Every time I see this Rogddo or the picture of the Rogddo or grinding stone, it reminds me of my dear Mother. Till today I remind her of the below mentioned incidents and she gives a good laugh. In our childhood days this Rogddo was the part of our daily life. My mother would sit with it majestically and grind on it until she had finished and was happy with her work. Whilst grinding on it she would always have an angry grin on her face and would occasionally order us to bring this and that whilst rolling the rogddo. If we did not heed to her errands, she would get up suddenly and beat us black and blue with the broom.

    

She always used to tell us. xhinka xhinka Rogdeacher vantunk xhinka (learn to grind on the Rogddo) As we grew up my mother taught my father to sit on it and grind the masala too, though reluctantly my father learnt to operate or roll the Rogddo in a few days and my mother was happy about it as if like Rani Laxmibai had won the war. In a few weeks my sisters learnt to grind on the Rogddo easily but my strict mother was hell bent on teaching me to learn the same though it was a women work. I avoided going into the kitchen even if I was hungry but my angry mother used to come running and find me and pull me in the kitchen to sit on the bloody Rogddo. I begged and pleaded with my mom to spare me into learning this girlish work but she was determined and hell bent on making me the master of the Rogddo.

     

Though I could not lift the heavy stone or Rogddo I tried to hide it on two occasions with the help of my good neighbour but my mother like a detective found it and gave me one of the worst …Chappalancho Maar… which I remember till today. Though reluctantly I learned to grind on the Rogddo and my mother was all smiles and praises at the mission’s success. Mission accomplished she made a timetable for all of us in the house. Sunday my father Camilo would do the honours on the Rogddo, Monday my mother Maria would grind on the Rogddo, Tuesday my elder sister Sera Would grind n grind, Wednesday it was my turn which I hated the most, Thursday the sister after me Felicia would cry and cry but grinded the masala with most of her tears falling into the masala, Friday my second last sister Sabrina would bring a scowl on her face and sit on the Rogddo, Saturday… no Saturday was not for my last younger sister Dolsey because my mother loved her the most and would not let her do any kitchen work. Till today my mother loves this youngest sister very much. So Saturday again my mother would do her part with the usual angry grin.

 

This time table we followed for 365 days a year and we seemed to be resigned to the fate of grinding and grinding on the now famous Rogddo. Our neighbours would often taunt us and more so me, they would cunningly and slyly taunt me and speak. Pascu Rogddeacher vantun zalem re? Well, I would run inside and cry bitterly and loudly. The best news came and our fate changed when our father bought home the MIXER OR GRINDER. That is the greatest day of my life when I patted my dad hundred times on his shoulder with a broad smile. From then on, The Rogddo is sitting in one corner and crying bitterly and has grown old and has become tanned black.

Whilst our memories remain.