My Story 6 - Meri Dilli, Reading Road

If you have come here before reading "My Story 5", or would like to go back to it again, please click here.

In 1961, Pitaji was allotted a Government accommodation on the same Reading Road where my school was located, just next to the Kali Bari. My school became a walking distance - about 4-5 minutes' walk, it was adjacent to the well known Birla Mandir also known as Lakshmi Narayan Temple. There was just a wall between us. In fact, the ridge behind ur school merged withe the ridge behind the temple, without even a fence in between. Our house was a ground floor bungalow, attached one side with the next bungalow in a row. Our house was just at the end of the row of houses, we just had a high boundary wall on the other side. It was just at the foot of the Lovers' Lane (now renamed Mandir Lane) that descended from the Central Ridge.

Birla Mandir, New Delhi

Life in Harcourt Butler was cool and comfortable, I quickly had a group of friends - one of the best friends that I had was Dilip Bam, a Maharashtrian. His father was a very senior officer in the Railways and they were staying in a government flat in Moti Bagh. We were in touch with each other till recently - when he left this world quite abruptly. Another friend was Vijay Bhushan Dixit, who was a great singer, he was junior to me by a year - but we had both joined the NCC Air Wing and had become good chums. He used to stay in the Government Flats also very close to the school and we used to visit each other's homes quite regularly. He was a fantastic singer and had a very melodious voice. At the age of 14, the voice of boys is often still very feminine before it starts cracking and they become hoarse. This friend of mine got nicknamed "Lata" (Lata Mangeshkar) by Pushpa, who used to love listening to his singing, her favorite was 'o basanti pawan paagal' from Dis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai, for a very long time. Recently I met him and his wife at the Harcourt Butler annual meet. He still sings as melodiously. He gave a performance on the stage in the function.

Harcourt Butler H S School

In Butler (as it was generally referred to), I also joined the NCC Airwing and remained in it for two years. I learnt aeromodelling - it was an interesting and also expensive hobby. Being in the NCC - we did not have to buy the kits for making the models. They were supplied to us by the NCC. They were either solid wood planes or planes with only a skeleton wooden frame pasted with stretched kite paper sheets for the skin. The skin was made weatherproof and strong by applying a lacquer-like solution that was called DOPE. The structures and the skin of the model almost replicated the structures as they would be in the actual aircraft, except for the fact that aircraft structures mostly used magnesium alloys, whereas only balsa wood was used in the aero models, no metal was used. Balsa was very lightweight but not very strong. A crash would invariably badly damage the model, mostly breaking it into a few pieces. We had various types of models classified as Chuck Gliders, Tow Gliders, Control Line Models, and Free Flight Models. The latter two were powered by small propellor IC engines that were got from the India Hobby Centre in Connaught Place. The fuel used was a mixture of methanol and castor oil (for lubrication). The most common name in aero models and engines was Aurora. Some other lesser-known brands were also available. It was very interesting to note how the engines would have to be fitted to the delicate balsa wood frame. A hardwood cowl was generally used on which the engine would be screwed, the cowl would then be pasted on the airframe by strong adhesives. The gliders had a limited range and they would generally glide back to the ground aided by gravity. The free flight models were really interesting and often they could travel as far as 2-3 km with their tiny engines with the tiny fuel tanks. In order not to lose the model, often a couple of cadets would be chasing the model on ground, trying to keep it in their line of sight. 
There were other categories of powered models also. One was powered by a rubber band that would have to be wound up and run propeller when released. These had a relatively short flight and the model would glide back to the ground after that. Another powered model was by a jet engine. A small jet engine without any rotating parts, were a little akin to the rockets that we use in Diwali - except that it was a reusable engine and it could be refilled by the dry fuel mix, would get powered when the fuse was lit.
Radio-controlled models had just made an entry too. Our school too managed to get one piece. There were only two controls, one for moving the stabilizers up or down (for UP or DOWN), the second for moving the rudder to in a sequence to the next of the three positions, viz., straight-right-left-straight-right-left-.... The controls were just actuators for giving a single pulse two tiny battery powered motors. If you are interested in knowing more about aeromodelling - just click here.

We had a very lovable incharge of NCC, First Officer WF Samson. All the boys (cadets) were very fond of him. We did not know what his initials stood for, so we called him WonderFul Samson. 
By virtue of my aeromodelling interests, I was also promoted to the rank of Corporal in a year's time. I was also awarded a small silver shield on our school annual day by Pt. Jawahar Lal Nehru while he was the PM in the country. The photograph is no longer available but the shield is still with me.
First Officer Samson was also quite influential and he kept the standard of our NCC amongst the better organized and managed schools to get facilities and benefits for his boys - as he would refer to us. Not only did our school's aeromodelling flourish during that time, but he also managed to organize a trip to Bombay for us, during which we were given a ride on INS Vikrant to visit the famous Elephanta Caves. During the ride most of us got a chance to steer the ship, receiving and confirming the commands through the voice tube. It was quite an interesting and rewarding experience for me. Aye aye, Sir!

Until the Bombay trip, I used to only wear shorts. Before going to Bombay, I insisted on having some trousers and I got three new trousers, the trip duration was below 10 days. It was quite a memorable trip - mostly without adventures and bizarre events, yet it was an experience as I was without the umbrella of the family. Apart from the Elephanta Caves, we practically visited all the places in Bombay with their name. 

I attended two NCC camps while in school. The camps were held in the month of December and it was the time when Delhi was coldest. That had an advantage, we would not sweat profusely in the parades and the PT and we could avoid taking a bath for the ten days of the camp. Each boy had to carry his own offwhite canvass kitbag that included all his stuff including an enamelware regulation mug and an enamelware plate. The mus was really versatile, starting with morning ablutions, drinking water or tea, for the gravy vegetable or daal in the meals. We were near about 90 cadets. The kitbags were loaded in a heap in the trucks and we clambered on to of the heap for our brief journey to the venue of the camp. In the first year, the camp was held at a site in the cantonment area. In the second year, it was held at Khanpur - which seemed far away from any civilization in 1961, the campsite was surrounded by agricultural fields. It was the same procedure - 10 boys in a tent. One of them would be designated the tent commander. In the second year camp, I was a Corporal, so I got the Tent Commander position with Manranjan Singh jointly, of Patel Nagar, who also held the Corporal's rank. The procedure was to clear the land of weeds, level it, pitch the three main masts and hammer the stakes firmly into the ground. Tie the tent securely to avoid it getting uprooted in a storm. Swab the interior with a mop to make it smooth. Tie the kerosene lantern to the center mast. Keep our holdalls in position, not opened yet. Dig a trench all around and a small mud wall about 2-3 inches high - this was to prevent crawlies as well as floodwaters from coming in case of rain. In our first camp, there was a moderate rate and most of the tents remained dry inside; but the Khanpur camp was a different story altogether. It rained almost continuously for eight days. Of the 10 tents of our school, 8 were flooded and most of the bedrolls became soggy. My tent was of the two that remained dry. We had to keep rebuilding the mud wall at any time the water would start entering any breach. 
On the ninth day, there was no rain and the sun shone brightly. A parade call was given that day. After assembling for the parade, the boys started collapsing and falling like nine-pins. They were rushed to the MI room and it was discovered that most of them had been holding on without getting rid of their poop and had developed constipation or some issue. On the last day of the camp, we were given a chicken curry dinner. Just one measly tiny piece. After we had retired after dinner, there was a message from our Flight Seargent, Shashi Bhushan, summoning us to his tent. He was quite friendly with both Manoranjan and me. When we reached there, what we see? There were two bucket fulls of chicken curry, a couple of other boys, and all gorging on it. We also had our fill until we could eat no more. Of course, next morning saw long queues at the toilets. 
As the rains washed out 7 days, the aeromodelling display as well as shooting range were canceled. 

I finished my schooling in 1962 (Class 11 - Higher Secondary) and landed up with a good first division, almost 67%, which was considered very good. I was hoping for admission in BITS Pilani and was, in fact, assured by an insider. There's many a slip between the cup and lip. I realized that I had missed the bus - the admissions were over and I had nowhere to go. With Pitaji's personal influence he managed to get me to join B.Sc. (Hons) in Delhi College after the last date of entry, so that I do not end up as a vagabond and had a place to bide my time before going for engineering after a year. Being wiser I joined BIT Mesra, in the branch of my choice - IIT Delhi could only offer me the Textile Branch that did not look inviting to me at all.

