“Rose-milk” runs in the family’s genes. No wonder, the tastebuds are so strikingly similar…spanning multiple generations! When the family folklore is written down one day, Rose-milk will surely occupy a place of pride!
The story goes back to pre-independent India…to the temple
town of Tiruvidaimarudur. That’s where father and uncle grew up. In that idyllic
township, a veritable “Malgudi”, was a tiny shop called “Ganesh Cooldrinks”! Ganesh
Cooldrinks served the best “Crush”, “Sharbat”, “Badam-milk” and “Rose-milk”. No
one served Rose-milk as tasty as Ganesh Cooldrinks, or so it seemed, after father’s
narration.
“Did you and uncle drink Rose-milk every day at the shop? Everyday…you
drank Rose-milk? Everyday? What was the color of the Rose-milk? Was it deep-rose
in color or was it light-pink? And…and…was the Rose-milk topped with ice-cubes
also?”- you could not curb my childish curiosity!
In another incident, uncle was apparently tempted by
Rose-milk sold at Chengelpet station and forced father to buy a glass. One sip
and uncle gave up! It tasted horrible, far removed from the delicacy served at
Ganesh Cooldrinks. Father had no choice but to drink the rest of it, though it
tasted yucky!
When there is so much build-up to Rose-milk…as a child, I had
no choice, but to fall for it. Rose-milk was the most fascinating drink on the planet.
Even the name “Rose-milk” was so compelling! I could drink Rose-milk thrice a
day, perhaps more. When we visited a relative’s home and was offered Bournvita
or Horlicks, I quickly turned it down, with a forthright counter question, “I hate
Bournvita! Can I have ice-cold Rose-milk instead?”
Certain pleasures are uniquely Indian. When the sun beats
down in the summer months…scorching the earth and whipping up a cloud of hot dust…man,
animal and bird, everyone runs for cover. The throat is parched and bone-dry. You
long for some instant relief.
Imagine ice-cold Rose-milk served on such a fiery afternoon!
The feeling is unmatched. The air is redolent…with the fragrance of rose…and with the
aroma of “Gulkand”! The glass is full…up to the rim! Ice-cubes float…in the crimson
tinged…Rose-milk concoction! As your fingers grip the glass, beads of water droplets
condense on the outer walls …and gleam like fine-cut diamonds! It looks so
delicious that you gulp and swallow inadvertently, even before you’ve taken the
first sip! And the moment you raise the glass to the lips, sweetness fills your
entire being! If there is Amrta, if there is Happiness…it is here and now, right
in this glass!
Ironically, you do not want to take another sip! The Rose-milk
level is sinking; it is such a deflating feeling! A few gulps and it’s over. Once
the glass is empty, you tilt your head back and hold the glass vertical! Rose-milk
is too precious- not a drop…not a trickle…must be wasted!
The other day, I spotted Rose-milk syrup at the way-side grocery
store. Needless to say, I bought the syrup instantly. Sometimes, sitting a work,
right in the middle of a deep, technical meeting, the Rose-milk thought will
suddenly flash across the mind, bringing an instant smile. It is the smile of
anticipation- you look forward…to rush home and drink some ice-cold Rose-milk!
Life is like a glass of Rose-milk. It gives nuggets of
happiness…that may be few and far between. But no worries! The remainder of the
time, we recollect and relive those special moments…a second time…this time through memory. That reminder is enough… enough to light up the face.
Memory serves as the pleasant aftertaste; the aftertaste
that lingers…well after the Rose-milk is over!
