A Tribute to my Upline – Part III

The Bose family had a good life in Yangon. Kaveri was growing up fast and was a lovely baby. She loved cats and would get up to all sorts of mischief. An incident stands out in my mind. A Bengali couple had come for tea one afternoon. Sova was in the midst of making her famous chanar jilipis. Now, the jilipis were numbered for another event later. So, Sova served tea and some other refreshments to the visiting couple. Suddenly, Kaveri, who was playing nearby, ran up with two small teapoys which she set in front of the guests. Then she ran off again. A minute later, she came back with two glasses of water. Then again, she ran off and came back with two plates on which there were fresh jilipis.

After that she went back to her playing. Sova was dumbstruck while the couple who guessed that these had not been meant for them, chuckled and said, “Thairen! So you did not want to give us. But your daughter did! Haahhahhaa!” Sova had no choice but to smile and bear it...

That was Kaveri for you. Unusually generous and selfless, she loved almost everyone she met. Most of all she loved her big sister, Krishna, whom she worshipped.

By this time, Debu had completed his MBBS degree and Bijoy decided to send him to London to do his MRCP in medicine. Debu left for London amidst much fanfare. A couple of years later, in 1959, Bijoy retired from Burmese Government Service. He was a true patriot, who was determined to come back to India as soon as he retired. Krishna tried to convince her father not to move back, as they had a good life in Yangon. However, Bijoy was adamant. "My country, right or wrong!" was his response. So, in 1959, the four of them flew back to Kolkata, renting a house on Suren Tagore Road in South Kolkata.

It was possibly the worst decision of Bijoy’s life. His children who had known a good time in Burma were miserable in Kolkata. His health, after ignoring it for many years, started to fail. He took a job as a consultant in Raymond Industries but they never could get back the splendor of the days in Yangon. Sova was happy to be back near her family, who had by then moved to Kolkata from Dhaka. She would help them out in anyway she could, her mother and her younger siblings. She had a brother who was exactly Debu’s age and six years older to Krishna. His name was Shyamaprasad Das and he became great friends with his nieces.

Two years later, in 1961, Bijoy became totally bedridden with ventricular malfunctions and Sova tied herself to his bedside to become his nurse and attendant. Krishna was studying for  a Master’s Degree in Bengali from Calcutta University and Kaveri was going to South Point school. However, she suffered diptheria and thereafter, could not really keep up with the pace at school. So, Sova admitted her to Kamala Chatterjee School. Actually she had learning disabilities, which the educators of that time, could not diagnose and Kaveri never completed school finally.

Bijoy and Sova had helped people all their lives but sadly enough, very few ones came to help them in their time of need. In 1961, they moved to a smaller house in Ballygunge Gardens as Bijoy’s income had dried up. Debu did not do his MRCP, instead did an alternate degree and became a doctor in England.

Unbeknownst to anyone in Kolkata, he had fallen in love with this aunt Bela’s cousin and wanted to marry her. Debu had grown up to be a popular guy, and despite his rough start in life, he was an achiever.

Mr. and Mrs. Bose were aghast when Debu told them that he wanted to marry this lady. In their view, an aunt’s sister is also an aunt. It was Krishna, who convinced them to accept this liasion. Finally they did, and Deb married, taking his wife back with him to Wolverhamption near London.

Krishna completed her Masters and urged her parents to find a groom for her. She had not had any serious relationship, but she realized it was important to get married. From a newspaper ad, they connected with Chittaranjan Ghosh and Shanti Bala Ghosh of Behala. This couple were looking for a bride for their eldest son, Milan Ranjan Ghosh.

Sova asked Krishna many times, whether she would be able to adjust in a joint family. The Ghoshes had eleven children, two of whom had died in infancy. Krishna however, was determined to marry here as she had made friends with the youngest Ghosh daughter, Tapasri. A weird reason but I guess destiny has its own logic.

In 1966, Milan and Krishna got married. Sova gifted most of her heavy pieces of jewelry to Krishna. Debu did not bother to come down for his sister’s wedding nor did he send a gift. He had his own life with his wife and he had grown rather distant.

Sova had loved Debu for many years as a son. However, Debu after growing up would often insult his father, showing anger at the fact that his father had married again. He never expressed his gratitude to the woman who had saved him from a life of servitude. Bijoy and Sova were disappointed in their son. Then soon after, Krishna, left her in-laws house and moved back with them. She had not been able to adjust to life with the Ghoshes and her main reason was that Milan was not respected in his own house.

