Babaji's funeral was a big event in our lives and the lives of the villagers. He was the surpunch (elected leader) of our village and well revered elder. People came from far and near to pay homage to him. All the families were still reeling from having been uprooted and scattered at the time of the partition. Weddings and funerals were important times for everyone to come together and re-connect. Our whole family was home except for Chaman chachaji, papaji's immediate younger brother, who was posted in New Delhi. He was married and had a four months old son. He lived with his wife, Gulshan chachiji, and father-in-law in the in-law's home. Gulshan chachiji was the youngest of four sisters; no brother. Chachaji was their ghar-jawai, literally resident son-in-law (sometimes used derogatorily). They came a day later.
For the funeral our main room had been emptied of cots and trunks and some durries had been spread on the floor. Women came and sat in a group in the middle of the room. There were cots with durries in the verha for men to sit on. This was however a loose arrangement and the two groups mingled easily. The women sat in a tight circle, wearing white clothes of mourning, heads covered, crying audibly inside their chunnis. Men were dressed in white turbans, dhotis and shirts. They sat or stood outside in smaller groups, heads close together, talking softly. Bhabiji was quietly supervising tea and lassi being served to all. She did not make a big production of crying and wailing and earned biji's respect. The other family members were also not the chest beating, hair pulling and wailing loudly type. Our family (according to the villagers) had been unduly influenced by the city culture. On top of that many members were educated and had lost the aplomb needed to mourn the proper way by wailing loudly while raising arms in supplication, rhythmically thumping chest in grief, pulling hair in self immolation and rocking body back and forth. Our family was generally sobbing quietly. The villagers were greatly offended on babaji's behalf. He deserved better.
The village syapawallis (professional criers) were alerted. These women are usually invited by the families to keep the exhausting tempo of vigorous grieving going on. Papaji and his brothers with their modern ways viewed these types of customs as barbaric and did not arrange for them. "And the wives are city bred who know not any better" was whispered a few times in the crowd. The village women on arrival gathered outside our verha gate, regrouped their energies and walked in en masse, heads covered, arms raised in entreaty to the Mover and Shaker of the universe, wailing and moaning loudly. All of us cousins would run out to watch them in awe. The women that were already in the house would meet the newcomers halfway in wailing and for a while the room would resound with animated grief before slowly petering out with fatigue. The village women then would look sheepish and offended. The syapawallis were badly needed to fill this gap. Biji was sitting on the floor with the women but was quiet. Having raised the whole subdivision with her crying in Nagpur, now when her robust wailing could have saved family pride she sat there uncharacteristically subdued. "City women are no good" was whispered again.
Chaman chachaji had just arrived that morning with his family. His wife, Gulshan chachiji, was in the main room with the women sitting up on the lone chair that had been mistakenly left in the room. She was very fair and dressed too stylishly for the village, leave alone a funeral. For the funeral you not only wear white clothes but torn white clothes. Here was chachiji sitting on the chair wearing pretty looking pastels. She was newly married and had no white clothes and definitely no torn clothes. She came from a well to do home and they did not save old clothes. Chotte bhabiji had quicly given her a white chunni as soon as they arrived in the morning. Now chachiji sat above all the women, on a chair, looking like a vision from another world. She was wearing her city make-up. This was so out of the ordinary that the refrain "city women know nothing" was rendered impotent and a new one was born, "Hai oh merea rubba! Just look at her!!
For a while Chaman chachaji enjoyed the villager's dumbfounded response. Then he decided to play some mischief. His physique was still quite slim and boyish. He borrowed some clothes from biji, against her better judgement, and dressed up as a woman. He tied his long hair in a bun and hid his beard inside a thick chunni, showing only the eyes and nose, just like the other women. Then he made a dramatic entrance, crying and wailing with a gusto. There was a predictable rise in the crescendo of grief from the women in the room. Chachaji plopped in their midst and they all wailed in chorus. When they took a breather all started wondering about the identity of the new, God bless her! very proper relative. Gulshan chachiji, who had instantly recognised Chaman chachaji, sat stone faced on her throne. Biji and Shanti chachiji were prostate on the floor with what appeared to be fitting bereavement. Vadhe bhuaji muttered 'satnam' under her breath. They were all too overcome to answer anything. Chotte bhabiji came over and hugged the newcomer investigatively and then hurriedly ran out coughing and choking with shrieks, invoking another fit of wailing from biji and Shanti chachiji.
Bhabiji was quietly angry at Gulshan chachiji for never having visited the village after the marriage, as should have been done. Babaji died without having seen his new grandson. Now Gulshan chachiji sat on the chair, decoratively unrepentant, and Chaman chachaji was having fun in women's clothes. When the women enquired about the new comer bhabiji came back with a fast one. She told them it was Gulshan chachiji's sister. Gulshan chachiji was so stunned she did not move a muscle. All the women rallied around the new woman and the room reverberated with their wailing. Villagers were finally satisfied with the syapa ritual. They did wonder though if chachaji had married the wrong sister.
On the fourteenth day the Akhand Path (uninterrupted reading of the holy book) started. This continued for ----hrs. On the sixteenth day the reading was concluded with singing of hymns and the service was ended with Aarti. Our whole house and the space around it was filled with relatives and acquaintances. Everyone was served langar (eating of food as a community). It looked quite festive to me. I asked chotte babaji what was going on. He picked me up and told me that everyone was celebrating my special day. It was May 31st. My seventh birthday. I was pleased that he had remembered.
For one year we mourned babaji by abstaining from celebrating any festival. Then new year started and life resumed as before. Every year we observe shradha (day dedicated to honor the departed) and remember him. Biji always makes prasad on his anniversary and says a prayer. Papaji reminicses his younger days spent with babaji. In my home I too make prasad and light a candle in front of babaji's picture. My kids have never met babaji but they know him. He is still with us in our hearts. He has lived a long life.
27 comments:
Dear Ambi,
I have just seen your account of Babaji's funeral. It is a masterpiece of descriptive art. You are developing a good style. Drawing humour from a poignant moment is your forte.
But let me put some facts in their proper perspctive. I do not Know if Chaman could not reach in time for the funeral but we certainly didn't, being far away in Nagpur. Kailash also was with us. So most events about funeral you must have heard from other family members. If you meant it to be self-seen description then it is an account of post funeral mourning which continues for two weeks. we had of course arrived soon after the cremation.
One other thing. In your account of "Final days" You have mentioned that Babaji walked on a makeshift crutch fashioned by Mohinder from the wood of a peepal tree. As far as I know Babaji had regular crutches frm his Simla days. Possibly it may have broken and before a new one arrived Mohinder may have done a temporary arrangement which you saw. But it could not have been made from the wood of a peepal tree which is very soft and canot stand any heavy weight. It also contains so much moisture that when dried up it shrivels and becomes brittle. It is for this reason that it is never used in any construction work. And to make virtue of a necessity we treat peepal tree a high caste brahmin not to be triffled with. The crutch piece in question must have been of 'keeker' or 'sheesham'origin. My second instalment about Babaji wiil follow in a day or two.
Daddy.
Dear Daddy,
Thankyou so much for your input. I see that in some places my memory is fuzzy. Other places I am trying to condense events but staying true to the feel of the time so you will have to excuse the artistic license being taken. I love your comments and your relaying of babaji's life that we do not know. Keep writing. In my final draft I will incorporate the corrections you are making.
Love Ambi.
Just as I have handed over your phone to Babli, I have seen your comments. I entirely agree with your viewpoint. You are catching the spirit of the times wonderfully well and that is what realy matters. I shall be reverting to my promise in a short while.
Daddy.
