Meerg A classy essay in Konkani by Prakash Pariekar Translated by Vidya Pai
"Pavsa..yo!……..Pavsa…. yo!" Whenever I heard this little bird screeching, what seemed to me like an invitation to the rains, I'd rush to my mother; perplexed. What was the bird's name, what was it saying, why did it call out only at this time of the year, I'd ask. Avai would take me on her lap and I'd listen spell bound by her tale…… "Once, there was a young girl who was married into a family that owned many buffaloes. She had to work hard all day looking after the animals and her mother-in-law wouldn't let her go to her mother's house, for who would look after the animals, then? One day her father came to take her home for a few days. "Her mother is very worried and wants to see her", he explained. But the mother-in-law was adamant. "There is so much work in the house, I cannot send her now," she declared. The girl's father was very sad. "Let her come for just one day," he begged. Finally the mother-in-law agreed to let her go, but on one condition! She would have to fill all the water troughs in the cattle shed first, she said. When the girl heard her mother-in-law's words she rushed to the lake and began to fetch buckets full of water to fill the troughs in the shed. But no matter how many buckets she fetched the animals drank it all up and the troughs were empty again! It was almost evening by now. The girl's father had been waiting since afternoon, but her work was still not done. It would take them two or three hours to walk home and if it grew dark her mother-in-law wouldn't let her go. So the girl thought of a plan. She made a thick paste of dung and smeared it on the troughs before filling them with water. The buffaloes, repelled by the smell of the dung, turned away from the water in the trough. "I've finished all the work, all the troughs are full," she said to her mother-in-law and set off home. Now how did this girl finish the work so quickly, the mother-in-law thought as she went to the cattle shed to check. When she saw the dung smeared troughs, she was filled with rage. "You'll be born as a bird in your next life… and every summer you'll yearn for a drop of water…" she cursed. And that is exactly what happened, they say. The girl became a bird in her next life. Every summer, just before the rains start this bird sits waiting expectantly, "Pavsa….. yo!…. Pavsa…yo!" it cries…..' As the bird's raucous screech enters my ears I think of my mother's tale and my heart is filled with sadness for the bird. When the first showers of Meerg fall upon the land, frogs emerge from the earth and begin to croak raucously through the night. There is music and rhythm in all this cacophony as hundreds of frogs croak in frenzied unison announcing the arrival of the rains. Thousands of white ants fluttering their tiny wings emerge from the depths of anthills. The chameleon, from his perch atop some tall mango or jackfruit, whistles aloud to the trees and plants around him signalling that the rains are here. Pulses and grains that will be sown in the fields during the rainy season seem to sense instinctively that their time has come. Though wrapped in layers of grass and stocked in storerooms these tiny seeds begin to sprout. And when the gnarled and ancient shidan tree by the cow shed just beyond our house sprouts fresh tendrils on the outermost twigs everyone is certain that the rains will soon be here. If the heat becomes overpowering even though summer has come to an end, everyone says the showers of Meerg will be on us in just a couple of days. But the clearest indication comes from birds and animals, trees and bushes. And once the first few showers fall to the ground the taikilo springs out of the earth covering it with a lush green cloak…. People in the countryside are busy throughout the summer months and it is only during the rains that they find some time to relax. However, there is a lot of work to be done before the rains set in-- the farmer who tills the 'puran' or low lying land reclaimed from the riverbed must harvest his crop and store the paddy and the hay in a dry place. The roof of the cattle shed and the shack in which firewood is stored must be repaired. Reed mats must be fixed all about the outer walls of the house to keep them from getting damp and the roof must be re-thatched. My father would finish all these tasks before Meerg set in. 'We mustn't let the poor dumb animals get wet…. It doesn't matter if we get wet ourselves….' Baba always said as he set about re-thatching the roof of the cowshed well in advance. He'd finish all the other work and finally he'd fix the jhadap' or the reed mats around the house. Once the mats were in place, darkness would descend on the house but the walls would be safe and dry even during the fiercest of storms. I would creep into the narrow space between the two and making a hole in the reed matting I'd gaze out at the fury of the storm… The showers of Meerg are capricious and come without any warning… suddenly the sky turns dark and rain falls in torrents accompanied by thunder and lightning. Sometimes it rains for seven or eight days at a stretch and everyone feels that the rainy season has begun. But this is not always the case for the rain stops suddenly and the seedlings that have been prepared for sowing shrivel up and dry. The farmer who is ready with his implements has to put them away yet again. As children we were not allowed to step into the courtyard during a thunderstorm for our elders said that lightning could strike us and we might die. I didn't believe them till I saw the two palms in our orchard that were charred by lightning. I'd watch people venture out into the storm with iron sickles balanced on their heads and I'd rush to my mother to ask why this was so. 'Lightning is scared of the sickle… it doesn't strike the man with the sickle on his head,' she'd say and I'd rush out to frolic in the flooded paddy fields with a sickle balanced on my head. "There's this old woman who lives in the sky…. She's shoving boulders this way and that making all that noise!' Or 'That flash of light? That's the old grandfather in the sky striking two flints together to light his beedi,' Avai would say when I pestered her for an explanation about thunder and lightning. I'd seen Babu using flints to light his beedi but the sparks that emerged were tiny ones.. how big those flints up in the sky must be if they could produce such huge flashes of light! But how did the old man and woman go up into the sky in the first place … do people really live there? How does the old woman manage to shove those huge stones about….Why don't those boulders fall on our heads….? My mother's explanation only raised fresh questions that continued to whirl about in my mind. Sometimes these thunderstorms would be accompanied by hail and I remember at least two such occasions in my childhood. I was in the house during one such storm when something began to fall on the tiles on the roof making a rattling sound. Baba, who was sitting on the porch, told us that it was hail and as we hastened to gather the pieces of ice they melted in our hands. I remember eating quite a few of those pieces that day. I witnessed another hailstorm out in the clearing, once, but it's been many years since then….! Avai would stock all the provisions for the rainy season before the first showers of Meerg set in. When the salt cart passed by our house we would buy enough to fill four or five tins and dry it well. She'd fill a large urn with cashew seeds and another with seeds culled from the jackfruit. As we got home drenched to the skin we'd sit by the hearth on the rear verandah waiting for the warmth to seep into out bodies. At such times we'd draw on this stock of cashew and jackfruit seeds which we'd roast in the glowing embers of the hearth. The hearth on the rear verandah would be lit every night during the rains. There was a high platform all about this hearth on which wet blankets and other items were set to dry. When Baba got home drenched after tramping through our fields or working in our banana orchards or coconut plantations he'd settle down by this hearth and bask in its warmth. It's more than fifteen years since Baba passed away. The hearth on our rear verandah hasn't been lit since then…..but Meerg comes with its showers every year bringing with it a spate of memories….. (Courtesy: Goa Today) Goa Today past issues are archived by http://www.goa-world.com
