BABUJI’S "EZHARAI SANI" - 1955 to 1962

Astrology says that in every person’s life there is an ‘ezharai sani dasai’ (a period of seven and a half years, controlled by Lord Saneeswarar, and it could be good or bad).

Where Babuji was concerned, it was good. Babuji’s ezharai sani period took us all out of Delhi. (This picture was taken just before we left Delhi in 1955.) He was sent to the districts in the south to get administrative training. We were in the south for exactly seven and a half years. Babuji enjoyed this seven and a half years, getting new experience, working in different capacities.



Our first stop was in Trichy for a ten month period. Babuji was directly under the collector as Assistant Collector. He also was the District Magistrate, had to attend court sessions, listen to witnesses and advocates’ arguments, taking notes and passing judgments. For this he had to learn to read and write Tamil, since most of the court proceedings were in Tamil. Being a Keralite, Babuji had learnt Malayalam in school, like me and most Kerala Brahmins. We learnt to read Tamil with the help of magazines like Ananda Vikatan. Babuji started learning to read and write Tamil, which he did in a short time, with the help of his clerk Arumugam.

Within a week of our arrival in Trichy, Babuji bought our first car, a Landmaster, free India’s first automobile product, and the older brother to the Ambassador of today. The car Babuji bought was powder blue in colour. We all fell in love with it at first sight, and were very proud of it. Babuji learnt driving very quickly, with Kuppuswamy, our new driver as teacher. Kuppuswamy was with us for the next two years, till we came to Pondicherry.

Babuji decided to go to Srirangam on a Sunday – our first trip in the car. His plan was to leave home by 4.30 pm. When his clerk, peon and driver, why even our maidservant all heard of this plan, they were very much troubled and informed Babuji that on Sunday the ‘rahu kaalam’ being 4.30 pm to 6 pm, we should leave at least by 4 pm instead of 4.30 pm. “To start anything in the rahu kaalam will not end well,” was their general opinion. Babuji being one who never believed in these things pooh-poohed the idea. And we left home exactly at 4.30 pm.

As we reached the bridge connecting Trichy to Srirangam a huge truck or lorry, I don’t exactly remember what, was all of a sudden in front of us, coming at full speed. Kuppuswamy’s presence of mind saved the day, and also all our lives. He steered the car to the left in a fraction of a second, and moved the car away from the lorry’s front wheels. The car hit the bridge wall, and the sudden impact did damage the car, but not much. There was a dent, and the paint was scraped off on the left side of the car. Thank God we were saved in time.

This made such an impact on Babuji, he started having belief in rahu kaalam and respected the sentiments of other people. The car behaved very well for the next two years that it was with us. We even made a trip to Ernakulam to attend Kuttiappa’s son Raja’s wedding – three generations packed in the car - Babuji’s parents, we both and the four children. Raja the youngest, who was born in January was just ten weeks old then. And it was here that I meant Ranjini, Babuji's cousin's wife, for the first time. A boat trip was arranged for the bridegroom’s party and everybody jumped at the idea and welcomed it. I stayed back with Raja, because I did not want to take him in the boat. Along came Ranjini with her three month old baby, and with no inhibitions, asked me to baby-sit her baby also and left. And I really liked her from that moment.

Babuji had a lot of touring to do, mostly to Pudukottai, at least once a month. There he used to stay in the Traveller’s Bungalow, which had a fresh air, open loo in the fields at the back. He confided to me after his first trip that he was really frightened to use those open air loos, with the pigs (full grown huge ones) waiting to pounce on what he had left behind, once he got up.

The house in Trichy was a furnished one, arranged for us by Mr. Viswanathan Nair, the DIG then. He and his family became good friends of ours. The children also got along very well. And we even visited his native house when we went to Ernakulam. Mr. Viswanathan Nair helped us to settle down in this new place, which was very welcome. The house was in the middle of a very big compound – it was a very nice change for us from the first floor flats we had lived in Lodhi Road and Pandara Road of New Delhi. Everything was new for us, particularly for the children. This house was in Khaja Malai, away from the hustle bustle of the city.

Before leaving Delhi we distributed our furniture to two or three of our friends, and they promised to take good care of them till our return. We travelled to the south with the bare essentials like our clothes, bedding and kitchen pots and pans.

