My grandparents belonged to a bygone era . Having been brought up by my grandparents gave us the unique privilege of straddling three , very different eras.
There are several rituals which my grandparents indulged in . All these years past , it remains etched in the memory , as if it happened yesterday. I have never come across the same , after they passed away. Even while they were alive , other things , kids' education, traversing to strange cities , jobs , marriages etc , took precedence .
There must be a handful of people on the planet right now , who know , and have witnessed these rituals , and foods , that are dying a slow , but certain death.
It is time to record them .
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As is true of every agrarian society , the harvest time is festival time . Time to bring the nature's bounty in , celebrate , and thank , the rains , sunshine , wind , everything that fell into place , miraculously , at the right time , and made another year of survival possible .
On Kartik Sankranti , a few days after Dushera , the iron implements were worshipped . I remember colossal plows and scary large scythes , hooks, spades and other implements of farming , were freshly cleaned and laid out on the floor. Rows upon rows of large and small , sharp pointed iron implements , blackened with age , but assiduously sharpened . They were anointed with vermillion , my grandmother and mother carried a "thaali" each of offerings , flowers , coconut , a small kalash with the mandatory sheaf of mango leaf on top , rice grains and blades of dhruba grass.
For every implement , a brief prayer , sprinkling of rice grains , holy water and anointing with the vermillion . Then , move on to the next one . It took some time . In the end , would be the prasad time . Coconuts were given to the "Jans" ( farmhands ) to break and distribute and the party would disperse.
Incense sticks were burnt and the aroma of ghee lamps and incense sticks would transcend the usual dung-grass-paddy smell of the barn .
One day in the year , the barn lit up and looked cheerful , smelt good . I am sure even the barn looked forward to this day .
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
There is one particular festival , which was incredibly beautiful . It was celebrated some time during
the month of Bhadrapad (august) or ashwin (september ).
It was a fertility festival , for I remember it was to be performed by unmarried girls .
Large covers of mud pitchers (ghada) were bought . They can be described as tagine covers , albeit open side up. In that part of the country , they were called sarpose. These sarposes were earthenware , new , and were filled with , hold your breath , soil-dug-up-by-field rats. Amazingly , it was easily available . Now , an assortment of grains , rice , wheat , jowar and five others were sprinkled on top of these terracotta covers .
They were given a spraying of water from a spouted jug , and kept in a place concealed from prying children and adults.
After a fortnight or so, they were brought out into the pooja room , in the evening , where atta diyas were fashioned by us , "kunwaris " , and a cotton wick placed in the centre of the small circular pot , full of sprouted greens , almost half a foot high.
There must be some phallic /fertility angle to it , for I clearly remember men of the family having nothing to do with the festival . Their loss.
The magic happened when in the dark of the night , the lit atta lamp was placed in the centre of this sprout "forest ". It had a real "whoa" effect . The lit greenery , and the tall sprouts dwarfing the diya . One was suddenly the little red riding hood , or hansel and gretel, a complete forest with soft muddy ground and a small lamp to boot . Imagination run riot .
It was magic .
Everything else was plebian . Prostrations , prasad . The end .
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
There are several rituals which my grandparents indulged in . All these years past , it remains etched in the memory , as if it happened yesterday. I have never come across the same , after they passed away. Even while they were alive , other things , kids' education, traversing to strange cities , jobs , marriages etc , took precedence .
There must be a handful of people on the planet right now , who know , and have witnessed these rituals , and foods , that are dying a slow , but certain death.
It is time to record them .
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
As is true of every agrarian society , the harvest time is festival time . Time to bring the nature's bounty in , celebrate , and thank , the rains , sunshine , wind , everything that fell into place , miraculously , at the right time , and made another year of survival possible .
On Kartik Sankranti , a few days after Dushera , the iron implements were worshipped . I remember colossal plows and scary large scythes , hooks, spades and other implements of farming , were freshly cleaned and laid out on the floor. Rows upon rows of large and small , sharp pointed iron implements , blackened with age , but assiduously sharpened . They were anointed with vermillion , my grandmother and mother carried a "thaali" each of offerings , flowers , coconut , a small kalash with the mandatory sheaf of mango leaf on top , rice grains and blades of dhruba grass.
For every implement , a brief prayer , sprinkling of rice grains , holy water and anointing with the vermillion . Then , move on to the next one . It took some time . In the end , would be the prasad time . Coconuts were given to the "Jans" ( farmhands ) to break and distribute and the party would disperse.
Incense sticks were burnt and the aroma of ghee lamps and incense sticks would transcend the usual dung-grass-paddy smell of the barn .
One day in the year , the barn lit up and looked cheerful , smelt good . I am sure even the barn looked forward to this day .
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
There is one particular festival , which was incredibly beautiful . It was celebrated some time during
the month of Bhadrapad (august) or ashwin (september ).
It was a fertility festival , for I remember it was to be performed by unmarried girls .
Large covers of mud pitchers (ghada) were bought . They can be described as tagine covers , albeit open side up. In that part of the country , they were called sarpose. These sarposes were earthenware , new , and were filled with , hold your breath , soil-dug-up-by-field rats. Amazingly , it was easily available . Now , an assortment of grains , rice , wheat , jowar and five others were sprinkled on top of these terracotta covers .
They were given a spraying of water from a spouted jug , and kept in a place concealed from prying children and adults.
After a fortnight or so, they were brought out into the pooja room , in the evening , where atta diyas were fashioned by us , "kunwaris " , and a cotton wick placed in the centre of the small circular pot , full of sprouted greens , almost half a foot high.
There must be some phallic /fertility angle to it , for I clearly remember men of the family having nothing to do with the festival . Their loss.
The magic happened when in the dark of the night , the lit atta lamp was placed in the centre of this sprout "forest ". It had a real "whoa" effect . The lit greenery , and the tall sprouts dwarfing the diya . One was suddenly the little red riding hood , or hansel and gretel, a complete forest with soft muddy ground and a small lamp to boot . Imagination run riot .
It was magic .
Everything else was plebian . Prostrations , prasad . The end .
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
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