ICE ICE BABY

 

With the summer at its pinnacle, cooling our body down with a chilled glass of water is all that one needs. Ice cream is a bonus. These days, one has a choice of drinking water from chilled water bottles or adding ice made from the deep freezers into a jug of water. I love to do the latter.

 

This made me drift back to my childhood. Those days a fridge was considered a luxury. We had something called the ‘ice box’. Dad would make it ready to use on the first day of our summer holidays.

 

He would take me along riding his bicycle to the ice factory in the Dhan Mandi of Kapurthala, about four kilometers from our home to fetch 5kgs of ice every alternate day. A jute bag or ‘Bori’ was used to cover the ice in transit. 10p a kg was some amount but the relief it brought to all of us was unimaginable. We could chill anything.

 

Mom used to start cleaning used squash and rum bottles. They had to have tight closing lids. A row of bottles would be laid at the bottom, then a layer of ice, poked with an ice breaker. More bottles would be placed atop the ice slab.

 

She would keep the curd container adjusted somewhere in the ice box for us to enjoy chilled curd after lunch. At night, we would eagerly wait for ice cold custard/mango fool. Sometimes, we would get a piece of ice. Cold as it used to be. Sucking on that tasteless ice was ultimate while bouncing it in our hands.

 

The melted ice water was used to cool mangoes dipped in a bucket and eaten in dozens. Somedays, as the ice melted unevenly, the milk pot would tilt and spill over. It used to be like a tragedy of sorts.

 

Time went by, my parents decided to buy a fridge. My duty was to fill empty bottles and ice trays. I remember doing the balancing act, like an expert trapeze artist on a tightrope carrying the tray to the freezer. It used to be an achievement if the tray could be placed without water spilling over. Then we would wait for the ice to freeze.

 

One would check the tray every hour and watch the process from a thin crust of ice. The initial excitement died down with time. Later, we bought an ice bucket. Two trays were emptied into that and stored for use at our convenience. Before the fridge we used to fetch ice cubes from our neighbours. Dad would enjoy his rum with ice cubes floating. Mom would use ice for extracting butter from cream. Sometimes, we would take cubes as imaginary icecream. Life went on.

 

There used to be a ‘baffle tray’ under the freezer. Excess water used to freeze in it and was utilized to chill so many things. Worst would be when the freezer would get choked with ice freezing everything around. We had to leave the fridge door open for the ice to melt. Defrost systems came in later. That melted ice was put in the desert cooler. That duty was also assigned to yours truly.

 

With advancement of technology, making ice in the fridge has taken a complete transformation. Water is now stored in a container separately above the vegetable compartment. A pumping and chilling mechanism come installed. Ice cubes automatically fall in containers in the freezer. All of them are perfectly shaped and identical like we get ice cubes from the market.

 

Sometimes, ice trays would freeze rock solid. One had to carry the tray to the tap, wet the back portion for ice to get released. One by one, ice cubes were extracted with the thumb from the ice mesh. It was a fun activity and we loved to do it.

 

Now, we could make ice creams and kulfi at home. With the purest milk of Punjab available aplenty, mom would reduce it and make it thick. Home grown mangoes or peaches, and sometimes custard apples would go in as ingredients. Those days, diabetes was unheard off. Sugar would be added generously.

 

We would wait for the day when dad would bring out the hand churned ice cream machine. That day, double the quantity of ice would be bought from the ‘barf da kaarkhana’. In the evening, we all would gather around the machine. Ice would be broken into smaller pieces, while mom would prepare the ingredients. Half an hour of churning and the tastiest ice cream on that side of Kanjli river would be ready. One could have as many helpings as one liked and dance like Red Indians around the churner,

 

That charm got lost somewhere and turned into “Ice-Ice Baby”. Do you remember such days? I wonder!!!!!!!

 

JAI HIND

© ® NOEL ELLIS