In Trichy we made good friends apart from Viswanathan Nair – P. T. Raman Nair and the Warriers. The Warriers were a happy pleasant couple, who loved our children dearly. Their only son Raja was studying, and in the hostel at that time. This friendship continued after we returned to Delhi also. And some seven or eight years ago, Raji, Muthu and I met her at her son’s place. I found Mrs. Warrier a very much broken lady, since she had lost her husband. Theirs was a love marriage, and they were in love with each other till the last.

We also had the experience of bathing in the River Kaveri. It was on the occasion of Chippachi (Babuji’s brother Viswanathan) and Chithi’s seemantham, conducted at our place in May 1956. There were more than 20 people at home for more than a week or so. That was no problem, for the house was really big. But a problem occurred one fine morning when we found there was no electricity, and our overhead tank empty. Our daily help was willing to draw water from the well for the two dozen people to take their bath, which was too much strain. So we all made three or four trips to bathe in the Kaveri. We all enjoyed it , and it was more like a picnic.

After ten months, we left for Chingleput. Babuji’s sense of humour and the way he treated his officers and subordinates equally with respect and friendship made him very popular. There were many tear-filled eyes when we left Trichy.

SRI AUROBINDO ASHRAM AND THE MOTHER

The Mother

While we were in Pondicherry, Aurobindo Ashram was a force to reckon with, with the Mother running it with a soft fur-gloved iron hand. The ashram was founded by Sri Aurobindo in 1926. The Mother whose name was Mira Alfassa, was the main disciple of Sri Aurobindo, and after his time she took over the reins, and ran the Ashram on well oiled rails.

From a mere handful of Ashramites at that time, the number rose to more than 2,000 under the Mother’s care. All Ashramites had to do their share of work in the various departments. The Mother took care of their food, clothing, shelter and medical care.

The Ashram buildings were on the Eastern side of Pondicherry, nearly half of the ‘white city’ was occupied by the various institutions like their schools, factories, shops and stores. The Mother was highly respected and regarded as a divine personality, not only by the Ashramites, but also by many outsiders. People used to come to Pondicherry just to have a darshan of the Mother. But, personally, I felt no inclination to meet her.

The Mother used to give darshan to the public every morning and every evening. In the morning it was only for about 5 to 10 minutes, standing at the balcony of her residence. A large crowd on the road would be waiting below the balcony patiently for her darshan. Babuji used to stand a little away form the crowd every morning while taking his morning walk. He used to tell me seeing the Mother in the mornings made his day’s work easy and fulfilled. He never met her personally. The balcony where the Mother used to give darshan.

Even then the Mother knew all about Babuji and the way he handled many of the issues that came between the Government and the Ashram. If there were any difficult situations the Mother used to tell Mr. Pinto (Ashram’s spokesman) to consult Babuji and do accordingly. If Babuji was not seen by the Mother at his usual place in the mornings for three or four days (that is, whenever he went to Delhi on official visits) the Mother used to ask Mr. Pinto, with so much concern, “What happened to Mr. Ramakrishnan? I haven’t seen him for two days!”

Among our various guests and visitors who came to Pondicherry, only one couple wanted to see the Mother. As Babuji was busy and had no time to spare in the days the couple was with us, it fell to me to take them to see the Mother. In the evenings every day, the Mother used to receive those who came to see her, with a nod and a smile, standing in the garden of her apartment. I took the couple to the place and we had to join the long line of people in front us waiting to see her. When I came face-to-face with the Mother, the way she looked at me was full of love, affection and kindness. It was too much for me to bear. I had to bend down to touch her feet, like those in front of me did. Her look was so powerful I felt all my inhibitions slipping away and I felt blessed.

When the time came for us to leave Pondicherry, Babuji and I were in two minds whether to meet the Mother and get her blessings, and take leave of her personally. As if the Mother could read our minds, the very next morning, the Mother sent us her blessings along with a copy of 'The Gita' by Sri Aurobindo, an autographed photo of the Mother herself and a bottle of perfume. It was too much, and we were completely floored. The Gita and the photo are still with Viji. Viji and Raja joined the Mother’s School in Delhi to continue their studies, after we came back to Delhi.

Sri Aurobindo and the Mother had believed that the evolution of mankind is not complete, until he reaches through yoga and a conscious aspiration a higher state of mind called Supra natural. To prove that and to bring human unity in diversity, the Mother planned to build Auroville, the city of Dawn, and laid the foundation for it 1968. The Mother did not live long enough to see it completed. She passed away in 1973. Her mortal remains were laid to rest under a canopy of trees in the compound of the building where she had lived for many years, beside the Samadhi of Sri Aurobindo.

