संयुक्त परिवार

पिछले कुछ दशकों में मैंने कम ही संयुक्त परिवार देखे हैं।  माता-पिता का बेटे के परिवार का साथ रहना आज भी प्रचलित है किन्तु एक से ज्यादा बेटों का परिवार माता-पिता के साथ रहे ये अब आम नहीं है।  पारिवारिक प्रेम व सौहार्द के किस्से सुनने को मिलते हैं तो प्रसन्नता होती है।

विवाह के बाद जब मैं ससुराल आई तो ये जानना मुश्किल था की कौन इनके अपने  हैं व कौन चचेरे भाई बहिन है। ऊपर से किसी बात पे मेरी सासजी बोली की उनके आठ बेटे व छे बेटियों है। थोड़ी देर के लिए मैं स्तब्ध ही रह गयी थी। सब भाई बहिन थे व चचेरा शब्द की आवशयकता नहीं होती थी I हंसी मज़ाक  से भरपूर परिवार हृषिकेश मुखर्जी की कोई फिल्म सा लगता था। मेरे पति के बचपन की सुखद यादों में उनके दीदी व भाइयों  का ज़िक्रे हमेशा रहता है। जन्म के बाद सबसे पहले अपनी दीदी की गोद में ही आये थे जो उस समय कक्षा १० में पढ़ती थी और अपनी चाची की सेवा टहल के किये तत्पर थीं।

पहाड़ों में जाड़ों में  लम्बी छुट्टियां होती है तो ये अपने (चचेरे) बड़े भाइयों के पास हरिद्वार व बिजनौर चले जाते थे और वहां खूब मज़े करते थे, ऐसा मेने सुना है।  

रूड़की यूनिवर्सिटी से  ऍम एस सी करने के बाद IIT कानपुर में पी एच डी  इंटरव्यू के लिए आना था माता पिताजी दूर रहते थेऔर समय कम था, तो ट्रैन टिकट के लिए अपने चचेरे बड़े भाई  साहेब को ही निःसंकोच पत्र लिखा था। फ़ोन का ऑप्शन नहीं रहा होगा और चिट्ठी भी देर सवेर पहुंचती  होगी।  लेकिन जाने के ठीक एक दिन पहले भाई साहेब  के छोटे भाई रुपए ले कर पहुंचे  और ये समय से IIT  कानपुर पहुँच पाए।  रुपयों के साथ स्नेह व सद्भावना भी भेजी होगी।  पिता व बड़ा भाई एक समान होता है ये देख कर/सुनकर मन गदगद होता है।  

अपने IIT  कैंपस में एक प्रोफेसर साहेब के घर दो वृद्ध महिलाओं को देखा तो अनुमान लगाना सरल था की एक तो उनकी माँ होंगी और  दूसरी? दूसरी उनकी ताईजी थी।  दोनों सुखपूर्वक बागवानी करती व टहलती हुई दिखाई देती थी।  

कुछ दिनों पूर्व मैँ अपनी एक सहेली के घर बैठी थी जो अपने प्रोफेसर बेटे के साथ रहती हैं।  थोड़ी देर में एक वृद्ध शाम की सैर से वापस आये और अपने कमरे में चले गए ।  पूछने  पे पता चला की वो प्रोफेसर साहेब के ताऊजी है जो अविवाहित हैं व रिटायरमेंट के बाद साथ ही रहते है।  

आज  के परिवेश में  ऐसे उदहारण  प्रशंसनीय हैं।

                                                                          

        appeared in Women's Association IIT K Newsletter May'26

Aag Aur Pani

Aag aur Pani is a series of sketches-in-words by a  Banaras based author, theatre director and poet Vyomesh Shukl.

The heritage walk with the author, through the lanes and  history of the city is astonishing. So much is already written about the city, but the interesting little details added about the places and people, could be done only by a local. 

I enter into the book through a door at Panchganga Ghat, sketched by James Princip in 1820's The stairs are seen, on which Kabir touched Guru Ramanand's feet and attained enlightenment. 

 The Nath of the city is Lord Vishwanath, where Ramayan was composed  by Goswami Tulsidas on its Ghats. The famous Ramleela was played even before he wrote Ramcharitmanas. Before it was for educated class, afterwards masses also enjoyed it.

