padi planting

She was about eight. After retirement, her grandfather worked their padi field situated right next to the sea.

During the padi planting season she loved catching little colourful fishes in the clear shallow water. These she placed in glass jars along with aquatic weeds for the fish to eat.

Standing on bunds she looked at a wide expanse of water, the empty padi field plots before planting. It looked exactly like a large lake.......the water rippled as a moist breeze blew in from the sea, disturbing the tapestry of reflections on the surface......

Her grandmother would bring along rice, sambal belacan, fried salted fish and pumpkin shoots cooked in coconut milk! They would have a picnic on the grass under a spreading tree and the humble fare was like ambrosia !

And then the plants grew yellow with ripened padi. It was harvest time. The whole village became a hive of activity. Everyone helped in a very convenient system of everybody helping his neighbour in turns. There was no need to hire helpers at all! Such was the goodwill in those days!

Her grandfather made flutes out of the padi stalks for her. If you were good, there would be sweet music....like those notes by the ever elusive Pan ......

Night time was like a fiesta, electric bulbs lighting up the lawn as padi was sieved or sifted using a mechanism like a bicycle to produce wind. The heavier rice kernels would fall onto a pandanus mat while the empty husks blew away.

There was much fun, laughter, sweet hot tea and even bubur kacang for all. The children would run and play to their hearts' content as dads, mums, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and grandparents chatted and worked the night away.

The following night would see the same at another neighbour's home. And so on.

It was a time when rice on the plate was grown on one's own land. Rice never tasted so good!