Photos: Courtesy Internet

Mme. IN PONDICHERRY

In spite of my heavy responsibilities at home taking care of my husband’s and children’s needs, and also those of Babuji’s parents, who were living with us, I really enjoyed my life in Pondicherry. I too played an active part, though small, in many events there. I was asked to judge baby shows, flower shows and beauty contests. Once I was asked to open a tailoring class, which I agreed to gladly; only I did not know that I had to make a speech, and that too in Tamil. I agree, yes, that my mother tongue is Tamil, but it is the Tamil spoken at home with many Malayalam words, and a very Malayalam accent. Since most Pondicherrians could not understand English at that period, I had to speak in my Manipravalam Tamil. I am sure it was not appreciated greatly, because I was never asked to make a speech again! Thank God.

The last time I was at Gowri’s place I was asked to make a speech at the school where Gowri was doing an honorary job helping senior children with their English. It was no problem for me as I had to speak in English

Annual Sports meets were held in the Cluny Convent, in the Medical College, and in the Police Department. They were really big events to which all the top brass was invited. JIPMER was just coming up at that time. The foundation stone had been laid. The Medical College at that time was not a big one, and it was run in two or there buildings.
Babuji receives the prize at a Police Sports meet from Tara Cherian, then Mayor of Madras
In all these sports events there was one item for the guests as in all sports meets of schools and colleges today. We were all expected to take part and we did. Invariably in all these meets, Babuji and I used to win, Babuji in the men’s events, and me in the women’s events. And if it was a common event, it was Maiji who won. It happened almost in every meet all the time.

As usual there was a Medical College sports meet in late 1961. We both were there among the spectators. At the end of all the main events, the guest event was announced. The Master of Ceremonies was calling out all the ladies by name, asking them to come forward. He was saying, “Where is Mrs. Ramakrishna, the lucky winner of all events? Come on, please.” So I slowly got up from my seat and took a step. Dr. Mrs, Abraham, the gynaecologist, who was sitting a couple of seats away from me shouted, “No, Mrs. Ramakrishna, you are not to run in your condition, so please sit down.” There was a sudden hush in our area of the spectators, and all heads turned towards me. That was how the imminent arrival of Gowri (our youngest) was announced to the Pondy public.

Talking of doctors, reminds me of one occasion when I was suffering from severe stomach pain. Dr. Souccu’s name was recommended, and Babuji requested him to come home.
I was really apprehensive thinking he would be French, and not be able to understand English. He came home, and when he learnt we were from Kerala he started talking to us in Malayalam. He explained that he also was from Kerala and that his name was Sukumaran, and that he was named Souccu by the French. Anyway we were really intrigued by his treatment. He told me he would give me a powder for ‘naalu kaasu’ (less than 25 paise today), and when I became all right, he would give me a costly tonic. Believe it or not, I was cured by the ‘naalu kaasu’ powder. The 'naalu kaasu' powder, he told us later, was actually charcoal powder!

We liked him so much and respected his judgement, and treatment whenever needed. Here I must mention that he was completely bowled over by Raja, just three years old then. Raja was suffering from some pains in and around the neck, and he himself explained to the Doctor all his symptoms. The Doctor quietly brushed me aside, and listened to Raja.

The day I first went shopping I was advised by my peers that I just could not walk into any shop. But I had to sit in the car and ask for things I needed, and they would be brought to me in the car for approval and selection. I did not like that kind of shopping. In spite of all the advice I just walked into the shops and bought what I needed. How could anyone sit in the car and buy shoes for the children – that was what rattled me. So I made a change in the way officers’ wives shopped. Wives of officers who came after us to Pondicherry (all officers were sent on deputation from Delhi) also followed my example. We also went vegetable shopping.

I also tried my hand at social work, but I did not take a fancy to it. The kind of social work we did was to go to one of the cheris, bathe the children, sweep the street and so on. I felt that I would rather remain at home, bathe my children and keep my house clean.