Pitaji retired in 1962, soon after I finished my school final (Higher Secondary) and he headed to Calcutta, where he had secured a job with Amin Chand Pyare Lal.

Click here to continue to My Story 7 - Reading Road & Delhi University

My Story 5 - Meri Dilli, Patel Nagar.

If you have come here before reading "My Story 4", or would like to go back to it again, please click here.

We came back to Delhi around April/May 1959. It was quite a train journey - so much luggage. Although we were in a 1st class compartment with a proper reservation for all family members, still our compartment looked like the luggage carrier or a loaded truck. Dicky was also traveling with us. He was in a cage in the Guard's Coach, along with his collar and chain. At every large station or junction, it was my duty to go and meet him, take him out for a pee or same another call of nature. Feed him and then put him back once again. Although the complete coach was reserved for us, still carrying Dicky in the coach with us was not permitted in the rule book. 

The journey was quite uneventful. 

We reached Delhi Junction station around 10pm in the night. With our baggage - the only mode of conveyance that we could get was a tonga (horse-drawn carriage).  Devika's husband GK, as we used to refer to him, had found an arranged accommodation for us in East Patel Nagar (West Delhi, New Delhi). If I remember correctly, two tongas were hired to fit in all the persons as well as the luggage that was to be carried. Devi (Devika) was also traveling with us and was sitting perched on top of the heap and was holding on to our clock with both the hands. Being a fragile item, it was carried separately and without any packing. Dicky was held by his chain in the second tonga by me. It was probably a sharp turn that was executed by the horse, Devi lost her balance as she had no other hold, and literally rolled off the perch but still tightly clinging on to the clock with both hands. The tongas halted. Devi appeared unhurt, literally without even a bruise. The clock also appeared without any damage being in her embrace. The tonga wala was warned to proceed cautiously and slowly. The rest of the ride was without any other incident. 

The house of East Patel Nagar was owned by a Sikh gentleman who lived on the ground floor with his family. They were generally nice and helpful. One young boy was in the family who was almost my age and he became my friend. Our premises were on the first floor. We had a common terrace that was only used by us. The Sikh family used the courtyard downstairs for sleeping in the open in the summer months. Unlike the Lake Place house that accommodated 4 families, we were just two families in this house. Apart from the terrace, there was also a bit of an open space on the first floor also where we could sleep under the open sky. Our floor had four rooms plus a bath and kitchen, a verandah plus an open terrace on the same floor. There was a tiny room, could have been useful as a storage space. This room opened into the verandah and also had a window. It was an ideal study room and it was given to me. A study table, a chair, and a small bookshelf managed to fit in the space. 

The house was close to the market which was self-sufficient for all needs, including a post office and a PCO phone. You must remember that in 1959 home phones were rare and a luxury, even for many years after that. We got our first residential phone in 1982 in Chandigarh. Post & Telegraphs Department was the only service provider for phones in the country. In most places, there used to be a big waiting list for an individual owned phone line. Industries and Registered Companies were given a priority. The nearest bus stop was a 6-7 minute walk from the house. This was also an important feature as we all, the kids and Pitaji, needed the public transport on a regular and daily basis.

Neena and Prem joined Delhi College (near Ajmeri Gate) in Pre-medical and MA (English) respectively. Pushpa had completed her MBBS in Calcutta and joined the AIIMS for completing her house job and her MD. Subsequently, she joined the Defense Science Laboratories, Metcalfe House. I was admitted to Class 9 in Harcourt Butler School on Reading Road (now known as Mandir Marg). I was keen for Modern School at Barakhamba Road, as I had done my earlier schooling over there. Their science stream seats were full and I did not want to do arts.

Qutub Minar, New Delhi

Life settled down to a routine in Patel Nagar. I did make a just few friends in the locality. Most of my friend's circle was from my school only. Lack of means of telecommunication made us loose our previous friends very easily. As a matter of fact, Facebook coupled with other internet options have made me locate a few of my childhood friends of Belvedere and South Point School. Staying in touch has become so easy and convenient with all the multitude of social applications, mobile phones, emails, and the like.

After living in Patel Nagar for about a year, Pitaji bought an independent house in Rajouri Gardens. A single storey, four rooms, plus a store-room, Verandahs both in front and at the back. Small garden space in front as well as the back. We got the place whitewashed and repaired and moved in there within a month. At that time for going anywhere, we had to go over a level crossing near the Shadipur Depot. Bus service to Rajouri Gardens was also not that frequent. All this caused a lot of time spent in traveling almost an hour plus extra each way. Thus the parents decided to shift back to Patel Nagar, which was familiar territory. The Rajouri Garden house was rented out, and we moved to East Patel Nagar once again. This was an even better location and was closer to the market and all the other points of interest. We were bang opposite the Grand Bakery and from our first-floor verandah, we could place an order for any bakery item - for home delivery. Our favorite was their cake rusks. 

Unlike most EPN (East Patel Nagar) houses - this house was not on the usual 200 square yards plot  - it seemed much bigger. In fact, we had a huge verandah for a living room, it was quite large. A portion of it was also converted to a small clinic for Pushpa, as she wanted to start a private practice. It was like a big hall except that on the front, or the south side it did not have a wall and overlooked the market. It was so large that there were two huge columns in the hall which divided it into almost six portions. 

During our stay in this house, we once experienced quite a massive earthquake (July 1960), in the late evening and was over 5.5 on the Ritcher Scale. We were all sitting in our verandah doing our respective studies/work etc. The massive jolt literally made Neena see the verandah columns sway like crazy and she was terrified, almost in hysterics. She was so shaky and scared that Prem had to accompany her to the loo in each visit. I am sure she would have been holding her hand while going to bed or for sleep. 

The East Patel Nagar market was also a foodie’s paradise. There was a popular chaat stall that always drew a large crowd in the evenings. Its preparations were quite yummy. It was most visited for golgappas, papri chaat, aloo tikki, dahi bara, and other items. There was a family restaurant “Progressive”, it had most delicious vegetable samosas stuffed with aloo and matar and just the right amount of spices. Then we had a small non-veg dhaba that was a boon for Neena and me - could just carry home a plate of mutton curry when the food seemed bland and uninviting. There were no burgers or pizzas in the Indian scenario at this time. The closest to fast food to a burger was a bun-samosa - it's popular in most hill stations - and as the name suggests is just a bun split in the middle with a knife and a samosa is pressed in along with some chutneys. There was also a small shop where we could buy our non-veg items. Mutton used to cost around Rs 2 for a kg. It was the pre-broiler era, the table variety of broiler chicken had not invaded the Indian market. The old hens who had passed their prime laying time used to end up on the table. At times there were some partly formed eggs also within them, we would really look forward to finding them when the chickens were dressed for the table. The organized sector for poultry - broilers and eggs came much later into the scene. We had no fish in our household menu. However, Delhi’s markets (including East Patel Nagar) often had a machhi-wala who would fry the fish piece selected by you by weight from the prominent display on an aluminum foil sheet, marinated in the turmeric colored spices.

In fact it was such a foodie place that Dicky developed a sweet tooth and would be often be found missing from our house and lounging near a halwai, a sweetmeat seller. He became quite a vagabond and even started remaining with the halwai. Ultimately, the halwai adopted our vagabond and we wrote him off from our household list. Sometimes I do wonder that to what extent were we responsible for his errant behavior.

We children did not have many friends in the colony, I had a friend called Manoranjan Singh, he was also in Harcourt Butler but in the arts stream. Our common point of interest was NCC. At times we would take an evening walk together in the colony market and foodie areas.
Neena had a good friend of the college in Pre-Medical - Amita Seth. She became a family friend and used to visit our place quite often, and likewise, Neena visited them often. She was sweet and soft-spoken. 
The local colony friends became rare and distant once we moved out of Patel Nagar. 

We did not live in this house for long and we moved to a government accommodation to Reading Road (now known as Mandir Marg) in less than a year's time.

Click the link to continue to My Story 6 - Meri Dilli, Reading Road.

