Ladoo Chor

 [The charming story of how the school kids collects money on the street to conduct a Ganesh Puja. Read to know how the Ladus they collect for the Lord get stolen]

These days the movement of school kids is restricted narrowly within the four corners of their homes. All day long they are addicted to playing games either in the cell phones, tabs, laptops or computers. There is little physical movement of these boys. As a result they turn out to be lazy lumps. Whereas I belong to a generation who grew up virtually while playing on the street mud of Odisha, during 70’s and 80’ of the last Century. When school was over, our only playground was the  street of Suth Para in Balangir.

One evening my friend Chakka(which literally means a Sixer in Cricket) asked me to accompany him to attend a preparatory meeting of Ganesh Puja that was going on at the street club. I refused to go as I wanted to play on the street. But he instigated me saying they would be distributing Singhadas(Samosa) along with the fried green chilies at the end of the meeting. Another friend seconded the opinion of Chakka saying, no harm to bag free snacks because that stuff belongs to Lord Ganesha himself. We might be around five kids who entered the club and set on the floor obediently without gossiping. This etiquette of ours was in sharp contrast to the usual behavior that we were displaying in the class room of the school. This meeting was conducted by the senior fellows most of whom were either school dropouts or college students.

The leader of the club greeted all the attendees in an informal way. Unlike today in those days things were not managed in a professional way.  He told only five days left for the Ganesh Chaturthi celebration. Immediately he said “this year we  shall compete with our neighbour street Radharani Pada. We are building an idol of Lord Ganesha that would be bulkier than theirs, apart from that we shall erect a tent that would be taller than theirs”. All of us rejoiced by clapping to the proposal. Another committee member stood and presented the budget of expenses that would involve for conducting the function. He said it’s an emergency situation. They talked how to raise the funds. Since every committee member is either a college student or an unemployed youth, they have to collect the money from outsource to conduct this celebration. They asked us (the kids of the colony) to give a helping hand while decorating the stage. Jubilantly while raising our hands, we the kids said “Yes we will, we will”. When the meeting was over they distributed to each attendee four Ampro biscuits along with the tea. In those decades for many of my friends even getting biscuits was a luxury since most of them hailed from poor Schedule Caste families. When the meeting was over, happily we dispersed from the club.

Early next evening we the kids gathered at the junction. A puja committee member asked us to take charge of the booty collection point while he wanted to go to the pond for an ablution. He handed over to us a money collection booklet carrying some vouchers.  He asked us to collect Rs.2/- (Rupees Two) from every four wheeler vehicle that enters the town, whereas to forgo the two wheelers, be it the mopeds, scooters or the bikes. He showed where to put the vehicle number, name of the driver and the amount to be collected. He asked Lambu the betel shop owner at the square to keep a watch on us. We took the possession of the booth as if the Indian Army commando guards an outpost at the international border of the country.

For the first time in life we were delegated with such a huge responsibility. We were watching to catch a fish for almost ten minutes or so but no motor vehicles came, as unlike today those days vehicular traffic was scanty as the Indian economy and the society was in the doldrums. Then we spotted a bike coming towards us. We said lets catch at least a small fish, when there are no big victims in the pond. When the bike neared we waved our hands to stop. The rider halted his Royal Enfield Bullet and stood. He was a hefty man and asked “kaen hela bo” which literally means “What happened?”. I said “Ganesh puja Chanda dia” (give the money for Ganesh Puja). He was furious and asked me “Whose son are you?”. I was hesitant to reveal the name of my father as he seemed to be familiar with our town Bolangir. I kept quiet, fearing if he informs at my home I would get a thrash from my father. He asked us, do you know Rugdi Para? Mere mention of this street name of Balangir sent chill in our backbone, because in those days the people of that street were notorious killers. During the broad daylight they were stabbing and lacerating people on the streets. We lowered our heads. He kick started his bike and went towards the town saying in Oriya “ajikar janam chua mane hero banuchan”(todays’s new born kids are becoming heroes).

After a while a blue Mahindra jeep approached we stood on the road side and waved our hands to stop it, but it fled. With an irritation I said “hebo sala bhagla”. My friend Deba said Jeeps mostly belongs to Government Departments and they will not give money. Wearing our half trousers and half sleeve shirts we were sitting on the ground. We gathered the caps of cold drink bottles that were scattered around the pan dukaan. We picked pebbles and hit at these cold drink caps of Thums-up, Limca and Gold Spot while venting out our anger. Then a friend raised the alarm saying “hey there coming a bus”. While waving our hands we tried to stop it. But it too went away. As if monkeys, we were jumping and shouting “hebo sala bhagla, kukur bhagla”. While watching us Tingalu (which literally means a boaster) laughed loudly while pointing his finger towards us. Helplessly we looked towards the pan shop. Tingalu kept the empty cold drink bottle in a wooden crate and fled in his bicycle while taunting us. With a sense of remorse I rested my two hands on either side of my waist and took a long breath. The pan shop owner Lambu Behera raised both his hands. While showing his palms he tried to console us. In a while Lambu called us and asked “Did you learnt how difficult it is to earn money?” He opened the cap of one of the glass jar containing Parle candies. He gave each of us one red toffee of 5 Paisa and said when things do not work try it differently. Out of dejection my friend Marsad kicked a bamboo that was lying near the shop. As it was a cursive bamboo, the tip of the bamboo turned towards the main road. I went ahead and lifted one end of it and asked Marsad to hold the other end. I asked him to follow me. We took the long bamboo and placed it across the road.

