The Call Of the Palm

For a Bengali, winter is synonymous with Motorshutir Kochuri(Peas Kachauri), Choto (Baby potatoes) Alur Dom and Gur. Out of all these, Gur is the one that is getting increasingly difficult to procure. So, every winter we set out to explore the countryside, scouting for unadulterated Gur!

COUNTRYSIDE DOTTED WITH PALM TREES

Khejur Gur, or Jaggery made from Khejur Rosh, the extract of the date palm is a seasonal delicacy. The Gur-making season lasts for a very short span, mostly throughout the peak of winter. It lasts till the temperature rises gradually and the warm winds from the south flow in. In my mother-in-law’s words, ‘dokhiner haowa’, or the breeze from the south heralds the end of the season.

Prices of Khejur Gur rises every year and can go up to Rs 300-400 per kg. Such is the demand! But good quality Gur is hard to get. I fail to understand the logic behind this. On our numerous trips, we have seen a large number of date palm trees lining the countryside.  Then why can’t we get Gur? Why is the price so high? How can it be a demand-supply gap?

A trip to Shantiniketan last winter answered our queries.

*

WHERE THERE IS SMOKE THERE IS GUR

The temperature had dropped to almost six degrees at the place where we were staying. It was a homestay tucked away in the heart of the rural countryside, run by a friend. Our Toto (battery-operated auto) driver was a young chap who took us around and waited patiently while we clicked pictures. During the course of our conversation, we mentioned our hunt for Gur.

“Gur? Do you wish to have to the purest of it?”

“Yes…. Pure! Obviously.”

“I will take you there.”

I made a face at my husband. Another person who thinks he will give us the best Gur and then saddle us with the cheap, artificially scented stuff that’s available at every market. 

We paid no heed to his words. Shantiniketan is no longer the quiet blissful place we have known. Buzzing with tourist, guides and touts, one has to be cautious and not get duped easily. 

THE TEMPORARY SHELTER

That evening we headed back to the homestay, when the young fellow turned his vehicle around, abruptly shifting from the pucca, main road into a bumpy, narrow road. The sun was setting and it was gradually getting dark. The temperature dropped steadily as we made our way past the fields. Exchanging glances with the husband, I looked out.  It was pitch dark.  Nothing could be seen except for the silhouette of the tall, statuesque palm trees and the wide expanse of the fields around. Prosanto, our driver stopped. He gestured towards the field that lay ahead and asked us to follow him. From afar we noticed a fire burning. As our eyes got accustomed to the darkness around, the thatched hut in the middle of the field came into view.  

Four men stood smoking bidis. While one was bent over an oven, the others chatted. On hearing, us, they turned around.

I was still wondering how safe it was for us to be there. My friend at the homestay was not aware of our whereabouts. We had also left the children at the homestay. Feeling uneasy, I wondered how easy it would be to overpower and drag us into one of those huts. No one would ever know anything. I shuddered.

“Didi?” That was one of the men offering me some water. I refused it. By then Prosanto and my husband had already entered the dimly lit hut.

THE INSIDE OF THE HUT

A rough bamboo framework, covered with huge date palm leaves from all sides was their makeshift shelter. On it was two beds. Four blankets were spread on them. At one end of the hut, tin containers were stacked atop each other filled with Jaggery. The aroma was irresistible. The men opened them up.  Symmetrical pyramidical mounds came into our view. The solids mounds known as Patali were available in all sizes. Small, medium and big – the choice was ours. Another container revealed a rich, reddish liquid. ‘Jhola Gur’, the man muttered. Never have we smelt something so heavenly. There were other variants. The man enlightened us about the varieties of Gur. The purest form. The semi pure form. The diluted ones. And the extremely diluted ones. We were taken through the process of Gur making and the substances that are added to lower the price, augment quantity and artificially enhance the fragrance.

We finalized our purchase and the bill left us stupefied. The best quality was priced at Rs 140/kg.

As we decided to leave, the men offered us chai. A fire had been lit for us and cups of chai were served. I was still feeling guilty about my initial awkwardness with the men. What followed was an enriching session with some of the most efficient men I have ever known.

These men led by Md. Alam are not localities. They have come all the way from another town, leased in the date palm trees, set up a temporary shelter and started their work. “What? Isn’t there anyone in the vicinity who can make Jaggery?” That was the first question that struck me.