Dear Ambi,
Here is my second istalment on Babaji. At that early stage of my childhood I was slightly disturbed about father's religious proclivities or rather the lack of them. In summer people slept on the terraces of their houses, generally on the ground floor terraces. We slept on the first floor terrace; so had better view of the village and possibly unrestricted flow of air. Whenever I got up early in the morning, I heard a cacophony of voices, coming from men, both old and young, all around. Gradually I learnt that these were recitations of Gur-bani done with the help of pocket books called 'gutkas'.These were believed to bring prosperity and bliss to the household. As father could not be seen engaged in this practice, I felt he was depriving us of the said benefit. We too had a 'gutka' in our house. Once or twice, I cryptically placed it beside father's bed, but he seemed to take no notice of it.
Bebbe never forgot her parents gods. I lived for two years with her brother in her parents house. Its interior walls were covered with tiles depicting scenes frm Ramayana and Mahabharta with images of gods and godesses. These must hav got etched on her mind. A group of people from our village was going for a pilgrimage of 'Vaishno' devi. Bebbe expressed a desire to accompany them. Father made necessary arrangements for her departure. She offered to take one child with her. Kumari did to me what you did to kuku leaving me weeping behind. But my turn too came soon after. A few months after rheir return, mother desired to visit all gurudwaras connected with the Gurus. Although like Bebbe
mother too came from a hindu family
but her father was a semi sikh. He was a disciple of Baba Harnam Singh, cousin brother of father's grandfather. So mother was effortlessly drawn into sikh customs. Nevertheless as long as Bebbe lived, all marriages, upto Kumari took place under vedic reeti. So when father and mother got ready for the pilgrimage, Manohar bharaji being in school at sheikhupura, Kumari having availed of her chance and Chaman not yet born, I and krishna below me were the natural choices to accompany them. I must have been four years old and Krishna about year and a half. Krishna must have been still alive as during the rail journey I remember pleading with mother to throw her off from the train window. We visited Nankana Sahib, first guru's birth place, Khadoor Sahib, second guru's abode, Goindwal, third guru's centre and finally Hari mandir Amritsar and Taran Taran connected with fourth and the fifth gurus. Of these, our visit of Goindwal, I remember most vividly. In the precincts of this gurudwara is a bouli (well with steps) with 84 steps to the water level. We were told that a person who recites the 'Mool mantra' followed by sprinkling of bouli water on his person at each of the 84 steps, he will attain 'moksha' i.e being freed from the circle of 84 lakhs of births and deaths, he will be blessed with utopia of ever lasting blissful life. I felt electrified with easy to gain prospect of a glorious life. But alas, father took us down to the last step without performing any of the rites even though I noticed many people faithfully doing so. I was greatly dismayed to lose this once in a lifetime opportunity of unique significance.
Father's four cousin brothers (sons of his uncle Gopal Singh) were Known as 'bhagats' for their increasing participation in gurudwara management. Another notable member of this self-styled society was Bhai Gian Singh vedi. Most of them were shopkeepers as opposed to cultivators and farmers
who relatively found little time for religious rituals. Father belonged to later group. Having seen,from close quarters, much of cant and superstition enter the traditional religion, he developed a lukewarm attitude towards it, quite early in life. The only religious rite he ever performed was Lakshmi pooja (on Diwali),in deference to his mother, combined with recitation of Japji Sahib in place of vedic mantras, in deference to our mother. For us children it used to be an exceedingly hilarious event. Father, in all seriousness, with a sandoor tikka on his forehead, would sit before a silver salver in which were placed 51 silver rupees rounded by five lighted candles. Having never earlier seen him in such priestly mode we will be on verge of supressed mirth. As he would start recitation, one of us would burst his banks and run upto the terrace to escape admonition. Others would try to hold their breaths yet another one will burst into laughter and run towards the terrace. Even father could be seen smiling under his teeth and saying "Ba marre" (puff-stricken ). One by one, all of us, children, would reach the terrace and laugh to our heart's content. Mother and grandmother would then heave a sigh of relief and father would complete the pooja in relative peace.
Father was not the only sceptic in village. He was surpassed in this respect by Bawa Makhan Singh who was blind. He was a noted versifier
and known as a poet laureate of our village. He was a critic of 'bhagat' brothers, one of whom, Nazir Singh, was a bhang addict. One day, under the influence of the drug, he sat on the platform of the only well in gurudwara and prevented people from drawing water from it, on the plea that the well was got dug up by his grandfather. On being chastised by Bawa Makhan Singh, he manhandled him and broke his arm. Bawa Makhan Singh, in retaliation, composed a derogatory poem and read it in the annual congregation. It became an instant hit.Here it is in original.
"Ek tabia duja krah te - Teeja raag rang wah wah te. Chauthe khui te makar khlarya - Bhanni banh garib nu marya - Vekho bhagti ne dang marya. Following is its english rendering in verse.
"Feigning service to the panth
One of them fans the holy granth
The second one cooks the God's food
And serves to family in generous mood
The third one like a devout bard
With accompanying music sings for the lord.
The fourth one asserts proprietory rights
On the temple well and picks up fights
To deny me a drink he broke my arm
Doing me,poor one,irretrievable harm
People ln horror watched at the site
Fhe pseudu worship's fangs and bite
Love Daddy.
P.S......To be continued.
Father was building a new house, at the confluence of the four treets, to head the south one. He got this plot earlier in the family distribution and had it enclosed with a boundary wall. Now he decided to put up a modern house, at that place, for the needs of his growing family and to impress our mother who hailed from a town. It had many firsts to its credit. It was the first three-storey house in the village. It was the first to boast of a big balcony, with a corrugated tin roof, and multicolored show pieces, imbedded in the supporting wood work. It was the first with a water-pumping system to supply water upto the second floor. Father sent for competent artisans and carpenters from far off places to complete this house. It cost a fortune; full 6000 rupees as claimed by father. Making due allowance for a usual exaggeration it could in no way be less than Rs,3000. At present it seems a pittance. In 1920's it was a lot. Gold then was Rs 20 a 'tola' (12grams) i.e less than Rs 2 a gram which now is Rs 1200 a gram. By that standard Rs 3000 of that time will be equal to Rs two million. Father spent nearly half of his liquid inheritance on this house which, later in life, he had to regret. I must have been a little over 4 years at that time, as Krishna was still alive and Chaman not yet born. My last rememberance of the old house is one wintery morning when I was munching a small piece of sugar cane, on an open space, at the first floor of our house. While trying to tear off its outer shell, I dropped it on the rain-vent, opening to the ground floor below, beyond my easy reach. Kumari was standing there with Krishna in her lap. I implored her to retrieve it for me but she refused. I cried with no avail. She always exulted to drive me mad on such occasions. At last I cried so loudly that she received a stern warning from father to do what I wanted. Sullenly she stepped on to the vantage position with Krishna on her left lap. She put her right foot on the raised border, carefully balancing herself and inching her fingers towards the cane. Involuntarily I shoved her a little and both of them went tumbling down below. Kumari got up in no time brushing the dust off her clothes. Krishna was picked up by our uncles living at the ground floor. She had minor bruises. Fortunately no bones were broken unlike a former occasion when Kumari, carrying me, slipped down a stair-case and broke my right thigh bone. I was only six months old then. In the present accident no one suspected my direct involvement - not even Kumari -though I was blamed of a contributary cause. Krishna must have died, a few months later, of some other cause, while we were still at the old house. Soon thereafter we shifted to the new house. The first incident of note, at our new abode, was Chaman's birth....to be continued
Daddy.
Dear Papaji
I love these accounts of your childhood. Some things we have heard but most are new. So keep writing. Describe your old and new houses? How old was the old house. who built it? What happened to it? When you come to your wedding write in all detail. Other weddings too.
We are leaving for Mayo clinic in a half hour. rest when we come back. I will check the blog though. We will be back on Friday. Love....Ambi.
The old house that we left was full of memories, both good and bad. Bebbe gave birth to two daughters and two sons in this house. Only one daughter and one son survived their childhood. Bebbe's husband and our grandfather died of plague in that house. In this very house Bebbe and her son performed last rites of her father-in-law and mother-in-law. TO this house Bebbe brought her daughter-in-law and from here she married off her daughter. Of the next generation, six children spent their early childhood, in this house, out of which only three of us survived. Detailed accounts of these events
appear or will appear in Bebbe's story.