My Story 4 - Calcutta, Belvedere

If you have come here before reading "My Story 3", or would like to go back to it again, please click here,

With the allotment of a Government Quarter in practically the poshest area of the city was indeed the best thing that could have happened to my family. It was a newly developed colony that was located in the very picturesque compound of the famous National Library. The library used to be the house of the Lieutenant Governor of Bengal during the British Raj. After the independence of the country – it was converted into a Government Library, in 1953 when it was shifted from its location at Metcalfe House, to the present location at Belvedere. It is the biggest and the best library in the country containing about 2 million books and half a million documents. It is also the second-largest public library in Asia. According to popular belief, this building was not built by the British. Azim-Us-Shaan is believed to have constructed it in 1700 A.D. After the Battle of Plassey, Vanceytart got charge of this Bhawan. He was an Italian who named this mammoth building 'Belvedierre', giving the present-day name of Belvedere to the colony. The word connotes 'the queen of beauty'. Lady Hastings was also the owner of this house for a short while. It was sold to Major Tulley in 1780. The modern-day 'Tollygunge' in Calcutta bears memoirs of Major Tulley. However, this building was put to auction after the demise of Major Tulley in 1802. In 1850, the Govt. took charge of this palatial house. Some believe that Nawab Meer Zaffar had once stayed in Belvedierre Bhawan.

The Majestic National Library

The housing made here for Central Govt. officers consisted of fourteen 3-storeyed blocks of 6 flats each. Garages were also provided, though the number of garages was about 33% of the number of flats, I guess that was about similar to the proportion of officers who actually owned cars in those days. As it is Calcutta had a fairly efficient public transport system that included double carriage trams, single as well as double-decker state transport buses, and private buses. Taxis were also in the field and were reasonably convenient because the distances were not very large. There was nothing like the present-day autorickshaws (or tuk-tuks). No tongas or horse-drawn vehicles. Though rickshaws were there - not the cycle variety but the hand-pulled rickshaws. These are attributed to a colonial hangover. They could squeeze in two adult passengers. 

Life in the colony was totally different from the paada life at Lake Place. The senior government officials were totally in a different world from the Bengali and bhadralok culture that I had been exposed to until now. In Belvedere there was a club for the Central Government Officers – having facilities for tennis, swimming, table tennis, squash, badminton, etc, and of course card tables. One could see young lasses dressed in western attires, skirts, shorts, and the like. The shortcomings of games that I felt in the school were overcome in life in Belvedere. The friend circle that I moved into consisted of only a very small percentage of Bengalis. We were literally from all over India - Punjabis, Marathis, Sindhis, UPites, MPites, Biharis, Oriyas, South Indians (includes Tamil, Kannada, Malayali, and Telegu speaking folks) Parsis, etc., strange it may sound - I do not recall any Gujratis in the colony.

Hand-Pulled Rickshaw

Our small band of about 15 boys was into all possible games. We played cricket, hockey, badminton, football, and rugby (played with a football). Tennis and squash were also available in the officers club though all youngsters did not actively get involved in that. The spoken language amongst us was English. Most of the boys were students of Calcutta Boys School or St Xaviers; the girls were mostly studying in Loretto. Neena and I continued in South Point School. A smaller size school bus was made available for the far-flung areas, it was a station wagon or equivalent to the present-day SUV. It picked us up along with about half a dozen other children, from our area, Chetla, and Alipore.

The Central Government officers Quarters Area does not seem to have changed at all over the years, the Google Map still shows it exactly as it was in the fifties with all the green spaces intact. However, some more buildings appeared to have come up in the compound of the Library. There were 3 ponds, which used to have ducks waddling in them in the fifties. I was unable to spot them in the present-day maps. They have probably been filled up to reclaim the land for some buildings or the gardens.

Belvedere - Google Image (Present Day)

At times I used to wonder where my childhood buddies Subhash and Indra might be. There was no communication from either side. We were too young and did not know about the art of letter writing. One evening I was going to a friend's house in the colony and suddenly I heard someone calling out to me, "Cuckoo". What do I see, Indra her younger sister Munni and their mom Mrs. Tahilraamani, just a few paces away. Indra and her mom, both had recognized me. Contact got renewed. I discovered that Mr. Tahilramani had also got transferred to Calcutta and presently they were staying in a rented accommodation in Hazra Road. Subsequently, they too moved to Belvedere - to Flat no. 72. We were in Flat No. 73 while we were there, we had moved out and we were back in Delhi at that time. However, contact got re-established and we have been in touch with each other to date since then.

Once we settled down in the routine life at Belvedere, it was very peaceful and satisfying. When we stayed at Lake Place, Pitaji had got deeply involved in learning yoga, so much so that within a short time he had become a teacher of yoga. Every morning he used to go to the maidan opposite the famous Victoria Memorial. About 20 to 30 followers (or his students) would also assemble there and they would be performing the Yogic Exercises. His guru was the well known Dhirendra Brahmchari, who shot to fame many years later, as he became the personal yoga trainer for Mrs. Indira Gandhi when she became the Prime Minister of the country. Once we shifted to Belvedere, going to the maidan was not convenient, because of lack of public transport on this route. So he just picked up his dari (yoga mat) one day and started going to the National Library compound for his exercises every morning. He was soon noticed by other morning walkers and was adopted by quite a handful of them as their guru, all wanting to learn yoga asanas. In 1957-58 yoga was very rare and not a household word as it is now. He never said no to anyone for joining the group and soon he had a bigger following of the residents of the area than he had at the maidan. It was totally free for anyone who cared to join in

During the vacations of the schools, Neena & I used to also go for yoga classes. I discovered that my body was quite rigid as compared to Neena's and to that of many other youngsters, and they could do many exercises with ease whereas I was either unable to do so or found them extremely difficult.  Quite a number of my circle of friends also joined in during the vacations. Recently I met a childhood friend of mine, Prakash Karve, of Belvedere, who had also joined Pitaji's classes. He lives in Pune at present. He was remembering the yoga classes of Pitaji and mentioned it as a reason for his good health even at his present age.

In our small circle of friends, we had two brothers Deepak and Pradeep Mulay. Their father was the Deputy Librarian of the National Library. Deepak was my age. On one summer afternoon, he had ventured out to the duck ponds for a bath cum swim with another friend. He fell down in the not so deep water and he got stuck in the mud, his friend panicked and ran home and informed his father, who in turn informed Mr. Mulay. By the time help arrived, it was too late. Deepak had drowned and died. He was my age. It was the first time I lost someone close to the cruel hand of death. His death affected all in our friends' circle. It was quite an unnerving experience. It took a fairly long time of a couple of years for us to get over the tragedy.
Deepak had an elder sister, Suhasini. When Bhuvan Shome was released I noticed that the female lead was Suhasini Mulay. When I saw the movie, I was sure that it was Deepak's sister. That was in 1969, about 10-11 years after the tragedy.

Another family that had become a bit closer to us was the Mehtas. There were 3 young boys, Pradeep, Sudhir, and Randhir (Pullu). Their flat was bang opposite our flat - on the other side of the colony road. They also had a dog, a Doberman, which was very ferocious and all the dogs and the dog owners of the colony were terrified of him. Once the dog attacked a cousin of theirs who was visiting them and hurt her quite severely. After that, the colony folks put their foot down and the dog had to be given away. Sudhir was a dog lover. He now adopted a white she-dog and named her Rani. Things were not going right for the little puppy, who was now just a couple of months old. One day Sudhir fell on her while playing and she got internal injuries and died in a couple of days after the incident. The Mehtas decided not to keep a dog after that.

We often had screams and hysterics because of the girlie nature of the crowd at our house. Once a tiger moth had entered our house, my excited exclamation, "Moth has come to our room!" - was interpreted as "maut" which means death. I don't recall who all screamed but Mrs. Mehta came running to our flat to check on us.
Do you know the basic difference between a moth and a butterfly? Both can be very colorful. When a moth sits, its wings are spread and a butterfly sits with its wings folded.

Prem and Pushpa were also fond of Planchette - a practice of dabbling with the para natural. You summon Mr. Planchette and subsequently ask for the spirit of a particular dead person. At times, any random spirit could make its presence felt and it was rumored that such self inviting spirits enjoyed human contact and were had to get to leave when requested. One day the spirit of the "monkey's paw" (click here to know the story) made an appearance and it was followed by screams and Mrs. Mehta running across the road to our place. In retrospect, it seemed quite delightful and humorous.

