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The traditional Ox had been replaced by a motorcycle.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