A FACEBOOK FRIEND -BY ACCIDENT


- J S Simick

And there is this girl,a lady,a woman,who has landedsomehowbangon my Facebook page.



She prances around with-her highly mobile toddlers,basks in her hubby's erudition,and puts up picturesof fun in the beach.



Here's a stranger, I don't know,who splashes her TimelinewithLove for babiesFree thinkingDown to earth honestyZest for living.


My presencein her Friend's Listis at best,a humble accident.



But then,I have survived in that roll of honoursome several years now.


To unfriend herto block herwould be locking out of my world,the good things of life.


And so,I simply watch, ( peep ? )as her life unfolds.


A Likeor a Comment,would be toointrusive ..



///x

COUNTRY FLAVOURS AND CHILDHOOD JOYS !

By K Guliyo

( Special Thanks to Mr Ganesh Mani Pradhan - for the nomenclature of items included in this humble pageantry - and for providing some vibrant pictures )

***

Before they fade into the sunset of time, these hill flavours deserve a look.

They were, after all, the maids of titillation. They were pursued over hills and valleys. The connoisseurs who gathered them were often barefooted, with a sickle ( hasiya ) tucked in the patuka, and a doko behind the back. The hill countryside was where these flavours thrived.

Enter the first diva - the buxom, juicy ASELO. { AISELU, RASPBERRY , Rubus ellipticus } Gathering them together and stuffing a big handful into the mouth was pure joy ! Searching for the yellow beauties through prickly gaps in the leaves was such fun. Picnics in remote countryside ( like Delo of old ) were much brighter with Aselo bushes around.

A passionate tryst with KIMBU { MULBERRY, Morus species } could never be kept a secret. The devouring was often done sitting on the branches of the tree. A happy culprit would have his tongue and fingers coloured magenta-black with the juice. Happy too, would be the kids, when out came the dark Mulberry Jam to sweeten dull rotis.

Even passing near a TUM TUM tree {RUKH RAMBERA, Cyphomandra betacea } used to make our teeth tangy. Roasted over embers and crushed with fresh chillies the achaar had a peculiar sour taste which brightened drab meals. Hyperactive boys preferred to suck the raw entrails from a hole made at the tip of this egg shaped fruit.

Huge CHERRY trees { PAYOONG, Prunus cerasoides } were shaken at night, but not by ghosts. Giant chameras ( flying foxes, bats ) rustled and bobbed the branches up and down as they hogged the ripe cherries. Hungry foxes, ate the ones on the ground. The naughty foxes excreted big mounds of cherry seeds at very visible places. And naughty boys after sucking out the thin bittersweet outer shell, competed who could spit the seeds the farthest.

The pigs will die ! Don't ever give TIMBUR to the pigs ! This was what my wrinkled Granny used to say. { Bokay Timboor, Zanthozylum armatum } This fatal power made the Timbur all the more exotic. Our sons and grandsons will never find out the pungent, peculiar essence of Timbur ko achaar. By the time a digital App comes with a virtual scent, the Timbur will have disappeared !

Oh love of my life ! I miss your shiny violet shell ! I crave for your enchanting seedy flavour ! I last saw you embracing a bamboo gate at 12 1/2, Mile. You were drooping with your luscious produce. Where are you now, dear GARENDALE ? {Passiflora edulis}

Faces puckered as the famously sour LAPSI ko achaar was relished. Planting a Lapsi tree near a homestead was, supposedly, inauspicious. But with Lapsi candies in full commercial bloom nowadays, the Lapsi {Choerospondias axillaris } is very much here to stay. A catapult ( kyatees ) was useless in bringing down Lapsis from the tree. What was needed was a jhataro.

Should we not clap for those coming second, or third ? Your Majesty King Dalley, please move over, for here comes AAKASHEY and JEERAY. These chillies were hot, hot, hot. The Aakashey khorsani had its tip pointed vertically to the aakash. These plants were found near chicken cages, because they thrived on chicken poop ( kookhra ko suli ). Jeeray was hardly 1 cm long and any 'na pathyouney maanchhey' would soon be gasping and lolling ! A 'chhuchi' girl was called Jeeray !