The house itself was unique in many respects. It was built of (pucka) burned small bricks on the first floor of a (Kutcha) mud bricks house. Almost all houses of that time were built of mud- bricks. Commercial standard bricks
had not come into vogue yet. Small size burnt bricks were made in the same way as other burnt clay-wares. All old historical buildings
are found made with these bricks. As these were very costly and hard to get, very few persons used them for personal houses. In our village
barring our house, Only 'samaads' of our fore-fathers were made of these bricks. Our house was the last in the cluster of houses that started from east side of the main south street and touched the west side of the east sub-street. The development of this cluster is also
very interesting. The first house on the main street,it seems, was built by Bebbe's grandfather-in-law. Bebbe's father-in-law with his brother lived there in childhood, with their father and mother. As they grew, got married and had children, they put up another storey over it, so each
brother had a flat to himself.
Bebbe's father-in-law had three sons. When eldest married and had children, need arose for another house. Originally a big plot, at the back of this house, upto the boundary of east sub-street,was lying vacant. But when Vedis were
accommodated, one of them was allowed to build a house alongside in a part of this plot. In the remaining part Bebe's father -in-law built a spacious L type house with its back touching the east sub-street. It had two big halls, three small rooms with a wide open space (vehra) in front. The living space was almost as much as the old two-storey house. He left his eldest son and his family in the old house and with his wife and other two sons came over to the new house. In due course The middle son also married and had a number of children. He was the one who sired 'bhagat' brothers mentioned in the text earlier. In time even this house started looking small. Meanwhile the youngest one was also married with Bebbe, and though she liked the crowd, their future was a matter of concern for her father-in-law. So he thought of creating a first floor over this house for himself and his newly married son. By then some rich people had started using burnt bricks. Bebbe's father-in-law could also afford them. But demolishing the old kutcha house and building over it the 'pucka' one was a big bother. Besides where could a big family stay in the meanwhile. So there was no other option but to put up a pucka' structure over a 'kutcha' one. The first floor was so constructed as to leave some portion of the ground floor terrace open to be used as a courtyard for the first floor. The built in area consisted of a big hall with two rooms and one side open Kitchen. One room on the ground floor was also attached with the new house to store grain and agricultural implements. From here we shifted to the house that our father built. By that time manufacture of standard bricks had become common and whole of our new house was built with these bricks. There were three hall-like rooms on the ground floor and the same pattern was repeated on the first floor. On the second floor there was only one room. The remaining space was left open for sleeping during summer. Of the three ground floor halls the back one was for storing grain and cotton. Sometimes these over-flowed to the middle hall. The first hall was for the guests and also served as entry to the first floor where we lived. Later on father purchased the house facing us on the opposite side of the lane and then bridging the lane, at first floor level, cmbined the two houses. A new entry was then routed through this house to its terrace, over the bridge and through the balcony to our first big room. This room had a big ornamental bed with some chairs and a table to serve as a drawing room. The kitchen was on one side of the middle room but was used only in winter. For summer months there was another kitchen built on the side of the bridge linking the two houses. On the second floor terrace a sky-light was left open for providing light and air to the kitchen and the last room. In rain it was closed. The last room served as bedroom for part of the family. On one side of this room also stood, on a raised wooden floor, two very big steel trunks in which mother kept 'khes', bedsheets, blankets,'razais' etc. They were so big that during the construction of the house these were introduced into the room from the sky, before the roof thereon was built. This was our new home which we left during the partition. Rest later....
Love Daddy.
Dear Papaji
I cannot seem to get enough of these details of your home and the village Santpura. I hope you will write about the plague. Also about that relative who ran away with someone's wife. Keep writing.
Love you very much. Ambi
Dear Ambi,
This column is Babaji centric. Normally these events would have appeared in 'Bebbe' at appropriate places. But as you started describing last days of Babaji I began writing about his early period, out of turn. Ultimately it will merge with 'Bebbe' as the main story proceeds forward. The plague and the elopement scenes will appear in 'Bebbe' only. In fact the latter is almost next in line. The person involved was the young man who later sired the bhagat brothers. Both in this column and in Bebbe we will, time and again, revert to the old and new houses and also the village and its people in general.
Love Daddy.
Dear Ambi,
The gap between posts, this time, has lengthened. I shall try to make amends for it in coming days.
We have moved to our new house and marked our arrival with Chaman's birth. The year is 1929. The world is in recession. The jobs and money are scarce. But father is in the pink of health and flush with funds. On his 21st birthday, Bebbe had passed on to him, all the cash and jewellery, that she received from her father-in-law. It was by no means small even though she had spent lavishly on the marriages of her son and daughter. There were no banks at that time, at least none accessible to rural areas, to park one's money. So it was lent to the needy on the security of land or jewellery. Thus father had suitably added to his already onsiderable wealth. It was a time of great fun for me, at home or in the street. Kumari being grown-up had to assist mother in house-hold work and was not that free. Manohar bhara ji had left, a year ago, for Sheikhupura, for higher education. But some ominous clouds seemed to be gathering to disturb this equanimity. The question of my admission to school was being hotly discussed to which I was greatly opposed. To add insult to the injury father wanted to squeeze me in during the mid-session. Helplessly I looked at Bebbe with a drooping lower lip. She understood and ruled that I would go to school in new year when regular classes start. Father walked out, mother demurred but Bebbe stood firm. I heaved a sigh of relief and looked forward to another carefree half year. In the meanwhile mother however started teaching me the urdu alphabet and number systems. At that time I found alphabet to be dry as dust but took on to numbers without much effort. Father kept his accounts in a thrice folded big notebook and after an entry sighned it with date and year. I enjoyed reading the year 1929 at the end of his entries. Then one day I discovered him writing 1930 in place of 1929. I pointed out the mistake to him but he seemed to take no notice of it. I told the mother about it. She patiently taught me how the year changes after 365 days and one is added to its previous number. Now we were in a new year numbered 1930. The new year brought along many changes with it including the one that concerned me personally. The time for my school going had arrived. But before submitting to the inevitable I wanted to make a last stand. Some weighty questions were circulating in my mind to which I thought there were no answers with anyone. To my great dismay I discoverd that there were easy and cogent answers to each of them. For one, I had to go to school because I had grown up. For another, some did not have to go because they were too grown up to be eligible to go. For another again, Kumari did not go because she is a girl and there are no schools for girls yet. At the end I gave up and was led like a lamb to the slaughter house. But the dread lasted only for a day or two. Perhaps father's genes had momentarily overtaken my mother's genes in me, as he had fled his school under similar circumstance. Soon I took to sghool as a fish takes to water. I started learning fast both at school and at home. I had watched father accepting jewellery pledged as security for the loan amount received by his clients. one day at school I was short of two pice to buy an ice cream. None of the students agreed to advance me the required sum. Then I remembered father's trnsactions and offered to pledge my slate for a loan of two pice to be redeemed with three pice. One of the students readily agreed to the transaction and I relished my ice cream. I was quite certain that if father learned about my achievement he will be very happy and will feel proud of me. At night while doing my home work I picked up a fight with Kumari by using her slate on which she learnt alphabet and numbers from mother. She snatched her slate and I appealed to father to get it back from her. When father asked me where was my own slate, I related with pride the details of my school transaction. To my great surprise, father was livid with anger and if Bebbe had not intervened I would have received
the severest shoe beating of my life.
Dear Papaji,
I love your new post. I feel like Bablee at age five; remember when she never wanted the story to end!! Tell me more. We are celebrating Holi in our home today. Half of Lincoln is invited. So I am very busy. Will write to you after that.
Your loving daughter....Ambi
Dear Ambi,
You have touched upon Babaji's life period that you saw. I have begun from the time that I was privileged to see. But he was already thirty when I acquired consciousness to watch and study him. The detailed account of his early period will appear in 'Bebbe'. But here we can have some bare facts for the sake of continuity.
