on to his finger looking at the pond turning red. 

My mother-in-law forbade them from celebrating Jhulon…big brother could never forgive himself (he still blames himself as if the finger doesn’t exist anymore)….little kid who is the big man in my house now  is petrified of a katari or anything that comes close to it! 

Well at least we have stories about Jhulon to regale everyone around…we have had our share of experiences. But the nest generation sadly has no inkling about this festival…there is no space to arrange one…no groups of kids to make a Jhulon!

Jhulon..I feel is about to die a sad death. Maybe it will find a place only in the temple, as a religious custom. People would forget about the role of children, the significance of art and craft involved. Isn’t it strange that kids today are taught art and crafts in school whereas we did what came naturally to us during jhulon. We had a festival meant exclusively for art and crafts…a festival which show-cased our talents!  

Maybe the schools instead of incorporating an Art & Crafts class can include this festival in their calendar…maybe they can arrange the children to organize a Jhulon festival instead of those mindless, expensive week-long fests! A MAYBE again!!

N.B: This should have made it to the July Ponjika. But I could manage a blog only in August and I couldn’t resist including Jhulon. Happy Reading and do send in your suggestions.

Tracking August in the Ponjika

Everyone has a phobia…I had way too many when I was a little girl. Now when I look up the list of phobias, I think I had each one of them!

Well, one among them was my phobia of the Bengali teacher and of anything to do with her!!

Sarkar Miss - A somber, middle-aged lady, always dressed in a ‘no-nonsense saree’ (crisply starched, light colored cotton). Her very entry into the classroom would make the otherwise bright, cheery classroom fade into a dull oblivion. Such was her personality! Our ‘bangla’ class was an ordeal. A wrong answer would be punished with a severe stare which was enough to reduce us to a shaky mass. Another wrong answer would ensure a balancing act on a pedestal outside the classroom.

‘Bangla’ class was synonymous with Sarkar Miss. It was dull, boring and scary. And I was often the butt of all ridicule, although I made it a point to do my homework every day, stay up the night before and memorize the lessons well, answer everything correctly in class. She had made me the class monitor. And when I thought I was super confident and falling in love with Bengali, she knew her way to bring me back to reality.

Sarkar Miss: ‘So Radha…tell me which year is this’? 

Me: (That’s a question!! I am sure there’s more to it) ‘1993 Miss’!

SM: ‘We all know that. Tell me the Bengali year’.

Me: (Aah…there it is!) ‘umm….umm… Miss...Terosho…terosho…terosho ata nobbui (1398)’?   A long stare confirmed that I was wrong. Someone must have raised her hand as I saw Miss Sarkar nodding her head and a voice answering ‘terosho niranobbui(1399)Miss’.

SM: ‘So Radha…now that you know the year go and write it on the blackboard’.

Me: Oh God…why does it have to be a ‘niranabbui’. I have always had difficulty in writing the digit 9 in Bengali. Too complicated and ‘pechalo’ (puzzling). Mustering enough courage I wrote it but was advised to practice 9 in Bengali as if I was in Grade 2.

Offering a silent prayer to God I moved towards my seat only to be called back.

‘Now tell me the names of the Bengali month…’.

That was it! Petrified of Sarkar Miss and feeling her penetrating gaze on me I had forgotten the carefully learnt Bengali months. I still remember how I was made to stand outside the class, students from other sections staring at me,commenting on my bad luck. Well, Sarkar Miss was known for her ‘cruelty’ and they all empathized with me. 

 Yes it was ‘cruelty’ to me then. But today I owe a lot to that ‘cruelty’. That summer I spent hours with my maternal grandfather, learnt all about the Bengali year, the months and their spellings. It was an enriching summer vacation at my maternal home.  And I realized what a fool I was to have neglected my mother-tongue, quite shameful in fact! And I grew thankful to Sarkar Miss. 

I do realize now that a phobia can also be useful. My phobia of Sarkar Miss and the Bengali language drove me hard. I struggled with the language only to gain proficiency in it and take pride in my knowledge! And today I feel immense gratitude for my ‘cruel’ miss. 

So all those young people out there - don’t neglect your phobia…take it seriously and it will do you lot of good like it did to me!

Here are some FACTS which I think my readers should know before I move on to the next post…

This is the Bengali year: 1419 (Choddosho unish)

Every English month marks the end and the beginning of another month in Bengali. For example August sees the end of Srabon/monsoon and the beginning of Bhadro/autumn. 

And every month has a Purnima-a full moon night and an Amavassya- a new moon or in my words a no-moon night. The time span between an Amavassya-Purnima is known as Shuklopokkho while the time span between Purnima-Amavassya is known as Krishnopokkho. Shuklo literally means bright and indicates the waxing of the moon while Krishno, the dark colour of Lord Krishna denotes the waning of the moon.

