Peeking into the Life of a ‘Reindér’

by CHRISTINA VIEGAS
Posted on 2009-01-08
Early in the morning, I hummed with pleasure, “A song on my lips, a song in my heart, I go my jolly way; the sun in my eyes, the sun in my heart, lights up my way from day to day.”
Yes, I was on one of my thrilling trips – to meet one of Goa’s sons of the soil, the ‘Reind?r’, or the toddy tapper. After driving through a narrow, village road that snaked uphill, I encountered Tanaji Naik, expertly climbing up the coconut tree.
Within the fraction of a second, I was out of my car, capturing him on my camera. Obligingly, he included me in his daily journey of collecting Goa’s famed ‘sur’.
Naik, popularly known as John in the village, got into this traditional profession as a mere nine year old lad. He enlightens, “At that time, I was only paid rupees five. But as I picked up the job well, and after a whole year of hard work, I was rewarded with a salary increment and drew in Rs 50 a month. Now, I have been doing this for the last 37 years.”
Any other job he is into? He replies, “No, I am only a ‘reind?r’, but my son works in the fields.”
And does his income suffice to support the family? Coyly, he states, “We have to make do with what we earn. But, it is very hard work.”
I quickly encourage him to elaborate on his job to prove to the world that Goans too can work hard. Reticently, he informs, “Daily, I climb the trees, thrice in the morning, thrice in the afternoon and four times at night. Our job is very dangerous. I have seen men fall to their death.”
Didn’t that discourage and scare him off? “No,” is the prompt reply. “It is a part of life and we have to go on.”
When does a tree yield its heavenly ‘sur’ and for how many years? John replies, “You can start collecting the juice from time the tree completes five years. As for its life, there is a 150 year old tree that still produces lovely toddy.”
And while he continues to shoot the breeze, I gather that the vein of the tree at the top is opened and the sap slowly drains into attached clay pots or plastic jugs. In the afternoon, he climbs the trees to close the openings so that the tree has time to recover its lost fluids.
As for the sale, he elaborates, “I don’t go out. People come to me to purchase the juice. And I charge Rs 57 for one litre.”
He elaborates further, “Actually, my main income is from the ‘Feni’ that I make from the toddy.” According to the ‘reind?r’, for three days, the ‘sur’ is allowed to ferment. Then between the fourth to sixth day, it is subjected to a process which results in the production of coconut ‘Feni’, a distilled drink with a high percentage of alcohol.
And apparently, years ago there were hundreds of toddy tappers in the state, but presently, there are only two to three in each village.
While John seems content and is the perfect exemplary of a toddy tapper; a man of humble origin who is unhurried in spite of his strenuous life, his wife exudes a conflicting picture as she bitterly quips, “The government does nothing for us. They are only interested in collecting taxes as they do with everything else in life.”
As evidence to this, John enthusiastically shows me the license for his production of ‘Feni’, and all the taxes that he dutifully pays. The pages are dog eared.
As I leave, I wonder at the unfairness of life. On one hand there are people prospering and getting everything they want and yet, many a time they feel empty and continue to want more. While on the other, we have those that suffer through the harsh realities of life and yes, most often seem content and are more giving in nature.