Sova was a conservative lady and this was not the ideal turn of events. However, she took it in her stride and when a few months later, Milan came to live with them as well, she genuinely grew fond of her son-in-law. Debu and Protima had two children, Keya and Protip and would visit India once in 5 years, playing the snooty NRIs to the hilt. In 1973, Krishna became pregnant but the baby died the day he was born due to CNS failure. Krishna became severely depressed as a result. She came out of this dark phase, only after she conceived again in 1974, giving birth to a daughter, Indrani in the winter of 1975.

Sova and Bijoy with Indrani

Sova loved her tiny grandaughter with all her heart and showered affection on her. She had journeyed from a young girl to wife, to mother, and now she was a grandmother. All the love that she had not been able to show Bijoy or Krishna or even Kaveri, overflowed onto Indrani, whom she called “Thoko” with affection.

Her day was divided between attending to her husband and caring for her grandaughter. The Boses and Ghoshes had managed to turn things around. To read more about Sova’s life, wait for my next blog post!

To be Continued…

A Tribute to my Upline – Part II

That first year was a period of adjustment between the young mother, Sova and her new son, Debu. To top it all, Bijoy had been sharing his living quarters with a number of his bachelor friends before he married Sova. When Sova and Debu landed in Yangon, most of these friends found other accommodation for themselves. Only one, Bacchu Kaku (I forget his actual name) stayed on as a paying guest. Sova did not mind as the house was huge and he was a nice chap who would tell interesting stories to Debu.

Initially Debu refused to call Sova, “Ma”. He would call her by tugging her pallu or by pinching her nose if she was asleep. Debu had a permanent limp as he had had polio as a child which the wicked uncle had not treated and Sova’s heart went out to the little child who had known very little affection before she came into his life.

Debu was highly intelligent and he was determined not to let his physical handicap stop him in any way. One afternoon, Sova spent a horrifying time, trying to get him off the ledge of the roof, where he had climbed to fly a kite.

In the meanwhile, Bijoy was rising fast in the Burmese Government and being a workaholic he hardly spent any time at home. After work he had his friends and clubs to go to. Sova was not a woman to complain and she began to devote herself to making a good home for him and his son. She was an excellent cook and finding that Bengali sweets were not readily available in Yangon, would make them herself at home. This earned her the nickname of “Mrs. Chanar Jilipi” (a Bengali sweet) that she made exceptionally well.

She made friends with two of the wives of Bijoy’s friends and so had some social life as well. A year after, Sova Rani became a mother the second time over, when she gave birth to Krishna, a daughter. They say that she was disappointed at not having a son and refused to see her first born when the nurse brought the baby to her. Perhaps she knew that a woman’s lot in life was tough or perhaps she wanted to give a son to her husband.

Later, she grew to love her first born, who was a dark-complexioned, doe eyed little baby. By then, Bijoy had been promoted to a new post in the Burmese Government, “Additional Finance Secretary”. Remember that this was pre-independence, in the year 1939, and it was the British people who were still occupying this part of Asia. Bijoy was highly respected for his financial acumen and he was a helpful soul, who helped any and all Bengalis migrating to Burma. On a daily basis he would get “help me” letters by the dozen asking for money or jobs or just a signature from him.

Sova would have constant guests of Bengali families who had moved to Yangon or were passing through. The house was never empty and despite having two small children, she saw to it that her guests were always properly looked after.

Despite being  a very good student herself, surprisingly Sova refused to send Krishna to school the first ten years of her life. It was Krishna herself who put her foot down and said that she wanted to go to Bengal Academy like her two little friends, Meera and Tultul.

Bijoy took a break from his busy schedule to take Krishna to meet the principal and being a bright kid, she got admitted to Standard V instead of III, which had been her ambition as TulTul studied in that class.

Sova suffered the usual pangs of her baby bird leaving the nest but then resigned herself to it. Debu was also attending school and Bijoy was talking about sending him to Kolkata for higher studies. The two siblings, Krishna and Debu were very close. Krishna worshipped the ground her big brother walked on.