गोठाला बाजे with his daura sleeves rolled up, made a soothing, whining sound as he moved a large wooden piston up and down a massive 'bhalu baasko ko dhungro'. He was churning milk. Soon there would be Dahi (curd) and yellowish Gheu (butter) of the purest of pure kind. We waited and slurped on the Mahi ( buttermilk ) served in big, dented aluminium mugs. We laughed as we pointed out the white moustaches on each other's upper lips. A favourite was the cooked Mahi, called SOLDAR.

JYAMBEERs were long oval lemons, which when cut, gave off a pungent aroma. { Citrus jambhiri } When squeezed over steaming basti ko chamal ko bhaat / dhaan ko bhaat, finishing off chuli chuli bhaat was no problem specially if there was the dark brown MASHYAAM KO DAL.

Not everyone could cope with the scent of the SIMRAYO. { Watercress, Nasturtium officinal } This verdant beauty adorned shallow stream waters. As a side dish it was a showpiece in the menu. We had fun with people when we whispered into their ears that we had seen a boy pissing in the stream (kholcha) from where the Simrayo he was eating had been picked !

NAKIMA { Tupestra nutans } was so much treasured that when a portion landed in the house, close appreciative people were invited for a meal. Its peculiar taste was adored by a wide fan club. KAABRA not frequently found, was sought as an achaar by a band of faithful followers.

In the spectrum of dry achaars SILAAM { Perilla frutescens } and FILINGAY take prominent place because of their unique essence. They have a secure berth in this nostalgic parade.

Coiled elephant trunks ? Yes ! As a child the NINGRO's shape fascinated me. These FERNS were of many types, and were collected with much difficulty from steep terrains.
It was only much later I started liking the fleshy fried vegetables.

SISNOO {STINGING NETTLE, Urtica dioica } was found around homes of unlucky boys who had big blebs, urticaria, on their shins as a punishment doled out by angry mothers. There was a big Jhyaang of this formidable plant, near our house. (Sorry, no confessions !). A chimta was needed to pluck this delicacy for making Tihoon.

One Participant who is perhaps extinct, is the PAHA, a slender, gangly, green frog. They were found in the waters of the rice fields (dhaan ko khet). When caught they were strung in bamboo strips ( choya ) like a garland. It was a choice tidbit valued by the 'bura paka' of old.

These flavours and tastes form a colourful part of our social and personal memories.

Here's hoping that this is not the draft of an epitaph of what once was in the hills.

///

MY  TATTERED  SWEATER

-J S Simick, 22 April 2016

A playful kitten used to roll

with the ball of wool

when Mom knit my cardigan.

My boyish ego wanted “double knit”, or “readymade” jerseys,

so I sulked when I had to stand in front of her

as she measured my shoulder and arms.

Even now every winter my Mom’s handiwork

wraps me in warm, soft comfort.

The colour-matching patchups

have somewhat hidden the holes at the elbows.

I smile to see the patterns she had put to cheer me up.

So like my Mom !

She’s  gone some fifteen years now,

but in the tattered sweater

I still smell Mom.

Another  winter gone, I fold the sweater neatly.

How  could I throw my Mom away ?

My eyes turn misty.

Sentimental ?

I shrug.

Well  

that’s the way it is with me …

///

RELLI   RIVER   VALLEY …

J S Simick

This valley breathes my past,

and I am not the last

of many sons

who sit like this

and feel the heart of fathers past.

This river knows it all,

has seen it all.

I just sit

I just fit

into what is mine.

And rain or shine

this river is mine,

this land is mine

and this rock here ,

suits me fine…

///

Photo taken at Relli khola

VISITING MY OLD SCHOOL IN KALIMPONG

Dr Graham’s Homes – a  homecoming  

J S Simick

The figures in number sixteen had reversed. A sixteen year old boy had once sat on a dark stone slab of the cemetery overlooking Ronaldshay Park, pondering the future. He was finishing school and venturing out into the big, bad, beautiful world! On the very stone slab I now sat. The scene was the same. Only I was not 16 but 61 years. And I had come back from the big, bad beautiful world.

I was back in Dr Graham’s Homes in Kalimpong, Darjeeling district, the place where I grew up. The huge purple bougainvillea below the Workshop was missing but a tree with thick green foliage welcomed me back, as if recognizing me. The beautifully carved rocks of the Homes cemetery still beckoned passers-by to sit and rest awhile. What was mentioned only by a few but enjoyed by all was the comforting warmth of the stone slabs on our posteriors, when we sat there on sunny days !

