Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Ballad of the Kanda Kairi


A summer relish made out of raw mango and onion. Returning from morning school on hot afternoons in the plains, to enjoy this amazing preparation, its recipe and sense of lipsmacking wonder indicated so well by my friend Shruti Nargundkar of Melbourne , in her post ,"The Summer of our Content".

The recipe I follow has the same ingredients, but is not as homogeneous in appearance, since one uses grated raw mango(kairi) and slivers of onions, often ornamented by stiffly hot kadhipatta leaves and halfburnt fenugreek seeds.

Nevertheless, this remains a star side preparation, to be had at lunch, a ceiling fan groaning overhead, followed by cool spiced buttermilk, a glass of matka water , and a lingering taste in the mouth, that transforms into dreams on a somnolent summer afternoon...

Just a peek into the tumultuous life of the Kairi....... original in Marathi, an afterthought in English...

 (photo by Shruti Nargundkar)
लहानपणापासून तिला वाटे
आपण नाटक सिनेमात काम कराव ......
तिच्या जन्माच्या वेळी, आम्राईभर आलेला
सुगंधीत मोहोर,
तिचे डोळेभरून झालेले बालपणीचे कौतुक,
मोठेपणी
थोड्या पिवळसर लालसर छटा दिसायच्या आत  ,
सात च्या आत घरात चा नियम .
आणि मग एकदिवस
बाजारात पळून जाणे,
एका आजीबाईनी  आश्रय देणे,
आणि शाळेत जाणार्या काही मुलींनी तिच्याकडे
अधाशीपणाने बघणे. 
एवढे  सर्व तर सनेमा सारखेच ....

पण आजकाल एका सिनेमात अनेक नटनट्या  असतात .

रणरणत्या माळरानावरच्या  कडक उन्हात
अचानक अवतीर्ण झालेले कांदा सिंग ,
त्यांचे नाच्या पाठीराखे
तापलेले, घासून पुसून  स्वच्छ  भुईमुगराव दाणे,
घाबरत मागे आलेल्या  जीराबाई ,
आणि   कैरी च्या पाठीमागे भक्कम पणे उभ राहून
"भिउ नकोस, तुला सावरायला मी आहे न .."
असं म्हणून सगळ्यात पडणारे मोठे गूळभौजी....

शेवटचा सीन ,
सगळे एकत्र फिरतात,
एकमेकात इतके गुंततात ,
स्वतहाला विसरतात.
गुंडांनी गरम तेलात मोहर्या उडवल्या , त्याच्यावर टाकल्या
तरी फक्त एक मंद चर्रर्र ......

आणि मग
भाकरीबुआ पापुद्रे येतात,
गवारीबाई, हिरव्या शालूत  ओव्याचे अत्तर शिंपडून
हझर  होतात,
दही आणि  भात एकत्रच यीऊन पोचतात ,
आणि
पोक्त वरण राव
मन घट्ट  करून बसलेल्या लोण्याकडे बघून
म्हणतात ,
"काय हो, लोक म्हणतात
कांदा सिंग आणि कैरीबाई
यांच्यात काहीतरी  चालू आहे....
खरं कि काय ?...."


She always wanted
to be
in Films....

Her birth celebrations
amidst fragrant
mango blossoms,
an indulgent protected childhood,
and strict timings and rules of life
as she came of age....

And one day, she took off
into the market,
only to be rescued
by a old vegetable seller grandma.

Watched greedily
by school kids,
as she transferred
from basket to house.

Almost like a movie, this.

But this is a age of multistarrers....

And so Hero Kanda Singh
suddenly appeared on the burning plains,
accompanied
by his Monkeynut sidekick;
an apprehensive Jeerabai,
worriedly following behind,
and Lord Jaggery,
sensing Kairi's  discomfiture
and saying,
"Fear not, and proceed;
remember, I am there to support you !"

The last Climax scene.

A massive mingling
and becoming one
of all the characters,
so much, that
there is barely a squeak,
and just a hiss,
as some
hot oil with crackling mustard
is poured over them all....

Which brings on the watchers,
Bhakribua "layer" Papudre,
Lady Cluster bean,
with Ajwain perfume
on  green silk,
and
the Curd-Rice folks hand in hand.

The thick and portly
Dal representative,
looks at the White Butter Man,
sitting desolately,
trying not to dissolve,
and clearing
his Hinged salty  throat
asks ,
" Tell me,
everyone says,
there is something
going on
between
Kanda Singh and Kairibai....
Is it true ??
...."

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

White with Gold - summer colors

My young blogger friend Kalyani, often posts pictures, with a color palette that simply screams the specialities of the season......with backgrounds, and colors bringing back memories of school summer holidays in native places in Kokan, traipsing around in the hot sun in white petticoat type sleeveless frocks, climbing trees, plucking flowers, making them into garlands and "wenis", secrets amongst cousins, afternoon escapades, playing and fighting over "Sagargotaas", and gorging on juicy mangoes, and being shouted at for studding the pristine white with gold ...

(Wrote the Marathi poem first; did an English version for my Non marathi friends; probably not as sweet in English, but what the hell, enjoy the mangoes and chafaa flowers ! Summer's here ....)

(photo by Kalyani Wakkar)
उन्हाळ्याच्या सुट्टीत
सफेद फ्रील वाले झगे घालून,
दुपारच्या वेळी
झोपाळ्याच्या खोलीत ,
मामाच्या घरी
लहानपणी
सागरगोट्यानचे फेकलेले डाव
चोख्लेले रायवळ आंबे,
आणि
त्यांचे सफेद झाग्यांवर पडलेले
सोनेरी पिवळे डाग ......
एका सोमवारी सकाळी
आठवणी हसल्या ......

A hot and sultry
May afternoon
at
the family homestead
in Kokan,
little girl cousins
at grandma's,
playing
in soft
frilled
white
summer frocks;
the Sagargota stones
have been abandoned,
for the
liquid gold
of the RaiwaL mango,
squeezed,slurped
and swallowed,
as is,
while
the yellow gold
drips inulgently
on to the
pristine white innocence....

And while grandma
takes a nap,
nearby,
the creaking of the old swing,
the giggles,
and plundering
of mangoes continues,
in the mind,
making you smile,
hot
and sultry,
this
Monday morning
in Mumbai....



Friday, August 28, 2009

Rocking times

Inspired by a wonderful post on a Rocking Horse



He looks down
From the loft,
A controlled neigh,
as he shrugs off
the dust of memories....
The little feet
clutching his sides
Hands around his face,
Face against his mane,
Holding tight,




And the mother calls
the little fellow
who pretends not to hear,
Rocks a bit harder,
bends and whispers,
Faster, Faster,
I cant go for a bath,
Or for lunch,
or to school....
They wont let me take you with me..

Today,
he watches ,
from the loft,
with a resigned neigh,
As the boy ,
enamoured with
an unreal mouse,
Clicks and writes about him....



“Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby, to be picked up and laid down like a game of Solitaire. It is a grand passion.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Lecturer and Essayist, (1803-1882)