We made some good friends there - the Krishnaswamys,(seen with Maiji here) the Subramaniams, the Mamaks and the Singhs. The Krishnaswamys and the Subramaniams were very special – we referred to the Krishnaswamys as Uncle and Aunty, and they in turn called us Niece and Nephew. Their only son practically grew up in our place. After Pondicherry, whenever they came to Delhi, they always spent time with us. When Aunty passed away in 1981, Uncle personally called us and gave us the sad news. As I was recovering from a surgery at that time, Uncle came to our place to share his grief with us. That was how strong our friendship was. He was one of our Pondy friends who also attended Gowri’s wedding in 1986.

The Subramniams, MS to us, was another special couple. We spent many evenings together, playing chess. After leaving Pondicherry, we went and spent some days with them in Bangalore. They were in New Delhi for a few years after that, and we used to meet them often, which strengthened our friendship. Even today if I were to lift the receiver I can carry on a conversation with either of them, as if I had parted from them only last week.

The way Ajayab Singh and I met was very funny. It was one mid morning when he walked into our drawing room and asked me where his table was and what was his working time was. I could not make head or tail of what he was saying. So he introduced himself as the new Statistics Officer who had come to join duty. I had to make him understand that this was not an office, but a residence. He looked very sheepish as he left! This meeting left a kind of bond between us – a secret shared by just the two of us. I saw them last in 1998.

I haven’t seen many of these friends for a long time, and don’t know where many of them are, but I cherish their memories.

SCHOOL DAYS AND ACHIEVEMENTS

The best part of our life in Pondicherry was the children Raji, Bala and Viji’s chance to attend the best school – the convent, St. Joseph de Cluny High School. The school had different sections, English medium and French medium. Our children attended the English medium, where French was taught as second language. Mother Peter, as we started calling her, once we came to know each other well, was the Principal of the English school.

The Rev. Mother Peter Claver, to give her full name, was a very distinguished person, very friendly, and with a smile and good word for every one. She in return was loved and respected by all the students, and by all the parents. She had the capacity to make every child of the school to do their best to the extent possible. She goaded the not so good ones to do well (in studies), the good ones to do better, the better ones to do their best, and the best ones to excel themselves. And the students did not let her down.


Viji and Raja at breakfast before school










Raji, who was a very good student, excelled herself and did both Mother Peter and us her parents proud by passing the school leaving Matriculation with first class marks. She was ranked first in Pondicherry, and second in the whole of Madras State, as Tamilnadu was then known. Were we proud of her! The school presented her with a gold medal. Raji is not the only one in the family to have got a gold medal. Babuji was also a gold medallist - for topping in English, when he passed his B. A. The next gold medallist in the family is Gowri, when she topped in her M. A. (English Litt) some 20 years after Raji. Raji became eligible for a Govt. Merit cum Means scholarship, when she joined Lady Shri Ram College in Delhi to do Eng. Litt. But her father’s earnings exceeded Rs.1,000, and she was denied that scholarship.

Mother Peter was very, very fond of Raji, and Raji always insists, even today, that she was Mother Peter’s pet. She even visited Raji in Madras, when she settled down there after marriage. They stayed in touch with each other till Mother Peter died. Mother Peter saw to it that Raji took part in all the activities in school like sports (she was House- Captain, even) and variety programmes. Not only Raji, Bala, Viji and Raja, once he joined the school, took part in all these activities which helped them to be more self-possessed and confident about themselves.

Raja, once he joined school became Mother Peter’s ‘sweetheart’. She became very fond of Raja, who was very adorable, even though I say it myself. While at school, Raja once got injured when a cyclist hit him and knocked him down, as he was crossing the street. Mother Peter herself escorted Raja home, after giving him first aid.

Raja is at the extreme right, near the little girl, in this playtime picture

When Raja joined school his education was free. The rule was that every fourth child of a family was not charged fees, if all four children were studying in the school at the same time. Next year Bala (fourth from the bottom in this line-up at Cluny) had to move to another school, Petit Seminaire for his middle school, as boys were not allowed in High School - the school was co-ed only till Std. VII. In Petit Seminaire also Bala took part in many school activities, and won prizes too. Here you see Bala as a gypsy in the fancy dress competition at the Petit Seminaire.
After passing Std. VIII, he joined Madrasi School in New Delhi to do High School, before joining IIT.

Viji started attending Bharata Natyam classes privately and even performed on stage when Tara Cherian, then Governor of Madras, visited Pondicherry. Viji was the pet of Uncle and Aunty, our dear friends Krishnaswamy and Indira. At that time their son was not yet born, and Viji was thoroughly spoilt by them.

All told the children too, in their own way had a very good and enjoyable time in Pondicherry.

