There are two reasons I am sure I grew up poor. I got only two shorts to wear every year (one for Diwali – Oct or Nov…and another one for my birthday – in April). The second reason I know we were poor was that we never had enough curd at home.
From when I was 8-9 years old until I turned 14, my mother bought only half a litre of milk every day.
After my parents’ two teas – morning and afternoon, and an occasional guest, my mother had very little milk left when it was time to turn it into curd.
The next day, when we would sit down for lunch, there would only be one small bowl of curd (sirf ek katori!). As a result, each of us – three kids and two parents – only got a spoonful of that nectar.
After gently placing a spoonful of curd on our rice, my mom would take a steel glass of water, which she had strategically placed nearby for this very reason, and pour it over the rice. And then she would sprinkle some salt.
“Ok, go ahead and mix!” She would finally declare.
There would be hardly anything to mix. But we also knew my mother had no choice, so we never complained.
But deep down in my heart, I started equating being poor with having less curd at home.
+++++++
When I was 20 years old, Vijay Shankar Kanthan (an NCC friend from Chennai) and I went to Vettukaadu, a village near Namakkal, to meet Vijay Shanmugam (another friend from our NCC days). His parents were farmers, and we stayed for a few days in his “farmhouse.”
After we had met his goats, climbed the hill behind his house, and Shanmugham showed off his coconut-tree-climbing skills, we sat down on the floor for lunch.
After serving us rice and sambar, his mother asked if we wanted curd. I nodded. At that moment, my world fell apart.
She came with a steel utensil carrying at least two litres (or is it kilos?) of curd, and emptied two ladlefuls on my plate.
I turned towards my friend Shanmugam and asked, “How rich are you?”
“We are definitely NOT rich,” he shouted back.
“But you have so much curd in your house?” I tried to argue.
Eventually, I learned that he had three cows tied behind his house. I also learnt that having more curd at home doesn’t translate into more money.
+++++++
It has been 30 years since this incident. But even today, I am happier and consider myself rich only when I have a liter of Milky Mist curd in my fridge.
Note: This May, we three are planning a reunion at Vettukaadu – with our families.