Husqvarna No.5:Journey from Sweden to Mysore

A sip from the cup of tea next to me, the unmistakable taste of cinnamon, cardamom  and clove meets my approving taste buds. 

I became a tea drinker, weaned away from coffee, when we moved to Jaipur and ran out of our filter- coffee powder rations within a week of replenishing it.

All through my childhood leading up to the time I married, I drank milk laced with a little coffee religiously twice a day, disliking all other supplements thoroughly. I was a loyal coffee fan.

My parents still own the coffee seed grinder (now stowed away in their kitchen loft) having switched over to coffee powder from shops or drinking instant coffee when they are bored of drinking tea.

The grinder was fixed like a vice on a low stool in the kitchen and had a lid covering the top to prevent cockroaches from investigating the crushing mechanism. I remember the olive green seeds, each with a cleft in the middle arriving on Sundays when Daddy visited the ‘town’. Robertsonpet was this town that met our needs. I think the seeds sometimes were also bought in Bangalore. The green seeds didn’t have the rich aroma till Mummy roasted them in a black iron pan. The house would fill with the thick smoky smell of coffee. Once cooled these seeds went into an airtight box. The grinder is black, the color of roasted beans. 

When we expected guests we would put seeds into the cup like opening and slowly turn the handle collecting the fresh powder in an orange plastic bowl. Mummy stored some of the powder in a jar for daily use. Neighbors with unexpected guests borrowed coffee powder. Nobody returned the powder, they explained they didn’t have its equivalent and would force us to accept fruit or snacks in return. I loved turning the handle and was proud that we owned something that others seemed to covet and enjoy.

On my last visit home we got it down and took a look inside. Writing a few emails to the company and using the help of search engines resulted in this sketchy history:

It came out  in the late 1800s from the foundry of a company in Sweden called 'Husqvarna' in a small place by the same name. Not much is recorded about the sale of this particular piece.

My grandmother received it from her father in the 1920s when he saw her--his married daughter crushing coffee seeds with a pestle and mortar. My grandmother let my mother, her eldest daughter-in-law have it. It is mine now. I would love to trace its journey someday from Husqvarna to Kannambadi in Mysore, where my great grandfather worked on the construction of the KRS dam.

The grinder 

Husqvarna No.5