Baby
Steps….becoming a brat (Angel actually as Dadu saw me.)
We lived
in Jubilee Park in Tollygunje Calcutta and I remember there was a big lawn in
the tram depot which was like a mini maidan where Ma and my sister and me would
sit late in the evening and Baba would come from work getting down from the
tram and we would sit there eating titbits which Baba would bring out from his
bag and my Ma and Baba would feed us and we were one happy family. Baba was
totally different around us when alone and quite another, when with his family
and I guess the strains were growing as he was the first to break away in 1956
and we left for Dooars as he joined Tea. (More of that later)
I do
remember that I was a brat and my Dadu, would always save me from a belting
which I deserved...At the age of 5 I was a terror in the neighbourhood (Dennis
was no competition).
I used
to study in St Mary's convent Tollygunge and I would go in a school bus at 7 am
and would be back by 11 am. A quick lunch and I would go into the bustee (Slum
area) and play with kids in all their rough and tough games like guli danda and
cricket with a stone and a branch for a bat and break the glass windows. Even
in Bengal today everyone sleeps from 1 pm till 3/4 pm and they did that in
1950's too and most times except my mother no one was bothered and I was better
off outside than inside as then "they" could sleep without my
noise.
Ours was
a joint family and a large one at that and mentioning numbers would be an
embarrassment to the dignity of a joint family. We were bursting at the
seams.....(The joke in real terms would be that my eldest Aunt and her mother
were both delivering at the same time) End of topic.
Sanathan
and Gobardhan were my friends from the slums and I still have some memories of
them....At 3.00 pm I would come home in time for my milk and get dressed to
play with the good boys of the neighbourhood in clean games like hide and seek
or "Pittu" and maybe some "Bhadralok cricket" with a tennis
ball and wickets and representing a team.
Even as
a five year old I was good in sports and would be picked first post election of
the captain who would be the rich boy with the cricket kit. I was good with the
ball and I remember because I was good I got to always bowl one or two balls
extra as the umpire would forget to count correctly and I would get that
benefit.
5 pm
meant match over as Raju the rich boy had to go and so would his kit and his
friends....My games would still be in full swing... Catapult in hand I was a
hunter of anything that moved and it could be humans too. I was not scared of
anything as I had my Dadu (grandfather) on my side. He was my saviour
"come what may" and he was a cop too and even my father was scared of
his temper.
My nick
name in the neighbourhood was "lombokarno--Hunaman--Murkot" which all
meant a monkey on the loose.
My mother
being an Anglo Indian did not know Bangla and she and my Khakurma (Grandmother)
could not see eye to eye and they had many internal matches themselves which
let to camps for and against both. My dad was caught in between but my Dadu was
her saviour too.
One
incident still stands out and worth a mention.... Ma had boiled the milk (3kgs=
6 seers) and she asked her mother-in-law "Ke karbo" (what should I do
with the milk) My Grandmother being from East Pakistan said "Thua
dao" (Keep it aside) and my Ma the Anglo Indian threw it out in style....
End of story and trust me there was WAR!!!!!
There
were some traditions followed in our Joint family home. Deb Dulal
Bandhayapadyay was a great Radio new reader and he would read the local news at
7 pm called "Stanio Sangbad" and we all had to be around in
grandfather's room listening to the news.
At 7.30
pm dinner for him and the kids were served and by 8 pm we were around him in
his bed being tapped to sleep. Each child would be picked up one by one from
Dadu's bed as we slept so that Dadu could retire to sleep. Me being the brat
refused to sleep or be shunted out and all I did was go under his bed and
howl....no one had the guts to fetch me or demand I come out. Dadu saw to it
that no one dare touch me. I was the king under the bed till mosquitoes did
their bit and I had to come out. To my grandfather I was an angel.
I did
not last too long in St. Mary's school too...(girls school and boys allowed in
KG and class one), and I was there for a few months as kicked out for being a
brat as I cut off the girl's pigtails dangling in front of me.... I still don't
remember how I did it but I know I did it. Baba's marks on my soft tom-toms
were proof of it for days.
I
remember the Dhakuria Lakes and the walks that we all took on a Sunday. Dadu
with his grandchildren around him in front.....then my grandmother with her
vanity bag and decked up in gold with our maid Moti didi beside her and then my
Jhethi Ma (Eldest Uncle's wife) and my mother beside her and behind them all my
unmarried aunts with my Jhatha (Eldest Uncle) and baba and Kaka bringing up the
rear. All ladies wore similar saris....children similar clothes of the same
print and thinking of it now I do have a laugh thinking of "Left
right...left right agay husband peechay wife" and then the
platoon...."uf ke asoobhoo"
Baba had
two good childhood friends in Hemanta Mukherjee the signer and Biswajeet the
film actor and I remember fun times with them in Hazra where they lived.
In those
days Bengali movies were for Bhadraloks and there were class cinema halls in
Hazra road crossing on both sides of the road and movie stars would rub
shoulders with us and see movies together and going to a movie meant dressing
up especially the late night show.
The Sen
Sharma family (That was our real title) would walk to the tram depot and get into a
tram and i would buy my own ticket with 7 one pice copper coin with a hole in
the middle and it would be perched in my little finger and the conductor would
take it from my finger and give me a ticket. I was so big and proud and I had
thousand such tickets till I was about 16 years of age.
Pathar
Pachali-Apur Sansar-Lookachoorie-Shatapathi-Seshankho were all classics….. and I saw them all and quite liked them....may not have been the excellence of the craft but for the tram ride and returning with the platoon late at night.
One day
suddenly Baba came home to announce to my grandfather that he had got a good
job as a Sahib in the tea garden and that he would be leaving in a week's
time......Pin drop silence for some time and then all hell broke loose.....Dadu
was wild with anger and grandmother took it out on Ma and Didibhai and me
cried.....
In fact
we left home late that night and stayed in a small hotel in Sealdah and took a
train to Burnpur (Asansol) where my Nana lived as we were also close to
them.... and also for Dadu to cool down and swallow his pride that his empire
of being the Patriarch was being challenged.
That was
the last I saw Dadu alive.... I went back in 1959 for his funeral.
