15 replies to this topic

[Chetan]

Cant comment on these never used them....

Brahmi Amla hair OIL



Vegetable hair oil.....

[jyotirmoy]

In Kolkata Sadhana Ousadhala Dhaka sold Brhami Amla hair oil.

[Chetan]

Black Hair and white teeth with OIL!!!!

[Gautam]

Cantharidine: learnt very late in life that Cantharis (?) was a name for Spanish Fly (?) supposed to be an aphrodisiac agent. Anyway, loved the fragrance of this one, never available in our home.

Jabakusum taila : hated this with a passion, our family choice. Thick and smelt bad. People have the same complaint about Dabur Amla but that is just nice to me!

Himani Snow : great passion of all lower middle class Bengalis, who could not afford Pond's or Nivea but had graduated above mustard oil (at least for their evening toilette). Slathered over faces [ladies] to be followed by talcum powder [yes!!] dabbed on by woolly pads. Faces looking like Naga sadhus, the female moiety of Bengal struggling bhadralok class would essay the muggy Bengal evening. All to often, Perspiration, tears, thankfully concealed by a sudden drizzle, would run thin streaks past eyes outlined thickly with kajol [for younger girls], down tired cheeks. One never felt any great sense of gaiety or hope in these times. Anyway, "paudaar' and "snow" were two things very dear to the bengali heart, men & women, unisex cosmetics.

Afghan Snow: beloved cousin of above, disappeared earlier from market.

[jyotirmoy]

The "snow" and creams like Ponds and Nivea are different things isn't it bhai Gautam? The snow was something like a moisturiser if I remember correctly.
During my childhood there used to a hair oil called Kuntalin. Keo Karpin has survived. Mahabhringaraj was also popular. Local Kabiraj (Ayurvedic docs) prepared hair oils with God knows what, it cooled the head and made you sleepy http://www.gourmetin...tyle_emoticons/default/smile.gif

[Gautam]

Dear JD,

You may be quite correct, but in our weird and humble circles, any & everything was grist for the mill. I was hoping to capture for you and other Bengalis a snapshot of the rituals of the "shejey-gujey bikeley ber howwa" or " rother mela ba anyo mela dekhtey jaowa" : going out to enjoy the evening or to visit various melas by the lower middle class at the fringes of the metropolis. The quality creams like Podnds et al. were unaffordable and not available in the moffussil markets.

This snow or whatever else was handy served as their "foundation" and large dabs of "paudaar" their great defence against an uncaring world. My heart was wrenched then, and it does now, at the sight the memory of these thins: young girls, head shaven because of lice, heavily bedecked in collyrium and talcum powder applied to the face, anxiously peering at merchandise in the light of flaring carbide lamp flames. Their female relatives [revelling in the bengali's orgiastic realtionship with powder] likewise.

I remember Keokarpin well, and a California Poppy decoctio that was not a hair oil but an alcohol extract to apply after a haircut. I use to look forward to a haircut for this reason alone. Later in life discovered that Clifornia poppies, along with all poppies, have no fragrance!! Lifeboy and Glycerine soap, Moti sandal soap, these were some

[jyotirmoy]

I still remember senior ladies of our household used to sit on the floor and their attendents mostly aged widows applied oil to their long hair. I remember primitive bottles with oil of Teel. In case of "mataha gorom" translated hot head an oil called Madhyam Narayan was used.

Apart from snow there used to be another item called Pometom or some thing like that. Another thing that has vanished from the gent's dressing table is Ator or Ittar. Tiny bottles of organic perfumes and what names !!! Single fragrance like gulab, jasmine and complex cocktails like raat ki rani, fida dill.... Some of them were many times costlier than impoted "scents" like Patra.

Next to the huge almirah with a huge Venetian mirror on the door hung a long strip of leather. My grand father proudly sharpned his German razor using this strip. After that and lathering with a shaving soap stick began the artistic strokes of the razor sharp razor.....

[anil]

Very interesting - please continue the discourse on this aspect of daily life in Bengali households.... besh !!!

