We decided on the spur of the moment to drive down to Goa. A friend had told me Goa and the villages were safer through COVID than staying in Bangalore and with COVID in the building, we decided to skedaddle. So backpacks were out and a food basket and hot coffee was packed, like my Mum did, and off we went. 5 am is a great time to drive, as we shook off the crazy traffic of Bangalore city.
Bhujang the caretaker was at the house waiting for us when we arrived. Doors and windows must be o pen and all fans and lights must be on for him. Water was running , toilets were sparkling and this time he had to wait longer than normal ,as we took the circuitous Chorla Ghat route to avoid the derelict Karwar road.
In the morning we were awoken by the raucous and familiar calls of the Golden Oriole, along with the Oriental Magpie Robins calling out in the massive teak trees, surrounding the homestead. While I sat out with my buttered poi and cup of chai on Dads favorite bench in the verandah, A peace which I never know or enjoy in Bangalore descended on my mind and I forgot about all things nasty back home.Steve was persuaded to come along with us.
So the next morning he was off with Bonny, my husband to buy some fish from the massive government fish market we frequented in Verem, --the reason why we can never eat frozen fish.Never tastes the same.
But my mouth nearly touched the floor when I saw the men come home with a massive seer fish, a kg of King Prawns and three good looking pomfret. Their gills were bright red so we knew they were fresh, but that was all I knew. I had never cleaned a whole fish before. My MIL had taught me to clean prawns and my grandma, to neatly cut up and skin a chicken. But seer fish and pomfret never!
“ Oh! What's the problem Mum?” said the YouTube generation Steve. “ Wait, lets watch a video and copy it.” In minutes we had slit the pomfret and easily cleaned out it’s innards. Scraping off a few scales, I washed it well, salted and haldied it and spread a generous layer of rechardo masala out of a packet on them with a squish of fresh sour lime.
Then placing six large slices of the fish on some bubbling oil in Dad's non-stick pan, I seared it on high heat on both sides, to keep the meat firm. Then I took out my sister's lovely skillet from Australia and made a sauce in it with onions, tomatoes and ginger garlic paste. Then I placed the slices into the sauce and let it simmer on slow for a while before turning the slices.
The rest of the huge fish went into the fridge for us to use over the next few days. We devoured a whole pomfret each, again simmered in the pan, till they were done on both sides. Nothing like enjoying fresh fish and also fish that is less boneless and easy to clean.
I always take the prawns out into the verandah to clean, so Steve learned from me how to clean the king prawns , both shelling, and de-heading and finally de-veining them. Took us a good one hour, but I am particular that they are done well.The heads you boil and make a stock, said my chef friends, so for the first time I did!
We ate fish like there was no tomorrow for the ten days we were in Pilerne. It’s hard living in the old homestead as it's closed for most of the year, but we got Bhujang to bang the rafters on the first day and sweep out large mounds of mud,courtesy the white ant infiltrators. Beastly things who ensure we have work every single time we visit.
Because of the rain which did not worry us as it only rained at night, we got men in to clean the head tall grass which had leapt up at the back. We have learned to get daily wage labour instead of contractors from Dad and so the job works out cheaper and better as we supervise it. The grass will grow back once you leave, warned Bhujang, but we could not live in the house with the fear of snakes in that grass.
The men could not be quiet,as Covid kept them village bound. So tins of black and blue paint were bought and the two gates were painted black and the grilles of the lower part of the house painted blue. This time we found Dad's fridge door getting ‘’eaten “ by the rust and considering that it probably is 15 years old, that's a good innings. Before we leave we clean it up, wipe it down and switch it off leaving the door open to dry out.
Ten days was too little. The silence and peace of the village was a balm to my soul. I could feel the ancestors around me in the old and ancient homestead calming my agitation which the creepy spouses of siblings bring. They have no idea about a property we grew up in and I am grateful they don't have their grabbing fingers here as well.
Three of us pay towards the upkeep of the house as per Dad and Mum's wills which is hard, but it’s a promise to keep.
