Graters and Lemon Squeezers

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. 

Kabaat-vaaro Room

When not in Calcutta, Ba usually divided her time between her bungalow in Ahmedabad and her sister Shardaben's apartment in Bombay. The former was more of a holiday home, she never really lived there. These three spaces in Calcutta, Bombay and Ahmedabad are where most my memories with Ba were made. Shardaben's apartment was a wonderland; but more on that in another post.

All these three homes had room specially for the cupboards, or kabaat, as we say in Gujarati. Ergo, kabaat-vaaro room!

The Calcutta apartment wasn't a big one and hence a couple of kabaats spilled over to the bedroom as well. And these were the solid steel almirahs that Godrej once made. One or two were pretty fancy with a single door! 

Every kabaat came with its unique 'lock-unlock' sound and hinge screeches. Over the years I knew exactly which kabaat was being opened, locked or sometimes even banged from two rooms away. Some kabaats were used on a regular basis, some once in a few months and one or two were used only annually or even once in two years. The latter almost always had a heavy piece of furniture parked in front while it turned into a steely brown backdrop of the room. 

And now over to the contents. Let's say that the half a dozen cupboards had enough stuff to fill up three seasons of the home section of a departmental store and a swag lifestyle store put together! Not to forget the ''Miscellaneous'', this section could fill up the utility and toiletry  pouches of a hundred hotel rooms. And all this is after all the clothes of the family are kept aside! From metres of cotton and silk to dinner napkins. From thaalis fit for a king's meal to dessert spoons. From vintage iron boxes full of old photographs to tiny plastic containers bought in dozens. From hand painted ceramic crockery, wrapped in newspaper to copper lotaas. From decades old files full of old letters and some bills to unused picture diaries. From hand-dyed handloom and khadi home linen to plastic sheet covers. From measuring tapes to paper clips. Not to forget the spools of colourful threads, needle sets, buttons and thimbles. She also had a box of ribbons and strings along with cut pieces of cloth. 

Whenever we needed something out of the blue for school and we remembered about it only after the stationery stores were closed, Ba's treasure never let us down! One square foot of red cloth, aluminum foil, two metres black ribbon, large envelopes; no matter what, she had them all there, somewhere! 

Ba had her world stored safely in the Godrej almirahs. She spoke little. But when she opened a cupboard in front of you, it meant that she gave you a tiny peek into her world. And every time she did so in front of me, meant I would get richer by a Staedtler pencil or a vintage postcard or an embroidered napkin or just a few coloured buttons. And all this went into my own kabaat. 

Mahadevia to Mehta

This blog is dedicated to my grandmother, Shantaben Mehta (1914-2002), and the world she shared with me. I begin by posting a studio photograph of her taken in the early 1930s, when she was Shanta Mahadevia. Ms. Mahadevia was the third child among seven siblings, growing up in Ahmedabad. She was popular in her social circles for her inborn talent in cooking, sketching, pleasant demeanour and big black eyes with long and curved lashes. She was also known to be a fitness freak of sorts and used her younger brothers as weights! I remember how impossible it was to free my wrist from her grip!

She married Kantilal Balabhai Mehta at the age of 21. They had three children, a son and two daughters. Mr. Mehta’s job at Scindhia Shipping Company brought him to Calcutta in 1956. Eventually the whole family moved into a flat in South Calcutta. They were among the first generation of Gujaratis who migrated and settled in Calcutta.

The Gujaratis who settle elsewhere are a very close knit community and hence Shantaben got easily included into the social circles of the new city. She continued her various hobbies, she looked after her family and had quite a busy social life. The family soon fell in love with Bengal’s handloom, Uttam-Suchitra films and the Durga Puja. Her younger daughter, Sukriti, went a step further and married their Bengali neighbour, Asim Ghosh – my parents. Shantaben Mehta, my Ba.

Ba has a constant influence on me even though it has been thirteen years since she passed away. She lives through her sarees that I still wear; the name engraved everyday steel bartans and some antique furniture pieces that we still use; her unique recipes we swear by; and her beaded jewellery that can give any boutique a run for their money. As I grew older I have realised how significant was Ba’s feminine energy and aesthetics in my life. A large chunk of my childhood and teens were spent with her, at her home, the bazaars, fairs, temples and her friends.

Her family was nuclear but Shantaben always bought everything in bulk; spices, utensils, towels, sheets; everything was in dozens or kilos. I remember her pantry stocked with masalas in large glass jars, the lower shelves of her steel almirahs stocked with new bed linen, cushion covers, cotton and tussore thaans, napkins, saree borders, cutlery, and various everyday things like clips, mats, buttons, khaddar jhadans, muslin cloth pieces and what not. Storing all this in a not so big an apartment, made all her rooms look like little wonderlands. I would spend hours just going through all her stuff. It was all visually extremely stimulating and very larger than life.

There were three distinct aspects of her Shantaben’s life – her kitchen, her style in both fashion and home decor, and her spirituality. Each very special in its own way and each has had a lasting impact on me. I intend to share little pieces of her life through this blog.