Memories From My Home 3

The third Segment of ‘Memories from my home’. Thank you for making this segment much loved and it fills my heart with joy when I know that you like my tiny hometown as well .

There were more pics of nature etc. but I thought of writing something else for a change. What do you think of the bull sculpture? Looks lively, isn’t it ? In the village(grandpa’s home),there are many small and smaller temples belonging to different deities. This sculptured bull is called ‘Nandi’ which serves as a ride for Lord Shiva and the temple is located in somewhat outskirts of village. It has few tiny temples, one main temple, a little garden and a small pond, quaint, right ?

I am not sure if you know but Hindu temples require washing feet before you enter the temple but very less number of temples has natural ponds. The ponds not only serve the purpose but also add to picturesque.

Coming to the picture below,What the Old man is wearing lower half is what any age group of males used to wear till few decades back. Probably his is the last generation to dress in ‘dhoti’. It used to define an Indian till early 20^th century.

A brief praise about dhoti– Made of Pure extra-fine cotton, serves as an excellent natural AC in hot humid summer ;), mostly milky white color, so gives a clean formal feeling, dries up faster before you finish an episode from your daily soap opera . It is also used for wipe cloths for babies because of its superior quality and softness.

Caution for those who wear it- Look out for strong wind, tighten the knot strongly and try to not to get it caught in a nail, otherwise any of these can lead to losing your dignity 😛

Ok,coming back to Nandi,these are sculptures made out of stone and are much simpler and smaller. But,they have shared a part of history of the temple for many decades and are still worshiped. It such a different feeling to see them as milestones in time 🙂

Next MFMH,I will take you back to the green fields and clear skies and some more interesting things/anecdotes. I hope you have enjoyed this segment of MFMH. If you want to know more about my rural adventures, you will find them in Memories from my Home 2 and Memories from my Home 1.

What do you think about this one ? 😀

Always a Donkey

I am sitting in the terrace and all senses focused on the story book and suddenly I hear a small lisp,”Whel is my daughther” (Actually I have translated it from my local dialect but this is how the speaker would have pronounced had she known English ). Oh, she is here,she follows me everywhere,I can see her head as she grabs a step and levitates herself to it and another and another,until she is before me. And here comes my around 2 feet, 2 year old Aunt !!! You read it correct. 😀

It’s summer vacation in late 90’s and am loving my stay at grandpa’s village,Kumbhari. And surrounded my numerous grandpas,grandmas and aunts and uncles. The family tree is a biiig one. My grandpa used to tell me the story of ‘Once there was an old man named Giridhaari and he had 4 sons…. (Fast-fast forwarding) now we are all the decedents of a,b,c,d,e etc etc and we all stay as neighbors,as every cousin had different life cycles, that’s how I come to have uncles and aunts varying from age 50 to age 0. Naturally, its no comfort to call a 2 year old mausi(aunt) and it’s more embarrassing when she calls me ‘daughther’ (who taught her that !! ) So,I made the rules,anyone younger than me or slightly older than me,call using names,so it’s ok now.

It was the time when Television was tv and not THE TV, so I enjoyed playing games with my so called aunts. Slightly differing in ages,we came along well. Playing cards was a game we all enjoyed on hot summer afternoons. I was a bit ignorant with different plays but I managed to learn two types,don’t know how you name them,we called it ‘3-2-5’ and ‘Color’ .

3-2-5 needed 3 players and the game goes like this,if you are supposed to win 3 tricks in a round,the one to your left should win 5 and the other to your right should win 2. So,if you win only 2 tricks instead of 3 and the right person wins 3 instead, she will pick a card from your set the next round and will give you one of her own cards.Oh no,they always manage to pick the big cards like Aces etc. and return a 2 or 3 😦 The 3-2-5 are rotated in every round. Nightmares come true when you have to win 5 tricks and you have already given away your 2 best cards because of last round loss.