Another couple of friends that we made at the time and who are still in touch were Pinaki Dutt-Roy, Samaresh Chatterjee. Pinaki is working freelance as a sound engineer in London, got located on Google. I do meet hin when I visit London for visiting my daughter Chaitali. Samaresh was found by a common friend, he stays in Delhi, not too far, and often meets up in our morning walks.

I have talked about my love for animals as pets. I got the opportunity to adopt a puppy very soon. There was an Anglo-Indian family in our colony who had two pets, one female dog and one cat. Surprisingly, they used to co-exist and had grown up together. Their dog had a litter and the pups were available for adoption. I went and met the lady and she interviewed me thoroughly before handing me a brown male pup. He was between 3 and 4 weeks old. We named him "Dicky".

Belvedere was sandwiched between Belvedere Road (on the east) and Alipore Road (on the west). In the north, the National Library compound's gate opened near the main gate of the Calcutta Zoological Gardens. This was one of the better zoos of the country in terms of number and variety of animals. The other entrance to the Zoo was near Kidderpore. We could frequently hear the roars of the big cats very clearly in our houses, especially in the silence of the night.
On the south of the colony, we had the Horticultural Garden - where Mataji and Neena were regulars in their morning walk. The garden was a paradise for botanists and lovers of plants. The garden also had two trees that were known as pagla trees (click for more info). The leaves appeared to have been cut in individual contours - all appearing different,  Neena was a lazy child (around 14  years old, at the time) and never liked to wake up early. She would go for the walk and promptly go back to sleep after the walk. In fact, Neena used to complete the morning walk with her eyes half-closed. After coming back from the walk Mataji would sit down for her morning puja and Neena would be in bed again, sounds crazy - I often spotted her sleeping while standing near the bathroom door. Before sitting at the puja Mataji used wooden slippers, khadaon, which made a clickety sound when she got up after the puja. The moment Neena would hear the sound of the khadaon, she would straightaway bolt to the bathroom. Once Dicky was trying to play with Mataji while she was at the puja, to shoo him away she picked up the khadaon and tapped it on the floor. I am not sure whether Dicky got shooed away or not, but we also saw Neena bolting to the bathroom.

Just across the Alipore Road, that was on the west of the colony, brought us to the gate cum check-post of an army establishment called Command Hospital. It was a very huge area the other end going to the Diamond Harbour Road as one went further west. It housed barracks, hospitals, Kendriya Vidyalaya, CSD Canteen, Gurudwara, Temple, etc. The premises is an army area even at present. Our gang of young boys had made friends with the guards that manned the gate on the Alipore Road. So on one Sunday, the guard invited us for sharing the langar, the community lunch at the Gurudwara. We were a happy and a bold lot and graciously accepted the invitation and enjoyed the meal. The guards became our cronies and invariably we would go to chit-chat with them.

Once we had a visitor from Delhi, one Captain Prem Varma. He was the brother of Mr. Chandra Prakash Varma - a very close family friend. He was addressed as mamaji (maternal uncle) by us(children). Capt. Varma had been posted to this Command Hospital area for temporary duty. He was received very cordially by Mataji & Pitaji. His visit just preceded my birthday that was being celebrated in a week's time. He was also invited to attend while going that day he asked mm my choice of a gift. He wanted to know between two alternatives, one being an airgun (have forgotten what was the other). I happily chose the airgun. On my birthday he promptly appeared with a DIANA airgun along with a box of 100 lead pellets. I was absolutely ecstatic. This airgun was with me for many years and I had developed into a very good shot. I could hit a match stick at nearly 30 yards. When my son Anurag was about a year old he was staying with Varsha's parents at the Netaji Nagar Government flat, the airgun was decorating the wall near the entrance door of the flat - that is roughly after 16 years of it having been acquired by me. Neena was also taught by me in the use of the airgun and while she was studying in Lady Hardinge Medical College, a few years later, she drove the airgun shooting stallholders at a fete' that was held there, into near bankruptcy by winning all the prizes. They had to literally beg her not to try for more. Just a corollary, saw Yasmin Daji from very close quarters in the fete' - that was in the same year in which she became Miss India and Miss Universe. She was still studying for MBBS in the college at the time.

Life in Belvedere had many hues and there are many memories of incidents that van be remembered for posterity.

The National Library compound had a fair number of mango tres, which used to yield a large number of mangoes. The area had a few watchmen to look out for children like us to protect the mango trees from our stone and catapults, from ruining the crop of the fruit that would have found the way to the Librarian's house. As a matter of fact, we used to gather enough stock of raw mangoes to make an endless supply of achaar (pickle) for the next one year, and aam-panna for our individual households, to last out the summer. I even recall storing the raw mangoes in the hay to ripen them successfully.

Once I was on a prowl with friends and armed with my airgun in the library area when we spotted a snake coiled and partly hidden in the roots of a large tree. I never liked to kill birds, I thought this is a good shikar. I pumped 5 pellets into the portion of its body that was visible. The head was hidden in the roots. Hearing the shots the watchman on duty came on the double. Ultimately the snake was pulled out but his lathi and bashed on the head to strike the death blow. When Mataji came to know that I had killed a snake, all hell broke loose.
"Your grandmother (daadi) would feed snake milk if it made an appearance in the house. We are Nagpal (meaning snake keeper or protector) and we have to protect the snakes and not kill them," I was admonished and made to do penance the following day by remaining locked in the house, reading a religious text.

In the Metro cinema on Chowringhee, we used to have a special show of children's movies or cartoons on Sunday mornings. We, meaning me and friends, used to attend most of them and enjoy clean healthy fun. The tickets were also on a reduced rate and were probably less than a rupee for the show.

On the 15th of August, our friend circle decided to have a party on one of the terraces of the flats. It was going to be a dinner with each person in the group was required to bring one special or favorite dish of the family. If I remember correctly I had taken Punjabi Chhole. It was the first time I got to taste Lobster. Pinaki's mom had prepared lobster curry for us. It was delicious and very hot. It was many years later that I got to taste lobster again, with our son, in the USA.

Once there was a test match in Eden Gardens, It was India vs West Indies. We kids decided to go for that. Getting tickets was out of the question. I recall that we climbed on the roof of the All India Radio building which was in the same vicinity and watched whatever we could see of the match from there. India team got a follow on after West Indies scored 614 runs. Pankaj Roy - our opener gave a miserable performance with 11+duck in the two innings. The match finished in less than 3-1/2 days. We even lost the series 3-0.

Our colony had a massive tree near its second gate on Alipore Road. The tree had a very interesting feature that almost made a natural machan, about 10-12 feet from the ground, by an unnatural formation of its branches. How could it remain hidden from our natural explore instincts! We started using it for a treetop picnics. The flat area on the tree could comfortably seat four youngsters with their hampers.

On the north side of the library, building was located a huge green lawn area that doubled as a playfield for hockey and cricket areas. On its west corner of this green, there was a cluster of banyan tree(s) that had money plants growing wild over it with leaves going up to 1-1/2 to 2 feet size. One typical branch came down in a majestic curve just about 3 to 4 feet above the ground, which could not only seat 7-8 of us swaying gently but also bear to take up our load. That was the favorite spot of the batsmen waiting to go on the crease.

Once granny (Pitaji's mother) had come to Calcutta. She was around the age of 80. After a few days, she developed serious diarrhea/dysentery, and being frail and delicate at her age, we were all very concerned. She had to be taken to hospital and was admitted to the R G Kar Hospital. Mataji was almost in a panic, she kept praying that she should recover and not succumb to her illness in our house. Else she would get branded the evil bahu. A few days in the hospital helped her to a full recovery, much to everyone's relief.

All good things also come to an end. Pitaji got transferred and we moved to Delhi in April 1959.

I shall continue the narrative in My Story 5 - Meri Dilli, Patel Nagar. Click here to continue.

My Story 3 - Calcutta, South Point School

If you have come here before reading "My Story 2", or would like to go back to it again, please click here.

