The Story Of An Untold Paradise At Kandarpur - Rajja

    When I thought about the nights , the rain happened and that's how scintillating this place was definitely a paradise, Kandarpur. Specially the ranch named after my Aaee "Bhawani Bhawan".Had it not been for the people in and around the place my stories wouldn't have ended up being as fascinating as it sounds now.

  I agree to the fact that it's the people who make up these memories that eventually then get embedded deep inside us.And time and again they urge us to go back and visit the very same place again which was once a blessing in disguise.

  From a simple celebration like Rajja ( Mother Earth's Celebration),where the ritual is followed mostly by farmers who don't touch the earth for a week.To a grand birthday celebration with all the people residing around coming in to have a delicious meal and paying their love and respect to my aaee and ajja( grandmother and grandfather).Every such celebration at Kandarpur was a memorable epic of fun and filled with life.

    For Rajja Poda Pitha ( baked rice cake) was specially cooked by our Aaee for her granddaughters as a year old tradition.I remember sitting next to her while she used to prepare the stove outside in the veranda.Focusing her efforts on technically baking those rice cakes in the most appropriate way.She had mixed the rice batter earlier with nuts , ground coconut, banana and lots of sugar.The burnt (poda) essence slowly starts mixing with the air and fills the place in a flavorful aroma.Portraying the mood of happiness of little girls giggling around and playing all afternoon in the wide spread patio.As evening approaches she smiles as she checks on the cake and starts humming the Oriya song for rajja that she had sung once when she was a little girl.

    Cuddling me up in her arms and winking at me as she tickles me and my cousins who jump around roaring with laughter all through the sunny afternoon.

 While my ajja (grandfather) eagerly sets up a tight swing around the outhouse which was partially his room where he used to ponder and smoke in the evenings and also a cow shelter with 3 cows , one of them being a new born calf.

As he tightly adjusts the "pidha" (a stool made of wood) and makes it comfortable and tight within the jute rope , tight enough so that his grand kids don't end up falling or slipping while swinging higher on it.

  He sits there on the floor right under the sun right in front of the outhouse door watching us kids swing one by one while we chuckle being satisfied by his hand made swing.He keeps admiring us now and then through his glorified eyes into the wide glasses resting on his cheeks giving out a smile (as he rarely did smile) but when he did it was meaningful in every way.I bet he felt proud of that moment and every second of it as he had created this wonderland for us as he kept wishing all his life that the innocence of his kids, grand kids stays untouched and goes unraveled with the changing seasons.

 As the Rajja celebration commences every one relishes the Poda Pitha and gets their fair share to burp it out in a very familiar way making the house chirpier and echoing with loud noises of a grandeur compulsiveness.The little girls of the house get to wear new dresses sometimes multiple dresses throughout the day as they run around like spread out humming birds hopping from flower to flower through a flourishing garden filled with never ending glory.We got to visit near and dear ones close by who shower us with love and prayers and always tons to devour.

By the end of the day we are too tired to utter a word to each other and when we close our eyes ..every elder in the house comes over and checks on us and smiles as if the way their day went every little joy of this celebration was completely due to us.

Now I know why ....


But let me not forget the nights which will be my next piece I promise to you guys..Until then here's a tiny glimpse of my thoughts.

 You think about the night..
 And a white canvas spreads infront of you.
 With shimmering stars scatter.
 Catching your breathe in this holy arcade..
 Failing to shut your eyes least the magic might  fade.

Whispering in your ear..
Is someone too dear.
As you playfully pull their hands..
And smiles appear.

Tickling your feet..
Pouncing on your treat.
Storytelling until defeat..
Counting fireflies..
Picturing every noisy fleet.

Was it a frog, a bee , or a tree?
Or was it just a voice..
That sits out there scaring us.
Because it's too dark to say..
And there are others who want to play.

Hide and Seek with the moon..
Jumping like a buffoon.
Waiting on someone since noon..
Dancing on random tune.
All this and more...
About the nights that have left us too soon.


    

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