The art of Beedi making

Ayikudi is a small village in Tirunelveli District, Tamilnadu, India. It was earlier known as Ayarkudi, the abode of the noble!

I was born and brought up in Mumbai, then Bombay, until I was eight years after which a family crisis compelled us to dispose everything including our house which I loved a lot and move to Ayikudi, my mother’s native town.

Even though I was young and one tends to think children just move along with Parents’ decisions, it was heartbreaking to leave the house, a home I loved living in. As city kids we loved visiting the village but the thought of living in a village was terrifying.

All my stories, real time experiences begins with some calamity or what looks like a tragedy to go through. At the same time all my stories also end with no regrets.

It always ends with beautiful lessons learnt from the journey good enough even to share in joy. No regrets.

Reflect, join me to agree that every little or big thing that has happened is for the very good of what is happening. You are here. We move with the change and change with the move.

Once actually chooses to rise up to cope with situations and finds a part that instinctually strives to find the good and be happy. When we do the work to accept and surrender realizing that a higher power is in control than our adamant rebellion, reaction and disappointment, then God reveals all the good people to have good relations with and all the good experiences to fill our memories with.

We moved and lived in a very old house on a street with houses on each side. This street was dedicated to the Brahmin community. After a little space of separation, another row of very old, smaller huts began which belonged to the lower caste community. There was no connection between the two even though they shared the same street. They were workers and laborers and were happily used by the Brahmin community when needed for work.

In the eighth house of this dilapidated street of the so called “low” caste community, lived a very happy couple with children.

It was called ‘ettu veedu’ in Tamilzh. They were well known and famous. The husband worked as an electrician and offered his services in the Brahmin houses and the street and may be elsewhere too. His middle daughter was my age and we became friends as there were frequent interactions for chores like getting vegetables, chillies and other tasks. The door to their little house was always open for me and their love really transformed me. I did not care what others said and all the time broke the laws, crossed the boundaries from the Brahmin and entered a forbidden haven, pulled my friend out of the house and played right there on the streets. I taught her many games as she did too. Skipping was our favorite. This routine was my pattern every day after school. I had intentionally or innocently broken all rules and barriers because of the unconditional love and friendship I received from this beautiful “high” hearted family. I would like to say many things changed after that because it was a one of a kind scene happening. Of course, I dragged her to my house too compelling her to come out of her fears and shyness.

Common, shouldn’t we all be a little more nicer to all people who help and do work for us?

The beedi making genius

My friend’s mother is whom I am calling, the most beautiful, brilliantly talented and the kindest person I have ever known, the beedi making genius.

She…

…is…

…probably 70 years now, or more…

Even later in my life I kept in touch. The last time I saw her was when I was on a South India tour to my parents’ natives, on my visit to India from USA.

She hadn’t changed. She was sitting in the same place by the door open and rolling her perfect beedis. She just looked more beautiful.

I have to ramble on with my teachings on beauty. Bear with me and try to be beautiful. This lady (whom I do not recall a name, which is sad) was fat, dark and had almost all of her front teeth jutting out through, above and beyond her lips.

Little children might get afraid with that graphic scene.

I am telling you, she never stopped smiling. Again I have never seen anyone smile so much. She was just a radiating love beam in all ways beautiful and kind.

I also have front teeth jutting out but straight and I was teased for it all my life. So I never smiled, unless I uncontrollably burst out laughing.

I was blessed with the truth one day that I have the most beautiful smile. I am trying to outlive the old pattern of smiling more.

So, she smiled all the time while giving her discourses and chatting about this and that. When I joked or made her laugh with my majestic comedy she would smile loud and laugh modestly with her tongue out to cover her teeth but in vain.

So, this was our relationship. I knew everyone in the family and they all adopted me into their little space, happily. She was a perfectionist.

One day, I boldly confronted her and asked her to teach me the work she is doing. She has been refusing to teach me or let me help her while the entire time I would be sneakily watching her do that amazing job. She was the ceo and all in all for her little beedi business. She was always working rolling beedis while I am sure balancing her household chores and everyone helping out.

What a mess our world has become nowadays. (2023)

She had that voice, a perfect tone dancing to her perfect cadence of the beedi rolling rhythm.

