Dried karvandhas, with their sour-tangy taste, were a standard item on offer at Neral station, ten paisa a paper cone. My father decided that fresh karvandha juice might be a good idea. We spent hours sitting in the river washing and sorting the berries. The unsatisfactory ones we simply chucked into the water, which had the additional benefit of distracting the little fish that came to nibble on our toes. Whenever I got bored of the whole thing I dived for pretty stones, and very soon I had a good collection.
By way of market research we tried selling the juice at the station. Acutely embarrassed, I never once sang out “Karvandha juice karvandha juice, small glass fifty paisa large glass seventyfive”, the way I was supposed to. I merely thrust the glasses in my charge silently towards the bars of the train windows. As far as I was concerned, if anyone was keen on buying the deliciously pink-violet liquid on display, nobody was stopping them from asking what it was or how much it cost. I sold two small glasses the whole of that afternoon.
riverside
bulbul chatter
from the berry bushes
By way of market research we tried selling the juice at the station. Acutely embarrassed, I never once sang out “Karvandha juice karvandha juice, small glass fifty paisa large glass seventyfive”, the way I was supposed to. I merely thrust the glasses in my charge silently towards the bars of the train windows. As far as I was concerned, if anyone was keen on buying the deliciously pink-violet liquid on display, nobody was stopping them from asking what it was or how much it cost. I sold two small glasses the whole of that afternoon.
riverside
bulbul chatter
from the berry bushes
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