Aitar til-pitha

Kamal Baruah

(kamal.baruah@yahoo.com)

When Aita (grandma) is around, it's a magical time for us to rejoice. Her love for her grandchildren is unconditional. From bedtime stories to favourite foods, she cheers up to fulfil every demand we make. We missed those times that we spent together with youthful enthusiasm. When the festival is around, especially during Bhogali, the sound of husking peddle of Dheki for grinding rice flour pervades the immediate vicinity of our homes, where Aita's love for preparing sweet and savoury Til recipes is always a real temptation and its aroma signalled the time to eat Til-pitha right out of the earthen pot.

Besides til-pitha, the Bhogali reminded feasting on Narikol-pitha (grated coconut filling), Ghila-pitha (dumplings of stickyrice-flour), Tekeli-mukhot-diya-pitha (steaming rice-flour), Khola-sapori-pitha (frying rice-flour like dosa), cylindrical Sunga-pitha (rice-flour heated inside a bamboo), Sandoh-Guri (roasted rice) and variety of laru from Sesame, Coconut, Jaggery, puffed Rice and Rice flour and what's more, they are savoured around Maji (bonfire). Who would forget the delight of Mah-kara (crunchy mixture of roasted rice, sesame, black grams and ginger) chewing from Aita's asal (a kind of wrapper from Eri silk-worm)?

This festival of Magh Bihu is closely associated with paddy cultivation where the Ahom revolutionized it in the Brahmaputra valley by introducing Sali-kheti (wet rice) in place of the earlier Ahu technique which did not require standing water on the field. Over time, the rituals and practices associated with it have changed considerably. However given today's urban lifestyle, the Bhogali celebration seemed utterly unlike. The festival of abundance no longer exists in towns and cities. Most of the people rushed to their ancestral homes for mouth-watering Ja-jolpaan (feast from Kumolsaul, Bora-saul (sticky rice), Chira (flattened rice), and Curd), while leftover city dwellers throng to the market to buy Bhogali platter on the occasion.

So when the sun comes up on the morning of Uruka, I too rushed to browse around the street bazaar, especially the Bipanan-Kshetra to grab some quintessential Til-pithas. Wow! What a market, the place all looked like a rural agricultural setting for its impressive effect. The women were busy preparing various pitha-pona (eateries), while the long queue signified the spirit of Bhogali and people were in the mood of festive buying. However, packaged pithas have similarly replaced homemade ones as people now overlook those traditions, customs and rituals instead they make merry at buying them.

Surprisingly, more demand drove the market that day forcing consumers on buying limits and restrictions of one packet only for each item which proved to be wholly inadequate as people wanted more. I was starting to wonder whether sellers didn't expect such demand during rush hour. Anyway, Bhogali passed under such limits on input value like the Mathematical jargon of Calculus. Nevertheless, they are essential to our hectic days but the appetizing aroma of sizzling Til-pitha was unfulfilled. Ironically, the market failed to understand the demand-supply ratio. The taste of scrumptious Til-pitha remains haunting us.

It was Saturday at the craft bazaar; we found Til-pitha at one of Koka's (grandfather) stalls. The sale had started and people looking for things at a low price after the festivities concluded recently. We also struck to deal at Rs 50 for a packaging price of Rs 60 and ordered instantly for a packet. By the time I was about to pay, I noticed a small, fragile Aita at the corner, filling the stuffing of Til (Sesame) and Gur (Jaggery) rolled into the layers of rice flour on a heating tawa to the centre with the utmost care until the layer of pithaguri (rice-flour) got firm and rolled, and finally, the crispy Til-pitha was done.

The market is already prepared to close for that day. I looked up to my wife for another leftover unsold packet. We picked up both for totalling Rupees 120. Koka looked a little bemused for an extra twenty, and so did Aita at her weary face with the eyes closed for a moment and an expression of anxiety after a hard day of toil. She gave a long, weary sigh. We quietly left gesturing for her to keep it. While driving down the street, we paused to crunch Aita's Til-pitha for a moment. The taste remains the same. It was surely a scrumptious Til recipe prepared by another Aita's true love and care.