Reminiscence and rumination are twin havens for old and infirm people like me. Looking back, I feel that the biggest single influence in my life was that of my Didi-Pratima Das Gupta (nee Ray 1920-2009). She was born in a feudal family, history of which can be traced back to the early 17th century. The family has in its history two cases of” Sahamarana” (accompanying the husband on his pyre) necessitating two adoptions. Actually, our great grandfather Prassana Kumar (1839-1876) and in whose name the village school still runs, was the son of Rajkumar, an adopted son .The doyen of the family was Rohini Kumar Sen (1866-1904) .who in his short life span and having to discontinue his study following the untimely death of his father Prassana Kumar (1839-1876) could write two important books----Bakla (History of Backerganj) and Amar Purbapurush (History of my family). Both were published subsequently. Actually Rohini Babu’s name finds mention in a Google website under the heading “Kirtipasha Zaminder Bari” The family could justifiably be proud of their tradition of their deep religious devotion, philanthropy, pursuit of knowledge and taste in performing arts. Prassana Babu persuaded the village heads to agree to the opening of a primary school to teach English as well and invited Vidyasagar’s brother to our village to plead for him. Rohini Babu wrote a few plays depicting mythological tales and on Rajput chivalry and Jahar Brata (self immolation against proselytism). He set up a permanent stage besides having a keen interest in photography. He had a great fancy over his nephew—my father Himansu Kumar(1892-1955) and used to spend hours in pursuit of his academic interest after attending to his responsibilities to the management of his estate and shouldering the role of the Head of the family. He was, however ably aided and assisted by Shashtipriya thakurun,a domineering lady with a sharp intellect. A middle school teaching up to class VI was set up after Rohini Babu’ demise by our Estate. The philanthropic deeds of Rohini Babu are still being remembered as is evident from the Google page which records that his memorial tomb has since been renovated. My father inherited those qualities profusely and lamented in his letter to my mother of the absence of his parents and Jathamashai, when Rabindranath acknowledged and appreciated his lyric poem devoted to the poet. Didi was a precious child born after two stillborns. A 28 year old father, on receipt of the news of the birth wrote to his 20year old wife.” Nutan athitike ei nabagatake amar snehachumban janaio.Jini aj tomar kache eshechen take jatna karate truti kario na. Bidhatar ei dantike sharbatobhave tahari shebadashikaria dite parilei kritartha haibo.Jini diachen tahar charane kotikoti pranam karitechi. Tumio tahake pranam karia apan matritwe shupratishita hao. Ashirbad kari nutan mata o nutan pitar majh theke shshaato puritan parampitar amritamaya path dhekite pan, amio dhanya hoi,tomrao dhanya hao……..(convey my kisses of affection to the new guest ,the new arrival. Spare no pains to take care of one who has arrived for you. I would feel grateful if I could make her a true servant of the God who had sent her to us. You too, bend your head in adulation and establish yourself truly in your motherhood. I offer my blessings. Let the new mother and the new daughter in the midst of the new father find the path washed with nectar to reach the eternal Father. Let you feel fulfilled, let me be fulfilled.) Poor English, of course, but I dare this to convey the spirit to reach my grandchildren. Rabindranath and Upanishad are palpable and this was the spirit and environment in which the child was brought up. There was a mad reception when the child arrived from Rangpur to Kirtipasha. Names came galore. One of the surviving grandmothers would call her Jurani(one who soothes), Shona( Gold) khuku etal. One of my uncles would call her Ma and would never allow her to touch her feet; others would address her in our Barisaliya dialect ‘Maiya’. My father named her ‘Pratima’( a deity representing Goddess) .The first twelve years of her life had to be spent in Kirtipasha due to the pressing responsibilities of my father to arrange education to his brothers and arrange marriage for his sisters. As she grew up, the father would take her by his side and narrate stories of the epics, the Puranas,the Upanishads When she was about five years old an old teacher of our School, who himself was childless and who loved Didi madly, took her to a Sannyasin (Swami Premananda ) who had assembled in our outhouse. The saint till then was not entering a rich man’s house. His mission of life was service to the poor and the downtrodden. He was later to replace Rabindranath as the Guru of my parents. He had a fountain of love for Didi and addressed her as ‘Amar (my) Subhadra didimani’ . I may remind readers that Subhadra is the sister of Lord Krishna in the Mahabharata. On that day she was taken to Dadamani( we used to address him as such ) to receive medicine for her frequent bouts of illness. In later life and till his death Didi completely relied on him. During this period Didi saw his father spending hours together reading books from the Angel library founded by Rohini Babu. The library had collections of classical literature in English, Sanskrit, and Bengali as also of Hindu and Greek philosophy. She was also witness to her father bursting into tears while reciting from Gandharir Abedan or Karna Kuntir Sambad or falling senseless in a trance while performing the role of ‘Billawamangal’—a devotional play written by Girish Ghose. He also saw her father rushing to attend distress calls from the village. Her young mother meanwhile ungrudgingly attended her service to her in-laws in a big joint family. All those memories contributed to a