Bhurgulyache Ladoo

This is a story Yesu Aaji (my father's mother) would tell us at bedtime when she felt that we were pampered kids bred in the city of Mumbai. The story teaches you to value what you have and be sympathetic towards the less fortunate.

Naarya lived in Thal with his widowed mother. Their home was a hut made from Zaap the coconut leaves woven to form panels and dry hay that was used to thatch the roof. This was a sure sign of their condition. It just had one room with a smoldering chool in one corner. There would be a big black pot of pez (gruel) cooking on it all day long. If on someday Naarya's mother was not able to earn anything that meant no vegetables or fish. Then the pez would fill their stomach all three times a day. Above the chool there hung a shika (choir pot hanger) in which was a basket with a few pieces of stale Chavlachi Roti. At times when Naarya cried for roti his mother dipped the stale and hardened roti in hot water to soften it and would serve to him.

It was the time of Dattachi yatra (Datta jayanti). There was a fair at the temple on the outskirts of Thal. Men and women took their children to the fair. While returning everyone seemed to have conical packs of peda and paper wraps.

Naarya asked one of his friends what it had in the paper wraps. They said with a twinkle, "Bhurgulyache Ladoo"(puffed rice and jaggery balls). Those were the times when even simple things like that meant so much to the kids unlike today's kids who demand for cheese to snack on.

Naarya felt sad that his mother did not have money to send him for the fair. He was dejected and pulled a blanket over his head and cuddled in one corner of the hut. His mother came home from the bunder(fish drying fields) and found him sobbing. The mother ran to him instantly and asked him what was wrong. He refused to tell. He was a mature child and knew that his mother would not be able to provide what he wanted. Finally he told his mother how he wanted to taste Bhurgulyache Ladoo.

His mother went to the chool and put her hand in the dark konada ( a cove in the wall) which was her safety locker and found just one bronze coin with a hole.

She told Naarya to go to Tambat the grocer and do as instructed. Naarya went to Tambat and told him that his mother wanted to make Bhurgulyache Ladoo so he wanted Bhurgule and Jaggery. Tambat was a cunning man. He asked Naarya how much money he had. Naarya told him he wanted just as much amount of Bhurgule and jaggery that fitted in his ears. Tambat thought that's all. He took the coin with the hole and asked Naarya to go to the back and fill his ears with Bhurgule and to his suprise it did not fill with 1 pav sher so he shoved in another pav sher. Then he filled the other ear with jaggery half sher again! As he waved a goodbye to Tambat and thanked him he skipped with happiness towards his hut. His mother was waiting for him.

She carefully removed the Bhurgule and jaggery from his ears. She had a smile on her face as she was now going to make the ladoos for her son that he so desired.

I meant to share the recipe of Bhurgulyache ladoo but it needs some perfection so till then sharing the picture.

The Legend of Two Husbands

Gomu was married to Bandu as was the tradition in those days at the age of 10-12yrs. Bandu himself was just 15yrs then. Who in the world noted birth time! Mothers told that the child was born at sunrise, when the sun was high in the sky, sunset or when the evening lamps were lit.

This story is of those times, tells Moti Aaji, our favorite grand aunt. One or the other of us trying to keep our head in her lap as we lay on the oti of our old home watching the night sky. That was ¼ century ago. She wore bangles only in one hand. We wanted to know why.

Many Many years ago she continued. Gomu and Bandu lived happily they played together ate together and at bedtime Gomu’s mother in-law always put her to sleep next to her. She was too young to be Bandu’s bride yet. But Moti, “You just said they were married.” all smart kids correct her. Shh….that was the custom in those days even before her grandpa. Shooo~~~

When Bandu grew to be a handsome young man of 18 yrs and Gomu was 13-15 yrs their elders celebrated a pooja and gifted them a room of their own. Bandu and Gomu now had grown to understand their responsibilities and the meaning of husband and wife in the real sense. They took care of all visitors, relatives and servants. Bandu was highly skilled at sea. He had a toned dark body. When free he participated in Kushti competitions in the village and won many times. He was loved by all for his helping nature.

Gomu too looked very pretty now. She dressed carefully her Choli tight fitted, the padar carefully wrapped with the large motifs in the front like an apron. The fresh flowers in her hair sent Bandu’s heart racing. Her morning began with getting the rotis made for the dolkars-the crew and supervising the washerwomen and water carriers. At her young age she was admired by all for managing the household so wonderfully.

After the morning chores were done she would escape from the back door as she would hear Bandu wish his mother goodbye and leave the front door. She would catch up with him at the seashore. That was her only private time with him. She would lay her head on his broad shoulders as they would walk together, their bodies brushing against each other lightly. Bandu would tell her how he dived deep into the sea to repair emergency problems with the Galbat-boat. He told her about the deep sea monsters that pulled his legs and sucked him deeper. Moti Aaji! but Baba tells us that is due to water pressure on the person diving without mask and oxygen. There are no ghosts in the sea enlightens my cuz with her little palm pointing out at Moti. Baba knows better he is in the Navy. Faking anger for interrupting her, “do you want to hear the rest?”

