By: Kamal Baruah
Every time I go into a rural habitat, I chase after something. It’s a favourite haunt of my time in the weekend, where my grocery bag is always a part and parcel of my travel. So it was another Sunday, the moment before I got into the steering wheel, my wife reminded me once for that essential item besides a light snacks and a flask of coffee. A small bowl of cornflakes with milk at breakfast makes a perfect way to start a day as we are preoccupied with a long drive to catch the early hours of the day.
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I was staring straight ahead, not looking at the dashboard and got no idea how fast I was driving over the empty road lane of the national highway until the speed warning was audible. After an hour, the road goes by the low hills and valleys. There was a line of cars parked beneath the tall trees near Jagiroad where a roadside dhaba welcomed us for fresh roti-sabzi and hot cream chai.
The splendid view of Kolia Bhomora goes across the mighty Brahmaputra. We are miles and miles away from Arunachal, yet the snow-capped Himalayas are visible above the bridge. Yes, we will soon be there and in the meantime, Tezpur greeted us. The newly laid road at Koliabor over the NH-715 surely gives a passionate traveler a joy of riding. Then the poor condition of roads in the passing lane of the town forced us to slow down. Eventually, after three hours of non-stop drive, we finally arrived at TMCH tired and hungry. We waited outside the Girls’ hostel with impatience as our daughter’s first holiday break after her first year of medicine.
While returning, we saw something magical about local haat (bazaar) that I love passing through the old traditional village market and the ‘Khelmati’ weekly bazaar gives us an opportunity to explore a real picture of farmers in a rural setup. There’s nothing better than a chilled glass of sugarcane juice on a scorching hot noon that also gave us a shot of instant energy. We were drinking one glass after another. There were hordes of village dwellers crowded into the market for organic produce and traditional handicrafts. They buy only the bare necessity and at the same time they sell xaak-sabji (vegetables) from their backyard. The needs of the people are fulfilled locally, and sellers earn their livelihood by catering to these demands.
I always wish I had my grocery bag inside boot while on move. So I arrived at the bazaar buying a bag full of organic vegetables like brinjal, cabbage and cauliflower but my preference always goes for wild indigenous vegetables. Besides beans, pulses and spices, the market has plenty of leafy vegetables such as paleng, maani-muni, pudina, kolmou, brahmi, masendori, curry leaf, bhedai-lota, laai, moricha/datha, khutura, pui, chukka, lofa, jilmil, doron and methi etc. In addition, there are unique non leafy vegetables like kosu, koldil/kolphul, kaskol, posola, bhut jolokia, outenga and sojina from tribal women that make my fresh veggie at Saptahik (weekly) Bazaar.
These indigenous veggies are typically cooked in curry, soups, or salads. Ironically, the consumption of these plants is not socially acceptable because they are considered to be food for the poor. But I don’t seem at all bothered what people think of us. As I passed through the end of the market, a bunch of hanging bananas attracted our attention. It seems naturally ripened while commercial producers use ethylene gas to control ripening. An ageing Koka (old man) was selling fresh fruits on the street.
People generally looking for things at a low price, whereas rural markets at Sonitpur don’t expect bargain hunters. As I wanted to know the selling price, he said at fifty in anxiety. His voice was full of pity and I instantly placed order packing for two dozen. It was a surprise moment to get to see him weighing my order. I paused in crowds waiting for next to happen. After all, bananas are sold in Kgs. We were enlightened. As the saying goes, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”. However for common people, a banana could be a part of their daily lives.
With changing landscape across the state and varying seasons, the Saptahik Bazaar has its entire enigma to attract urban dwellers. As the weekend approaches, my grocery bag goes empty and my quest for local vegetables has intensified. I would long for another Sunday drive for some fresh indigenous veggies around my dwelling. I’ll always be there, no matter how far.
