There is something nice about being invited to a Czech household during the weekend. Because it is a weekend you can be sure that you will be going to their home town which is generally not in a city. Being in a small town or village here is a beautiful experience and one you must not miss if you get to spend time in Europe. Almost untouched by modernity these small towns pretty much present the picture you imagined while reading a Jane Austen novel. There is the town centre which, as the name suggests, is literally in the centre of the town with plenty of shops around it. And I´m not talking about the Zaras or the Vero Modas but bakeries, cheese and wine shops that are run and have been in families for decades or even centuries. If the town happens to be on a higher ground level then you get to see the entire country side from the fringes of the town.
Enough talk about the beauty of a small town. On to the families and their houses. Like you would expect, people here are way more friendly and involved in each others lives. For example, my first memory of going to a village here involves friendly neighbours of my hosts poking out their heads from their doors and windows, expecting to be introduced to the strange creature with dark skin and black eyes. My favorite part about being here is going through their gardens. In their backyard they grow a lot of stuff that are pretty looking to the Indian eyes. We are used to trees in our backyards. The mango trees, the guava trees. And didn´t we love playing around and on them while growing up? For many of us these memories form a big part of the summers we spent with our grandparents. The gardens here are full of apple trees. They also have beds of strawberries, lavender, aromatic herbs, potato, garlic and what not! People here are way more enterprising than we ordinary people of India as far as garden farming is concerned. And it is an activity that the entire family is involved in. For the kids it´s like a chore that must be done. My impression is that as much as they are reluctant to do it, these common gardening moments become a part of their memories when they grow older. You would find them talking very fondly of these memories. Pretty much like we talk about ours, the only difference being, for us these memories are part of play while for them they are as much of a routine as doing homework is. And I appreciate that. Among the many good things that I am going to take back from Europe, someday if I have a family of my own, this is something I would try to emulate.
Last morning I woke up with a sad news and found myself unable to do anything for the first half of the day. I had lost my grandfather. It was a strange feeling. I was not deeply sad probably because I was unable to bring back memories of him. It was like my mind had frozen. Around this time my friend invited me to her hometown and mentioned that she is going to need some help with gardening. Not wanting to sit at home fretting while my family gathered in my native place for the funeral rites I accepted the invitation. It was a good decision. While tilling the soil the memories finally started flowing in. Memories of how I used to do the same with my grandfather, whom we call Daddy, flooded my thoughts. Spending time with him was mostly about cocoa or nutmeg picking or putting out coconut, pepper or a variety of other things out for drying, all this if we were not trying to squeeze out money from him for various things. So after several hours of working with soil (something that would have highly pleased him), I was ready to say goodbye. There would be no more Daddy to give those Melody or Lacto King chocolates or to complain to my mother "Marymma, your daughter does not say her prayers properly" but there is a time for everything.
Coming back to the point, those in India who do not live in big cities and thereby are not deprived of land space could do well by investing a little bit of their time and energy into home gardening. The Malayalam movie How Old Are You? which was recently made taxfree sets a good example for the benefits of doing such a thing. Knowing from experience I think that it is better for our future generations to have memories of planting trees and feel rewarded by their produce than have memories of them playing GTA, Max Payne or whatever youngsters play these days and gloat among their peers about the level they have reached. What say?
2 comments:
This post made for such a beautiful read. Such a touching and fitting tribute to your grandfather - a man of the soil. I can only imagine how much this experience may have meant to you. He's always watching over you.
Firstly, sorry to hear about Daddy. Be strong, the memories will take you on.
Tess, I love the life you have in Europe. Though I've never been attracted to gardening/farming per se, I have fond memories of Cashew picking in my hometown Arambol, North Goa. It was exhilarating, mainly because it involved rock climbing in a big way as the trees were planted on a height (not sure it was one of the prerequisites for growing better quality fruit). I’d give anything to do that again, but sadly my maternal folks do very limited Cashew farming themselves now. It’s one of my fondest childhood memory of spending long May vacations at Arambol. You took me back to it, thank you.
The one time I visited your Kerala home, I remember you saying how much your Mum enjoyed gardening and I was impressed at the beautiful space she had created outside the house.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get a chance to pick any farmed product or be part of a family that works in the field. What I do know is I’d choose that life if given the option, any day.
Have fun with the Apple Pie!
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