The Life and Times of Chawli Rajgire

My blog and FB friend Shruti Nargundkar often posts visuals and recipes in her blog, which bring a whiff of my childhood years.

Rajgira or the grain called Amaranth is very commonly available in India, and is cooked in different traditional ways depending on the part of the country. This recipe which she posts , with an interesting connection to the Akshaypatra (Endless Food Machine granted to Draupadi in the Mahabharata epic)  inspired two different poems. 

Read her amazing post here: "Your Akshaypatra brimmeth over!"

Back to the poems.  One , penned at night, a slightly morbid one, commenting on the Food machine aspect and its relevance today.  (Will post it in the comments).....

A new day, a new morning, and another more cheerful poem resulted, which you may see below in the original Marathi and later-on-done English version.

(did anyone say anything about a Diurnal Affective Disorder ?..... Ah. Never Mind )

(photo by Shruti Nargundkar)
राज्गीर्यांची चवळी वयात आली ,
आणि आपल्या हिरव्या परकर पोलक्यात
अगदी डोळ्यात भरू लागली ,
आणि शेतातल्या बायका म्हणाल्या
"आता जरा बार उडवूनच टाका हो !
तो जोंधळे मामींचा भाचा आला आहे गावाकडे ....."

आणि मग एक दिवस
भल्या पहाटे,
स्वच्छ थंड पाण्याचे अभ्यंगस्नान करून ,
एका उबदार भांड्यात ती डोकावली ,
आणि जिरे-मोहरीचे तेलात जुंपलेले
कडकड भांडण सोडवायला
हिंगांबरोबर धावली .
तिच्या हातापायाला हळदसुद्धा तिथेच लागली
आणि सगळी गडबड ऐकून,
गावचे श्रेष्ठ कांदेराव ,लासूणराव ही आत पडले.
आणि लाल नौवारीत्ल्या मिरची आजीला म्हणाले,
" चला , काय सोन्याचे दागिने असतील ते लवकर घाला,
आपली चवळी कशी नखशिखांत सजली पाहिजे ,

जोंधळे वर्हाड घेउन आले,
पितळेच्या परातीवर थाप पडली
तव्यावर ठिणग्या उडल्या ,
आणि
भाकर राव लोण्याच बाशिंग बांधून आले ,
आणि मुगाच्या दागिन्यात सजलेल्या
चवळी ला हार घालून ,
लसणाच्या चटणीला पाठराखीण म्हणून घेउन
आपल्या गावाकडे मार्गी झाले....

The coming of age
of
Chawli Rajgire,
and she preens
in her green parkar-polka
as she runs in the fields.

"Hmm. You need to look for a match
for her", they said ;
"Did you hear
Jowaribai's  nephew is back ?"

And so 
one cool dawn , 
rubbing herself
with fragrant muds,she showered,
and peeped into a hot vessel
to check what the noise was all about.

Hot oil fights
between mustard and cumin seeds,
crackling in anger,
and she rushed in with Hing,
only to get smeared in
marital turmeric powder.....

Onion and Garlicky village elders
trying to bring some peace,
and they urged the
old Red Chilly Grandma,
to bring forth the jewels...

"Bring forth the gold,
and our Chawli
must be the most beautiful bride,
the toast of the season".

The Jowari folks,
the groom's side
arrived,
amidst percussion on a large brass Thali
and a fire crackling
on the griddle
in joy.

Young man Bhakri,
with best man Butter,
wordlessly garlanded 
a
golden glorious Chawli
jewelled in Moong ,
collected her
traditional
Chatni, Maid of Honor
as the accompaniment,
and quietly
made his way home......