Today I was thinking to put back my thinking cap and start back with the blog. I thought of writing about cookery, as I have been neck deep into it these days….thanks to cooking bhoot ( Ghost) which has taken me over. But than I thought as such there are only 10 followers on my list, on top of it only one female in there, I might scare away the rest of them ….so I plunged in thoughts again .
I had written this much and put it on draft. Today after more than a months gap I am sitting again to write. Today while surfing the net for some good Hindi Poems , I fell upon a Blog called Ghughuti Basuti…
The blog name itself was so fascinating, reminding me of my childhoods that I opened it. Reading it was, as if my childhood, my Ghughuti Basuti days are playing infront of my eyes like a eastman colour picture. Memories….oh memories !
For all of you to know, Ghughuti Basuti is a song and also a festival in Kumaon, my native region.
The song is like this :
घुघूती बासूती Ghughuti Basuti
भै आलो मैं सूती । Baeh aalo main Suti ( Brother came and I was sleeping )
या भै भूक गो, मैं सूती । Ya Baeh bhuk go, main suti ( Brother went hungry, I was sleeping)
A young Pahadi woman, married off in a faraway village, eagerly awaits a visit from her beloved dadda—her brother—who is arriving for bhaiduj. He would be walking hours and hours, as is common in the mountains, to get to his sister’s house. Starting at the crack of dawn, he’d leave on an empty stomach and, as per custom, only eat after his sister has adorned his forehead with a tika. Meanwhile, his sister, exhausted with the day’s hard work, waits, and after a while, slips into a slumber. On arriving, the brother looks affectionately at his younger sister in her light sleep, tenderly draws up a blanket to her chin, caresses her forehead and, not wanting to steal a few minutes of her much-deserved rest, leaves. After a while, the sister awakens and on figuring out that her brother had come and gone, weeps inconsolably, saying, “My brother came, he must have been so tired, so hungry. And I kept sleeping!” She feels this pain and guilt so deeply that she dies yearning for her brother. The legend goes that it is she who is reincarnated as the ghughuti bird, and when she coos, what she says is: “Ghughuti basuti, baeh bhuk go main sooti (…my brother went away hungry and I kept on sleeping).” ( As told by Prasoon Joshi)
The other song, which generally the elders sing is
घुघूती बासूती Ghughuti Baasuti
के खाली Key Khali ( What have you eaten )
दूध भाति Doodh Bhaati ( Rice with milk, its a very popular food for kids in Kumaon, its like having rice with Pulses)
को देलो Ko Dello ( Who gave you)
माम देलो Mam Delo ( My Mumma’s Brother (Maternal Uncle) gave)
को खालो Ko Khalo ( Who Ate it)
<बच्चे का नाम> खालो < Kid’s Name> Khalo ( < Kid’s name >has eaten)
There is also a festival coinciding with Makar Sankrant where in sweets called Ghughutey are fed to the crows.Also the same sweets are made as a neclace and kid’s wear it. I still remember the days, when we used to ask our mother to make various sizes and shapes of Ghugutey, from a sword, shield to a Damru ( Lord Shiva’s Musical Instrument), we even use to make some modern Ghughutey with toffee shape, TV shape and what not, as if it was a dough game. (Pic has been taken from allaboutkumaon blog). At that time, when your mom tells you how to make those shapes, you feel your mother is the best cook in the world. And oh how blissful it is to show off it to your friends, who might be having lesser shapes than yours !
But the reason which forces me to write the blog today, was the stirring that I had reading the blog, Ghughuti Basuti, it was so CHASTE, so PURE. I just can’t share the feeling, may be others might feel whats great about it, some may think waste of time to read it, some might not understand Hindi at all……by the way…. I am not being paid to write goodies about the blog 🙂 ( if some readers are feeling so) but in Movie Khoobsoorat they have a word ‘Nishchal Anand’ so I had that today.
I wish I could write and give ‘Nishchal Anand’ not only to the readers but to myself first .
As I was transcending from my present to the past, so many plcaes came in between ,some loving, some haunting ! But all so simple, so earthy.While walking in the by lanes of Metros or the so called big cities and towns , you feel you have achieved a lot, but again and again your memories pull you back to the long lost world. This time when I went back to my native place, I realized all has changed, its not the same place as it used to be. But than reality is that places of memories are never perfect at the first place itself, its we who nurture it in our thoughts to be perfect…we just remember the simple, joyful and the innocent because these places are of our childhood, when we ourselves were simple and innocent.
Theres a story as to how we play with memories selectively.
A college student was staying in a PG apartment on the first floor. He used to see a long haired girl standing on her balcony, ironing her clothes, with a back towards him at the opposite apartment’s first floor. As it happens, curiosity made him wish to see the face of the girl. But she never turned her back to him. He became desperate to see her, tried shouting to his friends standing on the road or breaking some thing on his balcony, or laughing loudly to grab her attention hoping she will look back, but no avail. One fine day, he was entering his house,with his eyes fixed on the opposite apartment’s first floor balcony, he saw a ugly girl with long hair walking up the stairs on the opposite house. At the first moment he thought is it the same girl who he sees aften ironing the clothes and for whom he has fantasized to be a beautiful girl and has fallen for. He immediately shirked the very thought of it.
The next day onwards he stopped standing at the balcony, as he never wanted his curious mind to try to identify the girl. He wanted to let her remain as beautiful as he thought in his thoughts and memories.
Soon it was heard that he has moved out of that apartment to another locality…..
Mind plays deception…… but the moral I learnt was never to visit childhood memories to reinvent them, its really painful when they break !