Bhook ka Bhoot

Saroja Bala Sen was a true Matriarch.

This is not in the sense of being the “Head of the Family”, for of course she was a “sowbhagyavati”, i.e. a married woman whose husband was, as per law, the “Head of the Family”.

However, the head is connected to the rest of the body by the neck. It is the neck which dictates how the head communicates with the body and, indeed, which way the head is turned.

The Matriarch was the “neck” of the family.

Saroja Bala ran her household with an iron fist. Her husband, a respected MRCP/FRCS Doctor with an extensive practice and abundant income, had not managed to kill the proverbial cat on his wedding night. It was Saroja, then only sixteen, who took control of the proceedings from the start. She insisted that her husband washed his hands and feet and said his prayers before he was allowed on the marital bed. Dr Sen obeyed, and the rules for the future were set.

Decades passed. Saroja Bala was now a venerable Matron, with a daughter married off, a son recently married, and a young daughter.

It was a happy and contented family. The “Bou-Ma” (daughter-in-law) was obedient (she didn’t have any option !) and very friendly with her little sister-in-law. The Doctor, though aging somewhat, continued to comply with all the norms set down by the Matriarch. In fact, the entire household complied with all her norms, which we could call “best practice” today, on matters such as when to wake up, what clothes to wear, how many cups of tea to have a day, when to sleep et al.

As long as all norms were followed, peace reigned in the household. Any transgression by any member of the household would result in an explosion of anger from the Matriarch, and dire consequences for one and all. Hence everyone followed the norms, lest one’s digression brought wrath upon everyone at large.

One summer, as per established practice, the Sen family went for a “change of air” to Ranchi, a small town in Bihar (Eastern India) famous for its salubrious climate and its Mental Asylum. A spacious bungalow was rented and everyone settled down for a nice holiday.

One of the “must-do” items at Ranchi was a picnic at the Hoodroo falls, a small waterfall. Preparations were made days in advance.

An essential element of a picnic was cooking “on site”. For this purpose one needed an “ICMIC” cooker, a strange contraption of several round bowls contained in a frame with a small coal fire in the lowest bowl. The upper bowls were filled with rice, vegetables, fish etc., the fire was lit, and the device left alone to cook slowly for hours while everyone was having fun and honing their appetites on samosas, kachuris, sandesh etc.

The picnic went along splendidly. Due to the slow nature of cooking on an ICMIC cooker, lunch could not be served until 4 pm. Nevertheless, everyone had their fill, and just before the sun set, the party boarded the taxi, an ancient Chrysler (1932 model) and set off for home.

Alas.

A tire was punctured – the spare turned out to be flat – there was no option but to wait. The driver swallowed the curses of the Sen family, rolled the offending tire five miles to the nearest petrol pump, got it repaired, coerced a tonga-driver to take him back to the car, replaced the tire by moonlight, and drove back to the bungalow.

By then it was eleven p.m.

As usual, Saroja Bala made the decisions.

“It is too late to cook dinner. In any case, all of you have hogged like pigs at lunch. We shall all go to sleep. Bou-Ma and I will wake up early and make luchis (poories) for breakfast.”

There was a moment of silence before the good Doctor broke in “Of course, of course, nobody is that hungry, are we ? Breakfast will be fine. Let’s go to sleep”.

In silence the members of the Sen household retreated to their respective rooms and contrived to sleep.

An hour or so later Bou-Ma was awakened by the little sister-in-law.

“Bou-di”, she whispered, “I am hungry”.

“So am I”, the Bou-di whispered back. “Come with me. Quiet now. Let’s find something to eat.”

The two of them crept through the darkness, holding hands, and managed to reach the pantry.

“There is a packet of biscuits somewhere. Can you find it ?” asked Bou-di.

They scrounged around in the darkness. There was no electricity, of course, and nor was there any question of lighting a hurricane lamp, lest “Ma” woke up. Fortunately, the moonlight provided adequate illumination.

They found the biscuits, and some butter too. They ate as silently as they could, but biscuits make a crunching noise when they are chewed.

There was a footfall. Bou-Ma and her sister-in-law froze.

Fortunately it was the Son. He joined in.

Halfway through the packet of biscuits, they heard the sound of the sandals of Dr Sen.

Bou-Ma quickly drew her palloo over her head and looked away. Her husband placed a cautionary finger over his lips, guided his father to a chair, and gave him biscuits smeared with butter.

Dr Sen chewed with contentment.

“You know”, he observed, “there is a hunger ghost – khider bhoot (bhuk ka bhoot). It has got us tonight.”

When the biscuits were finished, and everyone’s hunger was moderately abated, Dr Sen asked his Bou-Ma to get him some water.

Obediently she tip-toed to the water-jug, but tripped on something and fell.

There was a huge crash.

Everyone froze.

“Who is that ?” a stentorian voice demanded. It was, needless to say, the Matriarch.

She proceeded to call each of her family members by name, except, of course, her husband, whom she could only address as “Ogo – suncho (Dear, can your hear) ?”.

Nobody answered. They were all cowering in the kitchen.

Saroja Bala lit a lantern and proceeded to search the house.

She finally arrived at the kitchen to find them all, complete with biscuits crumbs, the butter packet, and a smashed water jug.

She placed her hands on her hips and glared.

“What is going on here ?” she demanded.

Dr Sen mumbled “Nothing, nothing, we were all a bit hungry, so we thought……..”.

“Shame on you ! You have joined these children to eat biscuits ? Couldn’t you have told me that you want to eat ?”

“Uhmm, actually………”

This was a moment of decision for Saroja Bala. Several thoughts ran through her mind (while the family anxiously awaited her reaction to their “crime”).

Her entire family – husband, children, daughter-in-law – had broken the norms. They should be punished.

But, they were hungry, and that’s why they had done what they did. And Saroja Bala herself had left them hungry.

Why didn’t they tell her that they were hungry ?

Were they scared of her ? Should they be, or should they not be ?

Such issues could not be immediately resolved.

However, maternal instinct prevailed.

Three adults and one child could not have been satisfied sharing one packet of biscuits. They needed to be fed.

Saroja Bala reached her decision.

“All right, I understand” the Matriarch said. “Bou-ma, light the stove. We will make luchis right now.”

A little before dawn the Sen family had their luchis and aloor-dum (potato sabji) and went back to sleep.

Needless to say, Saroja Bala’s strict norms were relaxed somewhat in the years to come.
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The “khider bhoot” (bhuk ka bhoot) had done his bit.