Sunday, February 14, 2010
Writing about Ma and Baba
It is very difficult to write about Ma and Baba. I am yet to accept their death. I find it very difficult to change the tense of the verb 'is' to 'was'.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Memories 2
After referendum all Hindus started to send their children to India. Dadu also was bent upon sending Anjumama to India. He already owned a house in Silchar but depended upon his 2 married sons to look after Anjumama, though of course he would send money for his son's expenses. Dadu was too proud to take any financial help from any one, even if the person was his own son.
Didima was heart broken, 14 yr old Anjumama clung to his mother and cried. But to Dadu discipline was more important then foolish sentiments, so mother and child were separated.
Anjumama had a traumatic life with his extended families in Silchar and ended up quitting school after failing in class IX and pelting stones on the class teacher. What else can you expect from a child forcefully separated from mother and thrown into the claws of the big bad world?
Anjumama was with us in Calcutta for more than a year when he was around 22 yrs. I still remember he would drape his dhoti beautifully and wore a white shirt over it, he looked every inch a 'jamai'. Thamma insisted that he should join a private coaching and appear for School Final exam. But he was not very interested.
He became friendly with Sukumarda, who had also plugged in the class X exam, stood near Triangular Park in the evenings, in the pose of Lord Krishna (cross legged) with the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, trying to look like Uttam Kumar and sighing every time Sushma passed. The latter was a class XI student of Modern High School. She was tall, fair with curly hair. I don't remember much details regarding her.
I knew all this courtesy Anjumama, my elder brother and his gossipy friend Duli. (Dulida said I had a face as round as the wheel of a bullock cart. How RUDE!!! And nobody asked for his opinion!)
Anjumama never did much work. However he helped any body and everybody who was in trouble. All his elder sisters loved him dearly and tried their best to fill the place of his mother.
In 1965 , Chayyamashi died suddenly with heart failure due to severe anemia (I suspect). She was very neglected by her in-laws and her husband who was too good to protest. Her fault? No, not less dowry. Her fault was that she was chosen by her father in law for a fair son in spite of being dark. (This is India don't forget.)
Chayyamashi always pined for her mother. She would look at the hills separating Katlichara from Sylhet and tell her daughter Gopa, if she could only cross those hills she would be able to see her mother.
The demise of the daughter was too much for Didima to bear. Dadu was strong and immersed himself in his legal profession, but Didima cried day and night. Bangladesh liberation war was on and no one could travel to or from India to then East Pakisthan. Bijumama was in London, and it was easy for him to visit his parents. All the siblings living in India requested him repeatedly to go and see the parents, but he could not care less. Didima looked at the sky and every plane that crossed the sky, with tear filled eyes, hoping Biju would come. How more cruel can a son be!
Anjumama crossed the border without passport, bribing the border security to be with his mother. But with in a few months of Chayyamashi's death Didima suffered cerebral stroke and joined her beloved daughter in the heaven. Only consoling factor was that at least one of her children was with her at the time of her death.
The relatives in Maulabibazaar (where Dadu and Didima stayed) were not very happy to see Anjumama. Well, after all there was a huge property to consider. The heavy golden chain went missing from Didima's neck within minutes of her death. The well wishers also did not waste time in informing the police about the illegal intruder.
When the police came to arrest Anjumama, Didima's pyre was still ablaze. Anjumama said 'that is my mother's pyre, arrest me after it is over'. The Muslim police officer was more human than the Hindu relatives. He said, 'stay as long as you please, no one will bother you again.'
Didima's death was a huge blow to Dadu. Now it was impossible for him to stay in Maulabibazzar any more. He left all his property and set out for India, though passport and visa to India was a distant dream for a Hindu dweller of East Pakisthan.
Anjumama brought his ailing father in the same way he had entered East Pakisthan, walking across the border area, bribing the border security at night and hiding in the jungles in the days without food or water. Dadu was very sick and Anjumama carried him on his back. Thank God, both reached India sick, tired , hungry but ALIVE.
Whenever Anjumama visited us in Calcutta I made endless cups of tea for him, for I knew he loved tea.
Talking of tea reminds me of Kaku, who always said his problems would end once I grew up. Once I learned to make tea and he would not have to request Ma or Kakima to make tea for him during odd hours.
He said
"Ekta bajuk, duto bajuk
Bajuk barota,
Agye chai cha"
I did grow up, I did learn to make tea, but Kaku did not keep his promise to drink the tea. The cruel hands of death had taken him away. He died of bronchogenic carcinoma on a Sunday morning, 6th Aug 1967.
Thamma at his time of his demise blessed him thus 'Go Patal go. This life was an unsuccessful one for you. May your next birth be a very successful one'. I am yet to see such a great and strong mother.
Thamma lived for 14 more years and cried everyday of her remaining life for Kaku in the wee hours of the day. The cries of the poor mother for the lost son still rings in my ears and breaks my heart to pieces till this date.
Anjumama did meet happiness. He was loved by all and the regional political party respected him a lot though he was not an active worker.
He married Jayanti. Chotomami was a telephone operator and fell in love with Anjumama. His married life was happy and fulfilling.
Anjumama passed away in his sleep at the age of 69. He could have lived longer.
I am a mortal and can not understand God's 'bichar'. Is God loving and forgiving or is he cruel and punishing?
We are helpless and powerless at Your feet,You can crush us any moment, then why did You make us in the first place? Do you enjoy the human sufferings? Do I have the right to ask this?