“It’s not easy, Didi. These days everyone refuses to take this up as a profession. Climbing up the tree is tough. A tall, lanky tree with spikes all over requires an experienced climber.”

As I nodded my head, he continued.

“The life of the tree and the quality of the Jaggery depends on the skill and expertise of the tapper. An incision is usually made on the stem of the tree, where the earthen pots are hung to collect the sap overnight. It's collected twice a day - early morning sap and evening sap. A deep cut would injure the tree and reduce its chances of survival. Also, a deep cut needs a lot of time to heal thus marring the quality of the sap that’s produced.”

GUR BEING MADE

We realized that not everyone is given permission to tap these trees. Most areas have registered tappers who come from far just as the season sets in. Alam and his team is a case in point. He is noticeably the elderly member of the team. Despite his age, he is agile and can not only climb a tree effortlessly but also collect the sap and keep stirring the Gur for hours.  The other men are much younger and still learning the ropes of the trade.

Alam has leased in almost 250 trees from the owners. The deal is to supply back one kg Gur per tree to the owner. The rest is up to his discretion.

STIRRING THE GUR CONTINUOUSLY

These men have a hard life. Every year, they leave their families behind and set up their residence in the middle of nowhere. “We wake up before the birds. Here we are up and running against time. A delay on our part is a deterioration of the quality of the sap.’ The chores are divided amongst them. While one goes around collecting the sap, another lights the oven and keeps it ready. By 6am the sap stands collected and filtered. The day is gone in continuously stirring and maintaining the temperature of the ovens. Alam monitors each and every activity with great precision. A moment of absentmindedness can ruin the whole process. A bad fall from the tree; an inaccurate incision; too high a temperature or too low a temperature runs the risk of burning the Gur. Constant vigilance is the key! There is additional work as well. The pots in which the sap is collected needs to be washed and cleaned thoroughly to clear any bacteria that are growing in. Marketing and selling the Gur is also Alam’s responsibility. A deal had already been struck with the traders and shops.

It's late in the evening when the men finally have time to rest their tired limbs. But they need to cook as well. A huge pot filled with rice, dal and vegetables is set atop the oven every night.

The hut that they live in is made of the enormous feathery leaves of the palm trees. In no way, does it help to ward off the bitter cold. The temperature dips to five degrees at night. But the men keep themselves warm in the dying embers of the fire that they had lit. sometimes they take refuge in the alcohol that’s made from the fermented sap.

LEAVES OF THE PALM

Days and miles away from home, these men adopt the Date palms as their sole companion. It’s not easy for any man to take up such a job. But Alam and his men assure me that they like the adventure as well. Rest of the year, they lead a normal life, either tilling lands or working as a labourer in a factory. They eagerly await the special season of the year, the season of Gur.

One of the younger men inform me. “I just got married. It was tough leaving behind my young wife. But the date palm beckons me from afar. I don’t think you will understand this. But we have a very special connection with the palm trees. They are our first love and we wait for the entire year to be with them. ‘Quite uncanny, isn’t it?’

Some facts about the date palm trees.

CLEANING THE POTS; AN IMPORTANT CHORE

Not a part of it goes to waste. The huge feathery leaves serve to build the huts. They also serve as fuel for making the Jaggery. Tender leaves can also be consumed and are also fodder to the cattle.

The trunk of the palm tree is used for making furniture.

The fruit is delicious. The sap is used to make Jaggery, sugar crystals and a popular local drink called taari, which is mostly consumed by the local people.

The sap grows sweeter as the day progresses. The transparency also reduces and it turns into a white, milky liquid. Sap collected in the early evenings is much sweeter than the early morning collection. Also, the evening sap is safer for immediate consumption as the bats feed on the sap overnight.

Armed with the new-found information and jars of Gur, we came home humming the tribal song that the men were hearing.   

THE OVEN THAT LIGHTS UP AT NIGHT TO COOK A MEAL

The warning issued by the men has been occupying my mind for quite some time. There will soon be a huge demand and supply gap. The children of the traditional cultivators are no longer following their father’s footsteps. In course of time, the dearth of expert tappers would lead to a huge scarcity of Gur.

A day would not be far when date palm trees would be everywhere. But there would not be anyone to answer their call, ‘cos the skills would have died by then.