The Barpali Days

Stories 9:28 PM

An Escapade to Barpali Vegetables Market

The other day while having the dinner, I expressed my dislike to my mother for the curry she prepared. Sternly she told me to go to the market and buy the vegetables, if I want different delicacies. Right from the early age we three siblings at home were reared by my parents with a silver spoon. We were never subject to any anomalous job.

Early next morning I was served a hot cup of tea and sent to the market. I left for the sabji bazar in my red Hero cycle with two empty bags. The daily market is on the southern end of Barpali near to old settlement called Basti. The approaching road to the daily market is quite narrow and overflowed with the drain water. As I entered the market I heard someone shouting “Kiran Babu…….Kiran Babu”. When I looked, it was Sabyaschi Bhoi the Gahantia (landlord) of Ainlamunda village. Bluntly he told :

“tumhe jebe dhinda thila ta bate ghate soj kindru thila

iachini biha hela ta bag muna dharikari bazaar ke asla”.

Which means, when I was a bachelor I was roaming on the streets aimlessly. But now when married I reached the market with the bags. I felt as being ragged by a senior in the college. I could not revolt knowing myself as a new kid in the block. Instead I gave a smile in return as I too joined the veteran club of domestic life, though late at age 41.

Barpali is a semi-urban area with agriculture as its prime economy. The surrounding villages have been irrigated by the canal water sourced from the Hirakud Dam. Every year here we got double crop of paddy. Apart from that all kind of green vegetables are being grown by the farmers in plenty.

[heaps of vegetables while sold in the market]

As last night there was a moderate rain pour the ground of the market was completely drenched with water. The traders have piled the fresh vegetables on the empty gunny bags or displayed them in the bhuga, the baskets made of bamboo. Since we don’t have any cold storage facilities, only the fresh vegetables grown locally are being sold over here.

As I walked through the mud my eyes caught attention of the bright yellow flowers of pumpkin. I recalled my Father is fond of the chakel (dosa) made with these flowers. The man selling it was very attentive. I guessed him to be a farmer as he chose the best flowers for me out of his stuff. I paid happily Rs.15 the price that he quoted.

Then I went to buy the bhaji saag, the green leafs. I traced the stems and the roots of the saag forms the major portion and would cause loss of weight. I found the lady selling it was cunning. She did not allowed me to remove the waste of the plant that are inedible and need to be thrown. I able to recognise this lady to be a trader and not a farmer herself from the harsh behavior that she displayed to this gentleman. As I got up to turn I was shocked to find a massive beast standing face to face. For a while I was un-moved to see this black-bull. But it was calm and quite. Slowly I stepped back and made a u-turn to escape from any untoward event.

[The black bull that roams in the market]

I moved to the next person selling brinjal. I bought a kilo of it and gave Rs.50 to the seller. Since he did not had the change he called his neighbour as “Oye Kainsiria” to ask for it. Though I got back the money but was averse to drop at the next shop even though he put on sale the most lustrous tomatoes that appears red with patches of green colour at places. In the market people call each other by the name of the village they belong to, like Bandhpalia, Ainthapalia or Kadlipalia.

I went to buy the potatoes and the onions. The man was obviously a trader. He quoted an exorbitant Rs.70 /- for a kilogram of onions. It gave a few tear drops on my eye, even when I have not cut them into pieces. While I was shorting the onions, I heard the spark of a match stick. When I looked the vendor started smoking a bidi. I said, hello excuse me you can't smoke in my presence, throw it right now. He resented, “why should I”. I put my point, the law has imposed a ban on the smoking nationwide. He laughed at me saying, "where did you came from. The law is regulated outside the market". Helplessly I walked away from this trader. I discovered, it is not only a goon of Mumbai, but every person on earth creates a kingdom where he rules.

[Bhiden Chati - the mushroom grows in wilderness]

Now I spotted bhiden chatu, the mushrooms that grows in meadows and barren lands during the rainy season. My mouth watered on looking at them. As such I am a strict vegetarian, but I do eat non-satwik food. I am very much fond of the curry made with this stuff. At Barpali we don’t get farm-grown packaged mushrooms. Mushrooms are available only during the rainy season on lightening. The villager quoted Rs.150 for a kilogram. I gathered courage to bargain the way my insurance policy holders negotiate with me to spare the commission that I earn on first premium. To my good-luck he agreed to dispose off a kilo of mushroom for Rs.120 /- when I cracked a joke, you are invited to my home for an un-affordable lunch.

Two hours later I returned home with two bags full of vegetables, but with an empty pocket. By than my sister-in-law bought mushroom on the street by paying Rs.240/- a kilo. I was relieved to discover, though I may not have earned any money early in the morning, but definitely saved a lump sum Rs.120 /- while shopping in the market. In my family circle, I got the notoriety for being a miser. I do live life strictly on the principle, it is not how much money one make a month that will count, but how wisely he able to disburse them to meet the end.