( Foreword: Elephant foot yam or Suran or Ole is a large rhizome which is grown and eaten in West Bengal and Bihar . It is peeled , sliced ,salted and kept in the sun for leaching and drying of the juices. Thereafter , it is boiled, deep fried , cooked in a gravy heavily laced with either tamarind paste or lemon juice . Suffice to say, this extensive process is performed in order to kill one terrible property of the Yam . It itches , and how!! Hence, though it might have the pink and juicy appearance of a sweet fruit , it is to be never, never eaten raw. The reaction of the buccal mucosa is to precipitate an itchiness of ungodly proportions . It might be even called mild anaphylaxis )
"Aeeeeyyaaah " Someone screamed in the far distance .
In a village , distance is measured in terms of visibility . If you are not visible, you are very far off . Simple .
The screamer , however , turned round the corner of a hut , holding a tiny goat kid , writhing and bleating , in his arms .
This was serious .
The goat parent, an elderly farmer , well into his fifties , worry , care and hard work etched into each of his wrinkles and lines on the face , trying very hard to keep the squirming kid above ground. The bleats were fast turning into moans .
It was the farmer who screamed.
The goat kid was guilty of eating raw elephant foot yam pieces , which sliced and salted, were kept in the sun to leach out the moisture .
The goat kid had been seen munching on the freshly cut juicy pieces by mischievous members of the family who made no attempt to stop him . Rather catching the sides of their tummies, were seen rolling in the dust, with laughter at the apparent agony of the goat kid
A pet is a member of the family . It's agony was palpable on the face of the farmer .
A stern look from my grandfather stopped all jolliness even in our mirth prone home , as the misery was well audible . A goat's incessant bleats can be heart rending , almost sounding like a human cry . A helpless , non stop sobbing for help.
My grandfather was a homeopathic doctor. He had none of the verve and instant cures of allopathy . All he could offer by means of treatment was a large bag of sugary granules to be dissolved in water and fed to the goat ,along with a mild sleeping agent to tide over the agony filled hours , till the effect of yam or ole wore off.
The goat recovered. Next morning , the farmer brought a great jute bag of freshly harvested corn cobs as a token of gratitude and payment .
It was accepted .
For the rest of the days , and so long as the corn lasted , " the goat who ate ole", sparked several similar stories , but mostly with human players . Equally riveting. One of the stories, recounted by my grandfather stood out.
A gullible British officer was passing by the village . Some sixty years ago. Clad in a stiff red and black uniform , with an unbending spine , a tall red hat, astride a majestic horse .
It was noon time. Approaching lunch time. Numerous housewives had taken the advantage of the autumnal harvest of ole and had sliced , salted their rhizomes , spreading them out to dry in the sun .
The "Tommy" was thirsty and possibly a bit hungry .
And he stopped at the sight of this wondrous and unfamiliar fruit / vegetable.
He asked a passing group of teenagers. "Is it good to eat ?".
The teenagers , being teenagers , replied in unison .
"Yes, yes , very good to eat. Very sweet and juicy."
," Yeah . It definitely looks juicy and pink."
He alighted , ordered a homeowner to pack him a kilo in a clean cloth bundle.
In the British times , if a "gora sahib" asked you for something, you gave it . No questions asked.
The homeowner , with a conscience and fear , said meekly "It is raw ."
"Never mind" . Laughed the gora. "I believe it is sweet. It looks sweet alright. And juicy. I am really thirsty." The Tommy pointed at his open mouth "Bhooka hai " . ( thinking , all the while, "bloody dumb Indians ")
And the teenagers thought "Bloody dumb Angrez"
At this , the peasant had no choice but to pack it . The teenagers , held their breath and giggles , waiting to take a flight at a moments notice .
At the same time, the spectacle was going to be too good to miss.
After the payment was made , the homeowner repaired quickly in , locked his gates and was heard shouting at his womenfolk " Jaldi , bhago ."
A confusion of alarmed shouts and suppressed giggles ensued from the farmer's home.
The Tommy , took a bite of one juicy pink square and stuffed the rest into the horse's frothing mouth .
The teenagers' collective mouth fell open . They had no time to wait or guffaw. Pell mell they ran to the fields , where the slippery , narrow paths would be impossible for either the Brit or the horse to give chase .
The agonised screams and curses of the Brit and incessant neighing of the afflicted horse could be heard all over the terror stricken village.
It is learnt later that the homeowner who sold him the ole was brave enough to feed large quantities of nimbu Paani to the human and salted water to the horse to kill the after effects of the raw yam .
The teenagers retired to the safety and anonymity of rooftops to watch "tamasha" .
The incident quietly entered the legion of " legendary stories to be told to the grandchildren" .
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