My Story
Sumant and Sulu. Not just Hemant’s but my papa and mummy too.
My friendship with Hemant started in K C College’s science class in 1966. Hemant wrote his name a Hemant Sumant Shah, not Sumantlal – “lal” or similar suffix, the norm in Gujarati families. I was wonderstruck. But more was to come when I actually met mummy and papa. Mummy called out to papa by name – “Suman!”. The chain of unusual behaviour continued on and on. Why was I surprised? I come from a strong patriarchal family, where the menfolk earn, and that’s it! No household work at all. Even a glass of water was handed to them by the women in the house, when they come home from work. But in this household, everyone did every task, be it doing the dishes, laundry, sweeping and mopping, the works! I lost my father in 1962 when I was just 12. My elder brother and his wife, became my surrogate parents, and nurtured me to adulthood. They laughed away many instances of my childish behaviour.
My relationship with papa and mummy grew over time, becoming a parent child bond. They cured me of my childish behaviour – which my brother and his wife had smiled away – with either a pinched ear or a kind redirection. Their love and affection for me was no less than that for Hemant. They were simple, direct and principled. Not miserly, but thrifty. During our college days, if Hemant’s shirt collar was frayed, mummy would flip it front to back, and the shirt carried on as usual.
Both mummy and pappa had retired from their jobs with Modern school and Scindia’s by the time I came to know them. Hemant had joined IIT in 1968, and was living in the Hostels there. Irrespective of whether he was home for the weekend or not, pappa mummy’s warmth would get me to their home for sure. Frequently, pappa would not be home when I reached, and when he did come back, I would ask him where he had been, and he would invariably reply “bird watching!”. Mummy would make hot chocolate for me, and occasionally, if I said “no” for the offer, pappa would scold me, “say “yes”, then I too will get hot chocolate!” He loved sweet foods, to the extent that he would put 4 spoons of sugar in half a cup of tea. He would make Shrikhand himself, and he would add so much cardamom powder, that the yoghurt would loose its white colour. He had little interest in fried snacks, or clothes, or eating out and such stuff.
Mummy was way ahead of pappa in some areas. There would be no bought out snacks at home, nor any of the friend snacks common to Gujarati homes. All guests would be offered freshly cooked snacks.
Many Gujarati homes of that period would exchange old clothes for utensils from itinerant vendors of that exchange industry. But not mummy. She always gave old clothes to the needy, and if they needed repair, it would be done before giving! While she was a personal spendthrift, she was never miserly.
I recall one incident about pappa’s careless dressing ways: Anju was to visit their home for the first time, so mummy specifically warned him to wear his muslin shirt right side out! He did occasionally wear it inside out. This was the first Gujarati family I knew of whose hobbies and interest ran counter to the stereo type of Gujarati’s – for who, the rattle of money was music – with strong affinity for Hindustani classical music. I was fold of old Hindi film songs, but they were a long way away from classical music. They took me along – my first experience – for Bhismillah Khan’s shahanai concert. Tea in a thermos flask, snacks, a picnic mat and binoculars were packed along. Tickets were invariably the cheapest, and right at the back of the auditorium, so the bino’s were needed to see the artists expressions! Subsequently, I went along for many such musical evenings and later Geeta and my children also picked up that interest.
Another all pervading hobby was his rambling amongst mountains. And because of the mountains, one came across, flora fauna and nature in it’s solitude and grandeur. Of course the associated interest was in photography. The whole family would take off during school holidays. Accommodation could be dharamshala or even tents, and since all cooking equipment was taken along, they would always cook for themselves. A few energy foods like ‘golpapadi’ would be taken along – sweet for sure! And eating out was by and large avoided.
They may well have seen the whole of India in this way, but their preferred locations were places in the Himalayas. Travel expenses were tightly managed, but expenses for film was free and easy! If the place was attractive to visit, but no public transport was available, a car would be hired without hesitation. It is rare to see Gujarati’s of this bent of mind because majority of Gujarati’s prefer “ras” in Rome, and “patra” in Paris. Geeta and I were leaving for a visit to Europe, and we were getting “tips” from others who had been there on tours. “You will get wonderful samosa and batatavada on top of Jung Frau”!
As soon as pappa and gang returned from one of their treks, I would start demanding to see their photos – transparencies really -
I was essentially brought up by my family of my brothers and their wives, but my social values were strongly shaped by pappa and mummy. I got married in 1974, and Geeta was quickly pulled into the family like a daughter. Geeta too quickly became confident that if she needed to open up about my behaviour to anyone, pappa mummy were the people to speak to. They too would occasionally give a tip or two to Geeta, but in most instances they would address my macho instincts. “we have brought a girl from her birth family into ours, so it is our inviolate duty to ensure that she is comfortable both physically and more importantly, emotionally. Chetan had already been born when Hemant got married. Janaki Chandani and Vaidehi took turns arriving. There has never ever been any difference in the way all four children were treated.
Mummy had specially made an elaborate applique work bed spread as my wedding gift, and repeated a similar gift when I went to live in my own house. Their affection for children extended beyond our four, to my nephew and nieces as well, and they were taken along to the zoo or Handing gardens or a day trip to Borivali forests and exposed to birds, flowers trees etc.
I was at their home for a fortnight immediately after mummy passed away. Both Hemant and I heard some pleasant and revealing stories from visitors who came to offer their condolences; a few who we had never seen before. They would talk about how mummy had helped them financially or materially or in some way during their troubled times. None of us knew of these instances. Her personal life was thrifty but her helping hand was liberal. I was in tears as I left after 15 days, and Anju consoled me and said “don’t cry”, but pappa said, “No, let him cry, he too has lost his mother”. When I got home, my elder sister came over to console me, knowing that I too had lost my mother.
A while later, all four of us joined pappa and Hemant’s four to spend a month travelling in Darjeeling and Sikkim. That is when I realised how they travelled. All of us learnt a lot from that trip. We talk about pappa’s principled way of life, but we must also mention when he freely broke all his principles!
Vaidehi was still a little toddler when I met them at a bus stop at Churchgate station. As usual, we climbed up to the upper level of the double decker bus, and sat right up front. Vaidehi wanted to pee, so pappa did not bother with anybody’s value system, and let Vaidehi pee on the floor of the bus!
There was another incident after which we started calling him “Pakistani Umpire”. We were travelling on our Darjeeling and Sikkim trip. We always made sure that pappa got his favourite window seat in the train or in the bus. But as soon as the train or bus started moving, he would shift Janaki from her seat with all the children, to his window seat. Similarly, he would give his bowl of yoghurt to Janaki so that she got two bowls of yoghurt! We would laugh off his behaviour, scold him for it, correct the unfair practice, but he was unbending in breaking all rules for his grand daughters.
I have witnessed all aspects of pappa and mummy’s feelings and expressions there of for each other. There is a poem my Suresh Dalal which springs to mind, “How wonderful that this old woman has so much affection for the old man”!
Deepest heartfelt pranams from Dhananjay / Geeta / Chetan / Neha / Kahan / Chandani / Pratik / Rivan