[jyotirmoy]

In those days we did not go to barber's shop or saloons as they are called. We had a family barber Anonto Napte. Napte/Napit is a person who is barber by profession. He was also a permanent fixture at all the marriages in our family, I will come to this later. Every month Anonto turned up on a Sunday. It was the day of hair cuts for almost all the male members of the family. He arrived with a small wooden tool box which held all the tools of his trade including a lump of Alum. We sat on the floor shirtless wrapped in a clean dhoti while the Napit squatted behind us and did his job. Particularly irritating was the part when he used his cropping "machine". Bits of hair invariably got in to our eyes and caused irritation. At times when we demanded some particular type of cut he would retort " O sob parbuni.. bhadro loker chele bhadro bhav e chul chnatabe ". I can't do all that, a gentleman's son should sport a gentlemanly hair cut. The matter ended there, so no U cut like Uttamkumar
Ananto also visited on week days after school time and on those occasions he produced his surgical tool "Naroon". He would dip the sharp diagonal edge in water and cut our finger nails. Our personal hygine and his personal income went hand in glove.

The Napits also had their role in marriages. There used to be one from the groom's side and another from the bride's side. They would confront each other through rhymes and try to out do each other. Often the rhymes turned vulgar and some senior member would intervene and dismiss them.

When I joined college Ananto retired but still kept on visiting us and participated in all celebrations. In those days relations went much beyond that of employer and employee. When I started developing my facial and cerebral foliage Ananto was very much agitated and even told my father "Chele ta college e giye bokhey galo..."
The fella is getting spoilt after joining college.

I really don't know when Anonto passed away, I was away from family & Kolkata for long. So many people like Ananto has faded away but at times on lazy afternoons half way between sleeping and waking I seem to hear the clip clip sound of Aananto's machine, the fragrance filling the samiana as Dharani thakur cooked and the fairy tales that Narayani bamni told us in opium induced lucidity gently shaking her ivory white hair just like the old woman of the story who sat on the moon spinning dazzling yarns.

Edited by jyotirmoy, 07 October 2008 - 09:46 AM.

[Sekhar]

Jyoti da works his magic again!

[Chetan]

Quote

Jyoti da works his magic again!

Nicely put Jyoti da....

I remember when I was around 4-5 years old , a Barber used to do the rounds on foot in Basvangudi (Bangalore) , my cousins used to get their hair cut from him, he used to be invited inside and I felt it completely unique since I always went to the hair cutting saloon.

[priyazim]

As Sekharji said "magic" - pure magic!!!! Wonderfully written.

[Gautam]

Dear JD,

Now that Bijoya has come and gone, please remind your audience about yet another aspect of the Narron. Perhaps we should ask Sureshbhai to cut and transfer all these segments to Kolkata-Nostalgia thread, that I cannot seem to locate anymore. Anyway, the noroon is a deadly if tiny instrument, its minute size belyits razor sharp angled tip. Sri Ramakrishna used it in a great metaphor of spiritual self-cultivation, saying : " to conquer others, swords and shields may be necessary but to kill oneself, a noroon is quite sufficient." What he meant was this: many, without any grounds, are often very keen to start advising others about spiritual life, whereas they should focus on their own growth, when the deep practice of just a very little or of a very simple method in secret will silence their expostulations forever [t is only world teachers sanctioned by the Divine who need to expound to the world, to preach, not anybody else setting himself up as expert counsel].

Returning to the physical noroon, it can be wielded only by an expert because it is applied in a particular way. It is pushed into the corner of the toenail, for example, and an incision begun precisely at that layer or juncture of the nail where the hard keratinised part just is transitioning from the QUICK, the tender living part. As you all know, the latter is extremely sensitive to pain, and a favorite site of torturers. Therefore the least slip of the fingers on the SriParamanika'a part [the sadhu name for a nApit] would spell disaster. This he does not allow, keeping a steady constant pressure in an outward arc, neatly exploiting this arc of softness to remove the thick toenail in one clean sweep. Then, reversin the blade of the noroon, he uses the point and tall edge to scrape out "toe jam" and trim overhanging skin etc. Then the area at the base of the nail is scraped and trimmed.

I forgot to add that the nails might be wetted down with water, and while they were "softening", the napit would bring out his bundle of cotton cloth where resided 3 deadly-looking noroons, select 1 with great deiberation, sharpen it on a handy marble floor, and set to work!! All requests to touch, let alone handle, those outrageous instruments, were met with a outraged No from both owner and householders. When I went to my foster mother, I discovered she was a total maverick, even crazier than me: she had her own carpenter tools, she fished and taught you how to fish(!!), she was a real princess living in poverty, but best of all she had her own set of noroons and knew how to use them! Sadly, stupid me could never muster the hand-eye coordination to manipulate one of these for toenails fingernails, yes. One slip, and the sharp edge would plunge deep into the quick, drawing gouts of blood. Oh, the pain, for days. Never, never, again.

