Mamta Kalia

place where uplas or cow dung cakes
were made. There would be five to six
baskets of dung to be taken out from
every cowshed. During the winter months
it was a very painful job. The cows,
buffaloes and bullocks would be tethered
in long hallways. The floor would be
covered with the dry leaves of cane
or straw. The dung and the urine of
the animals would spread all over the
floor overnight. The matting would be
changed after ten or fifteen days. Or
sometimes a layer of dry leaves would
be added on top of the soiled one. To
search for dung in the stinking cowsheds
was extremely unpleasant. The stink
made one feel faint.
To compensate us for all this work,
we got five seers of grain per two animals;
that is, about two and a half kilos of
grain. Each Taga household with ten
animals gave twenty-five seers of grain
a year-about twelve to fifteen kilos, a
leftover roti at noon every day, specially
made by mixing the flour with husk since
it was for the Chuhras. Sometimes the
joothan, the scraps, would also be put
in the basket with the rotis for us.
During a wedding, when the guests
and the baratis, the bridegroom’s party,
were eating their meals, the Chuhras
would sit outside with huge baskets. After
the baratis had eaten, the dirty pattals
or leaf-plates were put in the Chuhras’
baskets, which they took home, to save
the joothan sticking to them. The little
pieces of pooris, bits of sweetmeats, and
a little bit of vegetable were enough
to make them happy. The joothan was
eaten with a lot of relish. The bridegroom’s
guests who didn’t leave enough scraps
on their pattals were denounced as
gluttons. Poor things, they had never
enjoyed a wedding feast. So they had
licked it all up. During the marriage
season, our elders narrated, in thrilled
voices, stories of the baratis that had
left several months of joothan.
The pieces of pooris that were
collected from the pattals were dried
in the sun. A cloth would be spread
on a charpai to dry them. Often I would
be placed on guard duty because the
drying pooris attracted crows, hens and
dogs. Even a moment’s lapse and the
pooris would vanish. Hence, one would
have to sit near the cot with a stick
in hand.
These dried up pooris were very useful
during the hard days of the rainy season.
They would be soaked in water and then
boiled. The boiled pooris were delicious
with finely ground red chilli pepper and
salt. Sometimes they were mixed with
gur or molasses, to make a gruel and
this dish was eaten with great delight.
When I think about all those things
today, thorns begin to prick my heart.
What sort of a life was that? After working
hard day and night, the price of our
sweat was just joothan. And yet no one
had any grudges. Or shame. Or
repentance.
When I was a young boy, I used
to go with my parents to help them
out. Looking at the food of the Tagas,
I would wonder why we never got to
eat food like that. When I think of those
days today, I feel nauseated.
This past year, Sukhdev Singh Tyagi’s
April-June 2010 :: 13