There was confusion in the eyes of the seven year old Surangi as they dipped mango leaves into the sandal-turmeric paste to anoint her. She did not know what marriage meant, she was just told that she would move into a new home in a village far away...
Winter in Konkan is pleasantly mild, though at night the temperature dips enough to send people to bed early in the comfort of their thick cotton quilts. Getting up in the morning takes every ounce of willpower as the warm bed beckons one to linger some more. Coats and shawls that has been aired for use are worn daily. Season fare gets richer every day with generous dollops of freshly churned butter and homemade ghee accompanying both savoury and sweet dishes. Crisp wafers called papads are fried in oil rather than being roasted over a flame. Bhakri, a flatbread made from millet flour, is coated with sesame seeds before being baked, to give it a rich nutty taste.
The men bond around community bonfires called shekoti, chatting until the fire has given way to glowing embers. Even children seize the opportunity to enjoy themselves around the embers until the burnt wood is reduced to ash, playing games and asking each other riddles. Women spend more time in their warm kitchens, stirring their pots and pans over the hearth. Shira, a dessert made with semolina, slivers of almonds, raisins, ghee and sugar and scented with cardamon pods makes a frequent appearance for breakfast or as an evening snack. Another popular snack is the multigrain spiced flatbread called thalipeeth enjoyed with fresh butter.
It is a busy time for mothers and aunts who, after their meals have been cooked and served, are occupied in making chickpea flour or wholemeal laddoos and other confection such as peanut brittle. In the Oak household grandmother would painstakingly pop amaranth seeds in a warm pan, a little at a time, before bunging it in jaggery syrup and binding the rajgira laddoos with a touch of molten ghee. Not that the children needed any coaxing to eat these but Aaji would also wax eloquent about the virtues of amaranth, adding that it was rich in protein, iron, magnesium and calcium. She often claimed that it was a superfood in the Konkan, besides the seeds even the green or red amaranth leaves are eaten as a popular vegetable around the year.
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Not having to perspire was the biggest boon that winter granted. Basking in the morning sunlight became routine for the children who walked faster on their way to and from school, their energy levels boosted by the extra calories that were lavished upon them. They would blow their breath into the frosty air making trails of condensed vapour, pretending to be smoking. Getting a cut or a scratch was a raw deal in winter as aches and pains became more acute. Older people complained of aching joints while those who were susceptible to it because of a poor immune system would come down with a bout of cold and cough. Women brewed herbal teas with ginger, peppercorns, cloves, licorice, basil leaves and honey or offered sweetened warm turmeric milk to the children to keep a sore throat at bay.
Surangi was still a little conscious about having lost her canines while chewing on a stick of sugarcane. She tried to avoid talking as much as possible, especially to Madhav, afraid that he may find her grin comical. Even Waman lost his canines similarly but he could not be bothered about them. Only Madhav had a complete set of teeth with molars although even he would have to wait to be an adult before his wisdom teeth appeared. Those were the most troublesome, grandmother often told them.
Seeing Surangi shiver on a particularly cold December morning Madhav insisted that she slip on his old coat that both Waman and he had outgrown. Surangi tried to resist, unsure how she would look in the masculine black coat with large buttons. Not that it looked very old, it still had a lot of wear in it but Surangi had never dressed in a man's clothes before. Next he'll ask me to put on his pants, she fumed to herself, not daring to protest aloud before Madhav.
"This will keep you warm, it does not matter how you feel about wearing it. It is important to bundle up against the cold." Madhav told her, mooting any argument. Already bashful of her missing teeth Surangi huddled in the coat, realising half way to school that it actually made a big difference in the chilly morning air.
"Now that you are sharing his clothes, you will soon be sleeping next to each other in the same bed!" Surangi blushed furiously as her classmates badgered her relentlessly on discovering her dressed in Madhav's coat. "It just needs a badge announcing that the garment as well as the wearer is property of Madhavrao Oak!" Observed Anusaya Dixit, a notorious sceptic who sat next to Surangi in class. Actually the girls were rather envious of Surangi hoping their brothers would allow them the same privilege, to start a new trend among the school girls.
"This coat looks like it was tailored for you, it is such a bespoke affair! And somebody is quite upset to see you dressed in your husband's clothes!" Arundhati laughed, referring to Rohini's wistful expression on discovering that Surangi had become the latest style icon among the girls. She was more upset to know that Madhav had personally slipped the coat on his wife and even buttoned it up for her.
To add to her woes the girls floated all sorts of rumours about the married couple, claiming to have seen Madhav sharing clandestine kisses with Surangi in the thick bushes behind the school. Even if Surangi vehemently denied being party to such a misadventure the rumours only grew like Chinese whispers, with the boys branding Madhav the king of romance and the senior girls asking Surangi whether the stork was already on the way. Surangi, who barely understood most of the innuendos, chose to ignore the catty remarks. Only Rohini seemed affected by the gossip about Surangi-Madhav, it made her keener to draw Madhav's attention toward herself.
Madhav, who secretly enjoyed being perceived as an experienced lover among the largely unmarried boys, did nothing to stem the rumours. This only added to the aura of mystery about the couple's alleged romantic life. Strangely no one stopped to think that Surangi was just eight going on nine, too young to be struck by Cupid's arrow.
"Don't bother about such idle gossip. Listen to this. The British criticise us for our internal caste divisions but they are equally prejudiced and follow an unwritten policy of discrimination against their African and Asian subjects. Why, they don't even spare their own countrymen! Let me translate this nursery rhyme for you." Madhav was trying to deflect Surangi's attention. He read her a rhyme from Mother Goose, a collection of English nursery rhymes and tales. He would routinely borrow books from the wife of the British government official stationed in the town and he knew that poetry would hold his wife's interest.
Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief; Taffy came to my house And stole a piece of beef.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was not home; Taffy came to my house And stole a marrow bone.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was not in; Taffy came to my house And stole a silver pin.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was in bed; I took up a poker And threw it at his head
"Who is a Welshman?" Surangi asked.
"Britain is divided into England, Scotland and Wales. People from Wales are called Welshmen. The English have an upper hand politically." Madhav explained.
"This book looks interesting, can you help translate some more rhymes from this book?" Surangi enquired.
"Why not, both Waman and you can join me in learning English." Madhav responded enthusiastically. Surangi grinned. She knew there was a host of interesting books on Madhav's shelf waiting to be discovered. Soon language would not be a barrier between her and the world of knowledge.
