THE BONG BAJAR

The daily ‘bajar’ is essentially a very Bengali concept. My poor mother, a low-tech lady thought that the
frigidaire was alright for milk and curds and the occasional ice-cream, but the fish and the vegetable
and the fruits had to come from the ‘bajar’ everyday. My father was never to be trusted with the bajar.
He invariably bought the most sub-standard stuff at the most exorbitant prices – something my mother
could not bardast. Hence it fell upon my brother (young that he was) and sometimes me to do the daily
marketing.

We would line up in the kitchen, where Mother would reel off in a rapid-fire-line the things that would
be needed that day .A certain amount of money would be handed over, and my brother would charge off
t.o the local market. He had to rush back, because he had to get ready for School.
Sometimes I went along. It was really fun and a real pleasure. Rows and rows of red tomatoes. The
bright purple of the brinjals, the pale fresh green of the lauki, the darker green of the palak sak.
fresh silvery ilish maachh on a wet and gray day. The dark koi being kept alive in water. The colour,
the vibrancy of the early morning shoppers, the haggling over prices, choosing the right fish.
The joy in buying the first cauliflower of the season, with a little bit of fresh green peas The posto that
has to be bought if we were buying jhinge .The mocha to be bought only on a Sunday, because time
came at a premium on weekdays.All such sublime pleasure not ever to be compared to the air-conditi
oned pre-packed system at C3 or FoodMart or FoodBazaar.
Then on the agenda next was the hisab to be given to my mother. A quick reeling off of prices
by us, and the equally quick adding up my Mother. I do not know how my brother did it, but there
never was a paise out of line.. Once he bought taangra fish at quiet a steep price. Mother was furious.
“How can you buy such expensive fish? Don’t you know it’s the end of the month(masher shesh)?
Do you think money grows on trees? “ All this, while my poor brother stood shame-faced.

However , in retrospect, I think the bajar system did both of us a lot of good. It taught us the
value of money.The masher shesh concept stuck on. Today , both of us are very prudent
spenders. It taught us accountability – after all we were spending money which was strictly not ours
and we had to give an account . However brief and verbal the account may have been. Above all,
the bajar system taught us to appreciate the land and the products off the land. An immense
lesson learnt, for India’s greatest wealth is her land and thereby the agricultural produce.Whether
it be the high-profile tea estate or the simple but enchanting field of yellow mustard flowers.