Two years ago, one winter morning, we decided to go out for the day into the countryside. The rice fields which were green only a few weeks ago, were now brown with only the stubs of the rice plants left. In the midst of this brown were the scattered bright yellow mustard fields. With the windows down and the winter wind on our faces we wondered how blessed we were. We travelled 40-odd kilometres, found a pretty village and laid out our mats. Needless to say, a few village children, some dogs and goats were witness to our special brand of lazing. They must have wondered why we had chosen to drive to their village to read the newspaper!
We read in anticipation of the lunchtime, secure in the knowledge that our large tiffin box was packed to the brim by our cook with ‘luchi and aloo dum’. As we were eating, we remembered what one of the boys who works with us said, “Didi you are going to have a picnic like the videshis.” I didn’t exactly know what he meant till he explained that only foreigners go for a picnic with packed food. Indians all cook on site!
What I have learnt in my years of staying in Santiniketan is that the Bengali month of Paus is the month of picnics. Buses, Sumos, cycle-vans — in fact all modes of transport — do brisk business as do those who give audio equipment on rent. Many a times, a little outside Santiniketan, I have found a bunch of guys on a picnic dancing madly to some completely indecipherable blare! Sometimes non-Indians have accompanied us and have been hugely amazed at this single-gender display of break dance!
As the end of Paus approaches, the propensity to go on picnics increases, culminating as it were on the last day of Paus. It is much like a New Year eve party. Only a “loser” is to be found at home on 31st December! Since I now work with about two dozen artisans, I was privy this year to the Birbhum (the district in which Santiniketan falls) style of exhausting casual leave.
A few of the brave-hearted had told me in advance how they were planning to take leave. Some invented relatives who were coming over (in Bengal, that’s enough reason for many days off). Some others, a little sheepish thanks to the many breaks they had already taken for Viswakarma puja, Durga puja, Kali puja, Bhai Phota etc, said they would try to come unless absolutely pushed to go on a picnic. The rest just kept quiet.
The day the rest of India celebrates Makar Sankranti and flies kites, Bengal goes on picnics. So on the day of Sankranti, all those not inventive enough to think of excuses tried the proven and tested. From the morning I started getting calls to tell me that, just when they were leaving for work, news had arrived about deaths in the family! Since rural India still has extended families, they knew I would be unable to fathom how far removed the uncle or aunt actually was who had chosen this day to leave the world. Was it just coincidence that four of my colleagues lost their relatives on the same day!
As they all came back to work the next day to talk about the various picnics they had been on, I realised that for many, a picnic really meant gathering for cooking in their backyard, some others had gone into the rice fields for a change of scene and a few others had even just gone up to the terrace!
Unfortunately, December and January are months when a million tourists descend on Santiniketan and it becomes tough to replenish the little store that I run fast enough. So this propensity for picnics at peak work season, I must admit, annoys me tremendously. But in my generous moods, I am happy that some of us can still hold on to the simple pleasures which need just putting together of firewood, rice and dal.