So, finally another day the session began. The artist in me was ready to roll.

First thing is to sit comfortably. Apparently sitting on the floor seems efficient enough. She never complained about anything uncomfortable, no backache, no headache and certainly no bitterness.

There is a traditional tray, bamboo or wood based, smooth and lasts forever.

On one side she had piled up tobacco of very high quality. Then with a little space she had the leaves cut in a specific rectangle or actually a rhomboid. There was an iron template like a stencil to cut the leaves exactly that size. I do not know if I can mention the exact size. Everyone knows how small or big a beedi is. Did I mention what beedi was? It is the authentic village style cigarettes way stronger in the nicotine using a unique tobacco mix.

Of course she had the best sharpest scissors way better than what the tailors have. I am inspired to mention that since all these items were so durable nothing breaks and no money spent on replacing the tools.

I guess then there is no business there.

How many things nowadays are really there where it never breaks and we do not spend a lifetime fixing or replacing things?

I think we have evolved to buying and hoarding even if it is not necessarily broken. I just don’t like the color anymore… right?

They are memories, what is called our story what we have made of it His glory…

Living and loving…

Not once did I see anyone in their house fighting or hurting. I was a different person in their house, free of fear and enjoying the company joyfully as compared to the deep dysfunction in my family. You never know when the next oppression of attack is at store in the form of mocking, shouting, arguing and what not!

There is so much to learn in humility from simplicity.

They did not seem broke. God always kept them in abundant love and grace. If I am not mistaken they were the richest in that street.

Then, she had a little tool with a blunt edge, all in that order. On one side there was a pink thread. Yes only pink thread. I am sure the thread was also handmade by dying it the exact color. By her side she had the original palm size dried leaves not yet shaped into the rhomboid. I am not sure what tree those leaves came from. Do you?

The process of beedi making

Take the big leaves. Place the rhomboid stencil on the leaf and cut into perfect shape. Each leaf has to be used to its maximum. There should not be holes or tears. Pile up the cut leaves in one corner of the tray. Keep the tobacco ready. Take one rhomboid leaf and fill it up with tobacco. Roll it up to form a cylindrical cone. It was tapered at one end that would be used to keep in the mouth and the other a little broad that would be lit. It is then tied with the pink thread with the exact amount of thread to keep it in place, then twisted and knotted. The tip is perfectly trimmed with the little tool with a blunt tapered edge (God knows what it is called) by using it to fold inside four times. Once it is checked for quality then it is collected in one corner. Twelve beedis are then collected in one perfect bundle and tied up again. This was one pack of beedis.

Can we match this raw perfection with any artificial intelligence? If everything was machine perfect all the time then that is the most vulnerable probability for imperfections. It definitely does not have any tool to match natural calamities or mistakes.

The speed was no problem. She had to do a certain amount of beedi packs a day and deliver it to the authorities. They would reject it if even if a small flaw was found and would be deducted in her income. That was the reason she would not let me help her. She just could not afford it. Her awareness level and the focused energy were beyond a perfect machine. She was absolutely a professional. She could cut and shape the leaves without the stencil perfectly and even roll the beedis without seeing as the items were in place all the time. She could roll one beedi in a split of a second. No kidding.

Now that I have all the lessons learnt, I sincerely and seriously persuaded her to test me and then reject me if she wants. It was a day of absolute joy for me to exhibit my talent and appreciation of her art when she let me do the work. I took my own time to show my work to my teacher. She was impressed.

I later just helped with some cutting occasionally and folding the tips. I respected her space and was grateful to have learnt the art of beedi making.

No one ever was tempted to smoke the beedi, not even the head of the household. Her husband was a gentleman and liked by all. One could sense the family’s secure and protected feeling around him, strong and responsible.

Fond Memories

From this place and moment of lovingly remembering my fond memories of good people God always had around me and reflecting on all the fond lessons learnt, I pray these precious souls who have accompanied me in my journey of life’s story, have cruised through life the best they can and I hope their memory of me is still alive in their hearts if they are still around.

Please Note

I am not promoting beedis or encouraging its consumption. It is simply an experience of a great relationship with simple people who inspired love in every way and worked with what they had thus retaining their integrity and character. It is an 'art' exhibiting talent to its highest potential.