Once I saw a beggar standing in torrential rain and getting wet. He had all his belongings in a bundle, all wet, next to him. He neither looked for a shelter nor made any attempt to save his belongings. I thought he expressed great protest against God by this act. As if he was saying " You want me to suffer? Suffer I will, and to that extend that even You will be ashamed of the punishment You mated out for me."
"
Didima was heart broken, 14 yr old Anjumama clung to his mother and cried. But to Dadu discipline was more important then foolish sentiments, so mother and child were separated.
Anjumama had a traumatic life with his extended families in Silchar and ended up quitting school after failing in class IX and pelting stones on the class teacher. What else can you expect from a child forcefully separated from mother and thrown into the claws of the big bad world?
Anjumama was with us in Calcutta for more than a year when he was around 22 yrs. I still remember he would drape his dhoti beautifully and wore a white shirt over it, he looked every inch a 'jamai'. Thamma insisted that he should join a private coaching and appear for School Final exam. But he was not very interested.
He became friendly with Sukumarda, who had also plugged in the class X exam, stood near Triangular Park in the evenings, in the pose of Lord Krishna (cross legged) with the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, trying to look like Uttam Kumar and sighing every time Sushma passed. The latter was a class XI student of Modern High School. She was tall, fair with curly hair. I don't remember much details regarding her.
I knew all this courtesy Anjumama, my elder brother and his gossipy friend Duli. (Dulida said I had a face as round as the wheel of a bullock cart. How RUDE!!! And nobody asked for his opinion!)
Anjumama never did much work. However he helped any body and everybody who was in trouble. All his elder sisters loved him dearly and tried their best to fill the place of his mother.
In 1965 , Chayyamashi died suddenly with heart failure due to severe anemia (I suspect). She was very neglected by her in-laws and her husband who was too good to protest. Her fault? No, not less dowry. Her fault was that she was chosen by her father in law for a fair son in spite of being dark. (This is India don't forget.)
Chayyamashi always pined for her mother. She would look at the hills separating Katlichara from Sylhet and tell her daughter Gopa, if she could only cross those hills she would be able to see her mother.
The demise of the daughter was too much for Didima to bear. Dadu was strong and immersed himself in his legal profession, but Didima cried day and night. Bangladesh liberation war was on and no one could travel to or from India to then East Pakisthan. Bijumama was in London, and it was easy for him to visit his parents. All the siblings living in India requested him repeatedly to go and see the parents, but he could not care less. Didima looked at the sky and every plane that crossed the sky, with tear filled eyes, hoping Biju would come. How more cruel can a son be!
Anjumama crossed the border without passport, bribing the border security to be with his mother. But with in a few months of Chayyamashi's death Didima suffered cerebral stroke and joined her beloved daughter in the heaven. Only consoling factor was that at least one of her children was with her at the time of her death.
The relatives in Maulabibazaar (where Dadu and Didima stayed) were not very happy to see Anjumama. Well, after all there was a huge property to consider. The heavy golden chain went missing from Didima's neck within minutes of her death. The well wishers also did not waste time in informing the police about the illegal intruder.
When the police came to arrest Anjumama, Didima's pyre was still ablaze. Anjumama said 'that is my mother's pyre, arrest me after it is over'. The Muslim police officer was more human than the Hindu relatives. He said, 'stay as long as you please, no one will bother you again.'
Didima's death was a huge blow to Dadu. Now it was impossible for him to stay in Maulabibazzar any more. He left all his property and set out for India, though passport and visa to India was a distant dream for a Hindu dweller of East Pakisthan.
Anjumama brought his ailing father in the same way he had entered East Pakisthan, walking across the border area, bribing the border security at night and hiding in the jungles in the days without food or water. Dadu was very sick and Anjumama carried him on his back. Thank God, both reached India sick, tired , hungry but ALIVE.
Whenever Anjumama visited us in Calcutta I made endless cups of tea for him, for I knew he loved tea.
Talking of tea reminds me of Kaku, who always said his problems would end once I grew up. Once I learned to make tea and he would not have to request Ma or Kakima to make tea for him during odd hours.
He said
"Ekta bajuk, duto bajuk
Bajuk barota,
Agye chai cha"
I did grow up, I did learn to make tea, but Kaku did not keep his promise to drink the tea. The cruel hands of death had taken him away. He died of bronchogenic carcinoma on a Sunday morning, 6th Aug 1967.
Thamma at his time of his demise blessed him thus 'Go Patal go. This life was an unsuccessful one for you. May your next birth be a very successful one'. I am yet to see such a great and strong mother.
Thamma lived for 14 more years and cried everyday of her remaining life for Kaku in the wee hours of the day. The cries of the poor mother for the lost son still rings in my ears and breaks my heart to pieces till this date.
Anjumama did meet happiness. He was loved by all and the regional political party respected him a lot though he was not an active worker.
He married Jayanti. Chotomami was a telephone operator and fell in love with Anjumama. His married life was happy and fulfilling.
Anjumama passed away in his sleep at the age of 69. He could have lived longer.
I am a mortal and can not understand God's 'bichar'. Is God loving and forgiving or is he cruel and punishing?
We are helpless and powerless at Your feet,You can crush us any moment, then why did You make us in the first place? Do you enjoy the human sufferings? Do I have the right to ask this?
Once I saw a beggar standing in torrential rain and getting wet. He had all his belongings in a bundle, all wet, next to him. He neither looked for a shelter nor made any attempt to save his belongings. I thought he expressed great protest against God by this act. As if he was saying " You want me to suffer? Suffer I will, and to that extend that even You will be ashamed of the punishment You mated out for me."
"