In a while a truck approached the tool booth that we were guarding. When it neared us I asked Marsad to lift the bamboo. The truck lowered its speed and made a halt. I looked towards rest of our gang members who were watching us from the pan dukaan. All of them jubilantly shouted “Oyeeeee” and ran towards us. From the cabin the truck driver asked “ki hua puttar?” (What happen boys). We said common give us money, give us money. Calmly he asked “But for what ?”. We said Ganesh Puja chanda. He said “I travel across  India, should I keep on giving money every village and town that I enter? He was adamant. A friend told me “This driver seems to be a Muslim. Their God is different than ours; hence he will not give money”. Instantly the driver opened the door and jumped from a height of around five feet. He was a tall man near about six feet and well built. We all the kids stepped backward. While embracing his moustache he said “I am a Sikh and very much an Hindu, tell me what you boys were saying”. While stammering I said “Cha…..Cha…..Chanda”. He asked “Yeh tumhara Baap ka rasta hey kya (Does this road belong to your father?” Marsad gathered the courage to say “We don’t know who built this road. But this is our road as it passed through our home”. The other friend seconded saying, “This stretch of road is ours as we grow while playing every evening on this street”. While listening to our answers instantly the anger of the driver evaporated. While folding the long sleeves of his Kurta (loose shirt) he said “I travelled extensively in the Chambal Ghat, but neither Phulan Devi nor her gang of dacoits ever dare to hedge my vehicle and whereas you boys did it”.

He asked “Ok tell me boys why at all you do Ganesh Puja” ? With an enthusiasm we said if we pray Lord Ganesha then we will pass the exams at one go without failing. With a sense of amusement of a true Sardar he said “abe gadhoon(you donkeys) if you want to pass exams than sit at home and study text books instead of collecting money on the street”. He looked towards the cabin of the truck and shouted “Oye Chote !”. From the left window of the truck his assistant a young boy with a bun of hair on his head peeped out saying “Ji Malik”. The driver said “piche ja, ek gola phek” (go to the back and throw a bomb). We were fear stricken, because with the assassination of Late Prime Minister of India Indira Gandhi, nationwide Sardars gathered ill repute. Very diligently in a fraction of a minute his assistant climbed to the back of the truck. From there he said “catch it Sir”. He threw a brown object. The driver caught the circular object and handed over to us saying “Tell your Ganesha this coconut has been gifted by Tony Singh”. We were relieved from the anguish that gripped us for a while due to scare of a bomb.

One of my friend Deba said “But our Lord Ganesha does not eat coconut. He likes only Laddus”. The driver asked “Laddu ? ahha! Where I could get the Laddus” ? We pointed our fingers towards a sweet stall across the road. He asked us to follow him. We all walked behind him jubilantly. We reached Puran Petu Sweet Stall. Trays of different sweets were displayed in a rack. At the center yellow laddus were displayed on a tray, layer by layer. On looking at them our mouth started watering. Tony Singh asked the shop keeper to pack half a kilogram of Laddus. Then he asked the sweet stall owner to distribute one Laddu to each of us. Smile transcended in our faces. All of us were given one Laddu each. We gulped our share of Laddus with greed. The driver paid cash to Puran Petu, the sweet stall owner. Tony collected laddus packed in a news paper bag. We followed him till the truck to bid the adieu. On reaching near the truck the driver handed over us the packet of Laddus and said these are for your lord Ganesha. He asked us to write a ticket for Rs.2/-. We felt ashamed. We said its OK, now you can go. But he was adamant. He forced us to accept Rs.2/- and collected a ticket in exchange of it.

We told Tony Singh we are the savior of this street and to inform us in case he ever face any trouble while travelling on this route. He stepped inside the bonnet and started the engine. He waved his hand and left. We carried the packet of Laddus and cheerfully went to our akhada (club). We delivered the packet of sweets to a member of the Puja Committee. With disbelieve, he opened the paper bag to check if at all we are speaking the truth. But his eyes sparkled when he saw the yellow laddus inside it. He counted 24 of those Laddus and said to keep the packet intact in the wooden rack. He said Ganesh Chaturthi is four more days to go and to be vigil, so as no one should steal even a single piece of it. Those days in India refrigerators were not commercially viable, so none of our homes used to have a fridge to store eatables.

Next evening after collecting money at the booth we went to the club and submitted around INR 12 to the cashier in charge. Out of curiosity we went to check the cupboard. The packet was there, but its paper was torn. The bundi (fragments) of the Laddus were strewn around. When we counted there were only 21 Laddus left, instead of 24. We looked at each other faces to know where rest of the three Laddus has gone and who the culprit was? We reported this serious matter to Karta, the head of the puja committee. Karta gave his final verdict. He said, whosoever the culprit if won’t confess, than he will fail in the upcoming Half Yearly Exams. He uttered the names of each boy and asked who has stolen them? But we kept quiet. On questioning Khoj he kept on gazing towards the rack instead of answering. The Karta asked to Khoj, “Was the culprit you? Because while answering you are looking towards the rack instead of making an eye contact”. Khoj said look at the hole on the paper bag. Why at all we will tear the paper bag, instead of opening it with our fingers to steal the Laddus. It might be a mischief of a rat. Karta said, it’s a point to be pondered. He reached to the conclusion saying rat is a pet of Lord Ganesha and its OK if the Laddus were ransacked by any rodent.

And we were virtually waiting for the results of half yearly exams. Fortunately none of us failed. I too passed the exams by securing a wholesome 36 (thirty-six) percent of marks in aggregate.

kiranbima@gmail.com

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E.Kiran Mohan(The Writer)

C/o.Dr.E.R.Rao (MD)

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