Babaji was born in the closing years of nineteenth century (1896).
He was just about two years of age when his father fell victim to Bubonic plague (1896-99). Starting from Bombay, it swept the Indo-gangetic region claiming two million lives. It reached our village in 1898. Babaji was Bebbe's
only issue alive at that time. His younger sister was born two months after the death of her father.
We can divide Babaji's life into 6 decades of twentieth century with four years of nineteenth century added to them. So 1st decade and four was his childhood passed under the loving gaurdianship of his grandfather. The second decade and four - the adulthood - under the able guidance of his mother, saw him and his sister married. Three children were born to him during this period of whom two survived - Bharaji and kumari. His sister had one child. The third decade and four was the best period of his life in which he came into his own and built for his family a new house. He got four more children in this period, of whom only two survived - myself and Chaman. The fourth decade and four was the period of gathering storms. But we are yet on the pleasant memories of the last year of the earlier decade, from which we may continue further.
I was hardly a month in school, when a rumour spread, that next sunday midnight the world will come to an end. In every morning gurudwara congregation, leading to the fateful day, people were exhorted to give freely in the name of God. They were further advised to pass the cursed midnight, at the open space facing gurudwara, chanting gurubaani. Came the doomsday. The whole village was at the gurudwara that sunday morning. The hot topic was the approaching catastrophe. The hall was packed with grain and other offerings. The piles of grain gave gurudwara a look of grain market. Babaji and some others debunked the rumour. But a large majority stood for its veracity. The day passed under a charged atmosphere.In the evening some people were seen going to the gurudwara, with bedding and children, rather early. I asked Bebbe when shall we leave. She said,"Ask your father". Asking father amounted to inviting the bull to charge you. Anyway I rolled my bedding so as to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Kumari started laughing at my overt look of urgency which irked me even more. I was unable to understand why no one excepting me was bothered about family's safety. As darkness thickened and night irrevocably coursed to the mid-night hour, all our neighbourhood seemed to have left for the gurudwara. With a view to remind him indirectly,I told father I was feeling sleepy. He said,"Take your bedding and go up to the terrace". Going to the terrace alone at night, meant losing your life even before midnight. At least one thing was clear. We were not going to gurudwara. I prepared myself to face the ordeal at home. Once on the terrace I looked about for the safest place to be in at midnight. It was Bebbe's bed in the middle. To my horror, it was already occupied by Kumari. To move her from there was like uprooting a tree. Chaman had to be with mother. A seat was vacant at Babaji's bed and Bebbe asked him to accomodate me. Now Babaji's bed was at the unsafest place on the terrace. He had got a sofa type structure made of cement, about two feet high, at one side of the terrace. He would put two legs of his bed on this raised platform. For the remaining two legs he had got two stools of two feet each to stand under them. This was his way to get the unrestricted flow of air. In answer to Bebbe's direction he replied,"Bebbe you know I cannot sleep with a child". Before Bebbe could speak any further I jumped upon vacant side of her bed disregardig Kumari's protest. People were not very clear about the manner in which the world was going to end. Some said earthquake and others claimed flood to be the cause of world's destruction. In case of flood, I felt we were better placed than the people gathered in open at the gurudwara. If it was earthquake we would be worse off. Anyway staying at home was not so bad an idea. Amidst such thoughts I fell asleep. In the morning, when I woke up, for some time, I was dis-
oriented whether we were dead or alive.
Love, Daddy.
Dear Papaji
I just read your post and laughed through it. What did Bhabiji think of all this? Tell me more and more. I hope you read my post too. Love. Ambi.
The world survived to deal with other mundane matters. A few weeks later the dacoits struck at a nearby village. They decamped with large amount of money and jewllery besides seriously wounding two persons. For many days it was talk of the town. Some people even opined that one of those days the dacoits may strike at our village too. They further volunteered
the information that in that event
our house and that of seth's could be the likely targets. 'Seth' is an honorary title given by the people to a financier cum jeweller. Babaji was only a financier and thus did not qualify for this title. Ours were the two prominent houses that quite often
Competed with each other to maintain their social status. So when Babaji raised a third storey on his house, to make it the tallest building in the village, the 'seth' too, soon thereafter, built a third storey on his house.
Coming home, I gave a gist of this overheard talk to Bhabiji and she was duly alarmed. She took it up with Babaji asking him to tighten up our security. He seemed to take it in his stride. A few weeks there-after the whole village was abuzz with an alarming circumstance. It was alleged that thre or four persons,inquring about the seth, asked for the outer gate to be opened to them. The people inside refused them entry and they went away. Some people were of the view that they might have been seth's clients. But a large majority felt that they
were the advance party of the dacoits and were sent to locate the targetted houses and check their security measures. Soon it was taken for granted that the dacoits would be striking at night.
Bebbe and bhabiji prevailed upon Babaji to collect all valuables and move to the old house, for the night, as that was considered to be relatively safer. Fortunately Chacha Ramlal had arrived that morning and it was decided to leave him back to safegaurd the house from ordinary burglars. I was glad to come to the old house, albeit for the night, though concerned about chacha's safety. As happens with all such rumours,
nothing tangible came about and we were back in our house. I told Chachaji that he was very brave to face the dacoits single-handedly.
"Brave my foot" he replied,"I was not going to fight them. I would have opened the door and told them, the family had fled to sheikhupura and they could help themselves to whatever they could lay their hands on. I cmplimented him for being very clever under the circumstances.
.
Dear Papaji
I am amazed how many stories you have that we have never heard about. This one underscores the lack of proper law and order sytem at that time. No wonder people of that generation have hard time trusting strangers. My generation lived through a lot safer conditions and we see people in different light. Chacha Ramlal is waiting to be introduced to the blog. I know you have a whole chapter written about him. How about posting that here. Keep writing. Love you. Ambi
ozkkDear Ambi,
You Seem to have telepathic powers. The piece about dacoits had
an introduction to the prevalent law and order conditions. At the mid-way I had to get up for lunch. In my absence suppy came and started working on the laptop. All my matter got washed off. I did not
have the heart to start all over again. So I just reproduced the main part. You might have noticed something more missing too.
Love Daddy.
Dear Ambi,
In our village the prominent group of course was Bedis.Then came Vedis
and brahman hindus. All these three
were integrated in matters of food, residence and religious rites and formed a homogenious group. The next group was muslims who were concentrated in north east and south east corners. They were chiefly blacksmiths, weavers and horticulturists. While first group did not accept cooked food from them, nor interdined, they freely accepted food from the former. The muslims had a small mosqe beside the school. They could perform 'namaz' but were not allowed the right of 'allan' (punjabi 'Baang') - the loud call to the faithful. Once a muslim teacher was transfered to our school. He was instigated by the local 'moolah' to give 'baang'. The whole village rose in arms as if attacked by an enemy mob. The teacher was dragged from the mosqe
and given a sound beating. He reported the matter to police station and two constables were sent alongwith him for investigation. The aggrieved teacher could not produice any witness from the village - not even moolah who had initially instigated him. The constables asked him to give baang in their presence. He did so without any resistance from the village folk.
As the constables were leaving he pleaded to them that if he repeated the baang in their absence he will again be beaten up. The constables advised him that the govt. was not going to open a new police station for his protection and that either he should seek transfer or go along with village tradition. After that there was no baang and no trouble on this account. In fact this was a well established non-official practice in all around villages. Sikh dominated villages did not allow baang and muslim dominated villages did not allow 'kirtan' accompanied with harmonium and drums.
