 lime in the paan would release alkaloids in the leaves, this I later learned in college. To get additional kick, ground tobacco is added, on request, then it is called jaradha paan. Some people chew paan all the time, it’s a kind of addiction. I have tried sweet paan but never jaradha paan.
One of our distant relatives Shivarao had a habit of chewing jaradha paan. He visited us once in a blue moon, unannounced. I am sure he was named after Lord Shiva (God of Destruction), one of the Major Hindu gods. While Gods Vishnu and Brahma were believed to be stationary in Swarga Loka or heaven, Shiva is a roaming god who lives on earth, famous for wild dancing after the destruction of evil forces with his firepower. He is a kind of a lightening that causes forest fires that destroys dead wood. He then rubs the ashes on his skin.
In our extended family circles, parents warned their children never to end up like our relative Shivarao, known for roaming from place to place. A low-level civil servant in a town a few hundred miles away, Shivarao traveled on trains with no ticket, masquerading as either a singing panhandler or hawking knick-knacks. My father never liked him. He suspected that Shivarao was after something every time he visited us. A habitual small-time thief, he stole small articles such as ballpoint pens, small toys, and other knick-knacks. Given my good eye for detective work, I was given the responsibility of following him in our huge house. Shivarao knew that we suspected his intentions in our house, and said this to me when I followed him from room to room.
One thing I liked about Shivarao was his habit of chewing spicy Jaaradha paan. One day I gathered enough courage to ask for a taste. To my surprise, he gave it with a warning that I should keep this as a secret. Just after few minutes of chewing, I felt dizzy and started throwing up. He said I shouldn’t have swallowed the juice and the stuff was not for kids like me. To tell the truth, he was scared to death when he saw me throwing up since my father would kick him out of the house if he knew about this incident. This event did not relieve me of my duty of following him around.
Shivarao and I once went out for a walk in the neighborhood. Like most others, he spitted out the red colored saliva generated in his mouth while chewing paan, everywhere; on streets, sidewalks, or on private and public building walls. The public never took notice of warning signs such as “ No spitting please,” “Stick no bills” (advertisement posters), “Beware of dogs,” or “Please do not urinate or defecate,” displayed everywhere.
Our neighbor Panda, the owner of the cows, was a habitual paan user. I never saw him feed his cows at the street corner. Most of the time, his animals roamed the streets for waste papers or wall posters, competing with goats that belonged to a fair-skinned Muslim woman who lived down the street.
The expression “Holy Cow” comes from the animal’s sacred status. The cows on street are like roaming temples for most Hindus. People touched the cow’s butt with the palm of their hands and then carefully drew back the palm to touch their foreheads, as if receiving some kind of blessing. It is kind of a prayer in slow motion- to touch the butt of moving animal. I was tempted to do this once, during test-taking time at school, and being nervous about my math test. I was timid to touch the animal’s butt with fear of being hit by its tail, or worse, get caught up at a time when the cow may start to defecate on me. Besides, only older people and women receive cow blessings this way. So, I kept away from the cow’s butt altogether.
The cow dung is also sacred when it comes to house-blessing (warming) ceremonies in India. The owners bless newly constructed homes before occupancy. The blessing ceremony (unlike the house-warming ceremony in the United States) is strictly religious, long, and complicated. Cows (never bulls) play important roles in house-blessing ceremonies. A family friend built an expensive house and invited us among others for his home-blessing ceremony. A cow was allowed first into the house followed by the Hindu priests chanting prayers for continuing prosperity of the owner. If the cow defecates in the foyer, it is a good omen. Since homes have either terrazzo concrete or marble floor, cleaning is no problem. Our friend was very superstitious about ceremonies of this nature. He insisted that not only the foyer but also all the rooms in the house should be blessed with cow dung. It was unsightly and even gross to some of the invitees unaccustomed to this tradition, and they became restless while waiting for the animal to pass the dung in each and every room. Luckily, the priest knowing our friend’s psyche brought another cow along to double up and finished the job of soiling the floors with cow dung. This was a classic case where, what is dirt (cow dung in this case) to somebody is gold to others.
Donating a cow is perhaps the holiest gift one can give to a priest. Very few can afford to buy and donate them. Besides, it is impractical to haul a cow to high-rise apartments or even to single homes to make a donation to the priest after the Puja or religious ceremony. Therefore, the priest brings a small idol of cow (made up of clay or dough) and lets the people donate it back as a symbolic gesture. This does not mean the people were off the hook to pay the price of a cow. As symbolic as the transfer may be, the priest expects to get dakshen or monetary gift equivalent to cow or whatever the people can afford. It is a kind of trading Futures in Livestock that takes place on Wall Street; where no actual transfer of pork bellies or live cattle take place, but only transfer of funds. It appears that Hindus were in the business of trading cattle futures long before anybody albeit-clay or dough cows for live cows.
While most families buy milk from street vendors, we bought fresh milk at our doorsteps. Rajamma, the milk lady, brought her cow to our front yard early in the morning to milk her cow and supply us with fresh milk; a luxury only few people could afford. Rajamma belongs to Golla caste. For centuries, the people of this caste dominated the dairy business. Hindus believe that Lord Krishna belong to this caste. My mother assigned me the duty of watching Rajamma so that she won’t mix water to the milk while milking her cow; dilution is a simple solution to improve her profit margin. Rajamma was tall and slim, as opposed to many South Indian women who are short. She was cunning in many ways in duping people. For example, she starts milking into a container already containing some water in it, or will hide a small can containing water nearby to mix with the milk or will hide a separate can of water in the hay bales she brings with her to feed the cow. I figured out all of her tricks while on duty guarding her. I used to sit in our front porch watching like a detective. Sometimes, she would ask me to fetch some water for the animal or something like that to distract me. But, she had a tough time cheating while I was guarding her. We boiled the fresh milk before use, a kind of sterilization since it was not pasteurized. Even today, pasteurized milk is boiled unnecessarily in many Indian households for the taste. Centuries old habits diehard.
One morning Rajamma didn’t turn up at our house, so we bought stale milk from a street vendor. Our servant found out the bad news; Rajamma’s husband committed suicide by jumping into a well. He was a middle-aged foreman and used to work in a naval yard. Months later, it was rumored that he killed himself on suspicion that Rajamma was sleeping with her stepson. We never saw Rajamma again; I am not sure what happened to her or to her cows.
It was obvious to many that I belonged to Brahmin caste, even to strangers. My meek physical appearance and the clear pronunciation of my native language “Telugu” distinguished me from people of other castes. This was the case at least when I was a young boy in the fifties, when much disparity existed in education standards between Brahmins and other caste people. The educated Brahmins occupied the respectable positions. Those who took priesthood worked in Hindu temples or earned their livings by conducting religious ceremonies and weddings. Some took up jobs as professional cooks, specializing in vegetarian cuisine. And the very poor Brahmins worked as undertakers in Brahmin funerals. While upper-caste Hindus in India eat meat of all kinds but never beef since cow, the symbol of Lord Krishna is the source of beef. Brahmins, particularly in South India did not eat meat or even eggs at all, as it was a religious custom not to eat these products. So I grew up without eating any meat or even eggs.
Plain Yogurt, perhaps disliked by many, is the favorite item in any Brahmin meal. Without yogurt and ghee (clarified butter), no meal is complete in any Brahmin household. My mother made