Kadva Karela by KRISHSUDAMA
“Don’t you dare touch that karela sabzi! It is only for my sons… they toil all day in the fields…
You can eat the dal, and mind you, use little butter only—you are getting fat as it is,” bellowed Mittoo’s sasuma, her voice reverberating in the courtyard.
Mittoo looked longingly at the karela sabzi. Her life at her in-laws’ place had become unbearable on many fronts. Now, she was even being ordered around about what to eat and what not to eat. She quickly closed the lid.
It was late in the afternoon, and there was still no sign of her husband, Bansi, or his brother, Jugnu. She was famished, but she was allowed to eat only after everyone else had eaten. Lost in her thoughts, she started to peel the cow dung cakes from the wall. Just then, she heard her husband and his brother returning from the fields.
“We are very hungry… give us food quickly, as we have to go back to the fields,” the brothers chorused together while washing up.
Mittoo served the food, longing to have a morsel herself. The fear of her sasuma was enough for her not to touch the food or the sabzi.
Once Bansi and Jugnu had finished their lunch, Mittoo cleaned up the place and sat down to eat. Plain dal with a dollop of butter came nowhere close to the delicious sabzi.
“I want to eat it, but how?” Mittoo’s mind ran through all the permutations and combinations.
Finally, she made up her mind and had a plan. Mittoo quickly went out and picked up the earthen pot. The moment she was about to open the gate, her sasuma shouted, “Where do you think you are going, Mittoo? You need to milk the cows…”
For once, Mittoo gathered the courage and replied, “Maaji, there is no drinking water… I am going to the well, and I will be back in no time.” Not waiting for an answer, she wore her slippers and quickly walked out.
Mittoo turned toward the karela fields, like someone on a mission. She saw that Bansi and Jugnu were watering the creepers, while other farmers were gathering karelas. She quickly picked up one big karela and hid it in the empty water pot. As she racked her brains for possible hiding places, she remembered the old, dilapidated temple at the far end of the fields.
She ran as fast as she could. The sun was about to set when she reached it. The temple looked desolate and long abandoned. Something pulled her toward the sanctum sanctorum. The moment she saw the idol of Goddess Lakshmi, she was mesmerised. The Goddess looked peaceful, oblivious to her surroundings.
Mittoo noticed the four arms of the Goddess and the pitcher in one of them. She cleaned the idol with her scarf and sat down before it. “Look, Mataji, I am a poor girl. My father and stepmother married me into a very stingy household. My husband, Bansi, is a mama’s boy. My sasuma is a miser. She makes me slog the whole day and gives me very little food. Had my mother been alive, she would have protected me. I have no one to talk to. I am alone and sad. Do you know why I am here? I want to hide this karela, which I have stolen from my own field. My sasuma doesn’t allow me to eat my favourite food. Today, she made karela sabzi and didn’t even let me smell it.”
She continued sadly, “I have no place I can call my own. After my mother’s death, my stepmother made my life miserable. Now, I can’t even go back to my village.” “You know, Maa… my name is Mittoo, and yet I have nothing sweet in my life. They say you are the Goddess of wealth and good fortune… can’t you give me a little?”
The Goddess remained silent.
“I will come here every day,” Mittoo continued. “I will clean this place, light lamps, bring sugar and milk from my share… and all I ask is that you take care of my karelas. I will cook and offer them to you.”
She hid the karela in the Goddess’s pitcher and left.
From that day, she began secretly storing karelas in the temple. She even brought utensils and ingredients bit by bit. Though exhausting, it filled her with joy.
One day, her family left for a neighbouring village, leaving her behind. She seized the opportunity and rushed to the temple. She cooked rice and karela sabzi. In her excitement, she forgot to offer it and sat down to eat.
Just as she was about to take a bite, a bright light flashed. A radiant woman stood before her, draped in a silk saree, glowing with divine beauty.
“I am Goddess Lakshmi,” she said gently. “You cleaned my temple and cooked food… but you began eating without offering me. Won’t you share your karela sabzi with me?”
Mittoo was stunned. She quickly served the food. “Maa, forgive me. I thought you were just an idol. Had I known, I would have come earlier.” Then she added shyly, “Now you must eat this kadva karela sabzi only.”
The Goddess smiled. “I see your heart, not your offering. Your heart is not bitter like the karela.” She ate and fed Mittoo.
“You have put your soul into this food,” she said. “There is no bitterness in it.”
Mittoo choked. “I feel ashamed… I had to steal.”
The Goddess comforted her and spoke of divine truths. Before leaving, she gave Mittoo a magical pitcher.
“You will never be hungry or poor again. Keep this safe and tell no one.”
Mittoo hid the pitcher and returned home.
Days passed. Her family grew suspicious. One day, they followed her and discovered her secret visits. They accused her of wrongdoing and beat her mercilessly. That night, they even tried to burn her alive in the jungle.
But Mittoo escaped and returned home. When the villagers gathered, she narrated everything and showed them the magical pitcher. They didn’t believe her, so she led them to the temple. Though the villagers couldn’t see the Goddess, Mittoo could.
When they tried to stone her, a fierce storm erupted. Lightning struck, winds roared, and hailstones fell. The divine wrath was evident. Mittoo stood unharmed. A wall collapsed, killing her cruel family members. The storm ceased as suddenly as it had begun. The villagers realised the truth. They bowed in reverence.
From that day on, the temple was restored, and the village prospered. Mittoo’s life turned sweet—just like her name.
For they believed once again that the divine still walks among us.