Nanamma’s magical basket of treasures

I was very close to my నానమ్మ (Nanamma is paternal grandmother in Telugu). Nanamma is my Naanna’s (dad in Telugu) mother. Telugu language has logical names for grandmothers. Nanna’s mother is Nanamma and Amma’s mother is అమ్ముమ్మ (Ammumma). Nanamma was quick witted and fun to hang out with. She told stories and talked about her childhood and life. I can still remember how soft and wrinkly her skin felt and the way she carried herself. She spoke with authority and left an impression on anybody that met her. She made all her grandchildren feel very special. When she passed away I was very depressed and it took me more than a year to recover from losing her. I still remember her voice and touch. She suffered from heart disease and didn’t move around much.

She carried a sturdy oval wire బుట్ట (butta is  basket in Telugu) as she moved from one part of the house to another and a must carry item when she traveled . Us grandchildren would fight over carrying the basket  for her as it was a privilege to do so. The basket was sizable and held all her medicines, her spare pair of glasses,  and other things she would want near her. Nanamma’s basket was special and magical. It was a safe place where I could hide things such as, a necklace or earrings అమ్మా  (Amma is mother in Telugu) insisted I should wear and I didn’t want to, went right into that basket.

When a family member or servant came asking for money for vegetables, groceries or anything else for the house, money magically came out of the basket. When a kerosene vendor stopped by the house, మాలక్ష్మి (Malakshmi was Nanamma’s maid) would come and ask for money. Nanamma would get cash out of her basket and hand it to Malakshmi. I would follow Malakshmi to watch her in action as she bought kerosene. She would keep track of the amount by drawing in the ground with a stick. One line for each liter of kerosene for the first four liters and she would draw a line diagonally across the 4 lines for the fifth forming groups of five. After buying kerosene, she would pay the vendor, hand చిల్లర (chillara is change) back to Nanamma and carry the kerosene to the kitchen, refill kerosene lamps, and stoves. I would follow her around dutifully helping her with little chores.

A servant or one of the kids would stop by asking for money to go to a small corner restaurant to get masala dosa or plain dosa or idli or upma or pesarattu or could be one of each. Cash magically came out of the magical basket. This restaurant didn’t have any seating and it was all takeout. I would run an errand to get breakfast from this place at times. Even though a fresh steaming batch of idlis and కొబ్బరి పచ్చ్చడి (kobbari pachadi is coconut chutney in Telugu) were made every single morning at home, the allure of dosa from this corner restaurant was too powerful for నాని బాబయ్య (Nani babayya) to resist. Babayya is dad’s younger brother in Telugu. I don’t blame him one bit. Breakfast from this small restaurant was to die for. We all know “घर की मुरगी दाल बराबर”, which means “Homemade chicken is equivalent to simple dal”.

Nani babayya would usually wake up late and ask one of us kids to go get breakfast for him. We could get ourselves biscuits or candy as a reward for this errand. It felt like a grown up thing to do to take cash and walk over, order, and get the food. The restaurant packaged dosas and idlis in విస్తరాకు (vistaraku is a plate made out of almond leaves in Telugu) or అరిటాకు (aritaaku is banana leaf in Telugu).  One’s appetite can be satisfied just by the awesome aroma of dosa/Idli/ wrapped in vistaraku or aritaaku.

Plates made out of leaves are biodegradable. They are used as disposable plates for regular daily use, weddings, and to pack food to go. Plates and bowls made of leaves are mentioned in Hindu, Jain and Buddhist texts. According to Hindu tradition food eaten on prescribed leaves is believed to have numerous health and spiritual benefits. Vistarakulu were made in cottage industries when I was growing up. It was fascinating to watch men and women sitting with a large pile of almond leaves and thin sticks to pin them together to make them. They made them rather fast. Vistarakulu (plural of vistaraku) are made in two sizes; smaller size for breakfast and larger ones for lunch or dinner. They were sold in bundles of 100s. There is something magical about eating steaming hot rice and dal on a vistaraku.

Nanamma used to send me to her కంసాలి (kamsali is goldsmith in Telugu), Ravamma’s place to drop off jewelry for repair and bring back the repaired and/or newly made jewelry. Nanammas was prolific with having jewelry made for one of her children and grandchildren. Ravamma ran her goldsmith business out of her small house. She used her kitchen stove to melt gold and do her magical work of making beautiful jewelry. When Nanamma asked me to go to Ravamma’s place to get old jewelry fixed or cash paid, they both came out of, you guessed it, her magical basket.

I enjoyed going to Ravamma’s house and watching her melt gold and shape the hot malleable gold into beautiful shapes as she made earrings, pendants and necklaces. She learned the craft from her father and took over the family business when he passed away. As far as I can remember, she lived on her own in that little house and didn’t have any family of her own. She would visit to drop off jewelry or talk to Nanamma about how the work was progressing. She wore a green or red cotton saree with white blouse. She wore minimal jewelry and whatever she wore had an extra spark to it. I wondered if she used 23 carat gold instead of the usual 22 carat used in Indian jewelry making. When she smiled her kind face lit up with a soft glow.

I used to collect గురువింద గింజలు for Ravamma. గురువింద గింజలు (guruvinda ginjalu) shrub is the Telugu name for Abrus precatorius which is commonly known as jequirity beans or rosary peas shrub. This shrub has green compound leaves and its seed pods are full of mostly red with a black top seeds. They are beautiful, similar to ladybugs without the dots and poisonous. Ingestion of a single seed can be fatal to both adults and children.

Goldsmiths in India used these seeds to weigh gold using a measure called a Ratti, where 8 Ratti = 1 Masha; 12 Masha = 1 Tola (11.6 Grams). Ravamma used them and I was very happy to gather them and take them with me to give them to her whenever I went to her place on my gold runs. When I collected these seeds I would give them to Nanamma for safekeeping in her magical basket. When she sent me to Ravamma’s house, she would remember to give me the గురువింద గింజలు (guruvinda ginjalu) from her basket.

The magical basket held precious medicine, Nanamma’s eyeglasses, and other small things she used. It also served as a bank for cash and vault for jewelry. In addition the basket was a safe for rocks, movie tickets, and train tickets us grandchildren collected, not to mention the precious గురువింద గింజలు (guruvinda ginjalu). When Nanamma passed away, there were precious items left behind in that magical basket of hers. I can still picture how the oval wire basket looked and the pattern of weave on it and its handles.