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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.
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| Qutub Minar, New Delhi |
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 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.
Click the link to continue to My Story 6 - Meri Dilli, Reading Road.