The third group consisted of
'sudras' the untouchables. The
sudras were the lowest caste of hindu mainstream. This group people
in our village however did not belong to hindu stream at all. They
were mainly 'aadi vaasis'- the original inhabitants of India replaced by Aryans. They were distinguished by their get black skin though some of them were brownish black because of inter-
breeding. In our dialect they were called 'choorah'. They were employed by the villagers as helpers on land and for removal of dead animals and other refuse. Children of first group were advised by their parents not to touch them. The accidental touch required a brisk wash. A young lad of a brownish black family was employed by father. His name was khushi. He ploughed our fields, fed and looked after our cattle, and did other sundry jobs. He was, all 24 hours, at our beck and call. For this he received three times meal, a bag each of wheat and paddy at harvest time, and 100 rupees a year. Some village people were upset with father for giving him an over liberal deal spoiling the normal rate of wages. He was a good worker and extremely loyal to the house. Initially I did not touch him. One day he advanced his hand towards me, looking wistfully. I just touched his forefinger and quickly withdrew my hand fearing a shock. There was no such thing. Getting reassured I put my hand on his and from that day we were hand-shaking bunnys.
I was surprised to note that none from our house objected to it. Only my mother advised me to wash my hands before eating anything.
These people had no rights what-so-ever and were ruthlessly exploited for 'begaar'(work without payment). They had no right of self defence against any sort of assault. I vividly remember one scene from my childhood. We had a big 'haveli' for the cattle on the outskirts of the village. One afternoon, outside the haveli, father was resting on a cot, placed on a platform, under the shade of a peepal tree. I was sitting beside him. Presently a 'choorha' lad came driving some cattle towards the village pond. In the melee one buffalo got pushed in the drain. In its effort to come out, it splattered some muck on one Maan singh who was passing by. Infuriated he caught hold of the lad and started beating him with hands and legs. Sardar Maan Singh was a puny-built person who seldom got a chance to beat anybody. Now that he got a chance against a person, not supposed to retaliate, he was not satisfied with what he had done so far. Father warned him that enough was enough but he paid no heed. He caught hold of a thick stick and advanced towards the lad menacingly. Father got up from his cot. I thought now he will beat the hapless lad. But to my surprise he snatched the stick from the hands of Maan Singh and gave him such a resounding slap that he fell down in the drain. He started crying,"See people Waryam Singh is taking the side of a choorah against me" No one came to his help. He got out of the drain and ran towards his house protesting loudly. On some other occasions also I had seen some men of this category being beaten for petty reasons. With blood flowing from their head and without a word of protest they will meekly walk over to their cluster, located on the west side, about 100 yards away from the main village. Their lot was worse than animals. Father was among few persons who showed them some sympathy and in whom they had trust. Many of them brought their complaints of hard ship to father and he did his best to ameliorate them. This was not liked by the rest of the village. Despite all this they bore no grudge against the village and in any fracas with men of another village, they will stand in front, for the defence of their village. Father's attitude towards them brought him dividends in the later years.
Dear Ambi,
Please thank Jeff and Jyoti from our side for choosing 'Vandana' as the middle name of their baby. They have done a great honor to us all.
Love, Daddy
Dear Ambi,
After my last post in this column I have waited for your ususal comments of encouragement which act as starter for the next entry. Perhaps you are preoccupied with more important matters.
I spent four years in village school (1931-34) Thereafter I was sent to Sheikhupura town for further studies. From there I visited home for two months only during annual holidays. The early ten years spent wholly at home are therefore more full of memories. Some of these I have stated in earlier posts and some more, concerning Babaji, are in the current one. Those concerning chacha Ram Lal will follow in the next post.
Babaji's fourth decade + 4 started with an ominous note. While supervising construction work, combining a plot across the street with the main house, a scaffold on which he was standing, gave way bringing a pile of bricks on his ankles. One of his ankles was seriously damaged resulting in multiple fracture. Father needed hospitalisation and a competent doctor. None of these were easily available. The local 'hakims' with their ancient knowledge and experience kept him confined to bed for over a year. During this time he also contracted T.B. This was not discovered at that time. With the resumption of field work in open air, after his ankle got well, the T.B. got cured on its own, leaving a small patch in his lungs. This was not the only set-back. Things at the state's political level were moving fast to the detriment of his occupation. Agriculturists were in overwhelming majority in Punjab. Under the limited slf-rule scheme, with the clear majority in Governor's council, they framed laws supporting their class vis-a-vis non-agriculturists. The definition of agriculturist was based on caste rather than occupation. Although father ploughed his own fields, he not being a jat, was not considered agriculturist. Under the new laws non-agriculturists were prevnted from forfeiting lands of an agiculturist, pledged to them as security, or even from purchasing such lands. All loans given to agriculturists, for all practical purposes, thus got written off. Father not only suffered the loss of his current business but also its severe curtailment. Not being trained for any other work his source of income almost dried up. He still had large amount of cash and gold but all this was not sufficient for the daunting liabilities of children's education and their marriages. He was also led, by his eldest son, to believe that once he got his degrees he would get into I.C.S and all financial difficulties of the house wii get solved. So father chose to place all his eggs in one basket and when it cracked it caused lot of suffering to the rest of us.
Kumari was getting into her teens. Most of the girls got married at that stage. From now on this was the chief topic of discussion between mother and father. Mother wanted kumari to be married before her elder brother, but while the latter was alrady betrothed, no suitable boy was at hand for her. This was often a source of loud arguments between father and mother. Sometimes wearied of such arguments father would say, "One of these days I would cover myself with a 'chader' and be off forever" 'Chader'was a piece of hand-woven cotton cloth generally 4 by 7 feet. It possesed ubiquitous qualities and was considered an essential accompaniment for all types of journeys. On such occasions I used to get hold of all the visible chaders and hide them at some place not easily to be found out. That, I believed, to be the best way to deter father from his resolve.
CHACHA RAM LAL
By B.S.Bedi
Chacha Ram Lal was a cousin brother of our father (his mausi’s son). He was a. real enigma. In material sense he did not amount to much in life. He did not marry nor set up a house. He never earned a rupee because nobody paid him wages for the tremendous amount of time, labor and love he gave them. He did not live by economic principles. He was in the world but not of the world. He did not understand the world and the world did not understand him. In the sea of humanity he was an uncommon man. He was a strange amalgam of simplicity and complexity, commonality and nobility, lying side by side in his nature. Where one began and the other ended is difficult to say. He could switch from one to the other with perfect ease depending on the circumstances and people he was with. He was totally free from vices of moral kind, without being spiritual. He was never angry or offensive, in short, patience personified. In totality he was a perfect gentleman.
Such a man became an important part of our family through accident rather than design. He enriched our childhood with love, care and wonder. He left such a stamp of his fascinating personality that he is the most talked about person at our family gatherings. Of course, ours is not the only house he graced, many others fondly remember him as ‘Chacha’ (uncle). But we proudly feel he had a special kinship with our house. His and father’s mother were real sisters. Both became child brides and widows in youth with little ones to look after. Here the similarity ended. Our grandmother was fortunate to be married in an understanding family headed by a noble elder. He found for her a place of equality in the man’s world. He helped her to become a confident and independent house holder, whose voice counted in the home and the councils of elders. Her young sister, chacha Ram Lal’s mother, was not that fortunate. After her husband’s death, she found herself in most despicable circumstances. Her elder brother-in-law forced her into marriage with. Amongst jats, (including few khatris), there was a custom that on the death of married brother, the widow, with or without her consent, was married to the deceased’s elder brother. The custom went by the name of ‘Chadar Pana’ (providing cover/protection). It was supposedly male chauvinism at its best, justified by the security and stability it purported to offer to the orphaned family. In reality it gave the man hold over the property that should have belonged to the widow and her children. It added the younger female to the man’s harem, and a free worker for the household. It neutralized the widow’s children., who could have become competitors in property distribution, and reduced them to non-entities. It invariably made them target of slander by other children. On the other hand the perpetrator gained in respect and position and the hapless woman was described as a ‘fallen one’. Such women, sooner or later. Chacha Ram Lal was the product – nay victim of this pernicious system and in judging him one needs to keep this background in mind..