All the while his eyes are fixed on the task, his mouth has been indulging in lively prattle, doling out outrageous gossip. This was one of the primary functions of the napit, a bardic role, carrying news of and about households in the jajmani rural and later, urban, neighborhoods. Women had very little social life, and the napit was their conduit, their soap opera. His OBLIGATORY presence at the Stree AchAr or Exclusively Female Rituals at Weddings, Birth rites etc. illustrate his connection to the female side of the family. he was a de-masculinized male, allowed to touch the women in areas where he could very easily compromise their modesty in an era when underclothing was unknown and the dress was a single wrap of cotton. Bengali Brahmins and brahmin women, for a long time into the 20th century would never wear any sewn garments!! No blouses, chemises etc.

Sitting on the floor. tailor fashion, if you have to lift a woman's feet at the angle required to cut their toenails, a lot can be visually compromised, to say nothing of other things. Therefore, a great deal was made of the napit's ethical sense. Following the toenailcutting, more physca contact followed. Corns in the sole of the foot would be cut woud be cut with that same noroon, after the feet has been bathed and soaked in water. Remember that the foot is a highly erogenous zone and the prolonged hand-feet contact with so many women of all ages must have been difficul proposition for all concerned in that sexually-distorted society. Especially in Kulin brahmin household of Bengal, with wives and husbands suffering the peculiar age and other distortions for which Bengal Kulinism is notorious, the sexual tensions pursuant to the introduction of any male into the equation is very grave and explosive. That the burden had to be borne and DISCHARGED RITUALLY like a LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR by a lower caste male like a napit speaks volumes for the gravity of JAJMANI BURDEN being borne by him.

After the sole of the feet, comes the trimming of the sides of the soles, that get easily blackened, cracked and hardened. This is the traditional PEDICURE. Then comes the part that children anticipate with breathless fascination:the bottle of aaltaa or alakta, red dye with a cap holding a primitive bent wire handle and an even more primitive wad of cotton as applicator. This is wiped in careful strokes along the side of the soles, around the heels and between each toe. The line must be harmonious not too broad, nor too narrow, setting off the particular shape of the foot. That completed, the napit says, eibar Ma Thakurun elen ; meaning Now, Mother Durga herself has come; or, is present as you.

(The color red has great symbolism in Shakta worship and Mother Durga is particularly adorned with aalta, a most auspicious emblem like the Shankha [conch shell bangles] sindur [vermilion mark along the parting of the hair] worn only by married women, denoting their married status. The sight of a married woman, any married woman at all regadless of caste, for a Shakta is proclaimed to be as auspicious as seeing a cow or a brahmin. High praise indeed! [A married woman in Bengal is recognized by her Shankha, sindur, aalta and uncut hair. Not today's Bengal!! Most modernistas are the walking emblems of inauspiciousness!!])

Usually, from a certain class of Bengali males immersed in Shakti worship, these words are not just pro forma. Coming from the family napit, with whom there is a quasi-spiritual bond, just as there is with the family priest or festival cook, there is a very special meaning. Those Western scholars and their Indian bootlickers who pretend to undrstand and dissect everything about India, its religion and social systems actually know very little indeed.

[Jeroo]

Hi, this is Jeroo, and a newcomer to gourmetindia. I find it fascinating, with the old recipes and the new ones, and the reasons why the old ones are so much better, etc.

Red alta I know is used by female Indian dancers on their hands and feet, to draw attention to their grace and movement.

I know hardly anything about Bengali customs. However once I was visiting a Bengali married friend, and after her bath, with great amusement and laughter she made the maid servant apply red alta to the soles of her feet and around them and on her nails. I didn't see anthing particularly funny about this. Then she whispered to me, that she wanted her husband to pay special attention to her that night, and the red alta was a signal to go ahead.

I must say, it makes things easier for mutual husband-wife understanding!

[jyotirmoy]

Jeroo, that lady must have joked.
Alta was used on religious ceremonies too. When married women died alta was applied to their feet before taking her to the cremetorium.

[Chetan]

Old Classic Indian Ad of Dabur Amla Hair Oil