A bonus of the Saturday lunch ritual is that I get to hear tales from my parent's youth, from the time they were growing up or were newly married. I often wish I could be writing them down as they speak, because I sometimes forget an important event or detail by the time I actually get down to writing it. The stories are fascinating because they paint a picture of the that particular time in India. I shall jot these down as I hear and remember them. And perhaps one day I will have the opportunity to record them in some order.
Mummy finished her daily fruit inspection and declared that there would be no mangoes today. The Kesar mangoes were too juicy. She had tried to cut them into cubes yesterday (because to cut them into wedges with the skin on would be completely unacceptable in our household) and they were too pulpy. And the Hapus is not quite ready for eating. They need to sit wrapped in newspaper for one more day before they are ready.
So I innocently asked if we could ask Radhika to make aam ras today - cos its Sunday and I have the time to have a leisurely meal. From there we digressed into the jamanvars of Kishore Bhuvan.
Every year, during the mango season or "Ras no Galo" the l in Galo to be pronounced with a bit of a roll. All of Bhai's sisters and their children would come over - Aam Ras from 3 kinds of mangoes would be extracted - Mankhulas for Hira Foi's family, Paa-eerie for Moti Fai's family - and whatever else for the rest.
There were no refrigerators back then for chilling the ras.. not that one could find a household refrigerator large enough to chill the quantity of ras required. So mom's brothers would be dispatched to bring home ice from the ice factory. Mota mama, Bhagwan mama, Vallabh mama would bring home large slabs of ice wrapped in kantaan (jute fabric) . They would load it up into a Ghoda-Gadi (the horse drawn Victorias of that time). The ice would be washed at home and then used to chill the ras.
The Kishore Bhuvan jamanvars used to be major events. There were 4 of them each year. And everyone (meaning mom) looked forward to each of them. There was one during the Ras no Galo, another during Diwali, one on her grandfather's death anniversary which was on Kali Chaudas which is the day before Diwali - man that must have been a lot of feasting around Diwali.
The fourth was when Kanta foi (who lived in Patan) came to town. It was always a major celebration when she came. For Kanta foi was bhai's youngest sister. She had a great zest and enthusiasm for the good things in life, and ba and bhai always wanted to make her time in Bombay special. So there would be things like Thandai and other special treats that were made up Kanta foi was around. Her visits provided a good break from the ordinary routine and was looked forward to with great anticipation and always included many trips to the ice factory.
Speaking of ice factories, Papa, who spent much of his middle-school years tagging along with his grandfather - the Judge, had a very different kind of experience. He recalls summers in Sahranpur, a town that lies somewhere between Haridwar and Rishikesh. The Judge was advising or associated with a wealthy land owner who owned many mango orchards, gardens, elephants and ice factories! They would ride out on elephant back into the mango orchards and do a "pick-your-own" mangoes - kinda like what we do with strawberries and apples in New York, though its not so grand without the elephants - they would eat whatever they wanted right inside the orchard. Baskets of mangoes would be collected and sent to the ice factory and the chilled mangoes were eaten later in the evening or transported to Agra for the rest of the family.
Today, we send my driver Suresh out in a car to fetch the mangoes from either the Star Bazaar or the fruit vendor who plies his trade on a cart in the Sixth Block in Koramangala. We stick them in the refrigerator once they are ripe and then mummy peels and cubes them for us, and we eat it with a fork. These stories may span 70 years, but they still have the same constants - chilled mangoes and good times.
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