It's hard to believe that a thin cloth bag can bring good fortune. But it's true, says Periyandavar, the proprietor of a general merchant store in Madurai. “The manjal pai was worn out and faded. But it brought good luck,” he says. “I gave it to my sister many years ago. The very first vasool it carried was one lakh. She has been holding it dear ever since.”
How can any of us forget the good old manjal pai? Bright yellow and starched, with names like ‘Ramu&Co' printed in blue or green, complete with address and phone number, to me, the manjal pai brings back memories of summer holidays in Madurai.
Every morning, my aunt or grandmother went to the sandhai to buy vegetables for the day. And I tagged along, hoping for a nungu or two. They held my finger in one hand and a manjal pai in the other. Coins jingled in the bag – it was light yellow and soft, with a temple's name scrawled across in Tamil.
A lot of ladies in the sandhai had similar ones. Some had an extra one tucked into their waist. They also carried wire baskets, while some carried bigger cloth or jute bags. But there were no plastic bags – I remember that very well. Those with no bags used their pallu to knot up the vegetables.
The manjal pai came in handy when sugar or rice was bought as well. My aunt knotted it at the top and it held up very well. Of course, one must be careful not to stuff it too much, for the cloth handles are quite thin.
Women in the long queues before ration shops all carried a manjal pai with their ration card, some small change and house keys inside. Men cycling in the streets strung a manjal pai from their handle bars – I remember spying a silver tiffin box in one.
But things have changed. I do not recall seeing as many manjal pais on my recent visit to Madurai. “Some people still use them,” says my aunt. “But many have switched over to fancier bags.” Periyandavar says that a few years before, customers brought their own manjal pai or baskets to carry home their groceries. It's not the case these days, he adds. “But in the bazaar, you can still see businessmen carrying bundles of cash in a manjal pai. They fold the cloth around it and hold it tight. It'll be safe that way.”
Tamil cinema often depicts a villager as a dusky, moustached man in a white veshti and thundu with a manjal pai in hand. This bag has always been a part of our culture. Since yellow is auspicious, the manjal pai was used to present return gifts to guests at weddings and family functions. Even today, parents of brides and bridegrooms carry wedding invitations in a manjal pai.
“I remember taking my slate and pencils in a manjal pai on my first day of school,” says 40-year-old P. Shakti Bala. “Whenever we had exams in school and had very few books to carry, we would use the manjal pai,” she says.
There were variations to the manjal pai too. “Cloth bags, hand stitched and embroidered by the lady of the house, were also the rage back then,” she adds.
Some people never cast off their old manjal pais. My mother, for example, has a huge collection of them tucked inside the bureau. “My father gave them to me,” she says.
Grandpa had a dal mill, so every time he visited us from Madurai, he would bring urad or toor dal in a manjal pai. “I've been saving them for years,” says my mom. “I just can't bring myself to get rid of them.”
