Reminiscences of A Granny

I begin the story of my life at the end, with the coming of the grandchildren ( G C's). They came in a rush, eight of them, over a ten year period, from February 1978 to August 1988. Those were, for me, the years of fulfillment. After that, the twelve years of slow decline have brought me to near senility and invalid isolation. Y2K finds me, after 50 years of married life, mostly in bed, dependent on my husband, Ram, for care, company, and comfort. I have endless time on my hands, to ruminate on the years gone by, when I also stood and served!

Yes, I have eight Grandchildren, and they are all really G-R-A-N-D ! How they will shape up as adults I do not know and don't really care. Seven of them came as little bundles of un-alloyed joy; Yes, they are girls. The only boy in the pack is a bundle of energy, difficult to manage and impossible to guide! The first G C to arrive, far away from Calcutta, in distant Hamburg and me, was Ratna and Prakash's first child. Ratna was my first born. Christened Deepa, this child became my very own for almost two and a half years. Prakash's first posting abroad was in Germany and Ratna accompanied him taking furlough from her own job with the Railways. They returned to India with Deepa added to the baggage. She had to be shed, as Ratna and Prakash were 'working parents', working, not as parents, but in their respective offices in Delhi! So, they landed in Bombay first, where we had moved on Ram's posting as Executive head of the KVIC. Ram's 10 to 5 job was at Vile Parle and my 24 hour one at out flat in Santa Cruz. 

My first sight of Deepa was of a very fair complexioned, plump-ish baby, sitting in a push chair, sucking on her soother, as if she was monarch of all she surveyed. One exchange of glances and the tiny arms were outstretched towards me. What a happiness it was to hold that bundle of joy in my arms! Prakash and Ratna were relieved that their Deepa and her Din Din had taken to each other with such obvious relish. After Deepa's advent my name was changed from 'o go' - Bengali for 'hey you', to Didima - Bengali for grandma - and then to Din Din - Deepanese for Didima. Similarly, Ranjana, my youngest child and second daughter, who had not yet shed our company, became Gum Gum and even in Y2K sports that title to a select band. 

Gum Gum was busy preparing for the Civil Service exams, and Ram's office though technically from 10 to 5, kept him busy with, and immersed in, files almost all the time. Did KVIC produce Khadi or files, I wondered! However, that left Deepa almost exclusively to my care. I can therefore take credit for Deepa's early mastery over idiomatic Bengali and her ability to recite in melodious tunes many Sanskrit verses. For some unexplained reason she always smiled a sweet but sad smile whenever I sang the line in praise of Hanumanji when he alleviates Sita's misery. If Sita made her sad, Radha made Deepa pine for Krishna. We had a long-playing record of beautifully sung verses in Bengali recounting the lover's tiff between Radha and Krishna on account of another girl ( Chandrabali) and the subsequent reconciliation. Deepa never tired of that record. She used to re-tell the story too, adding some touches of her own. Of course she was Radha and I had generally to play Chandrabali's role! At times I was promoted to the role of Yashoda! 

Deepa was a great one for wetting her bed, too. The shameless hussy would run to me, often in obvious glee, reporting one more pool on the floor caused by her. She invariably referred to these pools as 'hish' imagine our surprise when we took her to the beach for the first time: she immediately named the sea the 'Big Hish'! 

Deepa became Ram's special darling when she taught him a nice lesson. Though he pretends to be strong and self reliant, Ram behaves like a baby whenever he falls sick or feels even slightly unwell. We are devotees of Shri Ramakrishna and Ram therefore appeals to him to cure all his ills. One day he had been prevented from going to office by a bad cold and slight fever. As was his wont, he was appealing to Thakur, Shri Ramakrishna, quite frequently. Little Deepa, with the accumulated wisdom of two full years, went to him and admonished him in  a very stern voice, " Dadu, don't disturb Thakur"! That had the desired effect and the Doctor was promptly sent for. I believe that also considerably reduced the number of appeals to God for redressal of our petty grievances!

Gum Gum also had a lesson in simple maths. Dinner that night was egg curry and rice. Four eggs had been cooked along with potatoes, in a thick gravy. Deepa wanted to grab all the eggs.