Neena and I had been admitted to South Point School in Garihat Area, in Ballygunge, in class 7 and 5 respectively. At the time we joined South Point - it was a relatively new school with a strength of only about 300 students. It had been started just over a year ago. It was administered and run very well. English medium and coeducational; one could avoid having to learn Bengali, we could choose Bengali or Hindi as the extra language, although Sanskrit was taught there as a compulsory subject. Thus the school suited us very well as transfer students from Delhi, it was also at a reasonable distance from Lake Place, just about 3 kilometers. We had a school bus service, so it was also very convenient. Pushpa had got admission for the MBBS course at the Calcutta National Medical College in the previous year itself, as per her heart's desire. Prem had finished her Senior Cambridge before we moved to Calcutta and she got admission into the Ashutosh College for persuing her under-graduate course for her English Litterature, in which she ultimately did her M.A. & Ph.D. 

Victoria Memorial, Calcutta

In spite of the fact that the school was just over a year old, it was well managed and we were a happy lot. It was strict in discipline yet maintained a friendly atmosphere with the students. Ii was a fairly small premises having a playfield that was a wee bit smaller than the area required for a football field. It seemed quite enough for most of the needs of the school. The administrative block was the size of a modest bungalow. Many of the classrooms were constructed with cement sheet walls, they were well maintained and did give a good feeling because of the newness. We had a good interesting faculty and many of our teachers were involved with the well known CLT (Children's Little Theatre) group who excelled in stage plays. They were very well known for their Shakespearean plays. Fantastic stage dresses, excellent lighting, makeup, direction - all were considered the best in the Calcutta theatre networks. The most famous name was that of Utpal Dutt, who not only made a mark on the Bengali Stage and Bengali movies but also excelled in the Hindi Bollywood cinema in the later years. While Neena and I were studying in South Point, he had already created and proved his histrionics on the Bengali Stage and Cinema. We had quite a handful of other teachers in South Point, who did not just act on the stage but also excelled in many aspects of the theatre, viz., makeup, stage lighting, dialogue delivery, etc. I still recall quite a few names - Mr. Chatterjee (PT & Games), Mr. Sen, Mr. Bannerjee (Fine Arts).

I remember I had gone to school one day without completing my homework for the Maths class. It was a fairly common practice to skip doing the homework with some lame excuse. No action was taken normally, except a reprimand. Today the maths teacher became strict - no excuse or story would be heard. We were six of us who had not done the homework. He got dunces' caps made for us and we were paraded and taken to all the classrooms to be shamed. When we reached Neena's class I started sobbing. I was terribly ashamed. She showed her kind nature and did not tell our parents about my humiliation.

Mr. Utpal Dutt had unique characteristics very much of his own and without compare. He used to teach us the Queen's English. He not only had mastery of the language but he also made his classes very interesting with his histrionics. He was a die-hard Marxist as far as I can recall. He had quite a loud and booming voice. His hallmark was a thick cigar that was always with him, matched his personality. While teaching his class, he was always with his cigar and he easily spent 10% of his time lighting the damn thing with a match, he never used a lighter. I think he used to think out his next step or direction while lighting his cheroot.
Another catchphrase of Utpal Dutt is illustrated here.
English has many anomalies that come up while teaching language and grammar. When an anomaly would rear its head Mr. Dutt would say in his booming voice, "BECAUSE....." and the entire class would respond in unison,"...ENGLISH IS A MAD LANGUAGE!"
All these little quirks, if you like to call them that, made him an interesting and memorable teacher. His historic cigar was always there even in his Hindi movies, starting with "Shakespeare Wallah" - his debut on the screen is lighting his cigar by a blow torch, he is busy doing some welding work. His most popular Hindi movie was Bhuvan Shome, a non-commercial film that went on to win three National Film Awards, including the one of Best Actor, for him. He is no longer with us except in our memories. He died in 1993 at the age of 64.

The deficiency of a big playfield got highlighted very cruelly during a football match with St Lawrence School. They had very huge premises, possibly 8-10 times ours. The match was held in their football ground. In spite of a valiant fight we were down by a dozen goals - the final tally was 12-NIL. A fairly large contingent of two busloads of students had gone to cheer our team. We were all so excited while we were going with slogans and cheers of an anticipated and misplaced victory. In the return journey, everyone was totally silent, you could hear a pin drop.

Like any other school of that time, we had our share of street vendors at our gate. I developed an insatiable urge and taste for the historic Orange Bar (of Magnolia), and also a digestive pudia of a gooie chooran. I also loved an occasional daab (tender green coconut) for its water as well as a layer of soft and tender coconut that had started forming within the shell. The vendor would split open the fruit with his hasiya a heavy sickle-like tool, and scoop out the yummy still soft and tender fruit from its insides, deposit it one half of the shell of the nut and hand it over as the 'bonus' - after all only the water had been paid for.

In 1957, the Naiya Paisa was introduced. India had overtaken many of the advanced Western Nations in adopting the CGS (and the decimal) system. The earlier rupee had 16 annas, Each anna has 4 paisas. Smaller denominations of paisa, viz., dhela and pai, had already been discontinued. Now we had coins of 1, 2, 5, 25, 50 and 100 (1 rupee) paisa. One Anna became equivalent of 6-1/4 paise; the earlier coins of 1 paisa (old), 2 paisa, 1 anna, 2 annas, 4 annas 8 annas were gradually withdrawn from the system. Initially, a lot of confusion prevailed but we gradually got used to the new system. We stopped referring to the Naiya Paisa as such and it was replaced by calling it Paisa only. Gradually miles were replaced by kilometers and yards by meters; degree Fahrenheit by degree Centigrade or Celcius. But we still live in a dual system. Body temperature is still Fahrenheit, though the weather is in Celcius, land measurements are still in square yards in many places.

The lack of playing fields in the school did leave me with a little setback as far as my sporting abilities were concerned. I was an outdoor person by nature and I did get my exercise in the improvised football field in the empty plot by the side of our Lake Place residence, but that somehow could never help me become a good footballer nor allow me to learn the finer aspects of the game.

Another change happened for the better in 1957. Pitaji was allotted government accommodation in a beautifully developed new colony within the huge compound of the famous National Library. 84 flats were constructed for the Central Government Officers in the area they called Belvedere, in fourteen 3 storeyed blocks. It was not only a modern and posh locality with lots of greenery and open spaces. Proper garages for parking the cars were also made, although owning a car was not all that common at the time. Thus we shifted to a new and totally different environment from the paada culture.

I shall continue the narrative in My Story 4 - Calcutta, Belvedere. Click here to continue.

My Story 2 - Oh Calcutta. Lake Place

If you have come here before reading "My Story 1", or would like to go back to it again, please click here.

We moved to Calcutta in the year 1955, around the time of the start of the new session in schools, perhaps it was sometime between April and June. Pushpa had moved a year earlier for her MBBS from the Calcutta National Medical College. She had to take off from studies for a year because of her critical encounter with meningitis. 

Pitaji had found a house on rent south Calcutta - 22 Lake Place (Road), the address has been etched permanently in my memory. It was a typical Bengali area. There were at least half a dozen children in the neighborhood who were in the age band that could be befriended, which is within 2 to 3 years of my age. The spoken language was only Bengali. 

The Lake Place house was a 3 storied structure. Our Bengali house owner lived with his family on the top floor, with his wife, married son, and a daughter-in-law who use to sing and play the sitar. The ground floor had another tenant named Babbar, who was also a Punjabi. The first floor had a Tamilian family (a Central Government Officer) Still remember the lady as she had her hair cascading up to her ankles. The house also had a courtyard in the middle which was in the area of the Babbar family. After a few months, the Babbars moved out and were replaced by a Bengali family. There a girl called Tapti, of Neena's age, one fine day she broke half of her front incisor after a small fall in the cemented courtyard.
The house was a good-sized building that could house 4 families. We had 4 rooms plus a fairly spacious verandah, a kitchen, and a bathroom. A passage used to run behind the house and the boundary wall, in which all the windows opened, which helped in good ventilation for all the rooms. The adjoining plot of land (no. 24) was lying vacant and was used by us kids as a football ground. Bengalis had a yen for the game and we played football in all kinds of weather. The most interesting was during the rains, and we kids used to literally have a mud bath while we enjoyed the game.

