Jagaran Gondhal (जागरण गोंधळ) – The road feast
It
is a worship of ‘Kuldevata’ (Goddess म्हाळसा
which is being worshiped by families for generations, म्हाळसा was the wife of God खंडोबा). This ritual is carried out on achieving
personal milestones like wedding, munj however it is also carried out when
priests suggest families to toss out difficulties. In this ceremony, generally
whole family gathers and listens to various songs, stories of goddess. Overall
it’s a fun and not boring activity like regular Pooja.
This
sacrament is arranged in the moments of either extreme happiness or extreme
fear. Generally rich and wealthy individuals can afford to offer such massive non-vegetarian
feasts every couple of months as they climb success’ ladder, whereas middle
class people perform it in the moments of fear. I.e. something isn’t good in
the family and in order to drive out the evil power that acts as a barrier in
the progress. In this case, it was the later scenario. My paternal cousin aunt
was extremely ill since last couple of years. She was on dialysis for few
weeks. And there was hardly any improvement in her health. So some priest
suggested them to perform this ritual in order to drive-away that evil power.
It
was yesterday only I came to village after finishing my MBA. My native place
has always been a totally different kind of world together from urban
diasporas. Furthermore Mumbai, which was my place for last two years, is
opposite end of the pole from my village. Village people hardly talk about Modi
government’s schemes, initiatives, economic development, rising population,
pollution, garbage etc. But that doesn’t mean people here are excused from the
struggle of materialistic world. They do have worries. And the worst part is
they face issues without being in acquaintance with actual reasons. For e.g.
changes in the climate cycle, inflation, shortfall etc. Anyway, let’s get back
to the real topic.
My
father had already informed me about this event. He didn’t just informed but
instructed to be at the event to serve the food items and eventually contribute
in all possible way. So that (according to him), this will make a good
impression of our family in the society as even the well educated children also
know how to muddle up up in the society and are down to earth. By the way, it
was mere half an hour lecture to me while we were driving down to the village
yesterday. Besides that lecture was full of examples, analogies, anecdotes and
what not! But this much I could grab.
So
here I was ready to make my mark by contributing in all way possible. The whole
kitchen set-up was made in the front-yard of uncle’s home. There was a big jar
of approximately 150 litre containing mutton gravy. Just beside that there was
another flat steel container, it was yellowish. Owing to the indigenous curiosity
for colours, I went on close enough to observe and my eyes were on stocks! The
whole container was full of mutton. After watching that massive flesh wreckage,
I felt pity for a while for those sacrificed souls. But being an old fogey
non-vegetarian, I preferred to move on to inspect remaining items without
cursing myself. There were stacks of plastic plates, glasses and hexagonal
bowls too. Whereas, outside the house invited people were making their own
arrangements to sit on the road, Yes! for the purpose of having non-veg feast.
For urban souls, this might sound hilariously crazy, because they would hardly
be aware of the fact that food can be eaten at places other than dining tables.
Although
the road was of tar, it was too dusty and full of pebbles to sit down. People
were driving away stone particles with their feet to avoid prickly feeling. I
scrutinized my thoughts, were I witnessing all this for the very first time?
No, I had seen many such instances before when I was undertaking my primary
education at the Z.P. school of village. But then it was the only world to me.
While
I was still watching all of this with minute detail, suddenly out of the blue, one
of the uncles announced that it’s the time to serve the food, which was the
central part of this rite. All of sudden some 6-7 men with their yellowish
forehead entered the kitchen and grabbed all the buckets full of mutton-gravy,
steel jars full of flesh, plates containing ‘Bhakari’ and the rest took the
plastic wares. In that chaos amazed with their speed, I was standing still with
jaw-drop. They all forgot that I was there to contribute. Come on yaar, I am an
MBA. I know how to work in a team. I have learned how to plan things
strategically and execute then effectively and efficiently. But nothing seemed
to be working here.
I
was standing idle in one of the blackish corner of the smoky kitchen. Having
nothing to do (contribute), I preferred to check WhatsApp. The greenish
chatting app has clocked more than 500 pings. Since last forty odd minutes I
didn’t touch the touch-screen. While I was flipping and scrolling in between
various groups, I heard a familiar voice instructing me to serve some food item.
It was my father! He was entering the kitchen holding an empty container to
refill stacks of ‘Bhakaris’. He ordered me to put my cell phone away and do some
assistance. Yeah, he ordered! Being part of an Indian Army for almost 17 years
of his life, he hardly knew other forms of speech or conversation. Army-men
know merely two kinds of conversation, 1) taking orders from superiors and 2)
giving orders to juniors. For such lingo, I blame neither him nor Indian Army.
It’s part of their life. And It’s become part of my life as well.
However,
I complained him that there is nothing left to serve t all besides mentioning
over-enthusiasm of those yellow forehead men. And further I justified him why I
was looking into mobile screen. He literally roared that he doesn’t give damn
about it and again well-ordered me to make my own way to contribute. So
unwillingly, I began my search operation. I was exploring the whole kitchen by
picking, lifting, placing and misplacing all the kitchen wares. To my surprise,
my eyes were on the TATA salt packet. Being a marketing graduate, ‘Desh Ka
Namak’ phrase flashed through my memory (which has been Tata Salt’s tagline for
ages). Without much upheaval, I picked that brownish packet up, held it like
ammunition and moved out of the kitchen to serve, to contribute and what not.
Outside the house, I could see people sitting on the both sides of the road
waiting fiercely to start their meal. Because it is unwritten rule that
everyone is supposed to wait until all the food items are served to the last
person sitting at either end of both the lanes that were formed on the banks of
that dusty road.
Post
every item was served to everyone, someone from the lane made a loud declaration
and permitted all to have their food. Just after the first bite, almost
everyone found that the reddish spicy looking gravy was salt-less. Almost
everyone in the both lanes started asking for salt. Puzzled and panicked by the
scene, one of the uncles screamed to serve the salt as fast as possible in
order to lessen the anxiety and annoyance which was rising exponentially among
people. I replied to that voice in a positive note and assured him not to worry
about the same as I was going to serve it with the Usain Bolt’s speed. I
started pouring torrents of salt in plates of hungry souls waiting to have the
benefit of their feast. Suddenly, I was in huge demand. Few people, who knew me
by name, were calling out my name and asking me to hurry up. And others were
just shouting as ‘Mithwala, Mithwala’.
While
I was doing that mundane stuff, I could see all kind people sitting there to eat.
I was amazed to see many of landlords, wealthy individuals making themselves
easily comfortable with people sitting beside them, who weren’t as privileged
as their wealthy counterparts. I simply can’t deny the organic fact that rich
one here are too generous and they don’t believe in discrimination. But the
point that I would like to emphasis here is that people here know how to shade
away their egos at the right point in time and be a part of a culture, which
teaches us to be with each others in the moments of joy and sorrow.
Just
to elaborate more, I can still recollect one of the most catastrophic incidences
that happened in my village. More than 15 years back, when one of the poor farm
labour’s home (which was made from timber and farm waste) got burnt away,
villagers organized a meeting and it was consensually decided to help that poor
family. I remember, within a day whole new home was built for them. Each family
of village voluntarily offered utensils, clothing, food items etc to this
vulnerable family. Besides some wealthy beings of village willingly offered
them electronic items as well and made sure that the house is lit, which wasn’t
the scene prior to incident.
Perhaps
it is a debatable statement as to cities are better or villages? But I can
proudly and definitely say that villages are full of empathy, which can’t be
purchased with materialistic means. Lastly, I take pride in considering myself
as a fortunate human being, as I have got best of both the worlds.
