Bowitiya Dan Lyrics by Sunil Santha

The bowitiya berries, it’s the palu season now, isn’t it, little one
in the cinnamon jungle, on the white sand, the madan-rain has fallen, little one
when I remember it my lips and mouth water, I’m off now, little one
the bowitiya berries, baloli, palu and karamba are plentiful, little one

I’m going this way, so let go of my hand, little one
those who eat baloli and bowitiya are naughty children, little one
like yesterday, I’ll come picking olu flowers, little one
the bowitiya berries, baloli, palu and karamba are plentiful, little one

That was a lie, I was only joking, are you cross with me, little one?
turning redder and redder, you hide when you see the cashew and pumpkin, little one
we don’t want these overly shy ones, come away from here, little one
the bowitiya berries, baloli, palu and karamba are plentiful, little one

“A pumpkin thief is given away by the shoulder,” they said, didn’t they, little one
fair one, why has your tongue turned dark purple, oh, little one?
you ate the berries in secret from me too, didn’t you, nice, very nice, little one
the bowitiya berries, baloli, palu and karamba are plentiful, little one

The bowitiya berries, baloli, palu and karamba are plentiful, little one
fair one, your mouth moves faster than your hands, little one
quicker than that now, hurry your feet, let’s go home, little one
the bowitiya berries, baloli, palu and karamba are plentiful, little one

This is a playful village folk song by the pioneering Sunil Santha, and it is really a bit of teasing courtship set among wild fruit trees. The boy calls to a young girl, nangi, telling her the season for the country’s wild berries has come, the bowitiya, dan, palu, baloli and karamba are all ripe and plentiful, and in the cinnamon jungle on the white sand the madan-rain has fallen. Just remembering the fruit, he says, makes his mouth water.

The whole song is their back-and-forth banter. He pretends he is off on his own, teases that children who gobble baloli and bowitiya are naughty, then admits it was all a joke and asks if she is cross. She turns redder and redder and hides shyly at the mention of cashew and pumpkin, and he laughs that they have no use for the overly bashful. It is the light, needling flirtation of two young people among the trees.

The most charming touch is how her secret gives her away. Quoting a village saying, that a pumpkin thief is betrayed by his own shoulder, he catches her out: fair one, why has your tongue turned dark purple? You ate the berries in secret from me too, didn’t you, nice, very nice. Then, grinning that her mouth runs faster than her hands, he tells her to hurry her feet so they can head home. It is Sunil Santha at his most delightful, turning ripe country fruit and childish teasing into a small, sunlit piece of rural life.