The best part of this place was its location, Dhakuria Lake was just about a kilometer from this place and many an evening was spent by us children or even the family, in visiting the lake. We would go across the suspension bridge that connected to the small island in the lake, watching and feeding the large fish, with small balls of kneaded flour or atta.
There was a small ornamental garden called the Lilly Pool, near the entrance of the lake. It had beautifully manicured lawns and an abundance of colorful flowers. We had a few family picnics in this garden. For our regular walker, that is Mataji, she would encircle the complete lake, making about five kilometers for her morning walk.

Calcutta is a city with a soul and culture very typical of the Bengal you read about in the multitude of well-known writers. I will talk less about Calcutta and more of my life in the formative years of my life in Calcutta. For those readers of mine who want to see Kolkata through my eyes - please visit my blog http://tnagpal.blogspot.com/search?q=kolkata, I am sure that you will love it.

Conch Shell Blowing

Around dusk, there would be the soothing sound of conch shells coming from all households and shops. The shops in the market would burn a very sweet and strong-smelling incense to purify the atmosphere (and of course to overcome the "fishy" smell of the city). These sounds and the smell are as much a part of the city as a living being. Dusk is the puja time. Calcutta was well known for its nightlife and night clubs. The bhadralok would step out of the houses to visit their favorite haunts, be it a bar or a club. Donning a gajra of strong-smelling mogra or similar flowers on the wrists, along with a spotless dhoti and kurta, they exude a very regal presence. After 10.30pm - our Bengali neighbors would start frying the fish, the smell of which would permeate the atmosphere. The bhadralok would generally arrive home anytime after midnight. This was a regular feature in most middle-class and upper-class households. We did not get much direct exposure to the lower strata of the society, but I believe that the menfolk would normally return home drunk and would often get into brawls with each other or indulge in violence at home.

I was always fond of having a dog or some other pet. Till now my parents did not permit me to indulge in this luxury, the condition was that I will have to give my full time for it. Being a Punjabi and from north India, milk was an important constituent of our diet, as we were growing up. Pitaji managed to rope in a milkman who would come to the gate of our house and milk his cow then and there, the white foamy milk collected in a bucket clamped between his knees as he squatted to do the needful. He also brought a calf that would remain close to the front of the cow while he did the milking. The stupid cow would think that the calf is suckling and having the milk while the milkman filled his bucket. Once I noticed that instead of a calf, the milkman had a small wooden log with the skin of the calf wrapped on it, he suspended it near the front of the cow. The cow would lick that contraption while getting milked. How dumb are the animals, compared to us, the crafty humans. 
We would get fresh milk in our utensils. All four kids, my 3 sisters and me, hated milk. So invariably some milk would remain leftover by us dodging the intake of the recommended quantity. We did not have a fridge in those days and often the leftover milk curdled. Cats are really smart animals and one white cat with yellow patches adopted us. We started feeding her regularly with milk - curdled or otherwise. She became most comfortable with me and our family that she even had a litter in our drawing-room under a small low diwan. It was a litter of very sweet-looking three kittens. They were duly christened Beauty, Cutey, and Sweety by Prem and Pushpa. 

Pitaji's office at the Indian Museum was on Chowringhee and there was a direct and very convenient tram connection from the Lake Market to his office. It was so convenient that his office peon Ganesh would come home and carry Pitaji's dabba (lunch box) to enable him to get a hot meal. It was a tall lunch galvanized grey-colored lunch box with a double outer layer. It housed 4 inner containers and food remained warm in the case for more than a few hours. A monthly tram pass was also made for Ganesh, which allowed 2 journeys (one in each direction) every day.

Mataji had become a vegetarian after I was born, it was done to fulfill some mannat (a promise to the deity or god). Pitaji also became a vegetarian though he was less rigid about it. At home, only Neena and I were the only regulars for having non-vegetarian food. So much so that we became self-sufficient for it. I would buy the mutton and wash and clean it and Neena would do the cooking. I would often help her and developed my cooking skills which even hold me in good stead to date, I developed my basics in cooking very well. To augment our non-veg food, I once got fish from the Lake Market, mutton was not available in this market. Neena and I tried cooking it, we messed it up, it became like a halwa and the smell seemed to just linger on in the house for the next few days. I was getting desperate to eat some non-veg stuff, so Pitaji invited me to his office on one Saturday, as our school was closed on weekends. I went with Ganesh when he came to fetch Pitaji's lunch box. Pitaji had sent for a plate of chicken curry from Punjab Hotel (a dhaba, not far from his office, located on Lindsay Street). It was a small eatery and we had gone there with the family earlier - something like the Kake da Hotel in Connaught Place in New Delhi. The preparations were absolutely yummy, loaded with spices and ghee (oil was taboo in Punjabi eateries). I loved this lunch so much that it became my Saturday ritual. After lunch, I would hang around in his office, play with the typewriter, go up and down the manual lift, which resembled a cage. It was enjoyable for an 11-year-old. Then finally I would return home with Pitaji at the end of his office time. He was a person of few words, there were no lectures or sermons or tips for life. Mostly we both remained in our respective thoughts and worlds. It never occurred to me that Neena would have also loved this meal - I guess I was too self-centered.

At times Pitaji would have an invite to attend a Bengali wedding feast, and I loved tagging along for these, mainly for the food; I loved the Bengali food. Mutton curry, fish curry, and fried fish were the essentials along with at least two sweets like raj bhog, sandesh, rossogulla. I had a sweet tooth plus a non-veg tooth and I never missed a wedding feast. In contrast, if there was any other wedding, Punjabi, Marwari etc - it was strictly vegetarian food. I also developed a great liking for the luchchi - the small pooris made of the refined flour. Developed a love for eating with the hand. I still enjoy my rice and curry with my hand. 

Life was good as a child and I savored and enjoyed every bit of it. Calcutta always seemed to be celebrating some pooja or some function all the time. I had picked up a reasonable amount of Bengali and was managing to converse with the pada crowd. I could understand them fully and managed to communicate with words of English and Hindi thrown in the conversation. After defeating a boy of my age and size in a friendly wrestling match and I was accepted as a part of the gang. Reminds me of wolves (and dogs) I guess that is how their packs and territories grow bigger. I starting accompanying the group of boys in collecting chanda (donations) for the festivals. Was generally around for handy jobs in the pandals and even accompanying the group when they went for the visarjan (immersion of the idols, in the Hooghly river), with all the drums and music and a lot of vermillion being smeared on all. 

EMAM-DASTA

SIL-VATTA

Vishvakarma Puja was the kite flying festival for us and the Calcutta sky used to be a riot of color with kites of all hues and sizes. BHOKATA was the war cry we yelled when we succeeded in cutting the string of the opponents' kite during the pech (duel of kites). It was in this period that I not only learnt to fly kites but also learnt making the manja (kite string with embedded glass powder) to get an advantage during the pech. 
A lot of waste glass - bottles, bulbs, etc. - was collected, pounded, and ground into a fine powder in the emam-dasta (kitchen pestle and mortar) of wrought iron. Then this glass powder was mixed in the glue that was made by boiling refined flour. Care had to be taken to avoid the formation of lumps. The plain string would then be strung around two lamp posts in the street while applying the glue with glass powder by bare hands. (We had never thought that gloves could be used, if at all). The string would remain on the lamp posts for a good part of the day in bright sunlight to dry it completely before coiling it on the charki(s) - the spools on which the string is coiled while flying the kite. Making the manja caused a great displeasure in my family as I needed the pestle and mortar of our home. The Bengali homes used sil-vatta - which was not at all suitable for the job. Once there was a minor mishap - a bovine trundled through our manja that was drying on the lamp posts; bringing us to tears. 

Traditional Dance during Puja

The Durga Puja is celebrated across Calcutta for 10 days, with pandaals erected all over the city. One gets variety of savories and Bengali cuisine in each pandaal. Stalls for sale of clothes are also common. The evening hours are for puja, with conch shell sounds, loud drums, dances, and burning of incenses. The festivities generally carry on for the entire day, however, the evenings see the women folk decked up and dressed in all the finery and jewelry. Most of them are dressed in traditional white sarees with red zari borders. Generally, dances, songs, and plays are performed throughout the night  

Life could not have been better. It seemed all fun and play. The studies at school continued at their own pace without any special emphasis on performance or ranks or undue pressures that we see on the children these days.

