Memories

Memories.

Subbu uncle changed yet another job and this uprooted the family from coimbatore to Secunderabad. My aunt Shanta, who was now used to these frequent changes, described it as uprooting the tentpole and following her husband to a new caravanserai. She always adapted to her new surrounding very quickly but had only one unchangeable habit. That was getting up at the crack of dawn and having a tumbler of piping hot, fresh filter coffee with fresh creamy milk. Therefore her first task, whenever she shifted was to look out for a doodhwala who would milk his cow at 4:30 am and deliver it at her doorstep. Finally she found Ramanna who promised to deliver the fresh milk and also showed her the cows and buffoloes he owned.

Early morning she was woken up with the shout “Paalu”(milk). She quickly got up and took and vessel out to the verandah. But Ramanna was standing at the footstep ready with the can of fresh milk with all the froth. She saw the silouhette of the cow tied to the tree and accepting his greetings with a nod she took the milk inside.The next morning too she found Ramanna walking away from the cow with fresh milk in hand. She exclaimed that he was very quick in milking the cow and he laughed saying that milking one litre was not much work. It was the same every day and my aunt grew suspicious. One night she set the alarm for 4 am and was ready with the vessel and a torchlight. As soon as she heard the gate creak open she opened the door and stood out in the verandah. She saw Ramanna tying the cow to the tree. But instead of milking it he come towords the house with a can of milk. When my aunt shone the torch she found that it was not a cow tied to the tree but a hefty bull.

Ramanna’s sheepish smile only made her more angry. Shegave him a good dressing down and asked him for an explanation. He said he was merely a servant who distributed milk which his master gave and tried to make some extra money from her by this pretence of milking the cow infront of her which would cost her an extra rupee.

When she narrated this to my mother, my brothers and I burst out laughing which angered her initially, But then she too could not help laughing and joined us in our glee.
I remembered this when my son showed me a story about Birbal where in Akbar had asked him to procure bull’s milk to cure a certain illness. Narrating Shanta aunty’s experience I said Birbal only had to go to Ramanna to get it.

Good one...i wonder if her neighbours went with this early morning ordeal.

Roopa.

Dear Manju
Nice memory.................
Such memories always remain in us for ever whenever we come across such situation.
Had a hearty laugh...........these milkman's are really cunning.

Memories like this, can be enjoyed over and over again...

sure this will be the topic in our house, today....Manju!

sriniketan

That was really hilarious!Very well told.I saw the bull and also burst out laughing.
mithila kannan

very funny and nicely written..enjoyed your post

mindi

Hi Manju,

This reminds me of my mom In Kolkata. She would insist on the Doodh wala to milk to milk the cow in front of her & she sat like a Queen supervising it.

We kids found in hilarious. The reason: Mom was warned by our lovely Bengali neighbours that this milk man mixed water to milk....

This post took me down memory lane

Regards,

Corallux

Hi All. Glad u enjoyed the piece. Even today when I think about it I laugh aloud. I remember my aunt's words. "Maami, Naan torch pottu partha adhu oru kaala maadu." (If u know tamil u will also laugh at her expression) I rolled on the floor laughing.
Thanks all for ur comments.

Dear manju,

Wonderful narration with a humorous end ! It takes me back to the days @ chennai, when I was a small girl and my paatti ( grandmother) used to wake up early in the monring.

When the milk man came to our home.. she used to stand with castor oil in her eye and watch him..( an expression..kannula vilakannai oothindu paakaradhu) to make sure..that he was milking properly and not mixing water.

Excellent memory manju and apt comparison to the Birbal story !

Cheers
Krithika