Tuesday, December 8, 2015

The Tolerant Pickle....

A favourite pickle made  on the spur of the moment from freshly shelled peas, Delhi carrots and crisp cauliflower.   Steeped in pickle masala , tingling Tadkas and copious lemon juice.

Folks typically do NOT wait for the vegetables to marinate. Much of it gets finished under the guise of "tasting"  it.

So you make a lot of it .  How wonderful it tastes with Dahi Bhat, Bhakri and such pillars of Maharashtrian Cuisine, is the subject of another poem....

And like all other times when the poetry keeda strikes , there is also something to learn from this pickle. .... 

काहींच्या डोक्यावर पानं ,
काहीन्न्ना कवटाळून बसलेली पानं ,
आणि काहीं तर जन्मापासून
हिरवाईत बंद ,
आणि मग एके दिवशी हळूच
हिरव्या मोत्यासारखे टपकन बाहेर…

जन्म कुठ्लांही,
आई वडील कोणीही असूनही
झालेला असला,
तरी एकत्र येउन
एखाद्या बरणीत
एकामेकाबरोबर घालवण्याची मजा
काही औरच असते.

फोडणीत चुर्चुर्ण ,
लिंबाच्या रसात डुम्बण,
कधी दही भात,
कधी ब्रेड
कधी पोळी
कधी भाकरी
सर्वांबरोबर समभावाने रम्ण,
आणि हसत खेळत
एखाद्या चोरून चव घेणार्या बोटाला
कौतुकाने चिकटण…

कधीतरी आपल्या राजकारणी
ह्यांच्या कडून सहिष्णुता म्हणजे काय
ते शिकतील का ?
 Some sprout leaves
on their head,
some are simply wrapped
precociously in leaves,
and some
remain enclosed in green,
till the moment of birth
emerging as little green pearls.

of place of birth,
method of birth ,
or even parentage,
they come together
in a celebration
of life,
often deemed,
full of salt,
sometimes spicy hot,
occasionally bitter,
and so many times
simply sour,
and a few times,
as they fool around
and have fun
in a porcelain jar.

Shuddering under a Tadka,
swimming in
the juice of lemons,
giving sufficient time
to all folks like
Dahi Bhat,
and an occasional
indulgent touch
to a finger
trying to dip in
and taste them all.

Will our intolerant politicians
learn something
about tolerance
from these folks?    

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