Thanks a lot, Sunil Dada for opening out so beautifully on Mama. I have also felt that we have rather painstakingly shied away from talking about him and the other family, as if all the pleasant memories have been overshadowed by certain tragic events. I am so glad that you have taken the lead by focusing on the most wonderful and cherished experiences of our childhood.
Mama was the brightest star of the family and the younger generation should know what a wonderful person he was. It is a heritage which makes us proud
and should continue to inspire grand children, great grand children and so on. Even all the Bhabhis could not get a chance to know him, the man who was so lively, cheerful and great fun to be around.
I remember our evenings in Daryaganj, he would walk in around six and the whole scene would be charged by his presence, his jolly talk and plans for the evening. He would visit us in Arambagh and all of us would be laughing our heads off on his stories and repartees which spared no one. Indeed he had something to say to every one, younger children getting most attention. I got career advice from him, which had elements of hard reality so typical of him, at all stages in school and college. There was no dull moment with him around. My mother doted on him like a hero and with his loss, she too lost something of herself.
I am so glad that you showed me the report on East Bengal refugees that he
wrote for the government in fifties, another example of his all round abilities. Behind the playfulness was an astute mind with a firm hold on reality and practicality. It is no wonder that so many people knew him, sought his advice and made friends with him.
I hope your beautiful and touching piece will evoke more memories, which we should continue to share.
Mama was the brightest star of the family and the younger generation should know what a wonderful person he was. It is a heritage which makes us proud
and should continue to inspire grand children, great grand children and so on. Even all the Bhabhis could not get a chance to know him, the man who was so lively, cheerful and great fun to be around.
I remember our evenings in Daryaganj, he would walk in around six and the whole scene would be charged by his presence, his jolly talk and plans for the evening. He would visit us in Arambagh and all of us would be laughing our heads off on his stories and repartees which spared no one. Indeed he had something to say to every one, younger children getting most attention. I got career advice from him, which had elements of hard reality so typical of him, at all stages in school and college. There was no dull moment with him around. My mother doted on him like a hero and with his loss, she too lost something of herself.
I am so glad that you showed me the report on East Bengal refugees that he
wrote for the government in fifties, another example of his all round abilities. Behind the playfulness was an astute mind with a firm hold on reality and practicality. It is no wonder that so many people knew him, sought his advice and made friends with him.
I hope your beautiful and touching piece will evoke more memories, which we should continue to share.
BWC
ReplyDeleteIn mid-fities, one fine morning a cousin of my Dadaji landed in our house to stay. He was about twenty and had come from Patiala to find work in Delhi. I will call him BWC (Sunil Da, Umesh, Pradeep will recognize him soon) His father had written to Dadaji to help him. This kind of thing was pretty common those days and happened often in our house. BWC was a easy-going, lovable person and settled himself pretty comfortably. He was sleeping till the time we were ready for school and was often out till late evenings visiting various relatives.
Dadaji sent him to various places, but he either didn’t like the work or didn’t get it. BWC was hardly bothered. After this went on for some weeks, Bauaji asked Mama to help, which is what she always did for any tricky problem. Mama promptly arrived one evening and immediately blasted BWC. Even though it was his sister’s sasural, he had earned the liberty to do such things, as he would always call a spade a spade. Then he sat down to counsel him. His first advice was that BWC should not think of a white-collar job as his qualification was too low.
Then he proceeded to give an advice that to begin with sounded shocking to the other elders in the family. He said that near the central secretariat there was a very big cycle stand, as 90% people came to office on cycles. He said that he can find a safe spot for him on the opposite pavement, where he can start a cycle repair shop. All he needs is a cycle pump, grease box and the few things for fixing puncture. Mama then gave him a realistic estimate of how much can he earn and how it worked out to be better than a clerk’s salary which was about Rs. 100/- those days. Mama then told him how so many Punjabi refugees better qualified then him are doing similar things.
As expected BWC dodged the advice saying he will have to ask his parents about it. He started avoiding Mama and shifted to his Mausi’s house soon after. But finally someone there got hold of him and placed him in a mill. He eventually did well to the relief of the family.
My Fair Lady
After finishing my B.Sc. exams (1965) I had gone out for a movie and dinner with some class mates. I returned home (Market Road) around bedtime. Mama’s bed was in the outside verandah and he was awake. He called me and asked about my evening.
I sat down on his bed and started telling him in a rapturous tone about the movie, which was My Fair Lady. I described to him how beautiful and vivacious was this actress and how well she sang etc. Mama was listening to it with some amusement, but for once I sensed some nostalgia in his voice. So I started saying that he should also see the movie and it will surely uplift his mood. But he said something to the following effect. “Beta these things don’t work for me. The void inside me is not to be cured”.
Today when I recall this, I feel blessed that he shared spontaneously a very intimate feeling with me.