The life and times of the  giants of Hindi literature like Bhartandu Harishchand, Jaishankar Prasad. Ramchandra Shukl, 'Hariaudh', Premchand is engaging, informative and a delight to read.

The journey of tabla maestros like Gudai Maharaj, Kishan Maharaj, Lachhu Maharaj   and renowned musicians like Pt Ravi Shankar, Chunnulal Mishra captivates throughout.

The book leaves many pictures in the mind e.g. ever-loving Bismillah Khan's lying in the charpaye 

smoking, or playing shehnai while  leading the Muharram procession.

The language may be difficult at certain chapters, but it never slows down the flow. 

 I recommend this book to all my friends for an informative and delightful reading.

Holi Musings

I left my very rewarding teaching job to tick off a few dream destinations on my bucket list. After traveling and trekking to one of the most exotic peaks and valleys of Uttarakhand, I settled to domesticity, watching classics on YouTube and a bit of community service. The Children's Library I was part of, conducted a Madhubani Storytelling and Coloring workshop for kids.  The guest artist told a mesmerizing story and handed out the Madhubani patterns printouts to kids to color. While helping the kids, I saw a chubby, quiet, and adorable child doing her work independently. What a picture of innocence and grace she was! I wished I were  her teacher in her school. 

Pic: Internet 

Just at the gate of the venue, I met an ex colleague Annie who was passing by. Knowing that I am not working anywhere, she firmly asked me to rejoin. She made me apply in the school. Next day itself I was requested to join, as one of the teachers was going on maternity leave. The next day I was shown my class. I was not used to teaching that age group, but 1B was the class that needed a class teacher, so reluctantly I entered the class. And guess who was sitting on the first row! Within 48 hours I was doing what I had just wished casually.

I taught her innumerable rhymes, taught her read, write, and perform on stage. She would always be my belief in miracles.

Holi always brings a bit of depression to me. As a child I have celebrated the most enjoyable Holi of North India. At the Police Headquarter campus in Allahabad I have heard and hummed Faag, the traditional folk songs and tasted thandai, a cooling drink, made with nuts, spices and milk. For elders bhaang was prepared by grinding it on a stone grinder. The whole campus celebrated Holi as a family.

 

In the most happening MKP college of Dehradun,  Holi meant songs and dance in the canteen, with the melodious singers and mesmerizing and captivating dancers dancing on the tables.  Now, after decades I can't expect to have the same ambiance. I miss those moments of fun, laughter and my dear ones.

 

Thanks to Ayush, a little student of mine who came home to wish me with handful of water-balloons. Those water-balloons took me straight to Allahabad/ Prayagraj. And I just thought if  it was possible that  I get to go to a place where I could play Holi of my childhood with colors, water and may be bhang wali thandai. I didn't deserve it as I didn't do anything to make it happen. I had an invitation and it was time to go. I dragged hubby from his Netflix show, promising that we'd be back within half an hour, then he could resume watching his show.

Our host's  huge garden was vibrant with spring at its peak. Sitting area was tastefully done up along with thoughtfully chosen snacks and drinks. After a while, when  we were about to leave, they took us to  the area which was so inviting with sprinklers , rain showers and music. While I was drenched in colored water, I wondered, is this what I was imagining just 30 minutes back?

Nowadays people call it affirmation! 

Trend Sweaters

My fatherly-father-in-law  passed away in 2011. We miss him everyday. His clothes,woollens and books were given away to suitable people by MiL. Few things still rested in our devdar /cedar wood

 box, which still emits  the scent of cedarwoods. The woollens he wore on the southern slopes of the Himalayas were of no use in the Gangetic plains where we reside now. But when Kanpur cold coincided with dense fog and chill, Mil took out the cream coloured sweater, which she had brought from Uttarkashi this summer. Everybody at home was delighted to inherit the heirloom which had the warmth and hugs of a person who annoyed noone in his whole lifetime.  

Like Cinderella's slipper, everyone at home tried the sweater. Ayush wore it, but couldn't move his hands as it was too stretched! Arushi and her cousins were too far off to try it. With my fingers crossed I slid my  head into the neckline and it fitted well.  Then slid the sleeves up close to my arms and adjusted. Lo! The sweater was on. 

Around 5 decades ago, MiL ordered some raw fleece from the bhotias settled in Harsil region of Uttarakhand. With the help a wool comb, she softened the wool and combed fibre was ready to spin.

