Every year, in the middle of January, the dazzling wintry-blue sky over Ghatsila starts thrumming with songs. It is the time of Makar Sankranti, an important festival in the Ghatsila-Jamshedpur area of Jharkhand, the place I call home.
Makar Sankranti is an important event for us Santhals. Called Sakrat, it is the last day of the year, and the day after is Akhan Jatra, our new year’s day, when it is considered auspicious to start new projects.
Best haandi for us
An important part of the Sakrat celebrations for Santhals is the gaandi-aasen . Gaandi is Santhali for monkey while aasen means a stroll; together, gaandi-aasen means taking the monkey out for a stroll. In villages, group of men carry the baanaam, a string instrument similar to the sarangi, and go from house to house singing songs. They also carry with them a straw effigy, which is the monkey, being taken out on its yearly walk. The men make the monkey dance by jiggling it. There are songs that go with it. One song I have heard sung in my village and by my father goes thus:
Bolay bolay bolay bolay
Bhitar re ma taang haandi, duar re ma
bodoij-sodoij
Em khan do ema lepe go
Bang khan do moray maha le basa
apeya
Kocha rinij poond saandi le jomay
tapeya
Ding dang ding lutkulutum
Medang daang medang daal kakar
chang pitha
Most of this is gibberish, but the part that makes some sense means: ‘You have hidden the best haandi (the homebrew made of rice) in the house and kept the leftovers at the door. You better give us the best haandi or else we will stay in your house for five days and eat up the white chicken you have in the corner.’
It is difficult to ignore this hilarious threat. So the troupe is given puffed rice, meat, haandi , pitha , etc. as gifts, after which they move on to the next house.
I have grown up listening to the Tusu songs my father sings. Tusu is the goddess who is worshipped during the week preceding Makar Sankranti. She is primarily a deity of the marginalised communities. In my village, people belonging to the castes of Kamar (blacksmiths) and Kunkal (potters) worship Tusu.
I cannot really say which department of life Tusu looks after, but I assume she is an avatar of Lakshmi, the Hindu goddess of prosperity. Makar Sankranti is, after all, a harvest festival and worshipping Lakshmi makes sense at this time.
Tusu is imagined as a beautiful woman with a round face, fair complexion, long, black, curly hair, sharp nose, large eyes and perfect lips.
She is decked up in a bright red sari and jewellery. On the day of Makar Sankranti, her clay idol is immersed in water.
Of all the Tusu songs my father sings, two seem to be his favourite: the hopeful “ Toder kantha-kapor jogar kor/ Aschhe Mokor du din sobur kor ” — “Gather your quilts and clothes/ Makar Sankranti is in two days” and the somewhat escapist “ Thakbo nai ar Bharot-e/ Chol sojoni jaabo bilat-e ” — “We will not live in India anymore/ Beloved, let us move abroad.”
Stay, Tusu
Most of the Tusu songs I have heard seem to have originated with the Mahatos, who are a major community in the Ghatsila-Jamshedpur area. They have a distinctive way of speaking Bengali and the songs are in this dialect.
One song sounds possessive:“ Amra char poisay aani nai/ Amder Tusu jol ke jaabek nai ” — “We haven’t purchased her for a measly four paisa/ We won’t let our Tusu be immersed in water”. Another one is full of love: “ Toke khawabo kori joton/ Mokor dinay roilo nimontorn ” — “I will feed you with care/ I invite you to a feast on Makar Sankranti.” Another is inquisitive: “ Tokay ke dilo lo nil sari/ Ishtishoner budha Punjabi” — “Who gave you this blue sari / The old Punjabi gentleman at the station?”
The sari in this song could either be nil (blue) or lal (red), but the old gentleman at the station could vary from Punjabi to Marwari, Bihari, Gujarati, Assami or Madrasi. And this is chiefly because all these words rhyme with sari.
These songs — both funny and poignant — have the same tune. Only the lyrics change, as with nursery rhymes. I looked up Tusu songs on YouTube and found this touching and funny one written by Rohin Mahato — “ Bhalobasar bhitor monay khol/ Aamar aasa-jawa hoye biphol ” — “There is something wrong in our love/ My visiting you again and again is of no use.” I was surprised to discover that this song too has the same tune as some of the Tusu songs my father sings.
Most Tusu songs on YouTube have their origin in Purulia, a Mahato-dominated district in neighbouring West Bengal. One line is sung twice and then the chorus takes over. It is quite an experience listening to Tusu songs sung with rustic vigour. It is much like listening to jhumur, the folk music that accompanies the dance of that name and also has a Mahato and Purulia connection.
The author, who won the Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar in 2015 and had both his books shortlisted for The Hindu Prize, is waiting for his suspension to be revoked by the Jharkhand government.
