When I climbed up the stone steps of 477 Narayan Peth in Pune, maybe one and a half in numbers, after saying goodbye to Panchmarhi for good, it was 1957 and I was 4 and half years old. Owned by my grandmother from my mother's side it was definitely not a grandiose structure but had its own homely charm. It was rumoured that it had carried on since the times of Peshwas, I doubted, squarely doubted but never tabled my findings, maybe for not wanting to puncture their vacuous pride of phoney greatness, but if it was true then it showed. No design in the architecture even for the formality, storeys were raised, as and when required and more important when the money was available. So the ground floor did not have any semblance with the first and hind part was totally aloof from the front. 2nd floor looked like a distant cousin of ground but definitely step-sibling of 1st floor. Total 3 floors in all, ground plus two, but none was like the other. The number of rooms with their dimensions too was as if, at the cross with each other. Some floors had bigger halls while some had match stick box-like dinghy rooms where sunlight hardly made its presence felt. Out of 15 or 16 rooms, only 2 were with grandeur but the rest were not more than a stable. One on the top floor was decorated with glass bells in different hues hung upside down from the ceiling to use them as oil lanterns. During family or any other religious functions, they were lit using either pure ghee or vegetable oil lamps, as electricity had not come till then According to my mother as far as she remembered, from her age of 7 or so, 477 always had electricity from way back in the 30s, only after Mumbai when all the other cities and towns in province were years away from the new development and were still in the dark. If you ask about 'Tube Light', it made its ugly bright appearance much much later, for the common man may be in the early 60s.
The practice of keeping the tenants on rentals was a done thing. Investing thousands to build one's own house was considered colossal waste, in cement and mortar. When with a paltry sum of, from Rs 10 only to maximum Rs 40 per month as rent, one could fetch a good house on rent in different 'Peths', why bother to own the house, was the thinking! On Deccan Gymkhana beyond the river, bungalows or part were sub-rented at a reasonable cost, though definitely more than the city side, but still affordable for the middle class families with a sole earning member working in government, as he used to get "House Rent Allowance"
Though umpteen such houses were available on rent, many of them in the posh area of western Pune why did my mother choose 477 Narayan, I always wondered till I stayed there, up to 1975, maybe she was having her own reasons.
My grandmother, her mother, maybe, was the strongest one. My grandmother was a woman of substance, solid substance. Though widowed in her early thirties, with 5 children to feed, one stepson and four her own she carried on stoically fighting on every front gracefully. She was absolutely illiterate but her grasp on the situation and the judgement of a person was on the spot, comparable to any of today's MBAs. She helped every one of her relatives by sheer hard work. She was the pillar of strength while managing weddings in the house. She literally used to toil knowing it fully well, 'Because she can not help monetarily, she has to help physically'. She was enthusiasm personified. Years after when my wife along with her friends reached 477 at 10.30 PM, she served all of them 3-course meal within minutes even though she was in her 80s then. She was a master cook in making traditional Marathi dishes, and I would blame her for my dislike for Puran Poli, no, no, no, she used to make excellent Puran Polis but because of variety of reasons, monitory paucity being one, she used to make Puran Polis for every other occasion from Padava, Dashera, Diwali to mundane Mondays in Shravan months. We got so fed up with Puran Polis that vowed never to eat them again!
Younger years in 477 were absolutely wonderful. I came to know that I have an elder sister, along with uncles, aunts, cousins way too late. As all the relatives from my mother's side stayed under one roof but with separate kitchens, it always was a huge family circus with all the colours thrown in. We used to celebrate all the festivals like Diwali, Rangpanchami [ Holi] and family outings for movies, one-day trips, picnics together. It was really nothing but all the fun.
Later years in 477 turned out to be very painful for me. I spent my formative years in 477, I came off age in 477, which in itself was a very lonely affair, as in the given, prevalent social scenario in the class residing in 477 and alike, the subject was a taboo and was never discussed openly. It was taken for granted that the knowledge about sex comes automatically, to the boys. Not that I faced any grave problems but it was not less than traumatic. I started writing, around the same time. Got many prizes in local magazines for my short stories and poems.
