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"Summer Fiesta at Barkur"-II My vacation only
seemed to get better by the day. With delicious food and the entire day
loitering in the rice fields this seemed perfect. It was Thursday and I
was all excited about the Thursday market. I was told it would be like a
mini fair. I was all too excited that I woke up by 4 in the morning. It
was dark out but I could hear my aunt steaming the rice paste for sannas to be had for breakfast. “So early?” I asked her. She
looked smiling and offered me the hot sanna
that I greedily ate. My eyes began drooping again. I was still sleepy
and went back to my mat. All the 6 of us slept in a line except my
little cousin who had drifted in his sleep and reached near the foot of
the cot on which my uncle slept. At around 8 in the morning we went to
the market. No, it was nothing like the supermarkets that we have here
in Bombay but maybe you can still call it a super market. From fish to
meat to honey. Dried fish and pickles. Then there was the bangle seller
and those selling shiny earrings of bright golden color and fancy clips.
The shops were decorated with colorful ribbons and plastic necklaces.
Women flocked to these stalls. Children wailed outside stalls that sold
sweetmeats. Everybody seemed to know everyone at the market and were
greeting each other. The mood was light and the hot sun hardly mattered
to them as they bargained prices. We were tired and the bags were
getting heavy. After having some refreshing goti
(marble) soda we went home. The sun seemed to get hotter and our bodies
sweating we reached home in time for lunch. It was Sunday morning
and we had to get up early for the morning mass. Oh! How much I hated
waking up early. Dressing up in our Sunday best we went to church. St.
Peter’s was quiet a distance from our house especially for a city girl
like me who also drove in cars even for short distances. But the weather
was wonderful and the streets covered with gulmohar
flowers dropping from trees made a red velvet carpet on the streets. The
church was so beautiful. Calm and serene was the place that at once
eased my tired body. It was
the most beautiful feeling in the church that cannot be explained in any
words but only felt. All through the mass I just kept adoring the
statutes. It all seemed so mystical and so enchanting. The mass of
course was in konkanni a language which I although understood well
seemed quiet alien here. The konkanni I spoke was a good (I would say)
mixture of a little bit of Hindi, Marathi and English.
This pure unadulterated language was new for me. Today being
Sunday and all the rest of our extended family being free from work
dropped over to our cottage. All the cousins and aunts/uncles I had not
met for years now came for lunch. The women of the house were busy in
the kitchen cooking and of course catching up on the latest gossip. As
the meat curries bubbled over the fire the men gave in to “imported”
scotch. And then began the singing; all the old songs of their childhood
and not to forget the dancing. It was a lot more fun than being at the
coolest disc in my city. Clapping
and shouting out loony tunes, we were all enjoying dancing. And as goes
the tradition of one being more drunk; my oldest uncle carried on the
tradition this time, dedicating songs to an old fling and for a dead cow
he cried. My cousins and me went out in the gardens to pluck some
‘aboli’ flowers that of we wore as garlands round our neck and tried
the Hawaiian dance. Of this entire group I am sure the cow was the one
who didn’t enjoy the party at all. Since we were 3 kids sitting on her
back and playing bandits. I am sure that if some animal rights member
would be around we would have definitely been in jail. But right now all
I thought was of being a cowboy. It somehow got more difficult to state
who was the most drunk! The meals were delicious. By the time the last
guest left it was late evening. With everybody gone my aunt began
clearing the house and shouting curses at us kids who had thrown leaves
and flowers in the well to see how they would look floating. Now mom was
drawing out the leaves with the water and trying her best at cleaning
the well. Days past by so soon
and it was time for us to leave mangalore. After having those delicious
gadbad ice creams and lovely masala dosas from the original Kamath
hotels at udipi I didn’t want the vacation to ever end. Bags packed of
attras (a ginger’n’spice pancake) chilly papads, mangoes and
coconuts. Lunch was packed for the journey and after bidding farewell
and taking blessings we hailed a rickshaw and left the home behind us. I
don’t know why but somehow my heart began to sink. Oh! I wanted to cry
so much. All now I was
taking back with me was a dozen photographs and a million of sweet
memories. Climbing on the bus I felt I had left my heart behind. While
leaving I kept pondering about one thing was I leaving for home or was I
leaving from home. It’s been years now
that I had last been there. But it definitely makes me happy to meet
someone who is lost here in the city trying to find home just like me.
The crisp air seems such a dream in today’s polluted Bombay where our
fathers have come leaving behind a home with meadows and ponds of
lotuses and beauty that cannot be explained in words. Its so strange
that when we come to cities and admire the sky rise buildings, fancy
cars, good eateries and the celebrity kind of life. We have everything
out here. Basic amenities like taps gushing of filtered water without
needing to draw buckets from deep wells where little tadpoles swim and
stare. No need to bear the
bad odor of the cowdung patched floor in the verandah where tiny little
ants go running between the kitchen and their little hill. We have the
pleasure of resting on soft mattresses and lying our tired bodies on
feather pillows…yet how difficult it is to get the rest we need. What keeps man happy I ask? Is it the
fancy apartment or the peaceful life in the village cottage? Now away
from the maddening rush and sweltering heat we run to the homes of our
ancestors that we left for the city trying to find all that we lost.
Bronia
Fernandes, Mumbai,. |
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Barkur, located in Udupi Taluk, Karnataka, India. 576 210 |
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Copyright Kishoo, Barkur 2002. |
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