This & That Saga and Serendipity. Memoirs and Musings.Prof. Aloke Kumar
Prof. Aloke Kumar
My parents, Nirmal Chandra and Karuna Kumar
My parents, Nirmal Chandra and Karuna Kumar

As winter sets in, I am reminded of a romantic tale.

In my ancestral home at Lord’s Para in Taltala my grandmother Prafulla Bala, did not allow hen or hen-eggs to enter our kitchen. It was strict ‘no-no’ and in case there was some occasion like celebration during Christmas vacation my father made all arrangements to have it cooked outside in a separate temporary oven and hired utensils from the decorators. It thus became a huge occasion. The large hearted man that he was and the efforts that went into the affair, he would cook in huge portions to feed the whole ‘para’. Plain rice and chicken with a slice of lemon, if you are pleased.

I am still in the dark about such a superstition but I was told that it was due to the hen rearing by the Muslims or some such nonsense that hens eat the scum of the earth. Then why not ducks? Pat came many an answer. As it is the ‘bahan’ of the Goddess of Learning Saraswati and thus pure.

My mother, Karuna, suffered from asthma and the winter saw her frail. Our House Physician, Dr.Bimal Kumar prescribed 2 hen-eggs and chicken soup daily. Much to the chagrin of my grandmother my father tried to follow the doctor’s advice. But to no avail.

My father, Nirmal Kumar, went back to his friend Dr.Bimal Kumar who was able to solve a part of his advice. He recommended a Chicken Essence then imported from the USA, which came in glass vial which could be had easily without the hen crying foul for my grandmother to know.

As for the eggs. My father solved it himself. He purchased a small petrol burner and kept it in his library. He also hid the eggs somewhere. Early morning he would rise and prepared two chicken half-boiled eggs and gave it my mother. Not to us children. Only to my mother. This went on for long till my grandmother’s demise.

I also have a feeling that the Chicken feast during winter was a subterfuge so that my father could serve some hot piping chicken to my mother, in the sly, all in the guise of a big party. Our dear neighbour, Debashish, still remembers it till date and narrates the tale to all who cares to hear his story , how his ‘Jathya’ hosted a sumptuous meal of Basmati rice with Chicken Curry with a slice of Gandjaraj lime.