Babuji started feeling he had spent enough time in the south, and that it was time to be back in Delhi. So as not to disrupt the children’s education, Raji was sent to Trivandrum to my parents’ place to do P-U. C, a one year course. Bala was sent to be with Chippachi to do his High School. And I was not at all happy – Raji just 15, and Bala just 13.

Raji came back after doing her P-U. C. do you know what she did? Mother Peter was in need of someone to take the place of a teacher who was on leave. Raji took up the challenge and taught Maths to students of classes 5, 6 and 7 – and she was only 16 then – and Viji was one of her students

Gowri’s second daughter Swati also followed Raji’s footsteps after passing out of school last year. She helped in a friend’s school by teaching Biology for three months, where the students were just a couple of years younger than she was. She was so good , that the students begged her not to leave when she had to go to Delhi LSR College for further studies.

Once at a party, M. Bertho of the French government told me that he had seen my husband gallivanting with a young lovely girl, many a time, and that I should be more careful and more strict with him. You should have seen his expression when I told him that the young girl he referred to was none other than our eldest daughter! He could not believe it saying “You both do not look old enough to have such a grown up daughter.”

What a compliment.

Raji with the medal, and (right) at one of the programmes. (She is in the centre, left row ).

DINNER DANCES, AND (FANCY) DRESSES

The Cercle de Pondichery was the local club where the elite met every evening for a game of tennis, or a round of bridge, or several rounds of drinks. Babuji, who used to play tennis before he got married, started playing again every evening, and enjoyed it very much.

It was here at the club I was introduced to Dubonnet, a sweet wine, which I really enjoyed, and given a choice, I always went for that. The children were given a treat at the club once a week, the club’s special open toasted sandwich with tomato and onion chutney, which we had never tasted before, or after our time in Pondicherry. It was something different and new and enjoyed by all.
Soon after our arrival in this town, there was a fancy dress party for the children, held in the club. Just to introduce the children to the club, I had Viji, a six-year old, dressed as a South Indian bride,
and Bala, a ten year old then as a bridegroom. Raji was dressed as a gypsy girl. The costumes were a success, and appreciated by all.

Later on there was a fancy dress party for the adults as well, and Babuji and I took part. I was a Malayali woman and wore the traditional white mundu - neriyathu, and Babuji was a Reddiar, with diamond earrings sparkling in his ears.











On the last Saturday of every month, the club used to organise a dinner- dance party which was well attended from the Chief Commissioner downwards. Ninety nine percent of the club members were non-vegetarians. On Saturdays they refrained from non- vegetarian food. Hence accordingly, the dinner used to be announced only after midnight. The music and the dance, starting from 9 pm or 9.30 pm went on into the small hours of the next day.

Though neither of us danced, Babuji and I used to go regularly to listen to the music and watch the others dance. One couple used to do the rock and roll so well that all the other dancers would move back and give them the whole floor. And this couple, the Squires, used to do full justice to this privilege.

Mr. Kripalani was really surprised when he asked me for a dance once, and I told him that I did not dance. His next question was, “Well, then, do you sing?”
“No.”
“Do you play tennis? Do you play bridge? Do you swim?” were his next questions, to all of which my answer was – “No.”
He was really taken aback, and asked me seriously, “Then how do you manage to survive?”

Mr. Kripalani belonged to the Indian Civil Service cadre, whose members were trained in England in pre-independent years, and these officers were totally anglicized. Well, actually, there are some exceptions to this. And we came to know one of them in Trichy, while we were there for ten months. He was a District Judge there. A Malayali, he was not in the least anglicized, and he and his family were very down-to-earth people. His children and Raji and Bala were good friends, and went to school together. Mr. Kripalani, being a bachelor, and used to his own life-style, could not understand that a housewife with four demanding children and a husband, had plenty of reasons to survive, without any other outside recreations.

What really knocked me out was seeing a whole roasted pig, with a garland round its neck and a nimboo in its mouth as the centrepiece at the non-vegetarian table. Thank goodness I was able to hide my feelings and surprise from showing on my face. I had seen pictures like this in many English magazines, and that saved me.

There was a separate table for the vegetarians – “The Grass Eaters” we were called. Today’s grass eaters, or, shall I say grass smokers, use a different grass.

