Skip to main content

UNIQUE JUGAD

 UNIQUE JUGAD

 

LT COL NOEL ELLIS

31/I/2024

 

In my childhood during fishing trips near Kanjli rivulet, we could watch the ‘Persian Wheel’ go round and round to draw water from a well in the adjacent fields. Tin boxes welded to wire ropes would tirelessly drop their contents into a trough and go down empty only to be refilled and hauled up as an ox went around in circles tirelessly.

A big ‘gear wheel’ would be connected to a small gear at 90 degrees, which further would be mounted on a shaft, which in turn would be connected to the chain on which those tin water buckets were attached. On reaching the top water would start flowing out smoothly. The breadth of the trough was such that it could trap most of the water. The spillover or leftover water, fell back in the well.

Those machines were replaced with tube wells. Oxen were no longer put in service. The farmer could now concentrate on watering his crop, rather than keeping an eye on the ox, which at times would stop. They needed constant cajoling to keep moving with their blinkers on. Those were the days.

Yesterday, those memories got triggered when I witnessed something unique on the road side.

We have a groundnut vendor who sits on the sidewalk selling ‘garma-garam’, freshly roasted, unshelled groundnuts. I make it a point to pick up those roasted nuts for snacking off and on.

Before I could spot him at his usual place, I saw a motorcycle without a rider going around in circles. It was tied to a horizontal wooden log. It just went round and round while a vertical arm was lowered into a wooden container. What could this contraption be, intrigued me?

A man got up from the pavement and went to peep inside that container, lifting something in his hand and then returning back to his seat. He was selling freshly milled ‘sesame seed oil’ right on the road. There was a hole at the lower end of that bucket which was plugged with a wooden wedge. A ‘dart’ would be pulled out from the bottom of the container for the oil to flow out. You had a choice, either get your own seeds or buy seeds from him. It is called a Kohlu, or a Ghani here in the local lingo.

Oil was carried in a bucket, further to be poured in Bisleri bottles. The bottles felt nice and warm on a cold wintry morning. He called his set up as ‘Taza Tel’ and rightly so. Though the method was primitive, the style and procedure was special.

The traditional Ox had been replaced by a motorcycle. He was marketing his wares so attractively that people were halting to have a dekho. One out of ten people at least one would buy a bottle.

The squeaky sound that that contraption was making was as if he was announcing his product loudly.

He also told me that at the end of the day, he can pack everything on his motorcycle, though a little unwieldy but he can go and have a warm dinner at home with his family. I didn’t ask him the rates but thanked him for so many memories he had kindled. It was an Indian ‘Jugad’ at its best.

I shook hands with him and told him that I would definitely return to buy oil if my wife permitted it. The whole process got me so engrossed that I forgot to buy peanuts.

Will both of them still be there with their unique Jugads during my next trip? I wonder!!!!!!!

 

JAI HIND

© ® NOEL ELLIS




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

FINGER ON YOUR LIPS

  LT COL NOEL ELLIS   29/IV/2025   What has happened to Pakistan? While India is doing Fauji Exercises, Pakistan has mobilised for what! I agree that the people of India want revenge. But, from whom? Our PM has only said that “we will not leave the terrorists and their supporters till the end of the Earth”. He has never said he will sort out Pakistan, or has he?   It has been hilarious watching discussions on Paki social media channels. They seem to have already given up. Our RM meets the PM and Pakistan starts shitting bricks. They talk about jazba and gazwa, and start telling us about their nuclear arsenal. 160 I suppose. By the way we will send across one equivalent to your 160 if need be.   There is a saying, ‘Chor ki Dari main tinka” literal meaning is, a straw in a thief’s beard. However, the deep meaning is that a guilty person reveals his guilt through his behaviour, even unintentionally. Clearly, “a guilty conscious needs no accuser”...
14 comments
Read more

SCENE AT ELLIS’ RESTAURANT

    LT COL NOEL ELLIS   04/XI/2024   Every morning the scene in the Ellis’ restaurant is so refreshing. The notes birds sing sounds like ‘reveille’ being sounded by the buglers. The ‘scenario’ keeps varying with arrival of different birds at different timings.   It is like being a restaurant owner, working solo with minimum help. Yours truly is the waiter, housekeeper, cook, receptionist, barman, purchase manager, accountant, and storekeeper of this shack. Imagine!   Foremost thing in the morning is housekeeping of the garden area, followed by watering the pots. This gives the plants a nice bath, like kids being readied for school.   The first set of ‘clients’ called the ‘Tailor Birds’ appear. They love to hunt for insects which get disturbed by the watering ritual. They sing and dance, hop and skip and carry on chasing moths and worms, without bothering about my presence.   By then the Bulbuls and the Sparrows start lini...
17 comments
Read more

IF THERE IS A WAR…...

    LT COL NOEL ELLIS   28/IV/2025   I remember the 1971 war as a small child. We were in Kapurthala Punjab, very close to the Pakistan border. It was an evening in December, I do not remember the exact date. While returning from a friends house, the declaration of war was done as I skipped along the ‘Thandi Sarak’ of Kapurthala.   The gist was that a vehicle with loud speakers was telling people to head home as an "emergency" had been declared and war had started. I ran as fast as I could, shivering with fear and my heart beating unusually fast. Though I was a lap baby when the 1965 war had taken place, it appeared serious business now.   Overnight, Dad and other Uncles started digging trenches infront of our homes. Carbon paper was no dearth in a teachers house, so mom got into an overdrive to stick them to the glass windows. Though the glass had been painted during the 1965 war, some broken panes had been replaced. Mom told ...
2 comments
Read more