The only mischord in this harmonious setup was that Debu was being influenced against Sova, by an aunt. This lady was married to Bijoy’s cousin and the couple stayed in the same house. Bijoy had arranged for a job for Tola, his cousin brother and Sova did all she could to help his wife, Bela. However, this lady was a poisonous person who created a lot of mischief.

Finally Debu came to Kolkata to study medicine at National Medical College and a few years after, Krishna who copied her brother, also studied two years in Victoria Institution in Kolkata. By then a third child had been born to Bijoy and Sova. Also a daughter, Kaveri Bose was God’s own child. She was a child with special needs but sadly enough her mother was kept too busy by her father to pay much attention to her.

It fell to Krishna, who was ten years older, to look after her baby sister most of the time. The Boses had built a good life in Burma and were a happy family. Would this last or would disaster strike? Find out in my next blog post…

To be Continued…

A Tribute to my Upline – Part I

Let me tell you a story today. A story about a woman much  before her times. Sova Rani Das was born in 1916 in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Born into a family of eleven brothers and sisters, she was the third eldest. Her father was a village schoolmaster and mother a homemaker. Sova’s family was plunged into poverty when her father suddenly passed away and thereafter it was a struggle for the young widow and her children to survive. The two older daughters were married and settled by then and helped out when they could. However, it was still tough. Sova was an exceptionally brilliant and talented young lady. Yet she had no arrogance and was the epitome of humility.

A mischieveous streak added to the dimensions of her personality and she would often lead her younger siblings into all sorts of naughty escapades. At the same time, she was diligent in completing all household chores and often would take up the slack of one of her siblings’ chores. Sova passed out of school with distinction and innumerable prizes and she should have studied further but for the fact that there were no funds to send her to college.

In those days, daughters were married off as early as possible and Sova’s eldest sister brought a proposal for her and her two closest sisters to consider. The guy in question was a widower with a young son, living in Yangon, working for the Burmese Government. Sova’s sisters both turned this proposal down flat, as they turned up their noses at marrying an older man with a child, who was bald and short too.

Sova on the other hand said that since she was not as beautiful as her sisters, she did not mind accepting this proposal. So, the marriage was fixed. Sova Rani Das became Sova Bose when she married Bijoy Kumar Bose. From day one, Mr. Bose told her that he would accept her as his wife, only after she became a mother to his son.  Saying this he sailed for Burma giving Sova the responsibility  of following him with his son in tow. Sova took Bijoy’s dictum to heart and devoted herself to becoming a good mother for the five year old.

The first step for that, was to rescue the boy, Deb Kumar Bose from the clutches of one of Bijoy’s uncles who had been using Debu as a boy servant in his household. Sova at first took the direct approach and went to visit her uncle in law. When she asked to take her son with her to Yangon, the whole family turned her down, saying that she would drown him on the way over, as she was his stepmother and not his mother.

Sova left the house dejected and sat on a rock to decide what to do next. Opposite to the uncle’s house was an ashram headed by Gauri Devi, a holy lady in Dhaka. Gauri Devi was sitting on the porch with her disciples when she noticed the young lady looking sad and sitting on a rock. She asked one of her disciples who the girl was. Everyone knew everyone’s business in that neighborhood and the disciple told her the story of how Sova wanted to take her son, but was not being allowed to by her in-laws. Gauri Devi sent the disciple to call Sova to her. When Sova came, she gave Sova some prashad and said, “Your wishes will be fulfilled, child!” and blessed her.

Mystically, soon after, another of Bijoy’s uncles who was at loggerheads with the one harboring Debu, came forward to help Sova. He got the tickets for a ship sailing to Yangon and arranged for a tonga. Then, he told Sova that Debu came out early every morning to empty the chamberpots and that was their only chance to grab him. Sova, braver than most people, agreed to this daring plan. And sure enough, the next day, she was waiting on a tonga for Debu to come out. At about 5:30 am, the small limping boy came out with a chamberpot which he could hardly carry. Sova did not waste  a minute but got down, ran to her son, snatched him up in her arms and dashed back to the tonga. As fate would have it, two of her sisters-in-law spotted what was happening and came out to grab Debu back, shouting obscenities at Sova.

The tongawallah though was an expert one and he set off for the docks, leaving the evil sisters behind. Sova reached the ship without further problems, and set sail for Burma to a new life with her husband and son….

To be Continued..

