I hurt. I can't forget it will get easier you wont cry so often you wont hurt so often you will soon forget but you will remember when you cook his favourite food.. suddenly you will remember anna loved this you will never forget you will forget you will remember

Kaali Kaali mynaaaaa... Naaaaaandaaaayla zaaainaa!

 

Me, a 10 year old. It' s my summer vacation. And I am at Pimpri, near Pune , spending my holidays with my maternal aunt, my maternal grandmother and my cousins. The quiet of the afternoon, oh yes..afternoons would be really quiet..was pierced by an almost wailing melody. A man singing something. I rushed to the window. Across the street , an old man with a white topi, a shirt and a dhotar, came along, pushing a cart . Once again, he sang in a loud and clear voice, "kaali kaaaali mynaaaa, naaandaayla zaaainaa! ".

My grandmother pressed a 10 paise coin in my palm and handed me a small bowl. She asked me to go and buy the karvanda.

Yes ..karvanda. Kaali myna, dongarchi myna, dongrachi myna, were the other names for the karvanda. As I stepped out of the house, my friends- the children of my aunt's friends and neighbours -were crowding around the old man.

Having bought the fruit, we rushed home, washed the karvanda, and sit in a close huddle, outside the house, chomping on them.

Each one of us would pick up one karvanda, in turns and ask the other friends." Kombdi ka kombda?". They would make a guess. Kombdi..some would yell. Kombda, the others. Then the karvanda would be subjected to a small nibble, while the others waited anxiously. If , on biting, the fruit revealed a red pulpy interior, it was the kombdi. And if it was white, it was the kombda.

After a few such noisy rounds, we would silently eat them, spitting out the seeds, with a careful aim, such that they wouldn't land on any of us.

A few weeks ago, my friend visited us bearing a packet of Karvanda . After he left, i greedily sat down to eat a bowlful. It was more than a decade or two since i had eaten them last. As i bit the first one, i screamed aloud....kombdiii !

I was alone, at home.., no one to share the excitement with. The situation was rectified. I called the daughter on a WhatsApp video call, and played the game. Kombdi ka kombda? I asked her. Poor girl...though she might have eaten karvanda, she did not know about this. But she played along. And i had a good time..i hope she did too. Sadly, for her , she could only play the guessing game while i ate.