There’s an alternative though,you deliberately loose all tricks and then the game will begin afresh with you start at 2 instead of 3 or 5 (2 is the best position to win more and grab from others.) But there’s a catch,you are at zero so you will be awarded with the title ‘Donkey’ and several hands will ruffle your head and shout “Boo Boo….” For some, they would rather keep donating their best cards than to die in shame.Not for me,I would rather be a donkey and start a new round and get the best cards from others.It wasn’t championship among strangers so I didn’t mind ruffling and the boos because I knew next round I will be winning even if they keep saying me donkey 😀

Color was the game where a single suit will dominate the other three suits so even a 2 of the ‘color suit’ can win over ‘Ace of another’. The players can be in any numbers. So,the afternoons,cots were aligned such a way that aunts and grandmas varying from 16 to 60 will sit around and play it. It was game of thrill,cheating,quarrels and yet fun 😉 They would hide their best cards so that opponents can’t pick them.Where ? Folds of dresses,sarees,below mattress etc. Also if someone has set the Joker as color,it means,once one starts win a trick and then plays with a suit no one else has,she will keep on winning. Once,it was found out, the outcry of cheating and defenders trying to wriggle out of it was fun to watch.

 Many times,the quarrels led to abrupt stop in game and few would leave in huff but next day everything was forgotten(after all they are all one big family) and another game of cards.

Once I saw Ricky glancing at me frequently in middle of game.’ I wondered but kept quiet. After winning several times, She revealed in end,’We could see every card of yours in reflection from your specs’ ‘Tricksters !!!!’ I roar.And then all of us giggle 🙂

Summer vacations were so different with different friends,a different place. Now I remember the mementos long forgotten and cherish it all.

A Village Of Riches

A VILLAGE ? How do we define it? Over all these years, I have come across so many definitions about this word. In developed countries like UK, US etc., it’s just a smaller size than town but has almost every facility and equipped with latest technologies and assets, good. The definition changes drastically when we reach the African continent; remote areas, people living in immiseration, poor facilities and illiteracy at large. How do we define a village in India? It’s a developing country but often tagged with poverty. Natural inclination will make one assume it’s coming from under-developed rural areas called villages.

But at a closer look, nothing is what it seems. I have been sharing many photos of villages in my ‘Memories from my home’ segments which is still ongoing. They look coarse, weather bitten, simple and possible poor. Well may be some of these are true but POOR, they certainly are not!

They don’t have big departmental stores to buy all kinds of good things like brown rice, fruit juice bottles, frozen cheese, preserved exotic vegetables or fruits, canned food. Not all of them have enough to buy a car. But they do have a bicycle or a bike to help them out. Why would they need to follow a special diet plan when they have no worries of Cholesterol or Sugar!

We are suddenly conscious of organic products and paying double the usual prices for fruits and vegetables when we actually have no idea of their origins. In these villages, latest technologies are lacking and so are the ideas of huge profit business. Someone has planted some fruit trees when the time comes; they are actually sold at throwaway prices. No special pesticides or any such fussy business, and children actually climb the trees of guava and mangoes to pluck their fruits. So, there it is organic and exercise .Wonder if we compensate it by high prices 😉 What I am getting as a city-dweller, in actual it’s a village wrapped in polythene wrapper.

Every day, early morning, a small market is set up when vegetables, fish, fruits etc. are sold and every single item is sold in less than half an hour. One has to be really active to grab the deal. 😉 While my grandpa enjoys fresh juicy vegetables every day, I sigh when I see the vegetables wrapped in transparent sheets in freezers looking diseased, water sprinkled now and then to make them ‘farm fresh’.

Coming back to the original question, are these villages poor? They have farmers, laborers, workers of other professions but they get 4 times meal (not our processed food menus), respect their work, own a house, big or small and get education enough not to be illiterate, they lack the variety but are resourceful and above all they don’t complain of life. They look uncouth and pastoral but they know they don’t have to run for their jobs everyday in fear of losing them. They can always work out something else in case of odds; can we do the same with ease?

Why I wrote about this? Very less is known about India and still lesser known about the towns and villages. The cities has so much sensational things to display, unemployment, hunger, greed, huge population, crime and sophistication that a different aspect of living is altogether ignored which I daresay is much simpler and happier one.

Many Thanks if you have reached this far,have a great day ! 🙂

Childhood BULLies

On my road trip to grandpa’s village this vacation(“Memories of My Home 2”),I noticed this pair of oxes by the roadside,standing,ruminating(I sometimes wonder what do they think,they get ample amount of time,unlike the ever running humans). I stopped to take a snap,and they started fighting as you can see(Photos of the fittest,eh ?)