I was about two years old when my grandmother took me to her sister’s second husband’s funeral. My mother was expecting another child and was not in a position to look after me. Grandmother’s sister had just given birth to a girl child when she became a widow again. I still have faint recollection of the event and the hush-hush whisperings of women about the tragedy. It was on this visit that our grandmother, taking pity on the rootless young son of her sister, told him to treat her house as his own. That’s how he started visiting us. Baba Ji, our father, had no real brother and for us it was great fun to have uncle in the house. Bharaji (my elder brother), Kumari (my elder sister) and I formed instant rapport with him. He loved us all and we loved him in return. Baba ji was well satisfied to have a helping hand and our grandmother was pleased to help her nephew and satisfy his material needs. Only our mother was a little fretful to have another mouth to feed. She showed her feeling in a peculiar manner. We had a salver, made of a thick bronze sheet, with gods and goddesses artistically carved on both sides. It must have had a fascinating history. Some chieftain may have commissioned it. out of devotion, to serve as a decoration peace for a place of worship. In turbulent times some Jat raiders perhaps looted it and it fell as a booty to one of them. Nobody could tell how many times it had changed hands and masters. In a time of stress its last owner mortgaged it to our great grandfather for a measure of grain and never redeemed it. In property distribution it fell to the lot of our father. Today it would be an antique and a valuable piece of art. But to our mother it was just a plate. And as kitchen wares were cleaned and polished with ashes, which got embedded in its ornate design, it was a useless plate at that. But it was good enough for Chacha Ram Lal and to show him his place our mother reserved it for him. In due course it was noticed by all, including Chacha Ram Lal, and it became an object of healthy fun. He always took it in good humor and if sometimes he got different plate, he would call for his own, much to the amusement of the whole family.
Of the three children in the house at that time,. I was the youngest (the baby girl coming after me soon died) and probably the most favorite of Chacha. Bhara Ji had already gone to city school in Sheikhupura and Kumari being a girl and too close to her mother was in a different camp. Whenever he returned from the fields, he would take me out placing me on his shoulders. It felt great to watch the world from that height. I felt a wonderful sense of security and happiness in his company which I did not with father. Father was an awfully busy person with little time for small babies. Chacha Ram Lal had all the time for us as he had nothing much else to do. I must have been lean and thin as a child and Chacha showed great concern because of it. He would take my arms and legs in his hand and sigh that they were too thin. Then he would measure my biceps by running a thread around them and keep the exact length for future use. Meanwhile he would encourage me to take more milk. After a few days he would take the measurement again and lo! The thread would be a little short of making a round of the biceps and Chacha would exclaim with glee. “You sure are growing fast”. Subsequent measurements too revealed larger gaps between end of the threads as it wound round my biceps showing continuous growth. The game went on for several weeks. My only surprise was that excepting Chacha and myself nobody else was taking notice of my miraculous growth. I discovered the reason one day when I caught Chacha snipping off one end of the thread with scissors. The spell was broken and he had a hearty laugh when I charged him with cheating. His laughter was so infectious, I could not stay angry at him. The magician in him had filled my imagination with wonder, and its glow on my psyche is felt till today.
He remained with us about a year and then suddenly he was gone without anybody the wiser about it. We kept on waiting for him for a few days but there was no trace of him. I missed him the most of all. It was as if light had gone out of my life. If anybody in the family knew where he had gone and when he would come, he or she did not feel it necessary to inform me. Time went on but his memory in my tiny mind remained green. After about a year or so, he returned as suddenly as he had gone. I came from play and noticing Chacha’s ornate plate down in the kitchen sink I knew that he had come. The mystics describe the state of ecstasy when they have vision of God. My ecstasy was of the same ordwr on meeting him. He mostly slept at our ‘haveli’ where there were two bed rooms besides sheds for the cattle. That way our cattle also got guarded which gave some respite to Khushi, our whole time servant.. That night I insisted on sleeping with him. I nudged at his bosom and extracted a promise that he would not go away again.
I had just started going to school and disliked it so much as to question the need and wisdom behind this exercise. “When I was not going to school earlier why should I now?” I protested. “You have grown up now and all grown ups go to school” I was told. The Aristotelian logic had started taking shape in my mind and I shot back, “when Baba Ji (father), more grown up than me and also more grown up that Bhara Ji does not go to school, why should I ?”. but my people did not have the inclination or patience to engage into a battle of wits with the likes of me and they laughed it away. It fell to the lot of Chacha Ram Lal to see me to the school every morning. My compensation came in the shape of a ride on his shoulders and promise of pleasant evening with him later. In the evening my grandmother and Chacha Ram Lal milked the buffaloes in the stable and all three of us used to have a tumbler full of warm and frothing fresh milk, straight from the buffalo, before it went to the custody of my mother for turning into curd and then churning for butter..
One day I asked Chacha Ram Lal if he had gone home to his parents last time. “I have no father or mother” he said nonchalantly, “I never did”. “Then how were you born?” I asked astonishingly. “I was not born” he said solemnly. “I grew on a tree……a Banyan tree”. I was wonderstruck and asked, “Did you grow like a branch or its fruit?”. “No. Neither of this”, he answered with a twinkle in his eyes. “I was thrown like a root by one of the branches, and when I was grown up, I dropped down”. “And grandmother was standing below and brought you home” I exclaimed with comprehension of the mystery. Chacha Ram Lal patted me on my cheeks for my wisdom. For many years I kept on looking at the Banyan trees I came across to see if any creature like Chacha Ram Lal was hanging out there, until I was old enough to realize that this was another of his antics to create an air of mystery and magic for me. Or maybe he was trying to tell me the tragedy of his life.
As moon periodically disappears bringing in the dark nights. Chacha Ram Lal disappeared again, bringing upon me a temporary gloom. Nobody knew where he had gone. A person in his position, without any family responsibilities could be thought to have taken holy orders and left on a distant pilgrimage. But he had never shown any inclination for religion, nor was he ever seen going into gurudwara or any other holy place. It was long afterwards we found out that in addition to us, he had links and contacts with many other families, where he was heartily welcomed because of his genial nature. Our house though remained his headquarters, to which he returned from time to time.
About two years passed during which he paid us one or two short visits and then abruptly left as usual. During one of these absences, an emergency arose. I was bitten by a vicious dog. It was a hunting hound who mistaking me for his game took away a big piece of flesh from my right thigh. The doctor and the local dispensary advised anti-rabies treatment which was available only at Lahore, a town about thirty miles from our village. The treatment period could extended to a month and father could not leave house for that long. So an S.O.S was sent out to all likely places where Chacha Ram Lal could be expected. Meanwhile we left for Lahore and stayed at the house of Massi Veeran (mother’s elder sister). Soon thereafter Chacha Ram Lal arrived and relieved father. I started receiving treatment at Mayo hospital which was about two miles from Massi Veeran’s house. I was nearly nine then and could not have been less then 30 lbs. Every morning Chacha Ram Lal would put me on his shoulders, take me to the hospital and bring me back home. I surveyed most of the great city of Lahore from that vantage point, behind his neck, letting out shrieks now and then, as something excited me. As I remember now, I marvel at his immense patience and capacity for taking pains for others.
When we returned to the village Chacha stayed on. During this period I had a rival for his affection in Chaman (my new younger brother). Now Chaman was at the age where I was when Chacha first came to us, and Chacha naturally saw me in him. Some degree of jealousy was inevitable, but luckily, before it could become a problem I was ready to leave for Sheikhupura for post elementary studies. Meanwhile Bhara Ji had finished his high School at Sheikhupura and proceeded to college in Lahore. In Sheikhupura he had mostly stayed at our mother’s parental house. Our Nani Ji (maternal grandmother) was alive then and he had a reasonably comfortable stay. But now she had died andss my going there was out of question. Mother sounded her elder sister (Bhara Amrit lal’s mother), who also lived in the city, about me but did not receive a satisfactory response. For a time it looked like my higher education was in jeopardy. Then Chacha Ram Lal came to the rescue and suggested his maternal uncle’s house, who was father’s uncle too and the brother of our grandmother..
