FF #9
“Wake up! Kaalmegh day!” There was urgency in my younger brother’s voice; he didn’t want me left out.
It was still rosy outside the window. We, the co-conspirators, could hear my parents in the dining room, my father was saying something rather loudly about Kaalmegh. We jumped out of bed. Kaalmegh couldn’t be missed.
My parents had been discussing Kaalmegh since a while, or rather my father had been telling my mother about it, and how healthy it is, how getting up early everyday and drinking Kaalmegh would make him even stronger than he is. The previous evening, we had all made a trip to the medicine shop across the street to buy Kaalmegh. My father explained that Kaalmegh means dark clouds, and this is a magic medicine made by sadhus thousands of years ago to make men stronger and wiser. Today he would start drinking Kaalmegh.
We got to the dining room just in time. My father filled half of a white cup with water, and poured a spoonful of Kaalmegh into it. The black liquid gradually spread until the water became very dark. This is exactly how dark clouds look when it is about to rain, I told my brother. We held our breaths as my father gulped it down.
We witnessed this ritual the next morning, and the next. My brother and I both had the same question, a joint plea: “Could we also try a bit of it?”
The question seemed to shock my father. He shook his head gravely and said, “No, no. It would be too bitter for you guys.”
“But I do like karela, I like its bitterness,” I protested. My brother too claimed that he did-- but that’s not true, my
mother always has to coax him to eat his portion.
My parents looked at each other, and my mother confirmed that we both indeed liked karela. My father reluctantly agreed to let us try Kaalmegh. Two more cups were fetched, half filled with water and a teaspoonful of the dark liquid was mixed into each cup.
We both downed our Kaalmegh in no time. I saw my brother grimace. I am sure I did not. But it was certainly bitter, perhaps more so than karela, nevertheless not as bad as my father had suggested. And I like bitter stuff, I told myself.
A decade and a half later, my father admitted that he had stopped drinking this awful Ayurvedic concoction as soon as we had volunteered ourselves into it. He hadn’t expected us to continue with it for the six months that we did.
“Wake up! Kaalmegh day!” There was urgency in my younger brother’s voice; he didn’t want me left out.
It was still rosy outside the window. We, the co-conspirators, could hear my parents in the dining room, my father was saying something rather loudly about Kaalmegh. We jumped out of bed. Kaalmegh couldn’t be missed.
My parents had been discussing Kaalmegh since a while, or rather my father had been telling my mother about it, and how healthy it is, how getting up early everyday and drinking Kaalmegh would make him even stronger than he is. The previous evening, we had all made a trip to the medicine shop across the street to buy Kaalmegh. My father explained that Kaalmegh means dark clouds, and this is a magic medicine made by sadhus thousands of years ago to make men stronger and wiser. Today he would start drinking Kaalmegh.
We got to the dining room just in time. My father filled half of a white cup with water, and poured a spoonful of Kaalmegh into it. The black liquid gradually spread until the water became very dark. This is exactly how dark clouds look when it is about to rain, I told my brother. We held our breaths as my father gulped it down.
We witnessed this ritual the next morning, and the next. My brother and I both had the same question, a joint plea: “Could we also try a bit of it?”
The question seemed to shock my father. He shook his head gravely and said, “No, no. It would be too bitter for you guys.”
“But I do like karela, I like its bitterness,” I protested. My brother too claimed that he did-- but that’s not true, my
mother always has to coax him to eat his portion.
My parents looked at each other, and my mother confirmed that we both indeed liked karela. My father reluctantly agreed to let us try Kaalmegh. Two more cups were fetched, half filled with water and a teaspoonful of the dark liquid was mixed into each cup.
We both downed our Kaalmegh in no time. I saw my brother grimace. I am sure I did not. But it was certainly bitter, perhaps more so than karela, nevertheless not as bad as my father had suggested. And I like bitter stuff, I told myself.
*
We brothers continued to drink a cup of watered Kaalmegh every morning for half a year, and then both of us absolutely refused to have anything more to do with it.A decade and a half later, my father admitted that he had stopped drinking this awful Ayurvedic concoction as soon as we had volunteered ourselves into it. He hadn’t expected us to continue with it for the six months that we did.
19 Jun 2016
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