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The tiny makeshift cottages had everything that described a purpose – buckets, ladles, paper cups, bottles, but an even tinier space just for their occupants, a small stove, a wire hanging to wash clothes and jackets for the winter and a small wicker bed to sleep. The cottages themselves were made of wicker good enough for a one-person stay. But what caught our attention was that they were built right in front of small date-palm trees. And right beside the cottage was a temporary furnace and a small stall with earthen pots full of Khejur gur or date-palm jaggery!
This is the life of those who provide the wonderful, sweet nectar which everyone relishes during winter. Recently as we travelled through the open fields of Santiniketan, at an hour when the world snores, we spotted several date palm trees with buckets hanging about and small but crowded stalls of people selling fresh Khejur Gur. Of course, we had to get down from our totos to find out more.
The sight that greeted us, almost at 10 metres interval from one another, was just as fascinating as interesting to be seen up close. When asked, we were informed that the date palm trees were cut appropriately to collect their sap in a bucket. While we didn’t get to see the cutting process since the buckets were already strongly attached, we did get a glimpse of the brownish sap falling gently drop by drop into the bucket, which would be later, collected, treated and turned into the delicious Khejur Gur.
What was interesting was that these breeds of date palm trees were a lot less tall than what one would imagine. These were mid-range trees and grew to a medium height.
As we let the sap collect into the buckets peacefully, our interest shifted into the bubbling tray, which lay at some distance. The sap that was collected that very morning was being treated in a furnace-like mechanism. The tray was placed on ground which was hollow from beneath with only the blazing fire holding it strong. With a strong sickle, dead date palm tree leaves were being cut and thrown into the fire to increase its temperature.
At the moment we stepped in, it was already more than 100 degrees Celsius, and we were informed that the temperature would be increased further. The Khejur Gur, still in the process of being made, was boiling in this tray and forming foams on top. Every time the tray was filled with foam, the layer was removed with expert precision. At times, the ladle, called the Arung in the local language, was used to stir the liquid. The liquid was treated in batches and heated for almost 1-2 hours till the required consistency was reached, strained and then put in earthen pots to be sold to the tourists, locals and mass markets. The space was so hot that one could see the tray becoming enveloped in smoke every 2-3 minutes.
We decided to try out some pre-made Khejur Gur. Interestingly, we were informed that every 9 litres of sap contributed to the making of just 1 litre of Khejur Gur. This only made us gauge the amount required to painstakingly make just one litre. Given that their demand rises amongst locals and tourists alike in winters, we realised how much of hard work went in behind each litre, which were still underpriced when purchased directly from the makers at just Rs 200 a litre. And yes, the golden –brown Khejur gur was mildly sweet and warm, a taste that was truly versatile and quickly made us remember the tiny pulps inside a Jalbhara sandesh or that generous drizzle over the patishyapta or just the liquid dip with roti and parathas.
But the process doesn’t stop here. This was only jaggery in its liquid form. What about the solid blocks that one sees in the markets? These too are made from the same sap, by treating the liquid and then solidifying it. That is why it is easier to melt these when wanted and even the solid blocks can be easily broken with hand and eaten in bits.