We meet again in My Story 3, of my schooling at the South Point. Click here to continue.

My Story 1 - My entry into the world. Kashmiri Gate.

Modern School, Barakhamba Road

I am taking up the pen again, the present lockdown due to the COVID-19 scare does leave us with time at hand. Rather than go into a depression due to idleness, I decided I shall just be penning the story of my life - as I remember - as seen through my eyes.

My earliest memories are of our house in Kashmiri Gate, Delhi, where I was born and spent nearly the first ten years of my life. It was a government accommodation - a stand-alone bungalow.

My memory always showed the bungalow as a massive and very large property. I was disappointed and realized that it was not all that large when I visited the place with my wife and daughter, many years later. In childhood, one has a small frame and small steps, and the distances appear longer than what they are in reality. The bungalow also appeared massive in my childhood memories. 

Initially, the bungalow had 3 rooms. One was a large hall, which was our living cum dining room, It became an extended bedroom during the winters. The second room, on the western side of the hall and covering its full western wall, was a kind of a large storeroom. The third room, on the southern side of the hall, was also fairly large and longish. It was a bedroom cum pooja room. It also served as a labor room during my birth. There was a very large verandah on the northern side of the hall, that had a sloping roof of clay red tiles which was the hallmark design of English cottages and bungalows. This verandah opened into a cemented courtyard. The courtyard and the verandah were the family sleeping areas during the summer and the rainy seasons. We had a fairly large kitchen on the eastern side of the courtyard. It was in a separate building altogether and was not a part of the main building. The eastern side of the hall had an open passage connecting to the bathroom on its southern end. 

A lot of additions were done later on and I recall the addition of at least 5 more rooms over the years. 3 were made on the northern end of the courtyard, One of these was a small-sized room (probably about 6’x6’) and we called it the kothri. It was used primarily for storing coal (soft coke) and firewood for the hearth. Our kitchen used these fuels only. Kerosene stoves were a rarity. Cooking gas had not come to this part of the country, though piped natural gas was known to be available in some areas of Bombay and Calcutta, a legacy of the British Raj. The area in between the kitchen and the rest of the house had a tap and a washing bay, that was used for washing clothes as well as the kitchen utensils. My family here consisted of my parents and four elder sisters. There was another older sister, Phulan, she was already married and stayed separately with her husband and her children. Her place was also in Kashmiri Gate, though it was about 2 km from our house. On the north side, we had a row of rooms that housed the domestic helps and their families. Dhobi, sweeper and cleaner families lived these rooms. Their housing was also built like the English cottages having clay-tiled roofs.

Our bungalow was located on what was known as 5 Lothian Road. Now it is shown as "Kela Ghat Marg" in the present-day maps. The house was on a 7 to 8 foot higher ground than the road and about 50 meters off the main road. Presently the area is shown as Priyadarshini Colony - in the Google maps. The river Yamuna was almost where we have the present day Ring Road on the north side, Frequent floods in the river used to cause a lot of hardship and devastation. One could invariably see human corpses as well as domestic animals like goats, dogs, and cows being carried away in the flooded and fast-flowing river. During floods, quite a bit of the Kela Ghat Marg would be underwater and the river waters would threaten us from the steps as well as a sloping ramp that lead to the higher ground where our bungalow was located. Flood water did not ever our area because of the higher ground.

The next few paras are, of course, from hearsay and not my memory:

It was a cold December morning much before sunrise, with just a few days before the New Year of 1946, when my mom (she was called Mataji), Lilawati, went into labor before I was born. Although it was peak winter, the atmosphere in Delhi was hot and burning in those pre-partition days. A night curfew was clamped in the whole city with a shoot at sight orders. Shouts of Allah ho Akbar, Jo Bole so Nihal and Jai Bajrangbali could be heard amongst the clanging of swords and sound of gunfire. Screams and yells of humanity rent the air. My father had to go unseen and hidden to fetch the midwife to deliver me into this world.

I was born around 4 am. Word was sent to Phulan's house that an important event had taken place and she has been blessed with a young brother after a long wait of the parents after 5 daughters. What do we see next morning! Phulan and her family coming to our Kashmiri Gate bungalow with a regular brass band that one sees in traditional Indian weddings, to celebrate the birth of a son in the family! I was born with sounds of gunfire and swishing of swords and heralded into this world amidst sounds of trumpets and drums. I am sure, not many can boast of such a welcome into this world.

My other siblings were Neena, Prem, Pushpa, and Devika, in the increasing order of age.

My name had to start with the letter "T", it was drawn from Guru Granth Saheb, the holy book of the Sikhs. Accordingly, I was christened Triloki Nath, another name of the Lord Shiva, meaning the lord of the three worlds. During my growing up years, I was very protected and always treated with kid gloves. The son is the most important being in a Hindu family. He is looked upon as the torchbearer for the future generations. He is required to light the funeral pyre of his father to ensure the latter's entry into heaven. We had a family astrologer by the name of Ghananand. He was always consulted for all our family's religious needs. My birthdays were celebrated with a havan and it was followed by distribution of grains equal to my weight plus cooked rotis equal to my height when stacked. All this was done to ensure a long and healthy life for me. A huge weighing scale suspended from a tripod made of thick wooden bamboos would have to be erected in our courtyard for the purpose. I was made to sit in my underclothes in one pan of the weighing scale and a sack of grain with an open mouth would sit on the other pan. The grain would be added into the sack until it balanced my weight.

My oldest memory is when I was just around 2 years of age, I had gone to Vaishno Devi with my parents, to get my hair shorn - mundan. I do not have any recollection of the journey but I do recall the hot paved courtyard where my hair was shorn, and I was barefooted having great discomfort. I do recall seeing my picture in our archives with shoulder-length hair before going for the mundan ceremony. I also remember crawling on my stomach to enter the cave of the deity at Vaishno Devi. This was my first and last visit to this place.

The evening celebrations were non-religious and generally included the performance of any popular English play to be staged by my 4 elder sisters who were being educated in the most reputed convent of the time - Presentation Convent. The stage would be set up most professionally, with footlights, a draw curtain that could be closed with drawstrings. I can still recall two very well known plays very vividly, which were performed in our home theatre; viz., “Bishop’s Candlesticks” and “Blue Beard”. My sisters were very resourceful and used to get all the props for the play and well as the scripts from their school. I still recall the silver candlesticks that had been borrowed from the school for the occasion. I, on the other hand, did not study in a convent. My father was of the opinion that boys become too docile if they are taught by the nuns. So I had my schooling in Modern School at Barakhamba Road - which was considered the number one school in competition with St. Columba's School. 

The whole environment would be that of a festival matching the decorations of a pompous Indian wedding. This continued for the first ten years of my life before we moved to Calcutta because of the transfer of my father to the National Museum, Calcutta. He had got transferred in 1951, however, the family moved to Calcutta only in 1955.

While we were in Kashmiri Gate, a back room and the open space at the back was let out to a Sikh family who had two boys. The boys were probably a year or two older than me and were bullies. We never played together, in fact, I did not like them at all. In fact, I felt vastly relieved and happy when they vacated the place around 1952. The backroom and the entire open space came into our possession and was never let out again as long as we lived in this house. Later we did get a couple of our relatives viz., Yoginder (YL Arora) and Satish Gulati to stay in our back room. The open space had the passage through the back room. It was now converted into a vegetable patch and we had a good sprawled out kitchen garden with my first exposure to vegetable plants like bhindi, brinjals, tomato, peas, beans, karela, pumpkin, watermelon, cucumber and many more. Everything comes with a price, hordes of monkeys had started coming in to enjoy the fruits of our labor. Mataji had green fingers and the garden prospered well with her efforts. With our own garden, I started to develop an interest in nature, insects, birds, etc. I started keeping caterpillars in a shoebox and would wait for them to emerge as butterflies. A few of them did emerge as moths but none as butterflies.

Once I found a baby sparrow that had probably fallen out of a nest and was too tiny to fly. I kept it in a shoebox and tried feeding it for a couple of days but it just died. I was most embarrassed and ashamed and I did not tell anyone at home, not even my sister Neena who was just a bit older than a year and we shared most of my secrets. 