Being extra sensitive, for a boy, I was to face so many things, in later years.
I happened to know another face of my father during the stay in 477 and it was not at all pleasant. In the truest sense, I could not develop any type of relationship with my father, healthy or otherwise during my formative years, because he was never around. Neither my mother was of any help as she was engulfed in her own grievances. Out of the 55 in my class only 3 had working mothers, she was one of them. So she really did not have the time to be there for our needs as she had to handle the household work, the meagre finances, her job singlehandedly. Maybe the ties there too did not develop strong so I was very eager to get away from 477 ASAP.
A point came when I was so desperate about the situation that I tried to end life. Maybe I was destined to face much more in coming years so I was saved but the scars of life in 477 remained throughout life.
The practice of keeping the tenants on rentals was a done thing. Investing thousands to build one's own house was considered colossal waste, in cement and mortar. When with a paltry sum of, from Rs 10 only to maximum Rs 40 per month as rent, one could fetch a good house on rent in different 'Peths', why bother to own the house, was the thinking! On Deccan Gymkhana beyond the river, bungalows or part were sub-rented at a reasonable cost, though definitely more than the city side, but still affordable for the middle class families with a sole earning member working in government, as he used to get "House Rent Allowance"
Though umpteen such houses were available on rent, many of them in the posh area of western Pune why did my mother choose 477 Narayan, I always wondered till I stayed there, up to 1975, maybe she was having her own reasons.
My grandmother, her mother, maybe, was the strongest one. My grandmother was a woman of substance, solid substance. Though widowed in her early thirties, with 5 children to feed, one stepson and four her own she carried on stoically fighting on every front gracefully. She was absolutely illiterate but her grasp on the situation and the judgement of a person was on the spot, comparable to any of today's MBAs. She helped every one of her relatives by sheer hard work. She was the pillar of strength while managing weddings in the house. She literally used to toil knowing it fully well, 'Because she can not help monetarily, she has to help physically'. She was enthusiasm personified. Years after when my wife along with her friends reached 477 at 10.30 PM, she served all of them 3-course meal within minutes even though she was in her 80s then. She was a master cook in making traditional Marathi dishes, and I would blame her for my dislike for Puran Poli, no, no, no, she used to make excellent Puran Polis but because of variety of reasons, monitory paucity being one, she used to make Puran Polis for every other occasion from Padava, Dashera, Diwali to mundane Mondays in Shravan months. We got so fed up with Puran Polis that vowed never to eat them again!
Younger years in 477 were absolutely wonderful. I came to know that I have an elder sister, along with uncles, aunts, cousins way too late. As all the relatives from my mother's side stayed under one roof but with separate kitchens, it always was a huge family circus with all the colours thrown in. We used to celebrate all the festivals like Diwali, Rangpanchami [ Holi] and family outings for movies, one-day trips, picnics together. It was really nothing but all the fun.
Later years in 477 turned out to be very painful for me. I spent my formative years in 477, I came off age in 477, which in itself was a very lonely affair, as in the given, prevalent social scenario in the class residing in 477 and alike, the subject was a taboo and was never discussed openly. It was taken for granted that the knowledge about sex comes automatically, to the boys. Not that I faced any grave problems but it was not less than traumatic. I started writing, around the same time. Got many prizes in local magazines for my short stories and poems.
Being extra sensitive, for a boy, I was to face so many things, in later years.
I happened to know another face of my father during the stay in 477 and it was not at all pleasant. In the truest sense, I could not develop any type of relationship with my father, healthy or otherwise during my formative years, because he was never around. Neither my mother was of any help as she was engulfed in her own grievances. Out of the 55 in my class only 3 had working mothers, she was one of them. So she really did not have the time to be there for our needs as she had to handle the household work, the meagre finances, her job singlehandedly. Maybe the ties there too did not develop strong so I was very eager to get away from 477 ASAP.
A point came when I was so desperate about the situation that I tried to end life. Maybe I was destined to face much more in coming years so I was saved but the scars of life in 477 remained throughout life.
No comments:
Post a Comment