Then with the help of charkha (spinning wheel)which she had borrowed from the City Inter College, and Takli (spindle) she produce three balls of the yarn . The three yarns then had to be twisted together to produce the wool ready to be knitted. Must have been a real task for her along with daily chores. Salute to her indeed! 

Our most precious heirloom is the memories of a saint, who was my FiL, the next best is the one I'm wearing.

Kathmandu, the Heritage City

Dandrub Guest House, part of a Buddhist  monastery, was my home for a week in Kathmandu.I gave them full marks for food, ambience and service.I also thank them for providing me a good driver cum guide cum mentor in a foreign land.

Day 1

Lalitpur (Patan)

                                                        Royal Bath

Krishna Temple

Kumari Ghar, the home of the Living Goddess of Nepal

View of the courtyard from one of the galleries of the museum 

Day 2

Chandragiri, by ropeway

                             Chandragiri

Day 3:

 Doleshwar Temple

Bhaktpur: 

constructed by  King King Yaksh Malla in 1427. पचपन खिड़की वाला दरबार  

Nyatpol mandir  A 5 storied temple. 

Wrestlers ( Jai and Pratap) 

Elephants

Lions

Shardul  ( griffins)

Devtas (gods)

Each twice more powerful than the previous one.

Wonder why I did not climb up and saw the temple? and why the guide I hired  did not guide me! 

Bhaktpur is also known for its potters

Day 4                                              

Pashupatinath Mandir, by the river Bagmati.

Oldest Shiva temple in Kathmandu. 

The Narayanhiti Palace Museum 

The majestic air of the museum was amazing. The pictures of kings and head of states who were king's guests 

My most moving and saddening moments in Nepal was in Sri Sadan, where King Birendra l

lived with his family. It was heartbreaking to see the pictures of princess and the two princes, their rooms and belongings.  Cassette collection of queen Aishwarya is still intact.

The adjoining house was the place where the whole royal family was assassinated in 2001.

                                              Thamel, good for food and shopping

I wish prosperity and development for our dear neighbouring country Nepal.

 

The City of Swami Vivekanand, Tagore and Netaji

I  heard Calcutta stories during childhood from my  bengali friend Rinku,

 thanks to her  annual trips to 'Cal'. She was born and brought up in Doon and 

was as North Indian as any Sharma or Verma girl, But she used to transform into a 

Tagore's heroine during those 9 Pujo days. Now blogs, FB and books keep Kolkata 

alive in my psyche.

 Howrah Bridge and Victoria memorial were in my mind when I planned a trip to 

Kolkata on a friend's persuasion, but I came back with a heart full of reverence  for

 the gems Bengal had produced.

Victoria Memorial                                 

The first glance of the edifice reminded me of the Taj Mahal, but it was more welcoming and not haunting as the Taj because of the obvious reason that the Taj is a tomb and I was entering into a museum. It was majestic, but did make me sad to think about the loot and suppression by the British. The queen's proclamation inscribed on the wall calling Indians as her subjects was painful. 

Lord Curzon, the founder, would have never thought that one of the galleries in the museum would belong to  freedom fighters.

Kalighat:

I had started my day with breakfast at Sharma Kachori at Bhawanipur. Ah! The taste of UP.

Walked quite a distance to reach the temple.The narrow lanes were ok, but the main road was full of pilgrims, and the claustrophobic me gave up and turned back. Walked the same lanes back.Bought a few pairs of red and white bangles shakha Pola and paid rs200/.Walked further and bought one more pair for Rs 20/. Found the quality just the same.

                                                                   Gugni with Laiyya,      joys of travelling                  

                                                                                                                                                                                 On the way to the temple

Park Street: Strolling out there was a flaneur's delight. loved visiting the iconic bookshops and the ambience in general. 

Reached Flurys, not because I was hungry but just to be there.  Loved the bakery items.

Flurys

Indian Coffee House at College Street was charming for sure.  Like Alice, through a narrow entrance I entered to find a different world, a big hall with a very  high ceiling. Oblivion of the outside world, a happy lot of people looked engrossed in food and conversation. I chose to climb up the stairs to reach the balcony through a narrow gallery which was also used for accommodating a few more people.  Got a table all for myself. It did serve sumptuous snacks, but I was thirsty for tea only. The ground floor as well as the  balcony was full to its capacity. There was no place for the quiet loners like me. Sip by sip, I enjoyed the ambiance.