I did have a few friends in the neighborhood. One nearby bungalow had a family (Ahujas) and there was a boy of my age. I do not recall his name, however, I do recall some of his toys though. He had a train set which fascinated me. They also had a fridge - which was a rarity in that period. The father was a senior government official and they had also spent some time abroad - probably in England. I recall another neighbor's family, the Mathurs. They had children closer to Prem's age and Prem had found a friend - a girl from that family. The Mathurs' bungalow had a bigger open lawn and I recall Ram-Lila festivities being celebrated there. As a matter of fact, the characters who dressed/acted as Ram, Lakshman and Sita were revered by the crowd and many of the spectators bowed before them and touched their feet in obeisance.

Then we had a Sindhi family staying nearby, the Tahilramanis. The gentleman was a senior official in the Posts & Telegraphs. He was tall fair and handsome. Their flat was on the first floor in a building adjacent to the present day GPO. From their back courtyard of their flat one could look into our back courtyard (vegetable garden) and we could converse or exchange pleasantries very easily, the crow's flight distance being just about 15 meters. The wife was a housewife, as it used to be in almost all cases, a chubby sweet and short woman - very loving to all of us. Their son Subhash was almost my age, maybe a year senior. He had an older sister Indra, who was Neena's friend and her age. There were two younger siblings, Chandralekha (Munni) and Ashok (Kiku). The youngest - Kiku - was born during the course of our friendship.  Subhash and I had gone to their old residence a few years ago. The place had been converted to a guest house of the Posts and Telegraphs Department. We are still in contact with the family. Subhash and Indra do meet Neena and me quite regularly. Subhash is settled in Saginaw (MI, USA). Indra lives in Mumbai. Her children are also settled in the US. Our parents did not have much interaction with each other, but the children did. We used to play together every evening and our favorite play area was the green areas around the present day "British Magazine Memorial", opposite the General Post Office at Kashmiri Gate. As children, the various games that we indulged in or played in the limited area available to us were: Pithhoo (7 tiles), Hide and Seek, Geete (5 stones), hopscotch, skipping et all. It was generally just four of us in the group - Indra, Subhash, Neena, and me. Prem was much older and Munni was much too young. We lived in the Kashmiri-Gate house till mid-1955, before we permanently moved to Calcutta. 

Around 1951, Pitaji had got transferred to Calcutta on promotion as the Administrative Officer to the Indian Museum. However, we did not all move to Calcutta as Prem was to complete their Senior Cambridge. Pushpa fell sick and was diagnosed with meningitis and was hospitalized. The parents decided that Pitaji should accept and proceed to Calcutta and Mataji would stay back with the children and would move only after the problem of Pushpa's illness and Prem's school final were resolved. She became quite serious and was hospitalized in Irwin Hospital (present-day LNJP Hospital). Pushpa was very critical in some of the phases of the sickness and had to battle with life and death. As Pitaji was in Calcutta and Mataji had to battle it out without his support plus looking after 3 children at home. Prem was the eldest and was just about 13-14 years of age. Neena and I were between 5-7 years old. Pushpa's hospitalization lasted about thirteen months and Mataji had to spend all her time in the hospital leaving Prem in charge of the home and the two siblings. It was a tough life for both Mataji and Prem. The latter had to not only look after two siblings but also manage the kitchen and the cooking. This period with Prem brought Neena and me quite close to Prem. She was like our parent who had to look after both of us along with managing the household for the entire length of Pushpa's hospitalization. She had to invent stories and anecdotes to keep Neena and me engrossed and in awe. Using her very vivid imagination, she created stories out of shapes of clouds that flitted across the sky, stories made from the play of lights that would fall on the large side wall of our kitchen from any vehicle would headlights coming down on the unnamed road coming right in front of our colony from the side of St James Church in Kashmiri Gate. Ghost stories would be made up by her by the imaginary shapes on the neem tree after it became dark. The massive neem was in the north-east corner just outside of the hall. The squirrels used to make an unusual side, with a little imagination, you could hear the tinkling of anklets or ghungroos. There was such a fertile ground for an imaginative storyteller - ghungaroos and the shadows on the tree; and Prem was really good at creating stories from anything and everything. At times when she would bungle in the making of the quantity of dough for the rotis, she had to hide the excess dough by tossing it in a ball of the slanting red-tiled roof of the verandah. 

We had a lot of fat monkeys and their families as visitors in this house. They would invariably find their way to the verandah’s sloping roof and create quite a havoc there - fighting to grab the dough balls or the leftover roties thrown on the roof by Prem. The racket created by them would make us wonder if the clay tiles would hold on and not start braking and collapsing. There was a huge neem tree overhanging on the roof of the verandah, which was the playground for the monkeys, squirrels, and a variety of birds and insects. We could often spot a large honeycomb high up branches of the neem. 

Prem did prove to be the biggest support for Mataji during Pushpa’s sickness in being able to look after the house as well as her two young siblings viz., Neena, and me. The house problems and issues were getting resolved. Mataji’s strongest anchor during the crisis and illness of Puspa was our family astrologer, Pandit Ghananand, without whom no decision was taken during this crisis period. He had predicted that Pushpa would recover fully, in spite of her close brushes with death and long hospitalization. When it was finally decided and the complete family moved to Calcutta in April-May 1955, the happiest persons would have been Mataji and Prem, for their respective reasons. Mataji was finally able to be able to depend on Pitaji for the innumerable problems that she had faced all alone with the 4 children with the eldest in hospital in a critical condition most of the time. Prem, who had her childhood snatched from her by the added responsibility of the hearth and two young siblings. Pandit Ghananand also got left behind and we moved on to the typical happy family. Pushpa got admitted into the Calcutta National Medical College for pursuing her MBBS as per her life’s desire. Prem joined BA in Asutosh College to pursue her love for English Literature. Neena and I joined South Point School in class 7 and 5 respectively. 

Before I move to Calcutta with my next chapter, I would like to share some of the anecdotes that come to my mind as I pen (or rather, type) this document. Let m share some of them with you.

As mentioned earlier, Phoolan’s house was less than a couple of kilometers away and she had some of her children even older than the 3 of us, Prem, Neena, and me. Her one daughter Mohini was quite friendly with Neena as they were almost of similar age. She was extremely naughty in her childhood days. One day when we had gone to Phulan’s house, we children - Mohini, Neena, and I had gone to the market. Mohini hatched a plan of stealing guavas from a fruit vendor selling the fruits on a hand cart. The plan was that each of us would pick one/two fruits at a signal from Mohini and run for it. Mohini managed to pick two guavas, Neena picked one and yours truly just panicked and ran without any fruit. We ran on without looking back, till we reached Phoolan’s house. Neena hurt her hand on the next day. She felt that she had sinned so that hand injury happened. Result of her convent upbringing. 

Delhi summers were hot even in those days with temperatures going up to 40+ deg C and we had dust storms and loo (hot winds) even in those days. The hall had a wide door (about 6 feet) opening into the passage on the eastern side, into the passage for the bathroom. In summer months we had a khas ki tatti (wicker frame with fragrant grass) covering the entire doorway opening. My parents had got a G.I. pipe connected to the water supply fitted on to of the tati, that had drilled holes on the eny=tire length. This was connected to the main water supply of the house through a valve. So keeping the khas wet was no big deal and did not require a great effort of a person to keep splashing water on it. There were no G.I. sheet desert coolers we have in abundance these days. 

I was not just naughty but also quite destructive. A heap of clothes used to lie for washing on the stone slab outside the bathroom. One day I just lit a match and just burnt them. Neena was also there and witnessed the destruction She was absolutely dumbfounded by my act. She could not keep the secret and I received a thrashing from Mataji. 

One day Subhash and I were playing near his house. A truck was parked there and we would get into the driver’s cabin and jump out on a sand heap nearby - pretend to be doing a get-away. In one jump Subhash landed at a peculiar angle and started howling that his bone had broken. Some workers nearby immediately came and took him inside. I was very scared, I went away home without even knowing if he was badly hurt. When I came to play the next day, his arm was in plaster. He actually had a fracture.

So with these anecdotes, I close my Delhi (Kashmiri Gate) Chapter, please click here to move to Calcutta in Story 2.