Paras ka Bas

Having travelled extensively in India and internationally, I have come across many people who I have connected with. Through these interactions, I am able to gather bits of information about their local area, culture, food, traditions and practices. I am curious to understand life through their prism. Small interactions with them, during roadside tea breaks or in the open courtyards of the villages have been very interesting. They are untouched and unbridled from the humdrums of city life.  People in villages are far different — simple, kind, hardworking, disciplined.

During the end of the year 2019, in the month of December, we as a family, decided to travel by road to Sariska, then to Ajmer and finally to Pushkar. These places are of utmost importance. Sariska is famously known for its tiger reserve, though we hardly could get any chance to see real tigers in the forest, even after waiting for many hours. However, we did see animals of other sorts during our safari drive. Ajmer is of spiritual importance for it has the most ancient mosque where people seek blessings for their good fortunes.  Pushkar is perhaps the only place where Brahma Ji, one of our supreme Hindu gods, resides and is worshipped. The temple structure, made of marble and stone has been built in the 14th century and has a beautiful lake, sacred for performing Hindu rites and rituals. Lots of Hindus offer prayers for their ancestors on the banks of this beautiful lake.

Our first night stop was in a resort, situated nearby in the forest ranges of Aravali hills. Resort was one of the kinds, most comfortable with warm hospitality and good service. It was spread over fa ew acres, had beautiful cottages and rooms built in and around tree trunks. This set could be a nice romantic get away for the young couples, who would wake up to the coos of birds. We settled in our beautifully furnished cottage with all comfortable amenities. Next morning, I along with my husband, took a walk from our resort, through mustard farmlands into by – lanes of the nearby village. Mustard fields in yellow and green shades were in full bloom, adding brightness to the sunshine and to our walk. One could see the number of rural but concrete houses built in the vicinity of these mustard farms. A shepherd, with a stick in his hand, was escorting his goats to the greens, to satiate their hunger. One could also see from a distance; the daily morning chores being performed by the local villagers. Some women milking their cows and buffaloes, some readying their children for school. Some men in their ethnic attire, sitting under the shade of the tree, smoking their hookah. We were in Paras ka Bas, a small village near Alwar.

Few young village women were seen gathered on the other end of the road. They were sending off their kids to school, boarding them in the school bus which had just arrived. As they turned back their heads, they started giggling and gossiping, while watching us coming towards them. They must have been finding it strange to see tourists walking through their village. Realizing that it was new to them, to see us, I smiled back and greeted them with my folded hands. This caught the attention of a lovely woman named Guddi. Clad in a pale green shirt and a deep blue petticoat as a bottom, she had her head covered with a bordered red cloth. A typical folk dress worn in the villages, adorned with ethnic jewelry around the neck and complimented with heavy silver anklets. She also greeted us cheerfully with her hands folded.  She was truly smitten by our presence. She insisted that we have the morning cup of tea at her home. Being curious and bewitched with her innocence, I too gathered my strength to visit her at her home.

The house had a tall gate opening up to a long inner corridor with two rooms to the side. Few chairs laid there as you entered, kept perhaps for visitors to the man of the house. In one of these side rooms, small and dark, sat the old man, smoking his tobacco pipe. He didn’t seem bothered by our presence. After exchanging few words and greetings with the old man, Guddi took us in through the corridor. The corridor opened to a verandah with two bedrooms on the side. These bedrooms were decorated with village art by the house ladies. One of these belonged to Guddi, my new acquaintance. A good-sized kitchen at the edge of the verandah displayed perfectly arranged pots and pans next to a gas stove to cook meals. Two chairs were brought out to make us feel comfortable.

Across her kitchen, a large courtyard opened up in its length and breadth to its ends. It was a complete village scene with not much life around except some dark grey buffaloes and a few calves kept away from their mothers. The buffaloes were tied to small thick poles in the ground with cow dung drying nearby. The calves stood at one corner of the courtyard. In the other corner of this large courtyard, I watched a young woman busy washing clothes. The tap was running full, and few big tubs were filled with water and heaps of clothes. She smiled and greeted as I approached her. She was other lady of the house, Guddi’s sister in-law. Both these women were at home taking care of house affairs while their husbands were away working in cities. For the men, visiting home isn’t easy. They return after long gaps of weeks or even months of working, far away from home. Still, this arrangement felt secure and safe for the women. They seemed to be quite comfortable talking to us strangers.

As I was walking around her clustered courtyard, Guddi prepared us a good cup of Lipton tea and offered us biscuits at the side. That tea we drank was very different than the usual one, we normally drink at home, at hotels, or resorts. It felt like this preparation had unique taste and aroma. It contained everything about that morning – the sweetness of her smile, of her innocence and openness – all mixed with a good amount of sugar and buffalo milk. She and I had long informal chat, some very discreet lady talks as well. It felt as if she knew me for ages. She was bundle of joy. One of the talks we had, was about the toilet which was recently installed near their house with the support of government funding, a possible step in encouraging them to use toilets instead of open defecation in fields. The funny part was that the toilet seemed to be locked from outside, with the key intact, making me wonder if they really use it in its true sense. But that is the village corollary.

As we ended our varied discussions I was filled with a sense of gratitude and unadulterated mix of love and sincerity. Identifying the self with any individual or groups begins with a sense of curiosity on both sides, slowly turning into trust leading to the expression of affection and eventually to friendship. It is like two strangers on the same road engaged in a momentary release of thoughts, emotions and joy – no matter how old or to which gender they belonged bringing smiles to the faces and a joy to the soul.