Gum Gum, who till Deepa's arrival, had been the baby of the family, naturally protested. Deepa's classic rejoinder was: " This one is mine; Din Din always gives me hers Dadu has an upset stomach and should not eat any egg tonight. So all I want is one more egg and even that you want to deny me!"

Once Deepa gladdened my heart when she shouted back at her Dadu who is famous for his temper, " I don't know why"  she shouted, " I love this awful man when all he does is shout at me, gesticulating with his hands too." This echoed my feelings to perfection. She also pleaded with her Dadu on my behalf: " Dadu you must not shout at Din Din. She gives me so much milk and you so much horlicks! "

Our flat at Santa Cruz was within walking distance of the Ramakrishna Mission Temple at Khar. putting Deepa in her push chair, we used to take her to the Temple very often. Before leaving the Temple, she would invariably shout, "Thakur, come Bombay". Bombay for Deepa meant the Saket complex where we stayed. May be Thakur is still with us because of those fervent appeals. 

Deepa was normally quite cheerful and was very popular with the neighbors. Particularly so with the family next door, the Tendulkar's (no relation of Sachin's). She used to exchange conversation with the Tendulkar boy and girl, balcony to balcony, as if they were her own age! (both were going to college at that time) Two other adult visitors to the flat who fell heavily for Deepa were Kishore and Jit. Kishore was the computer whiz kid, working in Air India and involved with their computerization. Ram's first cousin - twice- over's son, this Calcutta boy was lonely in Bombay. He initially came, I suspect, for Ranjana's company. He also missed his macher jhol bhat and hugely enjoyed the ilish maach I invariably prepared when he was expected. Ram Kishore's addiction of cricket, and I was flattered by the relish with which he demolished what ever I cooked. When Deepa arrived he promptly shifted his allegiance to Deepa. who also became very fond of her Kishore Mama. But instead of calling him Kishore Mama which any self-respecting half-Bengali girl would normally do, she christened him 'Keo Kanko'. Keo was Deepanese foe Kishore but why the kanko? I suspect it was Deepanese for Kanjilal, Kishore's surname. The name embarrassed Kishore no end, for 'kanko' was also Deepanese for a bare body, lacking clothes altogether! Jit was Ram's and mine college days friend Arun's

son, studying at TIFR. Arun was rather close to Ram and often ferried letters to me at the Post Graduate Ladies Hostel on Harrison Road. Jit was another lonely Calcutta boy in Bombay. And I have no doubt he came more for the youthful company than the Bengali style food. However, once Deepa came on the scene Jit also changed his allegiance. He used to carry Deepa, quite a heavy weight already, on his shoulders all the way from Santa Cruz to Juhu beach. Taxis were for the return journey only. Jit passed out with distinction from TIFR and was in the vanguard of what is now called the IT revolution. I am sure he is happy with his specialist work in Singapore where he settled down looking for pastures greener that what India could provide. Both these kids, Kishore and Jit, had brains bulging at their back. Deepa is yet to prove that she deserved all the admiration showered on her.

If I have give am impression that Ratna Prakash, I should say Ratna and Prakash neglected Deepa, I am wrong. They were a loving set of parents and came over to Bombay as frequently as they could, making some use of the railway pass facilities Ratna enjoyed. Ram also used to visit Delhi often for his official work, and Deepa accompanied him once in a while. These temporary reunions followed by speedy separations had a very bad effect on Deepa's psyche. At times waking up at midnight Deepa would ask to be taken to Delhi immediately! Ram had to perambulate with Deepa in his arms for long spells before the child quietened down.

These  frequent partings made Deepa  quite philosophic too. When I took Deepa (in 1981) to Delhi, intending to leave her there in the care of an Ayah and God, I was apprehensive that Deepa would pine over much, if not for me then for darling Dadu. I therefore tried to prepare her for the parting by telling her that there might not be a return visit after we had left for Bombay this time. The child's response was unexpected. She started consoling me! " Look Din Din", She said, " Everyone has to go." Was God telling me through this child that all worldly relationships are but temporary and partings inevitable?