That day Gomu went to see Bandu off at sea. Her heart was heavy and she was not ready to let him go. Bandu promised he would return soon. The two days to follow were of violent weather. Little did he know that the next 2 days would change his life. The tides rose high and there were showers too. The monsoon season was yet far. On the second day when Bandu was to return Gomu ran to the Dhela-jetty before the Galbat-boats arrived. One by one all Galbat-boats pulled in. Gomu could not spot theirs. She enquired with every one like woman gone crazy. None of the crew was to be seen. No one even seemed to have noticed their Galbat-boat was missing. The weather had been so bad in the last two days that the men were all beaten by it. After checking with all Gomu was told that their Galbat-boat seemed to have lost its way. Gomu thought yes that is what people will tell you when you are sure to have lost husband and crew along with the galbat.

She sat at the seashore crying as her mind was crisscrossed with dangerous thoughts. All the villagers tried consoling her but in vain. She pledged to fast and do a penance. Untying her hair she said to the Sea God, “If you get my husband along with all my crew safe back to the shore I will accept you as my husband”

After 3 days and 3 nights Gomu was frail and lay in the lap of her mother inlaw. She had neither eaten nor had a single drop of water. Such was her penance.

At the crack of dawn on the horizon one of the villagers noticed a Galbat-boat blobbing slowly towards the dhela. The colors of the flag were of Bandu’s Galbat-boat. The seashore was dotted with clothes thrown up in the sky and cheers along with Har Har Mahadev! Jai Malhar!

The Galbat-boat had been washed off to Karanja about 80 kms from Thal due to the bad weather but the crew was safe. That evening Gomu married the Sea God in a pooja ceremony with Bandu witness to it. She wore lots of green bangles on her wrists the sign of fertility called chuda. After the ceremony she banged one wrist on the rocks lining the seashore and offered the new chuda to the Sea. She prayed again to take care of her husband in the future and keep her saubhagya-well being intact.

Hence the legend goes that Koli women have 2 husbands one the man she marries and other the sea therefore the tradition of wearing bangles in only one hand is followed by our Koli women.

Krishnachi Bai

She woke up in the morning to find the bed empty. Her husband might have gone to buy milk and pao she wondered. In her 10 X 10 tiny room in the dingy lanes of Sudam Nagari she had come as new bride some 12 years ago with her husband. This was her sansar that she had nutured lovingly and with dedication like most Indian semi literate women. No aspiration for the self. To be a good wife to her provider was what she was inculcated with all through her chilhood. That is exactly what she was doing.

Parvati began her chores today by cleaning the kitchen table that held her gas stove. She made tea with the previous day's leftover milk. Filled her cup and sat on her bed hugging her knees waiting for him to return while pondering over the conversations with him last night.

She sat there for a hour. It was 8 am and was shaken out of her deep thought by the clanging of the bell from a nearby municipal nursery. He did not return.

She tried to look for him around the gateway of India, at Backbay nowhere to be found. She returned quitely to her home. Neighbors enquired about him. She had no answers.

After a week the money in her possession was exhausted. He earned a paltry salary yet gave most of it to her. It was the end of the month and with no more money left in hand she decided to go to Thal. Her village where she was born and knew she could do small things to support herself there.

She packed her 2 sarees in a cloth bag and went to the Sasoon dock. One of the villagers called out to her, “Come Parvati get on to the boat we are starting for Thal, How come you are alone?” She did not respond for she had no answer.

On the way she pondered. May be he will come looking for her in the village. Nothing unusual had happened the previous night when he had left home. Where could he have gone? She brushed away the sad thought and looked at the horizon as the boat pulled away from the shore.

She saw a dolphin fly into the air and do a somersault. After many days she smiled to herself. Then took out the chivda she had kept deep down in her bag and started feeding the fish happily.

In Thal she opened the door of their hut, they had no relatives so it was left locked when they were in Mumbai. She cleaned the house and kept the dhaan for cooking on the chool, the wood fired stove and went to the neighbors to ask for some curry with a bowl in hand. The neighbors just as poor as her family happily shared it with her and enquired about her husband. There was silence again.

She returned to her hut and found it difficult to swallow the dhaan and curry that she kept mixing endlessly. She picked up the plate and threw it to the dogs who eagerly lapped it up.

She cuddled on the blanket spread on a tattered mat and wept. Never again she decide to climb anyone’s doorstep till her husband came to take her back to their sansar in Mumbai. Days, months, years passed by yet he never came.

Parvati had been married for 12 years but her dream was still unfulfilled of bearing a child. As she lay there she started a fantasy. She remembered being told by a guru, “Bai, (pronounced as Ba-I) you do not have a child in your life. Why don’t you consider Lord Krishna as your child?”

So she did, then on Lord Krishna became her child.

She would begin the day by singing a song to wake her child up from the slumber. She bathed him and patted him dry. Told him to behave and went off to work at the fish drying fields at the other end of the village.

She returned at lunch to play with him and fed him with whatever she cooked for the day. Sometimes it was fish curry and dhaan. Sometimes roti and talela bau (fried fish). Only on thursdays Krishna got a big bowlful of curd that she bought from the curd seller for 2 rupees a cup.

The idol was always near her pillow. It was her Krishna. She talked only to him. She did not respond to neighbors queries about her husband but narrated to people stories of Krishna’s naughtiness.

Parvati then on became Krishna’s Bai in Thal. Yes she was Krishna’s mother.

Folklores and Tales from the Land of Thal

Some true some fictitious. Just enjoy!

• Krishnachi Bai
• The Legend of Two Husbands