Fish Mint, a Spiced Lunch (Momdreng: local term)

Beeped my phone…“Hi, sorry I went to dig up the root (plant) with my neighbors,” flashed on my mobile screen. As I scrolled down the messages, I saw a picture of the plant that forwarded to me. Alas! I was reconnected to my childhood days for a while. It was something I admit that there are bunches of sweet memories embedded with that plant.

That was a cuckoo cooing period and all the deciduous trees were picking up its enchant with afresh buds of leaves. Grasses were extending their shoots with the gradual proceeding of the spring’s glow. Peach trees were at the helm of its blossoms, and my village was flawlessly adorned with flowers all around. It was a time of the year when every farmer awoke to the break of dawn, it was a time of the season when the earth shudders against the sharp piercing ploughshare and it was also a time of the day when farming wind reverberated to the tune of farming activities.

Following a month of cold beaten weather and quiet air, every rancher in the village hopped upon the agrarian activities. Day turned out to be so busy increasingly laden with various works. So also, my dear mother too ventured into the farming business. I was small then and leave alone my brothers, even my sister wasn’t up to age to help her in any substantive farming-related works. She had to endure a major share of hardships in our family since Dad being "Lam Choep" who can’t practice farming in view of upholding the Buddhist principle of abstaining from harming others (farming comes at the cost of the life of countless insects).  

Getting off the bed at an early call of the rooster was nothing new for us however my mom wakes up much earlier than us all. At the point when the day comes to life with each one adhering to the time in their grasp, some hurried towards the field, others took their animals to meadows while each individual accounted their obligation, I got up relishing the smell of sumptuous meal and breakfasted thereafter which mom got it ready for us. She has likewise packed the lunch including the share of me and my brother. I accompanied mom to the field every day to babysit my youngest brother as he was a child then. For which she required me at her disposal to look after him.

Underneath the broiling sun and in the midst of a dry breeze, the farmers began to furrow, burrow and weed the field. Farming is helped out as a team with neighbors through the principle of reciprocity of their labour force over a specific number of days. I spent my days more often than not, playing with other kids and roaming with piggy bagging my brother along the edge of the field. I took him to mom to get breastfed whenever he cried and else I took shelter beneath the shadow of tall plants and trees.
   

As the Lunchtime moved toward the span of the day I can vividly recall how I rushed towards my mother. I could smell the rice and ezey. That’s a time where I had a good encounter with that plant. Taking advantage of available “Momdrang” grown around the field, mom used to take ezey for lunch instead of curry. Which is even time efficient while preparing lunch against the rush of morning hour and it also serves wonder as an appetizer at the wearing hours of a day. How delectable this root used to be as I savored sitting next to my mom during the lunch break. Those were extremely sweet memory that I can’t overlook across the length of my life. Thank you for sharing this picture which has rekindled my bygone day’s memories.