pride in her heritage that developed within Didi , and which she expressed and retained till her death. May be perhaps sometimes to the annoyance of her listeners. Towards his goal of imparting the best education to his dearest child my father shifted to Kolkata within one year of my birth and got her admitted in the Beltala Girls’ School from where she passed her Matriculation Examination in 1934 at the age of 14. But here fate conspired. There was frantic calls from other co-sharers to my father asking him to take charge of the Estate as the good work done during Rohini Babu’s time was being squandered away by salaried employees. My father accepted and shifted to Barisal, got her admitted in the renowned Brojamohan College fonded by the famous son of the district-Late Aswini kumar Dutta. Didi graduated with Distinction at the age of 18 in 1938. There was no Honours course in the college and she was not able to pursue the post graduate course. To my query during her last days, Didi told me that my father’s tension over her stay in a ladies’ hostel in Calcutta and an accidental fall that my father sustained at that time led her to her decision of not joining the University, a decision which is perhaps considered as immature.Her chosen subjects in her undergraduate class were English, Bengali, History, Sanskrit, and Philosophy -the subjects dear to my father as well. Around this time Kakababu (Amiya Rai chaudhuri and father of Tapan Ray Chaudhury) came to stay in Barisal with his family and we had a jolly good time. It was the fourth decade of the last century and still the tension of having an unmarried daughter in the family haunted the parents. A daughter had to go through all the processes of initial choice from photo, then appearing in person for assessment of her charm, modesty, acumen for domestic chores and above all complexion. A’ Bilat Ferta’ (having some training in England) had a special price and eligible for a higher dowry. Educated girls were looked upon with suspicion lest they might fall short of the level of servitude expected of a daughter in law. Didi’s resolve not to accept any marriage where dowry is involved and her dark complexion compounded to delay her marriage. Tapuda’s standing first in the Matriculation Examination in 1941 brought waves of joy in the family and Didi’s expectation of me soared. I was put under charge and my parents would never interfere in her decisions. I remember of earning Didi’s assent to attend a cinema show after satisfying her with a Bengali rendering of an English short story while studying in class VIII. Events happened in quick succession-World War II, ’42 Quit India Movement, arrests in the family, taking over of our Estate by the Government, drastic fall in income followed by family quibbles, the inability to arrange a suitable match for her daughter told heavily on the health and mind of my father. At this time Didi decided to join the Sadar Girls School as a teacher and at once impressed her students not only by her teaching skill but also by the daunting personality and a beautiful face with her long and lustrous eyes. Her primary mission was, however my advancement. Towards that end she would take me to Bhuvan Ghose, the renowned old teacher of the town to take tips to tone up my English. I also remember of how the blind scholar Bankim Ray Chaudhury( referred to in Bangalnama) dictated a summary of a poem on the preceding evening of my Matriculation Examination and how Didi got cross with him. Didi used to read out English poems to him for hours and the scholar would explain the significance and different nuances and thoughts of the poet. Thus developed a taste and sophistication which, I firmly hold is still very rare. Didi also had joint lessons in French with Tapuda and they corresponded in the language. My inability to secure even a star mark (75%) in Matriculation in 1946 was a huge disappointment for Didi. My admission in college was followed by ‘The Great Calcutta Killing’in 1946, partition in 1947 and eventual leaving of our homeland in 1948. From then on we earned the stigma of being a refugee. It was 1948 and Didi got a teaching job in a high school in Calcutta. She also appeared for the entrance examination for the B.T course in David Hare Teachers’ Training College in which she stood first among all the candidates and earned a scholarship as well as free studentship. It was at that time Didi’s marriage was settled with my Jamaibabu , Mr. Amal Chandra Das Gupta(1916-2007) through one of my father’s close friends and who also was the elder cousin brother of Jamaibabu. He was a boyhood friend of my father and hailing from Beldakhan, a neighbouring village. He was the gem of a man having an unimpeachable integrity. Didi took time to agree to the proposal for she was afraid that the end of the contribution she had been making to her family might prove further hardship, when his brother was still to complete his education. But she finally agreed; regard being had to the state of minds of her parents. The marriage was a happy and successful one and I still remember the contents of a long letter written by my father acknowledging his gratitude to Jamaibabu and expressing his confidence that he would look after his still unsettled son. My Jamaibabu was quite a handsome man with a rich baritone voice and I was lucky that I had the best of relations with him and his family members all through. Didi’s marriage was a low key affair compared to what Didi had seen or participated at marriage ceremonies of her uncles and aunts in her native village or what Didi and Jamaibabu arranged for their children and what their children could arrange for Didi’s grandchildren more recently. But it was a memorable occasion for us when my father, all his brothers and the entire family including two