The steeply turning roads in the Homes compound were broad and imposing, now it looked so small. The Main Office, with the blurred silhouette of the Principal through the curtains, had so often hushed the loud squeals of laughter of passing girls. The wafting smell of browning bread from the Bakery made us close our eyes and inhale deeply !

The MacCleod Swimming Pool reminded me, of wet swimming trunks beneath school trousers, and the joke about the water being aabs wet! The rough stone steps leading up to the School in front of Wollesley  had had blooming red poinsettias, among the green straw fields. I knew every step and could race down the slope even on a moonless Friday night after the black and white film of English classics.

 

Biology field work amidst the big oak, and acorn trees; the coil of white rope in my belt in the Scout Den; the somersault in the parallel bars in the Gym; the Tarzan jungle shacks in the slope below Jubilee House: memories came flooding, vivid and colorful. My friends, Ringay, the two Peters (all three of them no more) Gehendra, Pradip, Praful, were there again, and we would enter the classroom again just now! The wooden desks now looked so crude and primitive, with holes to keep ink pots! What I had lived, half a century back, was in front of me -   touchable, smellable ! It was yesterday once more.

Standing on the edge of the school ground, I realized why Dr Graham’s Homes, Kalimpong was so well-liked. The climate was cool and the air pure. A huge expanse of the Himalayan mountain range was visible, and so close, I felt like hopping onto one of the ridges.  And today Mount Kanchenjunga had shed her veil of clouds, and was preening herself in the bright sunshine.

Words from a song came to my mind - “give me another chance I wanna grow up once again...”

 I will surely grow up once again, in this very place, through my grandchild!

///

J S Simick, 28 November 2012

KALIMPONG SIXTIES - YESTERDAY ONCE MORE

KALIMPONG  –  YESTERDAY  ONCE  MORE  !

-         J S Simick, 11 Feb 2017

Those were the days in Kalimpong

when we could walk,

when we could talk,

and laze away our moments waiting

for the newspapers at Himalayan Store .

Repeated rounds of Main Road,

‘half glass’ tea  and singara

at Dipali and Narayan Das,

were just excuses to prolong the hope

of saying a shy Hi to someone special !

The “bioscopes”  in Kanchan and Novelty

put dreams in us of the big world across Teesta Bridge!

The ‘coming’ posters of great movies -

Magnificent Seven, Great Escape, Guns of Navarone,

Sound of Music, even Maiti Ghar

were stared at with eager eyes.

Melville de Mello,and Binaca Hit Parade,

Listener’s Choice and Radio Ceylon

brought ears closer to whining and whistling radios.

The not so frequent black-white photos

 were paint-brushed into colorful life

at Gopal, Om and SKG studios !

Guitar strings from Premalaya produced music notes

of  Beatles, Carpenters, Jim Reeves,Tom Jones,

emulated enthusiastically from 45s and LP Records,

and Panasonic Audiocassettes.

Those tunes and words still haunt us now.

Packed Dharma Hall in Kumudini, evoked new emotions

with Gopal Yonjan, Aruna Lama, Amber Gurung at the mike!

“Baishaki ban ma..” and “Nau laakhey taara”

showed us our very own roots !

And how,

the young and old,

the near and distant,

the good, the bad and the ugly,

immersed themselves in the mad, chaotic happiness

of  Pandrah August !

Hum Jaayega and Kira Kanchha,  seem so much taller,

now that the laughter they evoked,

is heard no more ..

The great bell of Macfarlane Church

surveyed the town from its lofty perch,

and its regular Sunday chimes

put the thought of God,

into the the minds of even

the not so holy.

And Relli river, dear old Relli

your memories of sunny, joyful picnics flow much farther

than the Teesta - Rungeet you embrace !

You have outlived Graham, Sutherland, and Tibet trade.

Great local souls, who grew up with you,

have peacefully closed their eyes in your lap!

Even as you lean easily on Kanchenjunga

and continue your endless journey of time,

here’s  something which many have said,

and still do –

Kalimpong  I love you!

                           ///

Picture showing  Kalimpong town from 8^th Mile

Photo credit : Google Images