Sexuality and the Indian Woman

Deviating from my usual stance of writing about safe things, I have decided to talk about a bold topic this time. All around me, I see, read, hear, and watch a lot of things about diversity and gender equality, feminism et al. Very rarely, do people address the topic of a woman’s sexuality though. In the Indian context, we talk about sex in whispers and especially if you are a woman, the subject is taboo.

When I was growing up, I used to argue with my mother about curfew times, protesting that it did not mean that I was a virgin if I was home before dark or the opposite if I stayed out late. My mother however, never bought that argument and like a lawyer came up with counter arguments faster than you could say “Jack Robinson”.  Of course as a parent, she had safety and security issues on her mind.

Over the years, I have realized that if you want to be “acceptable” in the eyes of the society you live in, you DO NOT come across as a person with normal sexual desires. It is ok for a man to sleep around, he is just playing the field before settling down. If a woman does the same thing, she is labelled a slut or a whore or worse. Even more irritating is the fact that women are judged by the way they dress.  Last year, a colleague wore a deep necked top to work and was eve-teased a couple of times. The response to that by someone in a position of authority was that she should dress down a little. When would we start feeling comfortable walking on streets in a pair of shorts without being labelled “loose” or worse, being raped for wearing a mini skirt?

In social circles, a man having an extra marital affair is not as condemned as the other woman he is having it with. Are they not equally to blame? I am not promoting promiscuity or cheating on your partner, but my point is that rules should apply to all and not to a particular sex.

We have come a long way towards making women an integral part of the society, but unless we do away with such archaic notions and learn to accept each person for what they are, we shall be not be making real progress. My advice to all the free souls out there is to live your life on your terms and not be swayed by the fools braying by the road side. Go for it, gals!

To be or not to be

It's a new year and I felt that this warrants a blog post from me. Another year gone by, another milestone birthday just past and along with a few more grey strands of hair, I am choosing a rather difficult (for me) topic to write my first blog of 2016. I often hear the debate about single vs married. Having been a very determined single woman for thirty eight years, and then just getting married two years back, I think I can talk a little bit about both states. Of course I do think that I still have a lot to learn about marriage. What I want to tell all my friends out there who are contemplating matrimony (or a long term commitment) or fiercely protecting their single status, is that there is a good side and bad side to both.

Let me start by talking about being single. To be honest, it is not as bad or sad as it is made out to be. There is much to be said about being able to do anything or say anything without worrying about how the other person will feel about it. I know my husband feels the same way about this. We both miss our days when we could do what we wanted with our time without any explanations. I especially miss being able to sleep for as long as I want to - lazy bum that I am and eating nothing but junk food all day. I would also not have to think twice before I said something for fear of being misinterpreted. The flip side of this state though is the loneliness that catches you unaware. Often I would do something as simple as watch a movie or listen to a song and want to share it with someone - that is when I would miss having a partner. It does not matter how good a friend circle you have, you still feel lonely if you do not have someone of your own.

Now if I talk about being married or in a relationship, it's great having someone to talk to, share stuff and just do mundane stuff with, like buying groceries. However, it is important that the person is on the same wavelength as you and that you understand each other. For people like me who stepped into marriage after a quick courtship, that understanding takes a little time to come. You also have to work at it. What I love about being married is the feeling that there is someone I can depend on, someone who takes care of you, someone to pamper, someone who has my back at all times and I sincerely hope that he feels the same. As time goes by, the bond only grows stronger. There are also small moments, when your eyes meet across a crowded room and you two are totally thinking about the same thing - something small but really special for me. Again, the flip side is that you need to curb your tendency to do everything by yourself and consider the other person's opinion in all things major. It can be a hurdle if you are a fiercely independent person.

There is a lot more that I can write, but I think I will leave you to ponder on what I have written so far. Just remember to get committed to a like-minded person and if you cannot find one, you can still have a rocking single life by yourself!

An Ode to a Powerful Woman

It’s that time of the year again. Durga Puja is approaching and being a true-blood Bengali, I am all geared up for it. Some folks do not like to be in Kolkata during the Pujas as they want to avoid the crowds. I, on the other hand, love to be in Kolkata during the festival and watch it transform into a mega carnival. Even if I do not go out, the sights, sounds and smells of Durga Puja give me an immense high.

