Chalo let's go

Welcome to Chauddachuli

"Gram chara oi ranga mathir poth..." Ranga mati or not, it is hard to tell, but the reconstructed road is surely a boon to get home fast. For those of you who have been here before, the energy sapping trek through the fields is replaced by a cool 30 minutes drive down from Kalagechia bajaar to our house. Welcome to Chauddachuli.

Pukurer ghat'e

I bathed here yesterday - in a makeshift 'ghat' in one of the smaller ponds. The other one (pona pukur - shown below) is in a totally decrepit state, and we need to make a proper one there before the coming monsoon. 

As a kid I remember bathing here everyday. It was one moment I used to really look forward to. Sometimes I would venture out for a swim, but often it was just a quick 'doob' and then sitting on the ghat just watching the myriad birds and fishes around the pukur paar.

In winter, the lobster would come out of the pukur with the rising sun and sit still on the pukur-paar. You needed to have a real careful eye to notice their tentancles stick out of the water. My ma was exceptional in discovering them, and she wou,ld walk around the paar on tip-toes waiting to find one, and then deftly grab the hapless creatures out of the water. The lobster with shor'se for lunch, was one of my favorites.

 

Sojne danta and kankra

Sojne dantar chochhori and kankra'r tok - the quintessential midnapuri lunch on a hot summer's day. What more could I ask for?

The Mahua tree

For some reason which folks did not understand decades ago, my uncle had chosen to plant a mahua tree inside the quadrangle of our house. There were furious protests but he chose to overrule them all. I remember in summer, the mahua would fall  and cover the entire ground and a strange sweet fragrance would linger in the evening air. The tree has grown to full maturity now and there is debate on whether we should get rid of the tree. Pessimists fear that the tree can fall on the tiled roof in the event of a nasty storm and it makes sense to get rid of it.

I wanted to find out why my uncle wanted this mahua tree inside his house, defying all social norms. It appears that he along with his band of followers users to survive on 'todi' (country liqour) made of mahua, during the late eighties. With rising prices, they felt that the bootleggers were taking unfair advantage of the demand-supply gap. My uncle had the bright idea of growing mahua in-house so they could make their own todi.

20 years later this tree stands taller. I have decide to let it be. Maybe next time I am back, we can make some of our own todi.  

Nyara Bale Gaach

I was having lunch at Anuj Babus house when I looked out and spotted this beautiful Bel tree. It was strange that the tree had shed all its leaves. The fruits sell for Rs. 5/- a piece and right now are waiting for a buyer.  

Ekti Falgune'r Sondhya

Standing outside our house, I looked up in the evening sky and found the moon rising on the horizon. It remained perched on top of the mahua tree for a few minutes and then floated away.

The great Nebu'da

He has been my friend, philosopher and guide since my tweens - the great Nebu'da. Why his name means a 'lemon' I have no idea, but in life whatever he has touched has turned out to be a lemon. Except two small strips of land that he bought in the right time in the right place.

My friends who went to Chauddachuli with me, will remember our reefers, chillams, toddy, (and the commercial country variety) and those amazing evening cooking chicken for hours, all in a completely sozzled state. 

When not in an inebriated state, nebu'da is a pleasure to be with. He has agreed to now look after my ponds and pay me 5K in exchange for the fish he will cultivate and sell - notice how I am already saying 'my ponds' :)  

and this one is another amazing woman whose foul toungue can keep an army of men at bay. She comes to cleanup occasionally. She is a distant relative of ours, and is two rungs below poverty line, sometimes making ends meet with less than Rs. 5 per day, which is the salary she was getting from one of my neighbours. She is now my new hire to take care of our house and surroundings.  

Ground Zero

This is our new house in Village Chauddachuli, (earlier known as Santhalchak), Zilla Khejuri, Contai sub-division, in East Midnapore. Spread over a modest 2 bighas of land, the new brick house (below) has replaced the earlier 'kachha' version, a part of which still remains as you can see (above). The small hut kind of thing that you see to the left (pic above) was the 'goyal ghor' (cow-shed), and we still use the door to enter from there.