living grandmothers could participate in it. Although the party thrown out by the bridegroom’s family was held at a stone’s throw from my uncle’s residence, my mother and aunts dressed in their best covered the distance in a horse drawn carriage – symbolic of their feudal past. The whole family could also share the joy on Didi becoming a mother in 1950. But disasters struck our family between 1951-1955, during which I lost my father and two uncles. I had to abandon the thought of higher studies and entered my service career in 1951. Didi could not reconcile to this fact for a long time and retained a guilty conscious for which, I too am still grieved. On her marriage, Swamiji presented her a book on which he wrote (Sneher Didimoni Protima, tomar jibonta pujamoy hok, shokolke khusi koria sukhi hao. Tomar dada Premananda Mahalaya, 1362 - My dear sister Protima, let your life be full of worship. Make others happy to become happy- Your elder brother Premananda). That goal Didi tried to achieve till her end. I had not the chance to watch her stewardship of her family but the end products in the shape of my nephew and niece confirmed that Jamaibabu and Didi did arrange for their best education, impart liberal thoughts and make them adapted to the revolutionary changes through which the world was progressing. Their versatility was also apparent from the choice of their son in law-(a brilliant young soul, Late Amlan Sen- snatched away prematurely in a factory accident) and their daughter in law. The active period of Jamaibabu’s life was more or less peaceful .He had in him clinical honesty and integrity and never hesitated to protest what he considered wrong. He could grace the chair of the high post of Controller of Printing, Govt. of India with aplomb so rare among even the lower bureaucracy in our time. The family however had to face severe crisis thereafter first in the shape of the untimely death of the son in law and serious illness in the family subsequently. The couple faced them with all the determination and stubbornness which few could endure silently .They took upon themselves the task of nurturing and bringing up the granddaughter Shuktara Sen Dasand what a charming lady and mother she has developed into. The arrival of their daughter in law Ranjana Dasguptawas a happy interlude. It was followed by arrival of two precious granddaughters Shatanjaya Dasgupta& Shatarupa Dasguptaand joy and happiness ruled at Golf Green. What a big affair it was on the ‘Bhaiphota day. All the expertise of Didi, Buru ( Sumitra Sen) and Ranjana in cooking came into play and gourmets and gourmands that collected must still cherish those homemade dishes. One quality her children and grand daughters inherited from them was love of books. Didi was a voracious reader and during the last two years of her life we found it difficult to supply her with books. Not that she rolled over pages; her critical mind came out when I had the occasion to refer to any of them. She was a true Bibliophile that could have blossomed more meaningfully had she been born in the present day. Didi’s authority over the family was complete. During her inactive period of his life, Jamai Babu used to address her as Malkin .The strict control over the diet, the watchful eyes over his comfort and the ever vigil response to symptoms Jamai babu developed during illness was astounding. Coincidentally, her overanxious response to Jamai babu’s comfort led to the accidental fall and that which needed two major operations, left her bedridden for two years. She bore the travails gracefully. The poise and calmness with which she faced the death of her husband was extraordinary. I and my wife were alone with Didi when the body was taken for cremation. To my inconsolable wife she told” Manju, I enjoyed a long married life spanning 58 years. I have no regrets.” Didi retained her unflinching faith on Dadamani till her last and I narrate the conversation her daughter had, a few days before her end. ´” Ma, Tumi ato kashto pachho ar tomar dadamani ki kore chabite akhono heshe jacchen? (Mother, you have been suffering so much, how could your Dadamani in the picture keep on laughing?” Didi”s reply “ Amar sharirta kashto pacche ami noi.( my body has been suffering, not me.)”It has been our good luck that we three “ Didi, me and our cousin Khuku cold live in close proximity and reconstruct our happy past , which to us, was glorious during the last decade of her life. We could laugh to our heart’s content remembering those hilarious episodes embracing so many funny people. I repent that I could not attend her due to some physical discomforts which were not definitely insurmountable for the last three days of her life. My wife and three daughters received enormous love, affection and indulgence spontaneously. She would take my wife to task if any of them was found engaged in household chore. I still remember her happy face on the day of my Grihaprabesh. At last she could find her homeless brother secured in his own flat. Does Ananda remember his comment,” mamur flatta ar dash bachhar age hole bhalo hoto (It would have been better if Mamu’s flat could be arranged ten years earlier)”. I conclude this rather long (hope and pray it will not be boring) thought with the expectation that those who came in contact with Didi would share their thoughts to portray the remarkable lady. Didi sometimes remind me of the character of Shubarnalata in the novel written by Ashapurna Devi. But in one respect, there is a big difference. Didi was treated and taken care of regally by her children which she thoroughly deserved. Let the story of how she influenced my life remain privy to me. edited by - Swagato Saha, Sarbani Saha& Sambodhi Sengupta
Posted on: Mon, 09 Sep 2013 16:28:54 +0000
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