The Tamboolam

by Kousalya Sarangarajan

Malathi inspected the freshly re-painted dolls in the morning light; shining, with fresh faces, these dolls were ready to ascend the make-shift steps of the kolu. The only thing left to do was to arrange the tamboolam. The tamboolam… that marker of all things festive and auspicious: the betel leaf, the betel nut and turmeric, given usually to women, along with a coconut or a banana to signify wholesomeness. During special events, a piece of garment was also given to signify abundance. This ‘abundance’ part had become so abundant over time, though, that people bought new, enterprising gifts to go with the basic tamboolam. In the last few years, it had become a matter of displaying one’s creativity and their ability to spot a ‘unique’ gift to give with the tamboolam.

And so Malathi locked her house and made her way to the bus stand. It was 10.30 in the morning. Perfect! She craned her neck, looking out for the bus in which her friend Kalpana, armed with a few shopping bags, was waiting for her. The bus finally turned around the corner, and Malathi boarded it and sank into the seat that her friend had saved for her.  As the bus weaved its way through the crowded roads of Chennai, the friends were oblivious to time and their conversations ambled on. Without looking out, they could sense that they had arrived at the Parry’s bus stand when the bus screeched to a bumpy halt at its allotted place.

This annual trip was always special to Kalpana and Malathi because Navarathri meant a big budget and long shopping lists. Choosing different gifts for different age groups – and in the case of children, different gifts for boys and girls – posed a daunting task, but the scenes on Parry’s roads, and pockets full of money, made the exercise a joy ride. The dusty roads, the cramped space, the noisy crowds and the rampant Junoon Tamizh switched on in Malathi and Kalpana the enthusiasm to elbow their way around with élan. A similar scene with sweaty people at Kapaleeshwarar Kovil would have made them cringe. “It’s very difficult to evoke a sense of bhakthi in such situations,” was an unsaid observation for those situations. But in the streets of Parry’s, one could not complain. After all, you go there to get the best bargains in the city.

The long walk to Kasi Chetty Street justified a quick juice break at the corner stall where they ordered a milkshake ‘one-by-two,’ still getting large enough portions to sustain them through the upcoming, tedious bargaining process.

With renewed strength, Malathi and Kalpana set out looking for that gift that would make them the undeclared winners of that Navarathri. And what a sight it was! Colourful sets of space-saving plastic boxes, cane baskets, canvas bags, jute bags, embroidered purses, water bottles, lunch boxes, mugs in all shapes and sizes including self-stirring mugs, umbrellas, night lamps, show pieces, floor mats and jewellery boxes vied for their attention. After a lot of deliberation, haggling and pleading, Kalpana purchased dozens of purses made of denim, with seven compartments (of which five were zippered), for sixty rupees a piece. Wow! What a steal, she thought; people would think this was worth at least a hundred rupees. Malathi bought a large stone-studded gold-coloured plate that one could use for serving Kumkumam-manjal. Watches at twenty rupees a piece were a good bargain for the boys and colourful hair jewels were chosen for the girls. Stone-studded elastic bracelets and sponge balls were purchased for teens. A major part of the shopping done, they walked through a narrow alley that was lined with shops selling electrical and electronic goods, looking for something for the men who might accompany their wives or mothers or daughters to their kolus. A pen that doubled up as a torch and a small power bank for charging mobile phones were purchased.

They then made a quick visit to the dry fruit shop that sold the ‘best’ cashews, almonds at the ‘best’ prices and the ‘finest’ strands of saffron from Kashmir and a boggling variety of dried grapes and figs. With the dry fruits in their backpacks and heavy jute bags with their other purchases, they decided to answer the hunger pangs that were gnawing at them from inside. They took a shortcut to Mint Street to feast on mint chutney sandwiches and kachoris and parcelled some snacks for the kids. Mint Street was lined with colourful shops selling hand-worked sarees. They walked on window shopping, oblivious to the heaviness of their luggage, the smell of sweet jasmine and roses giving them company. The ride back home in an auto rickshaw was a silent one, tiredness sinking into their bones. They smiled at each other with satisfaction – it was a day spent well, a feast for their eyes, mouths and hearts.

The next few days flew by in a flurry of activity of getting the dolls and their accessories ready, buying one or two new ones and trying to think of themes on which the dolls could be arranged. The husbands helped them set up the cast iron kolu stands, which were covered with silk sarees that were out of fashion. Dolls were arranged, little parks were set up, temple processions and scenes from popular epics and puranas were arranged. Some over-enthusiastic parents trained their children in reciting stories from puranas. Invitations over phone started flying hither and thither and the nine days were packed with agendas to visit relatives and friends and receive guests.

Malathi was thrilled when her sister-in-law gushed at the beautiful gold-coloured plate when she received the gift. “You always have an eye for things, Malathi!” Malathi smiled her thanks. Kalpana was also equally appreciated for the many-compartment purse she had picked. People even asked her for suggestions on what could go into each compartment. She was thrilled to bits. Some even tried opening and closing the zips to check whether all the zips worked. Kalpana was smug when all zips worked without fail. Meena, one of her apartment buddies, exclaimed, “Kalpana, let me tell you, this is the most utilitarian purse I have ever seen. This is going to be my favourite purse from now on.” Kalpana always prided herself on being able to choose practical gifts.

The nine days sped by and one evening, Kalpana went to her son’s friend’s aunt’s house. Navarathri meant it was alright to visit people who were mere acquaintances, because it was considered a blessing to receive a tamboolam as much as giving one. After ooh-ing and ah-ing at the display of dolls, Kalpana decided it was time to leave. The lady of the house brought the tamboolam and there, Kalpana saw her blue denim purse nestled in the large betel leaves. Kalpana could not help but exclaim “Wow! Where did you find this…?” Before she could finish the sentence the hostess’ little son butted in, “Aunty, amma received it as a gift from Meena aunty yesterday. I think amma does not like it. She is passing it on to you.”

Picture from myscrawls.com

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