If stainless steel could attract magnets, Shantaben would have stuck on it forever. She had a crazy attraction towards utensils; and once stainless steel became a household name in the late 60s, Shantaben found a new love. They don't make romances like that anymore! Thalis/ thaRi, plates, katoris/vaRki, patilas/tapeli, ladles, milk pots/topiyo, cutlery; she had them all in dozens and in every size possible. And each deserves its own post!
Among all these heavy and thick gauged stainless steel utensils, Shantaben had two severe crushes - graters and lemon squeezers.
ChaRak Melas are a common feature in West Bengal, they are held in month of Chaitra, roughly from mid-March to mid-April. Our locality also held a mela, along the Padmapukur Water Tank every year till around the year 2000. Unfortunately, it was stopped by the authorities due to a freak accident and traffic flow getting heavier on Lansdowne Road.
Our sleepy neighbourhood woke up twice a year to bright lights and noise. Once during the Durga Puja in autumn and once during the ChaRak mela in spring. My sister, Namrata and I strolled to the mela almost everyday. Each day we would have a different adult accompanying us. And our treats and loots depended upon what that particular day's guide liked or indulged on!
Like any other mela, this one too had had a few stalls selling cookware. Wooden, aluminium, iron, plastic and stainless steel. Ba would visit each stall and look for graters and lemon squeezers. The graters came in various sizes, tiny garlic graters, medium sized cheese and cucumber graters, large ones which stood on their own and what not. Lemon squeezers came in wooden, aluminium and steel avatars. Shantaben would examine each kind with severe scrutiny and try to deduce their durability. No matter what the shopkeeper vouched for, she would turn a deaf ear to every noise and go on with her scrutiny till she was completely satisfied. While we couldn't wait to attack the toys and bangles, Ba did not budge. No matter how much the aroma of just fried jalebis and tamarind water teased our noses, we had to stick to the bartanwala stall. And no, we couldn't drift away either; even though Ba kept up her bargaining, her left hand had my wrist in her grip, my sister's wrist gripped in mine! Two sisters kept looking at others walking off victoriously with their balloons, toy belans and bangles with extreme pain and frustration. Once Ba stuffed her bag with at least two dozen graters and a dozen lemon squeezers, she would look at us calmly, sensing it all and perhaps feeling a little guilty herself, would spoil us silly. No matter what we set our eyes on, she would buy it for us, and a smart shopper like herself, never bargained when she was determined to fulfill our desires and vanities.
One question must have crossed your minds, why buy these kitchen utilities in dozens? Well, because they made great no-reason-at-all gifts! Shantaben always brought something for everyone she visited or had as visitors. If you came to her from another town or invited her for dinner, she will gift you a grater or a few napkins or a lemon squeezer or copper lota; anything, but definitely something. When she made her annual trips to Bombay and Ahmedabad, there were two gifts for every relative; a tin of rasgullas and a grater. Some lemon squeezers kept aside for unscheduled and sudden visits.
Shantaben's madness about graters was not limited to melas; she would do just the same in a small but extremely well-stocked shop at Jagu Bazaar or an air-conditioned showroom in a market complex. I remember once she had wanted to gift mamma a whole set of stainless steel canisters (I shall stick to 'dabba'!). They zeroed in on one of the air-conditioned stores; of course my sister and I tagged along. She bought dozens of dabbas for mamma and some for herself. Good thickness, great shine, high prices. As the deals got struck, bargains made, Shantaben spotted a grater!
Namrata and I knew our lunch would be at tea time.
Among all these heavy and thick gauged stainless steel utensils, Shantaben had two severe crushes - graters and lemon squeezers.
ChaRak Melas are a common feature in West Bengal, they are held in month of Chaitra, roughly from mid-March to mid-April. Our locality also held a mela, along the Padmapukur Water Tank every year till around the year 2000. Unfortunately, it was stopped by the authorities due to a freak accident and traffic flow getting heavier on Lansdowne Road.
Our sleepy neighbourhood woke up twice a year to bright lights and noise. Once during the Durga Puja in autumn and once during the ChaRak mela in spring. My sister, Namrata and I strolled to the mela almost everyday. Each day we would have a different adult accompanying us. And our treats and loots depended upon what that particular day's guide liked or indulged on!
Like any other mela, this one too had had a few stalls selling cookware. Wooden, aluminium, iron, plastic and stainless steel. Ba would visit each stall and look for graters and lemon squeezers. The graters came in various sizes, tiny garlic graters, medium sized cheese and cucumber graters, large ones which stood on their own and what not. Lemon squeezers came in wooden, aluminium and steel avatars. Shantaben would examine each kind with severe scrutiny and try to deduce their durability. No matter what the shopkeeper vouched for, she would turn a deaf ear to every noise and go on with her scrutiny till she was completely satisfied. While we couldn't wait to attack the toys and bangles, Ba did not budge. No matter how much the aroma of just fried jalebis and tamarind water teased our noses, we had to stick to the bartanwala stall. And no, we couldn't drift away either; even though Ba kept up her bargaining, her left hand had my wrist in her grip, my sister's wrist gripped in mine! Two sisters kept looking at others walking off victoriously with their balloons, toy belans and bangles with extreme pain and frustration. Once Ba stuffed her bag with at least two dozen graters and a dozen lemon squeezers, she would look at us calmly, sensing it all and perhaps feeling a little guilty herself, would spoil us silly. No matter what we set our eyes on, she would buy it for us, and a smart shopper like herself, never bargained when she was determined to fulfill our desires and vanities.
One question must have crossed your minds, why buy these kitchen utilities in dozens? Well, because they made great no-reason-at-all gifts! Shantaben always brought something for everyone she visited or had as visitors. If you came to her from another town or invited her for dinner, she will gift you a grater or a few napkins or a lemon squeezer or copper lota; anything, but definitely something. When she made her annual trips to Bombay and Ahmedabad, there were two gifts for every relative; a tin of rasgullas and a grater. Some lemon squeezers kept aside for unscheduled and sudden visits.
Shantaben's madness about graters was not limited to melas; she would do just the same in a small but extremely well-stocked shop at Jagu Bazaar or an air-conditioned showroom in a market complex. I remember once she had wanted to gift mamma a whole set of stainless steel canisters (I shall stick to 'dabba'!). They zeroed in on one of the air-conditioned stores; of course my sister and I tagged along. She bought dozens of dabbas for mamma and some for herself. Good thickness, great shine, high prices. As the deals got struck, bargains made, Shantaben spotted a grater!
Namrata and I knew our lunch would be at tea time.
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