There are usually two varieties of oxes found here,one is this one and the others are bit smaller but this one holds a special position in my mind.I was not afraid of people as a kid but I had many fears of other stuffs.And oxes were my childhood BULLies 😉

I used to visit Kumbhari(grandpa’s village),every summer,autumn and winter vacation,and I especially enjoyed more without mom or dad (Free at last !) . I was naughty and used to all sorts of odd things.Summers are pretty hot in those parts,with temperature around 42 degrees.In afternoons,the entire household used to take naps.even my 4 year younger cousin but I used to sneak out to upstairs and discover the arcane treasures in the attic.I was more fascinated by story books and there were many chests full of books of all sorts from even my mom’s childhood.Also,there were spiders,bees and other insects for which I was actually prohibited to visit there alone.But there I was covered in dust amidst them engrossed in “how the handsome prince answered the 7 questions put by the beautifully embellished princess” etc.

One day,I was opening a box and a wasp came out and before I could fall back,it stung me on my wrist thrice and the pain and burn,I rushed downstairs and the first aid,medications,scolding that followed is hardly worth mentioning.Evening came and I was carried to the cowshed next to the house.I usually went there for petting the cows and oxes and for,’Yes,Punishment’. Today was no ‘Petting Day’. Every ox and cows were docile but when my uncle carried me and hovered me in air upside down very very close to them,I was intimidated each time to promise anything.In evening,against my small stature,their big shiny eyes and my miscalculations which made them look 20 feet tall,I did make a promise not to open the boxes again,but later on I think I meant not to open them without being careful 😉

The Smaller Ox

Another reason of frequent bullying sessions was over drinking Milk before sleep.Being used to the watery milk,courtesy of our milkman in town,I found the aroma(odor ?) of fresh milk inundating enough to shout in protests.And my lovely bullies(this time cows) were scary enough to teach me a lesson on ‘fresh milk and its benefits’ 😀

Well,I have lost the counts of how many times they scared me,showed their love by rubbing their faces to my hands or their small calves waking me up in morning by licking my feet.Even tying the small bells around their necks is beautiful memory.They are all gone but I am glad that I had a childhood not full of people,shopping malls but also of fields and 20 feet tall adorable bullies 🙂

Thanks for reading this far.I am no raconteur but I write from life itself.I hope you liked this one.Have a Great day 🙂

Memories From My Home 2

The last time I talked about my hometown and nearby villages was in “Memories From My Home“. It was not only a longing I had in my heart with the pictures acting as my companion,it also became a joy in sharing it with the world,people from different countries liked to see a different part of the world !

I took a small road trip alone,so that I could stop anywhere in middle and take snaps.It was like seeing with a new pair of eyes,feeling the air and emotions for the first time.

I will divide my memories in few parts so that I can tell you more about my experiences and now I begin by saying,

‘Its green everywhere’ 🙂

With the increasing modernization & industrialization,no place has remain untouched,not even this village,however,farming still is the life and bread and so are these paddy fields.Standing there,I could breathe the balmy air and taste the green grass in it.

A group of women weeding out the paddy fields,not habituated of being photographed,they threw curious glances at me till I drove off 😉

I guess I went wrong somewhere with this one,wanted to get a good shot of this small but high current rivulet ,which rises every rainy season enough to halt the communication for days ! I was stranded once for around 8 hours before we crossed it with a heavy jeep full of people(so that we won’t be swept away).The water entered the jeep and we were drawn along the current,but thanks to the rope with which the mob at the opposite bank pulled us,we survived this 2AM experience.Believe me,without any lights except the jeep’s and few measly torches,the stream looked like a death warrant compared to the innocent,gurgling look now.

Memories From My Home

Spending all my childhood and part of youth in my hometown,it never felt any different or special,but leaving it behind for another destination or to be precise for job and a new hectic life,I miss my hometown more than ever.

The trees which I never noticed while passing numerously under it,the bridges,the buildings,looking back they all feel like a beautiful memory to me worth treasuring.Though,I visit very less now,but looking at the pictures make me feel closer to home.Someone has said ‘Home is where is where heart is ‘. For me,its the other way around.

For all these years ,knowingly or unknowingly,I have gathered so many memories,that they are my only solace next to the real feel at home.

Taken on the banks of Mahanadi,the cloudy day with the balmy breeze was filling me with tranquility.

A small temple on the bank of Mahanadi river,Sambalpur,Odisha,India

These pictures were taken in a Ram Fancy Competition in a small village called ‘Kumbhari’ near Bargarh,Odisha.The rams were dressed up and painted in different ways which looked funny but the enthusiasm of villagers was colossal.

© ady roundWorldnMe