 

Door to eternal adda of bhadralok

                             

                                                                         

                                                     Time to buy a souvenir

Day 2 

 Dakshineswar  Temple is a visitor's delight, may be because of  it is spacious and there was order. No crowded mob to push you. The queue I joined at the nearby bridge reached the temple in an hour or so, but it was a smooth walk.

       

Jitne mat, utne path   

 

Howrah Bridge:

 

  

 Thakurbari:

Gurudev's home, now a museum

 Netaji Bhawan

It would be an emotional moment for any Indian to visit the house of our supreme hero. 

Day 3

There was a tie between Chandannagar and Sunderbans.The longing to see the mangroves since school days took me to later. Although no luck with the mangroves.

                                                                  

Sunderbans visit needs at least 3 days. In a day I could only have a round in a steamer boat and came back  within an hour or two. 

On the way back:

How cool it is to have your own pond beside your house with lots of fish.

Making of date palm jaggery :

Hunger bites

                             

One tick on my not very ambitious  bucket list is done. My thanks and apology is due to a few people. Thanks to my other half for all the bookings and support for my solo venture, and my companion, photographer and driver Ravi Yadav ji. And my apology to an FB friend for continuously  pestering him with my queries regarding places, food, safety etc Thank you friend for patiently answering all my queries.

 

MiL's Diary

Born in the Tehri district of Uttarakhand, my village Kunti was fertile and prosperous. My father was a businessman and a politician, whom, people lovingly called Netaji. After completing my primary education in the village school, I was sent to study at Sarlaben's Ashram in Kausani. At the ashram, along with gaining a formal education, I learnt various life skills. I faintly remember spinning yarn on Charkha and making cloth on a loom. I also got to travel on study tours – this gave me the chance to visit cities of Bihar, Maharashtra, and South India. This was the time when Bhoodan movement had captured the nation’s imagination.

After finishing middle school, I joined Sevagram Ashram, Wardha in Maharashtra, where I studied for two years. Soon after my return, I was married to a history lecturer posted in a college in Rudraprayag, Uttarakhand, which was a charming little town with friendly people. The Inter college, where my husband was teaching was not yet recognised and there was a time when we did not get salary for 11 months. It seems unbelievable now, but there was no dearth of ration, wood, milk, vegetables, fruits etc at home, thanks to the shopkeepers who used to send everything on our grocery list on monthly basis. Bills were paid only when we got our arrears and the Swami Sachhidanand College got government recognition. Our two elder sons Yatindra and Dhirendra were born there. Our dear nephew Govind, a brilliant student and a loving child, kept us in good humour.

My husband was more of a friend to me. We read many books together, and we would read by taking turns, chapterwise. Phanishwarnath ‘Renu's’ Maila Anchal, Acharya Chatursen Shastri's Vaishali ki Nagarvadhu, the Bhagava Gita are the ones I particularly remember. Once I was busy in the kitchen and he called me, " arre suno, kitna achha likha hai" (see, how well it is written). He was reading the Bhagwat Gita. The discussion went on for a long time till we could smell the burning milk in the kitchen.

Soon we were transferred to our home district Uttarkashi. My younger son Girish and daughter Manju were born in our village Raturisera. There I was unanimously elected for the position of Gram Pradhan. I completed two terms and was the only woman among the forty Gram Pradhans. Later I was offered the chairmanship of Samaj Kalyan Vibhag, where I volunteered for nine fruitful years. At one time, we were given a grant from the department, for ten women from different villages to go on a tour to any place we wanted. Many women were interested but could not leave the house. A world of chores like looking after the cattle, cooking, and agriculture depended on them. To exhaust the grant, with the permission of the District Magistrate, we organised a ten-day camp. We invited experts in various fields to deliver lectures on healthcare, animal husbandry, food preservation etc Around fifty women from three villages attended the camp. Looking after the Anganwadis was one of my main duties, for which I was given an assistant, a vehicle, and a driver. It was very fulfilling to be able to help women turn around their lives through the government schemes.

Now, I stay with my sons in Mumbai, Delhi, and Kanpur. I read, watch TV, and enjoy my short walks in this beautiful and pollution free campus of IIT Kanpur.

-Shanta Bahuguna (m/o Prof Dhirendra Bahuguna)

                                                                             penned by Vandana Bahuguna 

appeared in our campus mag EYES,  March' 24