Babaji
Father was a brave person; a lion among men. Nature had given him a well-built body which further got toughened in field work. He was willing to take on anyone in the village if need arose, except one -Nazir Singh. Nazir singh was not a man but a giant, a well over seven feet tall with waist girth twice that of a normal person. Once He had a bet to finish cooked meat of a full grown lamb, with three bottles of country liquor to gulp it with, from sunrise to sunset. He won the bet. A well known restler lost his stamina in trying to fell him and suffered a heart stroke. His wife was from sheikhupura and thus like a sister to our mother. We had good relations with them. One day in a drunken state, in the market place, he started creaating nuisance. Father tried to restrain him. He shoved father with such force that he was obliged to cut one or two capers. Whenever in a safari movie I see an elephant shoving off a lion I recall the father's encounter with Nazir Singh. Being no match with the giant in strength, father took up a toka (a heavy blade with handle to cut up fodder) lying nearby, and dared him to advance. He stood where he was, smiled and told father not to take it to heart. Ultimately he was cajoled by all to go home and sleep off the stupefaction. On another day learning that he and father were arguing in the bazar I took up a toka, hid it under my shirt and reached the spot ready to give it to father. Thankfully it was a false alarm and need for the weapon did not arise.
To me father was like a God who had given us life, a home to live in, and other means to sustain life. We did not expect anything more from him. When he punished us, it was just his right. In our village very few children wore shoes but our mother insisted that we must. In a way shoes were a restriction and had to be put off in most of the games. At the end, either I would forget to put them on, while returning home, or some boy would have pinched them to carry a novelty to his home.Every such time, and these were not few, when I got a shoe beating from father. I think I got the most of them because, unlike Chaman and Kuldip, I never gathered courage to run away from him. I always thought it would be a great disrespect to father to do so. I don't remember father ever getting me in his arms and kissing me. Nor that I missed those kisses. Kisses from a person
not properly shaved or one clipping his beard were always unwelcome to me. Father, in this respect fell in the last category. I loved him too much to hold it against him in later life. And when he became vulnerable due to financial constraints, ill health and machinations of his enemies I felt for and loved him all the more.
Father's care and sympathy for the under-dogs and a dare-devil way of going to their rescue was bound one day to cause him much discomfort. At the time when I was getting ready for my town education he chewed something which he could not readily stomach. In the western outskirts of our village there were some by caste 'lohar' sikh families. One family had managed to acquire some land - about four acres - and were engaged in agriculture. The head of the family had taken a loan from one Budh Singh, a cloth merchant of the village. He agreed to pledge his land as security for the loan. Budh Singh surreptitiously got papers signed for the outright sale of land in his name in place of the pledging agreed to. He got two of his shop servants to witness the deal. The carpenter farmer was illiterate and failed to notice the fraud. On learning true facts from 'patwari' he came running to father to seek help. Father told him there was not much in the case from legal point of view. But if somebody was able to show to the court that he had purchased this land earlier to the fraudulent deal then that deal can be got cancelled. For this an old stamped paper prior to the date of deal will have to be secured and the land shown to have been sold to another person already. This person should be trustworthy enough as to return the land to him after the case was settled. He thought a moment and then said he could not find a person more trustworthy than the father. Father
said it might be a log drawn out case costing lot of money. The Lohar assured father to meet the cost of the case. But as it came out money was the least problem. Budh Singh was a vengeful
person not given to take a slight lightly. He had no personal guts but otherwise he was rich enough to employ mercenaries from adjoining villages to cow down father. This riff-raff gave father much trouble. Some times, under the cover of night, they will destroy the crop grown on our land. Some other time they contrived to steal our buffaloes from the haveli. All this required filing of cases and attending courts. Father's ankle not being properly set was also giving him pain. The local 'hakim' opined the cause to be bad blood in the body and suggested some bloodletting under the knee. The village barber with his common razor blade made cuts at the suggested place to let out blood. The razor was contaminated, the wound developed sepsis and was never cured. Gradually it spread to his knee joint resulting in the amputation of his leg above the knee. But this took a lot of time and in between he suffered a lot besides attending to several court cases, both civil as well as criminal, filed by him against his detractors. The merchant fellow did all to break his will. Bebbe also urged him to let the land go. But the father maintained that he will not leave the poor farmer in lurch. Once he had taken the case in hand he will see it to its end. The case went on for more than ten years. During the last years of the case I was home during college vacations. Bharaji in the meanwhile had joined service at Simla and Chaman was also with him. Kuldeep was about ten years of age and with us. Budh Singh chose this time for a final assault to break father. He sent for his mercenaries one morning and gave them food and ample drinks at his house. In drunken state he brought them to his shop from where to attack our house. Our servant Khushi was bringing to us the news about their movements. We were sitting at the ground floor entrance to our house. When we heard the noise at Budh Singh's shop, father sent me and kuldeep up to our residence on the first floor. He himself stood at the entrance with a spear in hand. Only khushi was at his side. His only regret was, that the lohar and his son were not by his side, in this hour of trial, on account of whom he had taken up all this upon himself. I took kuldeep with me to the second floor terrace. We broke the brick border and collected large number of brick pieces to hurl from our vantage point. This way we could secure our back from the market side and also to restrain the enemy in the open space leading to our house. The drunken jats were dancing before Budh Singh's shop daring us to come out. They were just in reach of my throw. I hurled some bricks over them and broke their dance. Some even got injured. Enraged a group advanced towards our house. Upto half way they could proceed under the cover of a house wall. As soon as they came in the open, I let go a rain of bricks at them. Kuldeep was picking up and handing over the bricks to me which I was hurling at them with all my might. They could never cross the open space leading to our house under the shower of our missiles. At last, squarely beaten, they gave up and beat a hasty retreat. In the heat of skirmish, as Kuldeep handed me a brick, I levered my arm to throw it and accidently hit him in the face, breaking his two front teeth. Meanwhile some people from the village also arrived to give counsel to father. Seeing Kuldeep's bloodied face they advised that it would be prudent to lodge a report of assault against Budh Singh and his clique, showing kuldeep's broken teeth as a casualty. So I was sent post haste to police station carrying Kuldeep on my cycle. Babaji alongwith other people was to reach there next morning. The police station was about ten miles
from our village. The way went through Kingerali, the jats from which village were in the assault party. We were afraid to come across some persons we had fought with during the day. So we chose a circuitous route via shahdara, which place we reached at night fall. Here we took meals at a dha ba and also slept there. Early in the morning we left for the police station and reached there at about 10 A.M. Meanwhile father also arrived with his party and the necessary report was duly lodged after obtaining a medical certificate about Kuldeep's injury. A non-bailable warrant for the arrest of Budh singh was got issued. On learning this, he absconded to evade arrest and through some common arhaties (brokers for the sale of crops) of Muridke sued for peace. He agreed to withdraw the land case in our favour to gain reprieve from the assault case. At last father gave in. Soon thereafter the case was decreed in our favour. Father had spent lot of money over this case besides suffering many privations. The lohar farmer was not in a position to compensate father for his losses. So he permitted father to keep the land for ten years and enjoy its produce in lieu of the financial losses suffered; after which it may be handed over to him. Soon there was partition. We got our lands in Bakshiwala in 1950. Father earmarked the lohar's land to be given to them in 1960. Meanwhile the old lohar passed away and so did our father in 1958. Two years after his death we handed over the lohar's land to his son Aroorh Singh.
Dear PapaJi
I had heard about 'loharan di zameen' and knew about it in a piece meal fashion. Now I know the whole story and am glad about it.
Write about Bhabi ji also some time.
I am kind of busy right now because Babi's son Naren is visiting us. He is a charming person and fun to have here. The kids love him. He is 3 yrs younger than Jyoti. He is in his final year of medicine. I will write in the blog soon. Love you. Ambi.
I have written about him in my story of Bebbe also. Through-out my stay in Sheikhupura chacha continued coming to me, once a month, for a day or two. We had a great time roaming in the market area. He used to ask me what fruits and what sweets I had not tasted recently and then bought all those for me. Rupee went a lot those days and by evening he would declare he still had some pice left from the rupee we started with.
