4. Sustenance

“Growing up in a small Indian town posed its challenges, especially with a postal address like Chambharvada that essentially highlighted my untouchable heritage. Additionally, there was an open sewer running through the neighbourhood, touching our front porch. Reflecting on my life now—my cosy house on the canal, the impeccably paved street, the lush lawns behind—it bewilders me to juxtapose these two images, the home of my upbringing and my current residence.
However, it’s not as simple as it appears. While I now reside in a cleaner, more spacious home in a different neighbourhood, it’s not the fairy tale it seems from the outside.
I miss the warmth and camaraderie of Chambharvada. Despite living hand-to-mouth on the surface —leaking roofs, rickety furniture— our hearts were always brimming. We shared everything we had; no door remained shut, and no one dined alone. Even if it meant sacrificing a bit of our meal, we shared.
Often, I fantasise about a place between Jejuri and Rotterdam. But as that’s not feasible, I contemplate how we could make Jejuri more like Rotterdam and vice versa.
Perhaps the initial step involves comprehending each place and leveraging its strengths. One aspect I cherish about Jejuri is our approach to festivals—not solely our own but also those of our friends and neighbours.
We arrive at the fourth poem:
A quick glossary note: Musalman is Marathi for Muslim. Eid signifies a festival or holy day in the Muslim tradition. Chand Raat involves the sighting (raat) of the new moon (chand). Biryani, gulgule, sevaiyan, and sheer kurma are the names of dishes prepared for these and other festivals. Bhubhu was the name of a very imposing matriarch of a neighbouring Muslim family with whom we were very close.
Also, I’d like to stress that this is not a fairy tale. In many parts of India, warm relations between different communities are common; unfortunately, it is the conflicts that get most of the attention.

For us,
Eid was Bhubu’s biryani
gulgule,
sevaiyan,
and sheer kurma
in a tall,
four compartment,
stainless steel dabba.

Growing up,
festivals
were all about the food.

The morning
after Chand Raat,
we all dressed up
in our newest clothes
and had bowl
after bowl
of decadent desserts
under the pretext
of greeting
our musalman
friends and neighbours.

And everyone knew
that, come Diwali
or Christmas,
our mothers aunts and grandmothers
would happily
return the favour.