Astride the dunkey….aping a munkey!
Winter had started setting in and durga puja* was just around the corner. The eucalyptus trees shed its bark and bhaiya,* ladoo and I were given the task to accumulate the dried barks, stack them in a cane basket that would then be lugged and deposited to my mamiji.*
Come 4pm and mamiji would start the preparations of kindling the fire and getting the borsis* ready to be lit and placed below our charpoys* to keep us warm through the chilly nights.
The mornings would be misty and beauty-sleep most inviting. But the last few days…despite being snug under the warm blankets, we kids were wide awake by 7am itself. As the elders wondered about our inspiration to turn into new leaves….we would quickly finish our ablutions if time permitted coz the dunkies* would arrive by 8am.
Our nani ma* had expressed the need to add two extra rooms on the terrace. This entailed the service of construction workers and raw materials. The sand to be used to build had to be brought from the dried up river bed of the Phalgu river. Phalgu was a seasonal river so by the time it was winter; the only presence of water ever flowing across was in the form of a thin serpent like course that would sinew across the river bed.
The workers filled sand in huge gunny bags to be transported across town to our house on dunkey back. Once the sand was dumped, we kids would jump in glee holding on to the hairline on the dunkey’s back for dear life! There was no saddle or a reign that could give us the advantage to restrain. So there we would be at the dunkey’s mercy and let him decide how fast or slow he wanted to walk depending on his mood and the weight on his back.
The chaps would at times suddenly decide how pressured their bladders were and spray liquid-waste shamelessly right in the middle of the road with us kids astride. Then there would be times when they offloaded last evening’s meal all in full view with dead pan expressions! One moment we would be beautifully cantering and then the gait would change and whoever’s dunkey spilled the filth was wickedly ragged the whole morning by the fortunate lot.
Hence each morning I would run up to my makeshift puja ghar under the kadam tree fervently praying to the good lord to instill some sense in my dunkey for the day and refrain him from popping away to glory and maligning my honour.
I was all of 8 years….an aspiring sadhvi* that could chant mantras with the flair of similar sounding overtures. In any case, who cared about the nuances of Sanskrit as far as the tone was in tandem with the devotional utterances.
The mohalla* kids were in awe already of my brother and me. We were after all the cool beedi smoking Bombay kids who could walk, talk, eat and sleep…all in English! The kids that shared the city with Amitabh Bachan and Dharmendra and rubbed shoulders with the elite bollywood clan!
Our deliberate beedi smoking personalities invited the same reverence akin to the local deities. The area kids in a bid to solidify the fraternity with us taught us some socially adept audacious chants like….
Ramchander budhawa Bandar
Tohar chacha badka chuchundar
So off we went straddling on the dunkey, howling away our perforated vocal cords in between puffs of nani ma’s used up beedi butts leading a procession of the choicest of wild kids from the Muslim butchers community that lived a few furlongs away in modest dwellings.
And while I relate the precious moments….it might help to remind the reader that this was the tame era under the rule of my nefariously austere mamaji. Ladoo’s dad and Bakasura* incarnate! If there was a possibility of a contest of imperious moustaches, Mamaji would definitely put Verrappan* to shame.
So let’s appreciate the fact that there were fatal perils lurking in every corner of our surroundings and to take the bull by its horns and the bull not knowing about the exploits was an act of bravery deserving none other than the Param Vir Chakra*. Somewhere in the higher scheme of things though, the mirthful days was drawing to a closure.
To foresee the construction work, one day mamaji took a day off. We mutts had no clue of the lurking danger and as usual….ran outside our compound to jump on the empty dunkey backs. Hearing an unruly commotion, mamaji peered from the terrace and seeing us kids behaving in the most original primitive manner…. lost it! As he charged down the stairs to herd and spank the joy out of our little butts, we decamped from the scene in one flighty moment. He bellowed in utter exasperation as his undulating jet black moustache quivered under the wrath. And though we were tiny, our sagacious brains advised to stay absconded for a couple of days till the rubble settled.
A sense of utter gut revolting serenity descended on our bored lives. We dragged thru the rest of the puja holidays chortling under our breaths every once in a while reminiscing the exploits of the last few days. It was thus the curtains fell and an era of a different genre came to an end!
*durga puja – The festival of Dussera
*bhaiya – elder brother
*mamiji – maternal uncles wife
*mamaji – maternal uncle
*Borsi – an earthern wide mouthed pot with burning wood, charcoal & dried cowdung
cake used as fuel
*Charpoys – bed woven out of jute ropes
*Dunkies - donkies
*Nani ma – maternal grand mother
*sadhvi – a female ascetic
*mohalla – community neighbourhood
*beedi – Indian cigarettes made out of tobacco wrapped in kendu leaves.
*Bakasura – A cruel demon mentioned in the Mahabharata epic
*Verrappan – The late dreaded outlaw operating in the forests of Karnataka & Tamil
Nadu
*Param Vir Chakra – India’s highest military decoration awarded for the highest
degree of valor & sacrifice
*Ramchander budhawa Bandar – Ranchander the old monkey
*Tohar chacha badka chuchundar – your paternal uncle is a mole
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2007
Come 4pm and mamiji would start the preparations of kindling the fire and getting the borsis* ready to be lit and placed below our charpoys* to keep us warm through the chilly nights.
