The Year of the Buffalo

The koha has been striking some melodious notes outside our window by dawn and though he disturbs my heavy slumber after a thick, long night, this avian musicality is welcome. The koha is the harbinger of the avuruddha, the two day — or is it weeks-long — orgy of gobbling the three Ks — kavun, kokkis and kiributh — in addition to the fourth K, kolikuttu, washed down with the Golden Waters of the Tree of Life.

It quickens our pulse and sends the adrenaline coursing through our veins particularly when we think nostalgically of those days when lissom lasses swung on swings on kadju puhullang trees in redda hette.

Yes, the joys of the avuruddha are to be longed for. But this year, we are somewhat circumspect as we heard preparations afoot for the event at home. The manager of our household, or rather the ever loving commander-in-chief (CIC) was ordering munitions for the event with an all knowing factotum — watcher, butler, gardener, messenger, etc. — taking down the list.

The three Ks mentioned earlier have for some years not been made at home like what our achchie did years ago, squatting by an oil pan and twirling an ekel on some paste. Modern living and electronic gadgetry have displaced the ancestral cooking implements probably coming down from the stone-age.

Instead the three Ks are sold in upmarket bakeries and the like. But this time there is a fear that the regular supplies may be curtailed due to a shortage of rice in the local and international markets. So, as a precautionary emergency measure, home cooking too is being attempted but it will not be easy.

You simply can’t be without the three Ks and the Golden stuff mentioned when the Avurudhu Kumaraya descends on your home. To the uninitiated, the Avurudhu Kumaraya is a prince charming who descends from the clouds on that day, gorgeously attired and walks into homes, expecting right royal welcomes. Thus, you can’t serve him cream crackers and ‘Orenjen Barley.’ Tradition has it that if displeased, he may never come back, causing damning ill luck to one and all.

‘Haal’ (rice),’ harrumphed our factotum taking down the shopping list. ‘Not easy to find and even if it is there, it will be pretty expensive. Samba is around Rs. 80 and will go up to Rs. 100 a kilo. You want 20 kg? That’s two green notes. Kolikuttu is around Rs. 15 now, may go up to Rs. 25 or more per fruit. So if you want 40 that will be another green back. Two bottles of sterilised milk at least Rs.100.’

We won’t bother readers about the price of gotukola, aubergines (brinjals — they were called in less affluent times), katurumurungna, onions — big and small, chicken, fish, etc. The sum total of the ceremony will cost very much more than factotum’s estimate.

This is not taking into consideration bonuses for the newspaper boy, scavengers (now given the honorific title of sanitary workers), contributions for bicycle races, sports events and cultural festivals of the ‘sports’ clubs of the area, etc.

To afford all this one has to be a very close political advisor cum wheeler dealer, arms dealer, house maid supplier to the sheiks, garment manufacturer, lawyer for smugglers, a strong arm man for the all powerful, or the owner of a massage clinic. Newspaper hacks like us simply have to disappear from the face of the Earth on this day hoping to reappear when the joyous festivities come to an end.

When we were discussing the economics of the avuruddha at our water hole, a staunch Mahinda R. fan said that we were spreading anti-Rajapakse, anti-national propaganda with the diabolical motive of scuttling the effort to defeat terrorism.

There is no such shortage of rice he thundered and said that such shortfalls were now global — China in turmoil and flooded, India under floods, global warming devastating crops, etc. We pointed out that floods in China and famines in India were not new phenomena and that there was no reason for shortages of rice, only a part of the present local crop being affected by floods and the bulk of the crop expected to come into the market only just before the festivities and after.

But the Mahinda Chinthana boys do not give up easily. ‘Why don’t you eat bread?’ he asked just like what the boss did quite recently. The new rich boy must be eating only cake because the cheapest loaf of bread has now reached Rs. 40.

The problem with organising receptions at home is that you forget to bring something absolutely needed and remember it at the last moment. So we shouted for factotum and asked him to bring soda. You can’t treat the Avurudhu Kumaraya without a shandy.

The manager cum OIC heard the order and shouted back that soda now costs Rs. 25 a bottle. OK, we said, then boil and cool water for the Avurudhu Kumaraya, as his shandy. We can give him a slice of lime with it.

‘What do you think its costs to boil water? Do you know the price of gas or electricity? You are living in a dream world — at your water hole. You drink fire water there and come home to drink iced water to douse the fire!’ she fired.

We compromised. OK, let’s give our honoured guest, the Kumaraya, tap water as a shandy, we decided.