Riding the grindmill chariot to prosperity

Savitra Ubhe sings 11 couplets about the daily task of grinding grains, and the tricks to make it easy – all the while remembering her mother, who made her strong for the hard labour

“Give a roll of betel leaf to your brother, give it to your beloved friend,” a wise woman  at the grindmill advises another whose brother is sulking. The words emerge like the rhythm of drumbeats from Savitra Ubhe as she sings a refrain interlacing her ovi :

Has the woman tied a string of the jasmine buds in her hair or has she made a fragrant garland to offer it to her beloved friend? Both look beautiful like the moon’s arc. Either way, she is trying to pacify the silent raghu , parrot, on the tree, who symbolises the man.

The lack of water in the forest is a metaphor for the absence of contentment even amidst the beautiful surroundings. Perhaps they have had yet another quarrel and it is his turn to sulk and hers to appease him. Offering him a betel leaf roll might please him. And we wonder if this is the same woman about whom Savitrabai sang in another set of ovi : A sister’s anguish, a brother’s worry .

The woman offers the man a vida – a rolled betel leaf filled with shavings of betel nut and dabs of catechu and white lime. It is a sign of welcoming him with love, and the image is often used in folklore to portray shringara rasa , romantic love.

In her signature style, Savitrabai sings the refrain after each line of the jatyavarchi ovi , grindmill songs. But the other women present complain it is too long. “We cannot remember so many words between two lines,” they say, protesting in a friendly way.

The women go on chatting and laughing in the background. Savitrabai continues to sing, though not unmindful of their comments. After the first few couplets, she changes the tune a little, and then drops the rather long but beautiful refrain.

In these songs, Savitrabai sings of a woman’s unparalleled strength in wielding the grindmill, described as a hillock of black corundum stone. The hard stone crushes big mounds of grain for the woman’s large family that includes her husband, daughter, son and daughter-in-law. The singer celebrates the energy of women, whose labour makes their family prosper: “a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law are grinding on the terrace which has seven sections.” This tells us that it is a big house of a prospering family.

The women in charge are strong. They are riding a chariot – not an ordinary one at that, but the two-wheeled carriage of the grindmill. The older woman explains to her daughter that it is when she sits like a charioteer, and uses all the strength of her youth, that the grindmill will “flow as easily as water would between the two of us.”

It is hard labour, and with constant grinding and pounding, the woman’s hands have become pale. She is dripping in sweat. But the strength to do this work has come to her from her mother's milk, as sweet as honey, which she drank as an infant, and from the generous doses of nutmeg paste she was made to eat as a child.

In this collection, the third and final set of Savitra Ubhe’s 23 songs for the Grindmill Songs Project, she leaves a small, expert tip for younger women working at the grindmill. One does not need to move the whole body while grinding, the singer says, “my dear woman, hold the stick firmly in your hand, against your wrist.”

Listen to her powerful voice:

My grinding is over, but I had to take more grains
Both my brother and father are here

I’m grinding till the sifting pan is full of flour
My dear son will go to school now

It’s not a grindmill, it’s like a hillock
It crushes mounds and mounds of grain; my son is rich and prosperous

In whose house is the chariot of two women?
Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law are grinding
On the terrace with a wall of seven sections

It’s not a grindmill, it’s like a hillock
It grinds kilos and kilos of grains; my son is rich and prosperous

Woman, this is not a grindmill, it is black corundum from the mine
My dear daughter, you have the strength of your youth

To pull the grindmill, one must sit like a charioteer
Between the two of us, the chariot will flow like water

To pull the grindmill, with the force of one’s fingers and nails
I have drunk my mother’s milk, like vessels filled with honey

Grinding and pounding, sweat is dripping in bowlfuls
My mother fed me a paste of handfuls of nutmeg

Grinding and pounding, my palms become yellow
My mother fed me a fresh paste of nutmeg

To pull the grindmill, why should you move your whole body
Now, my dear woman, you should hold the handle firmly against the wrist

The refrain
Jasmine tree, heavily laden with buds
Woman plucks, strings a garland
A beautiful visage, like the moon’s arc
Yet, the parrot on the tree is silent
In this forest, why is there no water?
O Radhika, give a betel leaf roll to your brother
O Radhika, give a betel leaf roll to your beloved friend

Poster: Urja

Listen to more songs by Savitra Ubhe: A woman’s work and sweat for prosperity and A sister’s anguish, a brother’s worry .

Read about the original Grindmill Songs Project founded by Hema Rairkar and Guy Poitevin.