The mornings would be misty and beauty-sleep most inviting. But the last few days…despite being snug under the warm blankets, we kids were wide awake by 7am itself. As the elders wondered about our inspiration to turn into new leaves….we would quickly finish our ablutions if time permitted coz the dunkies* would arrive by 8am.
Our nani ma* had expressed the need to add two extra rooms on the terrace. This entailed the service of construction workers and raw materials. The sand to be used to build had to be brought from the dried up river bed of the Phalgu river. Phalgu was a seasonal river so by the time it was winter; the only presence of water ever flowing across was in the form of a thin serpent like course that would sinew across the river bed.
The workers filled sand in huge gunny bags to be transported across town to our house on dunkey back. Once the sand was dumped, we kids would jump in glee holding on to the hairline on the dunkey’s back for dear life! There was no saddle or a reign that could give us the advantage to restrain. So there we would be at the dunkey’s mercy and let him decide how fast or slow he wanted to walk depending on his mood and the weight on his back.
The chaps would at times suddenly decide how pressured their bladders were and spray liquid-waste shamelessly right in the middle of the road with us kids astride. Then there would be times when they offloaded last evening’s meal all in full view with dead pan expressions! One moment we would be beautifully cantering and then the gait would change and whoever’s dunkey spilled the filth was wickedly ragged the whole morning by the fortunate lot.
Hence each morning I would run up to my makeshift puja ghar under the kadam tree fervently praying to the good lord to instill some sense in my dunkey for the day and refrain him from popping away to glory and maligning my honour.
I was all of 8 years….an aspiring sadhvi* that could chant mantras with the flair of similar sounding overtures. In any case, who cared about the nuances of Sanskrit as far as the tone was in tandem with the devotional utterances.
The mohalla* kids were in awe already of my brother and me. We were after all the cool beedi smoking Bombay kids who could walk, talk, eat and sleep…all in English! The kids that shared the city with Amitabh Bachan and Dharmendra and rubbed shoulders with the elite bollywood clan!
Our deliberate beedi smoking personalities invited the same reverence akin to the local deities. The area kids in a bid to solidify the fraternity with us taught us some socially adept audacious chants like….
Ramchander budhawa Bandar
Tohar chacha badka chuchundar
So off we went straddling on the dunkey, howling away our perforated vocal cords in between puffs of nani ma’s used up beedi butts leading a procession of the choicest of wild kids from the Muslim butchers community that lived a few furlongs away in modest dwellings.
And while I relate the precious moments….it might help to remind the reader that this was the tame era under the rule of my nefariously austere mamaji. Ladoo’s dad and Bakasura* incarnate! If there was a possibility of a contest of imperious moustaches, Mamaji would definitely put Verrappan* to shame.
So let’s appreciate the fact that there were fatal perils lurking in every corner of our surroundings and to take the bull by its horns and the bull not knowing about the exploits was an act of bravery deserving none other than the Param Vir Chakra*. Somewhere in the higher scheme of things though, the mirthful days was drawing to a closure.
To foresee the construction work, one day mamaji took a day off. We mutts had no clue of the lurking danger and as usual….ran outside our compound to jump on the empty dunkey backs. Hearing an unruly commotion, mamaji peered from the terrace and seeing us kids behaving in the most original primitive manner…. lost it! As he charged down the stairs to herd and spank the joy out of our little butts, we decamped from the scene in one flighty moment. He bellowed in utter exasperation as his undulating jet black moustache quivered under the wrath. And though we were tiny, our sagacious brains advised to stay absconded for a couple of days till the rubble settled.
A sense of utter gut revolting serenity descended on our bored lives. We dragged thru the rest of the puja holidays chortling under our breaths every once in a while reminiscing the exploits of the last few days. It was thus the curtains fell and an era of a different genre came to an end!
*durga puja – The festival of Dussera
*bhaiya – elder brother
*mamiji – maternal uncles wife
*mamaji – maternal uncle
*Borsi – an earthern wide mouthed pot with burning wood, charcoal & dried cowdung
cake used as fuel
*Charpoys – bed woven out of jute ropes
*Dunkies - donkies
*Nani ma – maternal grand mother
*sadhvi – a female ascetic
*mohalla – community neighbourhood
*beedi – Indian cigarettes made out of tobacco wrapped in kendu leaves.
*Bakasura – A cruel demon mentioned in the Mahabharata epic
*Verrappan – The late dreaded outlaw operating in the forests of Karnataka & Tamil
Nadu
*Param Vir Chakra – India’s highest military decoration awarded for the highest
degree of valor & sacrifice
*Ramchander budhawa Bandar – Ranchander the old monkey
*Tohar chacha badka chuchundar – your paternal uncle is a mole
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2007
posted by Bunty's Banter at 3:49 AM
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