MEMORIES ARE MADE OF THIS....

It's that time of the year when dormant memories rise. Glossing over the product of 7 and 12, the numbers are special to me as the significant period of my growing up.

Shifting from Muttra (Mathura) to Bharatpur, we, Pitaji, Mataji (my Nana and Nani) and I, moved in a house called Balbir Bhavan. Pitaji was settling down in a new appointment as a High Court Judge under the eccentric Maharaja. Pitaji was honest and sincere to the core and sometimes undue pressures made him worry if he could survive in the job. There were other factors such as keeping the Maharaja happy in the Club with Tennis and other activities. Then the Maharaja decided to declare Tuesday as holiday instead of Sunday. That too irked Pitaji as Sunday was the day for the weekly visit of a barber for haircut and shave followed by shampoo which Pitaji was not comfortable with on Tuesday, being a holy day. Somehow, he survived all that.

One day, Pitaji wanted me to have a haircut which I resisted. Pitaji gave me a very light slap which did not hurt at all but the rebuke stung as that was the only time he raised his hand at me.

In summer, we used to sleep in the balcony. Lying in bed, Pitaji would ask me to recount the lessons I had learnt in the day. I would start speaking and stop when I heard Pitaji snore. But the moment I did so, he would wake up with a start and ask why I had stopped.

Some other tidbits I recall. Shashi Mama on vacation catching high fever and fed up with being given just milk all the time, shouting, "Doodh Maharaj ki jai!"; my mixing Dalmoth with milk and horrifying a visitor; touching the fuse box with two fingers and getting flung off the staircase I was standing on; taking a paan for Chachaji, my great-grandfather, who did not want it and eating it myself not knowing it contained tobacco!

We lived in Balbir Bhavan for less than a year before moving to what was known as 'Control House' as it was an Excise Control Office before being allotted to Pitaji. It was fairly large with rooms all around an 'aangan' which became my favourite place in the house. By then, I had started following Cricket and being by myself most of the time, devised a way to play the game alone by bouncing a Tennis or rubber ball off the facing wall and batting on the rebound. 

Newspapers were the only way to read about Cricket and that's how I followed the progress of the Indian team led by Nawab of Pataudi Senior on the tour of England in 1946. I became familiar with the names of stalwarts such as Vijay Merchant, Mushtaq Ali, Lala Amarnath, Vinoo Mankad and Gul Mohammad but my top favourite was Vijay Hazare. I was thrilled to read about him and Gul Mohammad strike a record partnership of 577 runs for Baroda in the Ranji Trophy final of 1946-47 against Holkar. Mohammad scored 319 while Hazare made 288.

In the winter of 1947-48, the Indian team toured Australia which at that time was unbeatable with legends such as Don Bradman, Lindsay Hassett, Ray Lindwall and Keith Miller. The Indian team was thrashed 4-0 in the 5 match series but in the 4th test at Adelaide, Vijay Hazare made 116 and 145 becoming the first Indian cricketer to score a century in both innings of a test.

In 1948, Pitaji, Mataji and I went to Delhi and I witnessed my first test match with India playing West Indies at the Ferozeshah Kotla ground. West Indies rattled up a huge score with Clyde Walcott, Gerry Gomez, Everton Weekes and Robert Christiani scoring centuries but India managed a draw thanks to Hemu Adhikari scoring an unbeaten century and 50-plus knocks from KC Ibrahim, Rusi Mody and Lala Amarnath. Following on, Adhikari remained unbeaten in the second innings too and helped draw the match.

A troublesome fact about the 'aangan' was that it was home to many yellow wasps (tattaiyas) which stung me quite often. Then someone told me to avoid any movement if a wasp came close. One day, a wasp alighted on my arm. I just froze which was difficult as I could see and feel the creature crawling on my skin. But I held my nerve and soon the wasp flew off harmlessly. Funny enough, no wasp has targeted me after that!

In those days, I often suffered from malaria which made me very weak. Our family doctor advised that I should eat eggs. Now ours was a strictly vegetarian house where even onion and garlic were taboo. But Mataji cast away all religious and emotional reservations and put an 'angeethi' and required utensils aside in the verandah where she would boil two eggs and make me eat them every day.

Since most of the time I was alone, I invented company and had imaginary friends Pip, Peep, John and Beau, supposedly studying with me at New Zealand's Wellington University. I very much missed Mummy, who was studying at Allahabad, and used to count the days till she came home on vacations. Ditto for my Mamas. Vinnie Mama was adept at drawing cartoons and one I remember well was of his bedding, which he had forgotten in the compartment while changing trains, searching high and low for him.

Vinnie Mama was awaited anxiously for another reason: he always came with a collection of the latest Pankaj Mullick 78 rpm records which I was very fond of.