This time, along with the excited feeling, I am also a little sad. This is the first Puja without my mother. In the last few years, she was not well but the fact that she was there was enough. She would not go anywhere, but I would switch on the TV for her and get her to watch Puja Parikrama on one of the Bengali channels. During Durga Puja we worship Goddess Durga, who symbolizes woman power. So I thought this would be the right time to write about my mother, who was a powerful woman in her own right.

My mother grew up in a highly pampered atmosphere. Her father was a top official in the Burma government and she lacked for nothing. When she married my father and tried to live with his family, she found it difficult to adjust in a large family where there was no privacy or space. She could not stay there for long and soon my parents moved out. Objectively speaking, she might not have been a great daughter-in-law, though I know that she felt guilty about it and spent most of her life trying to make up for not  having stayed with her in-laws. She was however, a fantastic mother. I came along nine years after my parents’ marriage. She had had a son before me who died the day he was born. So I was doubly precious to her.

From the moment I was born, Ma focused on bringing me up and bringing me up well. She argued with my father and put me in a convent, as she firmly believed in the value of convent education. She encouraged me to read English books so that I learnt English properly. I started going to a library from the age of six. As the years went on, she also ensured that I learnt dance, drawing and playing the piano. When she realized that my true interest lay in dance, she spared nothing in her quest to make me a dancer. I still remember the day she sold her gold mangalsutra to buy me my dance jewelry. That is just one instance. She sacrificed a lot for me in a myriad number of ways. When my father died, she sold jewelry and furniture, begged and borrowed from relatives to make sure that I complete my education. As I started working, and travelling abroad, she never once told me that she could not stay alone and always said yes, when I asked her if it was ok with her if I went away for some months.

In 2009, she was diagnosed with vascular dementia, wherein she started having major memory problems and hallucinations. It was extremely painful for me to watch such a dynamic and outgoing woman forget who her daughter was. In the five years after she was diagnosed, she had her good days when she would be lucid and remember me, and her bad days when she went into her own past and forgot the present. When I got married in 2014, I was afraid that she and Rudra would not get along. Ma had always been very possessive about me and disliked most of my friends because they took me away from her. Initially, she took a little time to get comfortable with him, but soon they developed a rapport that was very touching to see. I must say that she was immensely lucky to get a son-in-law who left his own home and came to stay with us to take care of her. And take care of her, he did! He kept a strict watch on the food that the attendants served her and would carry her to the bathroom for her bath every morning. When she passed away in November, I feel that she was at peace that her daughter was in good hands. I miss her every day and often when I eat something that she liked to eat, or watch a movie that I watched with her, it is as if I feel that she is right there with me.

Ma, you were a wonderful person and a fabulous mother! I will count myself lucky if I can be half the woman you were. Love you!

The Third Set

I don't really want to become the Danielle Steele of the blogging world but somehow as I go through various stages of this interesting process called life, my blogs are becoming a little mushy. So I apologize ahead of time for this one.

Sometimes I think that my situation is a unique one but I am sure many of you out there have been in or are in similar situations. 

And now enough with the prologue, let me jump right into what I want to write about...my third set of parents. Most people usually have two sets, the ones they are born to and the ones they marry into. Nothing in my life has followed the conventional route, so I have three sets to boast about. :)

If you are curious about the second set, let me brief you about a German couple who were friends with my father long before he was married or became a parent. Years after, one letter triggered a parent-child relationship between a six year old me and them which continued till 2006, when Uncle Heinz passed away. I honestly think this story requires a separate blog, so I am moving on to my third set.

Rudra gifted me with a third set of parents right before my single parent passed away. Baba and Mamoni, in the short time that Rudra and I have been married and even before that have accepted me whole heartedly with all my shortcomings. Rare are the people who act as parents for their prospective daughter in law and ensure that her marriage ceremony is everything it should be. To be fair to my relatives they did turn up, brought expensive gifts and supported me in the ways they could. What floored me however was the way my parents in law welcomed me into their family with open arms  without any qualms.

In this one and a half years, they have pampered me, stood like a shield between me and Rudra when we fight and unconditionally supported me. Here I must mention my sister in law and her husband who do the same. They also scold me when I I do things wrong, just like my parents would. Rudra is someone whom I love and so do they. He is the pivot on which this piece of pottery is taking shape. However, I believe it is my parents in laws' loving hands who will finally turn it into a masterpiece of love and beautiful memories. Blessed - that's what I am....