Orissa

One day in a bullock cart

by

Swayamprava

Summer vacation is always a time to relax, to be with my parents, to spend some quality time with them. No waking up early in the morning……the mad rush neither to prepare my kid for school nor to prepare lunch early in the morning…………. Relaxing hours….getting up late in the morning…never ending chattering with Mom, making  papa and hubby ,both jealous ……Meeting friends …preparing lunch and dinner is a troublesome affair…if it happened somehow means it’s a bonus …. Plucking flowers from garden, story books, evening spending in the Puri beach …. Talking heart to heart to Lord Jagannath…. the list just goes on and on….

When I was a kid, the summer vacation used to be completely different from now. Those times my greatest hunt was maternal grand papa’s place. As soon as the summer vacation used to start, grand papa or uncle (Mamu) used to come to my place just to take me there. As a kid I was too much pampered by everybody. The time I spent with them was the sweetest time of my life I would say.

Long green paddy fields touching to the horizon, fruit orchards laden with all sorts of fruits, hundred and thousand variety of birds, butterflies, dragon flies, insects….ponds full of fish……Hundreds of cows ,buffalos, cubs, goats, ducks, hen, rooster, colorful pigeons….It was like a heaven for me. I used to sit near the tranquil pond for hours looking at the water waiting for the little fish to jump and startle me. I used to look at that dreamy but beautiful tamarind tree, around which many ghostly stories were spinning. But I am supposed tell about that bullock cart…….So here my story goes….

This Bullock cart incident happened in one such summer vacation, when I was visiting my grand papa’s house with my parents. It was one of my uncle’s marriage and we all were there to grace the occasion. My grandpa’s family was a huge family with three brothers and their seventeen children and grand children…..But for my own grand pa I was the first and only granddaughter at that time. So I used to be the apple in everybody’s eye, let it be my own grand pa or grand ma or the uncles and aunties of my mom, or her cousin brothers and sisters, I was just every one’s pet. To cut the story short I am coming to the point, so the marriage was on and relatives, friends were just kept on pouring at my granny’s place .The marriage was an incident itself …completely fun filled and till today we used to laugh a lot remembering that particular marriage. So after the marriage along with other relatives we too started packing our baggage to return back home. Granny started stuffing our bags with new dress, sarees for mom and aunties. In our marriages the girl’s side supposed to send lots of sweets along with the bride. May be like those sweets she will spread that sweetness in the family and also in the village. Actually that Sweets has to be distributed among each and every family of the village and with all the reachable relatives…So the new saree bags were emptied to stuff them with mithais like Rasagolla, bundi ladoo, poha coated in sugar, puffed rise coated in sugar , namkins, packets of different vegetables, fruits grown in our own  fields and orchards, coconut, rice, dal, urad dal, groundnut and groundnut oil, honey, milk ,ghee …granny just kept on putting every thing remembering one by one in our bags through out the day. I was just praying god to play some trick so that mom has to cancel the trip and I could get one more day to stay there with grandma. As it was in some interior part of Orissa near Konark, the frequency of bus service was quite erratic. There used to be one bus in the morning from Puri and that particular bus will have to return in the evening to Puri. So the bus fellow has to wait till its bus got filled up completely. Two more buses were available that time; they stopped there only if he found some passenger.

From that village one had to come to the bus stand which was about four km. So, one bullock cart was utmost necessary to take one there. Mamu went to call one of the servants, Makara, who could drive that bullock cart and take us to the bus stand. That fellow was enjoying his afternoon siesta, when Mamu hurriedly called him. Somehow he managed to respond and came with Mamu. Unfortunately that fellow was both dumb and deaf. So, to make him understand the things was not an easy affair. Somehow Mamu managed to tell him about our destination. We all went on an elaborate pranam ceremony before leaving granny’s place .We were about four five people all ladies including me. The carts were cushioned with straws, topped with a mat. The top was covered with a shade made up of soft strips of bamboo. Grand ma put one extra bed sheet on it just for me as the straw gives an itching sensation when comes in contact with skin. Makara, put those bullocks in the cart by tying a long rope in their neck with the front bamboo of the cart. The Cart started rolling. Suddenly we noticed the cart is defying the straight road and going towards left. Mom asked the cart fellow about the reason. As he was dumb and deaf he couldn’t hear mom’s voice from behind. It was already quite late and to reach there in time was utmost anxiety that was hunting mom. Somehow he struggled to keep the cart straight on the road. Mom and aunties just kept on talking with their as usual humour cum sentimental cum philosophical talks. Suddenly Mamu appeared from behind riding a cycle and asked in almost roaring tone,

“ Hare Makara, why this cart is going towards left. Is there any problem with the wheels?

Makar gave a blank look ……Mamu again asked with some sign language about the bullocks and cart and suddenly Makara got the point…his eyes glistened and he replied back in his half built language that the Bullock in the left side has got a cataract in his left eye. As everybody knew it they used to put it in the right side so that the cart could run straight on the road. Mamu was dumbstruck and instantly applied his lawyer brain to solve the situation. So rest of the road he decided to peddle the cycle in the left side so that the bullock will not go towards left more. So somehow we covered the distance.

The market place arrived and we could see the bus standing there and blowing horn incessantly, means about to leave. It was big l-turn near the market. Suddenly the cart turned towards the bus stand on that l-bend….I could see that bullock started oozing foams from his mouth. Mamu threw the cycle and ran hurriedly towards the other Bullock and untied it. Makara, Released the foaming Bullock with much difficulty and jumped out of the cart. Four five people tried to pull the cart from the opposite side saying jump from the cart; the cart is tilting towards left. Now imagine five saree clad lady stuffed in that tiny cart, how could they just jump. Nobody could save us. The cart tilted giving us rounds of summersault. The cart rolled and positioned in an upside down position. We took some time to react. The first one to come out of it was me. People were shouting frantically “pull them out .Pull them out.” Then one after another we came out of the top of the cart. We all got saved. Every body was just fine .no injury, no sprain…so we started searching for the items loaded in the cart apart from us. The entire place was scattered with Ladoos, Rasagollas, puffed rice, ghee, and oil showing every body what really we were carrying in our bags. The sight was so embarrassing, with dust all over our face and body and thirty forty people around, starring pathetically towards the rolling laddos, peeping from the powdery village earth.

“Aha!…….Sister! these ladoos are from brides place ? “ One asked my mom. Mom gave her a quizzical look and smiled blankly.

“You are staying in Puri nah….going to catch the bus…..” another onlooker asked.

Little children started picking and tasting those dust filled ladoos. Two three hens and dogs came running and stared eating the puffed sugar coated rice……

People lend their hand to carry our baggage as almost all of them knew mom’s family someway or other…….

While running to catch the bus with our leftover belongings, we heard the whisper from behind, “Our Makuddam’s Children Nah………So much property with them…….…that is why carrying so many items .Seems Bohu (Means the Bride) has brought enough item to  fill her in-laws place……..  Bichara…. Bullock couldn’t tolerate the weight……….” We had got no time to explain them. After sitting in the bus we remembered each and every moment and laughed and laughed till we reached Puri……

*******************************************************************

P.S :- This one is written ,keeping my promise to Priya ( Priya Sivan).

I am going on a vacation. Don’t know whether I will be able to access net from there.  I will try. ………

Good bye and hope you will enjoy your vacation too….

Regards

Swayam 

Koki will Relax now 

*******