On Ganesh Chaturthi in 1945, my formal schooling started. Actually, an effort was made to put me in a school earlier but soon after joining, some friends persuaded me to bunk and go out and play with them.When someone came to pick me up, I was missing and it took a long time before I was found. That got me a sound thrashing from Mataji and Mummy and I was taken off school! Luckily, the school shifted very near the Control House and I was allowed to rejoin. 

I was a fairly good student and one memory I have is that of doing well in a Maths exam in Class V and coming home singing Pankaj Mullick's 'Aaj apni mehnaton ka mujhko samra mil gaya.'

Meanwhile, history was in the making. Independence was declared on 15 August 1947 amidst communal riots and tanks rolling in to quell any doubts in the Maharaja's mind about joining the Indian Union. Returning from school one day, I saw a dangerous bunch of people with spears coming my way. Frightened, I hid behind some bushes till they went past. Later I wondered what would have happened if they had seen me; I had no way of identifying myself as either a Hindu or a Muslim!

And then came Mahatma Gandhi's assassination. Mummy by then had finished her Masters degree and was teaching in a girls' school in Bharatpur. She had gone to a friend's house and heard the news on radio. I remember her frightened and shocked look when she returned home and told us about it.

On the lighter side, I was old enough to see movies and Mummy, who was fond of them, used to take me along. One of the earliest I recall was "Hunterwali Ki Beti" the main character of which had the screen name 'Fearless Nadia'. She was an Australian born actress who had moved to India with her Scottish father. Unbelievably, in an era totally dominated by males, she played a woman who would singlehandedly fight a large number of men. Nadia herself performed dangerous stunts like jumping from a roof and landing on both feet with a scornful laugh!  

Another memorable movie was "Anmol Ghadi" featuring Suraiya, Noor Jehan and Surendra. It was packed with 12 hit songs including Shamshad Begum's 'Udan Khatole Pe Ud Jaoon, Tere Haath Na Aoon' and one of my favourite 'bachpan' songs, Noor Jehan's 'Mere Bachpan Ke Saathi Mujhe Bhool Na Jana'.

'Bachpan' was a popular genre those days. There were many unforgettable numbers such as Shamshad and Lata's 'Bachpan Ke Din Bhula Na Dena' and Lata's solo 'Bachpan Ki Muhabbat Ko Dil Se Na Juda Karna' to go along with the older Pankaj Mullick and Pahari Sanyal's 'Kahan Woh Bachpan Ka Pyara Sapna' and Hemant Kumar's 'Bhala Tha Kitna Apna Bachpan'.

In the final year in Bharatpur, we moved into a new house called "Dev Kutir". Vinnie Mama had joined the Navy and came home on leave full of naval stories and his photos in smart, white uniform. I promptly dressed in whites, shirt, shorts, stockings, shoes and all, and put on his cap and Sub Lieut's epaulettes on my shoulders and got myself photographed. The photo was securely affixed in an album but sadly, I can't trace it now. Anyway, the seed of an idea of becoming a naval officer had been sowed resulting in my joining the NDA 6 years later. 

The summer of 1949 was extremely hot. Shashi Mama was on vacation getting bored confined to the house the whole day. At the end of the day, he would unfailingly shout out his one-liner, "Garaz Ke Kaat Diya Zindagi Ka Din Ek Aur." Mummy decided to escape the heat by taking me to visit Mansiji in Dehra Dun where Masarji was commanding the 5th Gurkha Regiment. Along with their family, we visited Mussoorie where I insisted on going to a skating rink with Mummy saying no. I set off on my own and got separated from Mummy which led to some anxious moments for all before we were reunited.

On return to Dehra Dun, we got the sad news of my grand uncle, Rameshwar Nathji's sudden passing away at the age of just 50 and Mummy and I caught the first available train to Alwar. He was the last male elder from my father's side and we used to visit him a lot. The fact that his wife was Mataji's elder sister was another reason for our frequent visits. Once, Mataji took me to Alwar to try and escape a mumps infection rampant among my schoolmates but by the time we reached Alwar, I was already down with the illness. A Hakim was called who used to paint my cheeks and throat with some black paste. I recovered without much pain within three days whereas I had seen my friends suffering for weeks in Bharatpur.

A halwai had his shop just outside the house in Alwar and used to make the most delectable and juicy 'imartis' I have ever eaten. Unfortunately, my grand aunt, who had no children of her own, moved to her step daughter's house and my visit to Alwar at the time of grand uncle's demise was the last time I went to that city.

Soon after, Pitaji was appointed Judge in the newly formed Rajasthan High Court and transferred to Udaipur. When moving from Muttra to Bharatpur, I had innocently muttered "Abhi to kahan kahan jayenge, Jaipur Vaipur". At that time, any further move was far from my grandparents' thoughts  and Mataji immediately shut me up with a harsh admonition, "Chup kar, kulachchni baat nahin kehte''. My words were now turning prophetic with the 'Vaipur' part coming true soon to be followed by 'Jaipur'.

I had entered my 12th year and grown out of 'bachpan'.

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