Chacha was a free bird but even a bird needs some grains go into its stomach. All he needed was two times meal. But there is no free lunch in our economic system. It required money and money came from regular or irregular methods. Chacha’s methods were mostly irregular but not criminal in nature or intent. Sometimes he could find no way to act otherwise. For instance he could not come on Kumari’s marriage..After a few months when she was on a visit to her home village, Chacha also happened to come there. She told him he had cheated her by not attending her marriage; so now he owed her a silken suit in recompense. She dragged him. to the cloth shop and got the desired suit. It cost nearly a fifty and chacha didn’t have more than a rupee or two in his pocket. So he said, “Charge it to my account”. “What account” exclaimed the shopkeeper, ‘You have no account with me” “But you do have account of Waryam Singh and don’t you recognize her; she is his daughter.” Said chacha nonchalantly. Kumari got her suit, chacha her thanks and father got to pay the bill.
I was in eighth class.and in village on holidays..I had presently learnt riding a horse and enjoyed it immensely. Chacha also happened to come, to my great surprise, on a beautiful Persian mare. For once I was delighted more by the mare than.chacha. Watching my great interest in the mare chacha graciously said that I could have it for myself.. I felt if I had got an empire. I would ride it soon as it finished its fodder. One night I asked father wherefrom chacha had got the mare. He casually said, he must have borrowed it from somebody for a few days, and would return it to him. This sent a danger bell ringing in my ears. I was not bothered about chcha’s liability or commitment. I was determined to keep the mare for myself. Next morning I put a lock on its front paws which allowed it a little movement to graze about, but not be of any other use. I kept the key safely and used it to release her only when I wanted a ride. When chacha wanted it for going to a friend in the next village, I flatly refused to give the key to him. Chacha walked over on foot with smile on his face and not a trace of anger. I did feel sorry but I did not want any emotion to come in between my mare and me. Chacha did not return. He just disappeared and so did the mare. I told father the mare was stolen. He said , “It is your chacha who has stolen it. He got a new key to the lock made by the local blacksmith.
About four miles from us was the village ‘khutiala’. It was the in-laws place (Sauhre) of my eldest maternal uncle, Lala Dev Dutt. Any of our relations was an easy contact of chacha. This village was also the home (pekke)of my prospective mother-in-law. This is how chacha came in contact with them which later resulted into my marriage in that house. The head of this village was a ‘zaildar’, very rich and influential farmer possessing hundreds of acres of land. Besides two sons, he had an only daughter by the name of ‘Veeran’. She grew up like a princess but received no formal education. Education of girls was neither a norm nor there were any schools for them. Indian boys of well-to-do families had started going to England for education and usually returned with I.C.S nomination Rich fathers of il-literate girls tried to tag their daughters to such boys without much success. The zaildar thought of a different stratagem. He located a promising boy of a poor family, paid for his education in India and in England, and at the same time married his daughter to him. The boy returned with I.C.S tag, was appointed a deputy commissioner and started living with his wife. Within a year however, he married again; this time an educated girl and Veeran’s position was reduced to just another wife if not a celebrated maid cook. Thus slighted she returned to her father but did not lose hope to win back her husband. She started sending village niceties – gurh, saag, milk cakes etc.- to her husband’s place through chacha Ram Lal. This way chacha established contacts with a deputy commissioner who at that time was regarded as a ruler of his district. Many jat families who had some cases in the courts started approaching him for soliciting help or recommendation from the D.C. Chacha at last had a job of sorts which to a large extent solved his money problems.
I have already covered his role, leading to my marriage, in my autobiography, and anything left will also figure therein. Soon after partition, we came to Simla, and had no news of his where-about. Then one day he dropped in unexpectedly, as was his wont. We gave him a red carpet reception, even though we did not possess one, at that time. I took him to the market and feasted him with all the novelties as he used to do to me in my school days. He stayed with us for about a week. At departure time he told Chaman, “Sonny, it was not for nothing that I adopted you. All that belongs to me is yours. Back in the village at Haryana, I have a large quantity of silver wares and a herd of buffallos. Come sometime and have a look at your things. Here is my address.” A few weeks after that, Chaman took leave from his office, and against our advice, visited the given place. The very next day he returned, with froth in mouth and unspeakable call names on his tongue. Chacha’s sister-in-law told him they had no news of his where about. As for his possessions, she told him, he had brought this donkey from somewhere last month, and had left it with them, to be fed.
In 1950 we were allotted land at Bakshiwala and father and mother with Kuldeep and Mohinder shifted there. Chacha came there a few times to see them Then he did not turn up for a long time and news came that he was no more. One day , Kuldip and Mohinder went to Rajpura to buy a toka for cutting of fodder. There they met chacha with a white sheet wound around his body up to the waist. He asked them the purpose of their visit to the town They told him they had come for a toka...He put his hand under the sheet, produced a toka and gave it to them. Dumbfound they asked him to accompany them to the village. He said he had some work to do and would come in the evening. But he never came and no more was heard of him again.. Kuldeep and Mohinder insisted that it was his ghost that they saw on that day and even in his death he was concerned about our welfare and needs.. But the toka was real and remained in our use long after he was gone.. . .
Dear Ambi,
With this I have finished with chacha Ram Lal and also Babaji except what might come about them in Bebbe.. Now I shall conserve my energies to other remaining projects.
Love, Daddy.
Dear Papaji
Enjoyed this addition as much as the others, which is to say I liked it very much. I am glad to find some incidents that you have not previously told us. I also notice you have not included some other ones that we have heard from you. You ommitted writing how chacha Ramlal's mother committed suicide. You also did not mention how you gave him laddus on Kuku's birth which he sold on his way out to collect some money. How come you did not give him laddus on my birth? In all the stories you told us about him you never mentioned that he had a sister. What happened to her? I will keep looking for you next post. Love you very much...Ambi.
Dear Ambi,
I am glad to have your comments which i had been eagerly waiting for. You may have noticed from first part of chacha Ram Lal's post that i had made some changes, in my earlier text,especially regarding chacha's mother. At that time i was under the impression that Bebbe had taken me to Karial on her sister's demise. Such early demise i had imagined to be due to suicide. Later on rechecking I learnt that it was rather on her second husband's death that we had gone there. So i made the necessary correction this time. I have absolutely no recollection about laddus. In fact the only time he came to Simla was when neither of you were born. Your Biji tells me that when Kuku was a few weeks old Kuldip took all of you to the village. There chacha came one day and gave two rupees to Kuku. You were not even two years old then and may have had no rememberance of him. Chacha had no sister. I think I wrote sister-in-law in connection with Chaman's episode. She was wife of chacha's younger brother whom Chaman met in their village. But wait a minute. Come to think of it, I think chacha did have a sister - a step-sister from his mother's second husband. There is some more of chacha left to figure in other works.
We are grieved to learn of Jeff's grandmother's demise. She was such a genial soul. Please convey our condolences to all. Men and women of my generation are leaving one by one leaving behind a lonely space
Love, Daddy.
Dear Ambi,
Once more on chacha's sister. Your inadvertant reference to chacha's sister was circulating in my mind while typing the above post. Instantly it flashed through my mind that we had bought him a suit for a girl going to be married. In the same instant i concluded that it may have been chacha's step-sister. Later on i realised that if it was chacha's step sister she must have been born before the death of her father for whose funeral we had gone there. That way she should have been almost of my age. I was 26 when chacha visited us at Simla. No girl could have remained unmarried till that late in those days. So she could not be chacha's sister. Besides chacha had observed, "We are engaged in preparing dowry for your sister". Thus she must be chacha's niece - daughter of chacha's younger brother 'Chand Mal'. Chacha did not have a sister at last.
Dear Papaji,
Chacha Ramlal truly is an enigma. He must be smiling up there.
Love.....Ambi
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