This post starts with a weekly calendar for August. There are many festivals and events highlighted in this month which I plan to cover gradually. Let me know if I have missed anything in August!

Till then happy reading!!

The 'Bangali' behind the Bangla Calendar

I am a proud Bengali…a wife…and a mother. 

Observing happenings around me and penning them down has always been my favorite time-pass. I remember buying a tiny pocket diary with my first pocket money. A relative had given me Rs 20 for my piggy bank. My first pocket money and I was all excited.Ma took me to the shop and told me to buy whatever I wanted with that money. She was surprised when I told her that I wanted to visit the stationery shop. I still remember her expression when I bought that little green-cover diary. I think she was pleased that I did not spend it on candies or anything else. That was the beginning of my ‘musings'.

I would write down names of people that struck me…qualities about my friends….quarrels with my siblings…quotes from a letter written to me by my gran…! Thankfully my professional front today involves extensive research and documentation.

Why a blog...

My first job was in Delhi. Hearing my surname, people exclaimed ‘oh you are a bong..I so want to visit Kolkata during the Durga Puja’! It happens wherever I go. Bengalis today are synonymous with Durga Puja. And that is where it ends. Well there’s more to Bengalis than just a Durga Puja. 

My niece, born and brought up in the US knows very little about our tradition and culture. My sister and brother-in-law have tried their best to inculcate in her the typical ‘Bangali’ ethos and culture. But tell me how much can you imbibe about a culture staying on foreign lands! I remember chatting with her, telling her about Rathyatra. Well, it took me quite some time to describe a Ratha, the idol Jagannath Dev and the stories around the festival. She loved the mythological stories, esp. the anecdotes that I had for her.  

It then struck me that these traditions and festivals which we follow today might be lost forever if we do not document them…if we do not get the younger readers to read them. Some customs and traditions have already died when my paternal grandma passed away. Lack of time, tedious customs, unavailability of ingredients, rising prices, lack of support at home, westernization are some of the many reasons that have attributed to it. Maybe a blog that documents these traditions, customs, norms, folkways and festivals might help us all in remaining attuned with our culture of ‘Bangaliyana’. It’s a MAYBE. But no harm trying it, right?

Now why a Bangla Calendar...

Every traditional Bengali household has a Ponjika, which is nothing but a detailed calendar complete with dates, events and festivals. The first thing in the morning that a conventional Bengali does besides their morning ablutions is check the panji/ponjika for the tithi, astrological predictions for the day, details whether it is a purnima/amavasya, whether it’s safe to venture out etc . A Ponjika is a MUST for a decent, traditional Bengali household. 

My date of joining for my first job was decided not by my employer but by the Ponjika….the day I met my future husband for the first time was not decided by us, nor by the in-laws but by the Ponjika again! At times I feel that the Ponjika is my long lost great grandmother silently dictating every activity and event in the house. 

Looking up the ponjika is also an art. My younger sister after her marriage to a Tam Bram (Tamil Brahmin) suddenly felt a surge of love for everything Bengali and ordered a Ponjika to be couriered to her. Well, Ma gets a call after the delivery of the consignment. I can’t help but write down the conversation for you-

 

Sis: ‘Ma I ordered a Pun---jeee------kah’. (Hope you get the Anglicized pronunciation of pon-jee-kaa)

Ma: ‘Baba couriered it day before yesterday, you should have got it by now’.

Sis: ‘Yeah, I just got something from baba. A pinkish booklet.  But where is the punjeekah?

Ma: (after a moment’s silence). ‘otai to. That is the ponjika’.

Sis:  (a longer silence). ‘ohh…accha. But it’s in Bengali. Accha ma, tell me what to make of it. Boishakh….ekadoshi….diba …surjasto…what is all this for? (And she goes on trying her best to pronounce them)

Well, both ma and sis gave up in the end. Ma promised to give her a crash course the next time she is home. 

I have a ponjika at home just like a good Bengali homemaker and have over the years with guidance from Ma, Gran and Mother-in-law have mastered the art of reading a ponjika. But what about Bengalis like my sister who have shown an interest but are unable to decipher it. 

I thought why not a blog which would be a kind of a calendar depicting various customs and traditions of a Bengali. It would be in a way a modern Ponjika for the modern Bengali informing as well as orienting them.

As a blogger..

Sorry I do not have much idea about blogging. Do try to understand and sympathize that am still learning the ropes of blogging. I am not happy with the template….the design. But please bear with me...

Well the calendar has to move on…meanwhile let me spend some time researching on  design and templates.

Your suggestions are most welcome.

Happy reading!