The club used to hold dinner dance parties for visiting dignitaries too. There were also magic shows, puppet shows and mono-acting shows. Special Christmas parties for the children were held, too. All told, the club life was enjoyed by everybody. It was a kind of life which we had never experienced before, or after our Pondy life.

In Pondicherry we were one in a hundred. Coming back to Delhi, we were just one in a million.

DINNERS AND MUSIC

After that first sit down dinner that I experienced on our first day (official day) in Pondicherry, I found that it was only the first of its kind. In the five and odd years we were in Pondicherry, there were more and more to follow. Not only were there sit down dinners, there were also buffet dinners, sit-down lunches, garden parties, tea parties and more - Babuji and I learnt to take this in our stride.

All the dinners hosted by the Chief Commissioners usually ended with songs from the guests. Mr. J. L. Kripalani, the then Chief Commissioner, was a music lover. His dinner parties at the Government House ended with a song either from Saroja or from Loknath Bhattacharya. Saroja’s ‘Katriniley Varum Geetham’ was Mr. Kripalani’s favourite. Mr. Bhattacharya was good with patriotic songs and also light Bengali songs. Astir was good with Hindi classical and light music. Her rendition of K. L. Saigal’s ‘Babul Mora’ was enjoyed by one and all. Even after 50 odd years, that song still haunts me the way Astir sang it.(See picture: Mr. Kriplani on the left with Babuji (right) and a friend.)

Bhattacharya had a good clear and loud voice, and he was very proud of his voice and singing. Here I have to tell you about a dinner at the Government House concerning Bhattacharya and his songs. Once when Mr. C. D. Deshmukh the then Finance Minister and his wife Mrs. Durgabai Deshmukh, then the Social Welfare Minister, came to Pondicherry on an official visit. Mr. Kripalani hosted a dinner for them, and he had invited the top ten officials with their wives to it. We were all seated at four or five tables with six persons to a table. I was seated at the table where Mrs. Deshmukh was siting. She was a very considerate lady with no frills attached, and carried on a conversation with all of us at her table with ease. The dinner, a five course one, with red or white wine for each course, was being enjoyed by everybody. As we were waiting for the last course, the sweet dish and the fruits, Mr. Kripalani requested Mr. Bhattacharya for a song. The young man promptly stood up and started singing the national anthem, ‘Jana Gana Mana’.

The chief guests stood up, and so also the rest of us. When the national anthem ended, the chief guest walked away from the table, the rest of us following them. We were all deprived of the sweet dish for which the Government House chef was very famous. We were sure that Mr. Kripalani gave Mr. Bhattacharya a good and lashing piece of his mind the next day.

While writing the above, I am reminded of two other dinners. When a Minister of State from Delhi visited Pondicherry, she was hosted a dinner by the local ministers, officers and their wives. Though we the ladies were all introduced to her, she never bothered to acknowledge our presence.

Throughout the buffet dinner, she moved among the men folk busy carrying on a conversation with them. Not only that, she commented the ladies could not think or talk about anything other than saris and jewels, and that is why the ladies kept to themselves. The men folk later mentioned this to us. The Honourable Minister forgot that she also belonged to the same species as we! (That is me on the left in the picture above.)

The second dinner I mentioned was the dinner we had on our last night in Pondicherry. Since we were leaving the place, there was a deluge of farewell parties, starting from breakfast, sometimes two on the same day, lunch, coffee or tea get-togethers, everyday for two weeks. One couple requested us specially to reserve the last evening for them, as they had planned to give us a grand party, which we could not forget so easily.

I reserved my best sari for that evening. And on that evening dressed in our best, we were really surprised when we walked into their drawing room, there was pin-drop silence – for nobody was there, not even the host or hostess. Since Babuji was one for punctuality, I started blaming him saying we must have come too early. But I was wrong. After a few minutes the host and the hostess came in, offering no apology. And no drinks.

They took us straight to the dining table, and treated us to a dal roti dinner. If this was a ‘grand party’, I wondered what a simple dinner would have been like!

CHANGED LIFESTYLE

As I said before, we had a happy and busy life in Pondicherry. Our outlook on life also started changing and this life was very different from our Delhi life, where we had our set group of friends and we were happy interacting with them.

Here, in the new life, we were always in touch with a cosmopolitan set of people from all walks of life – not only from different parts of India, but from different parts of other nations, too. Our life also became busy with luncheon gatherings, tea and dinner parties.

We had been in Trichy, Chingleput and Saidapet for a period of two years where Babuji underwent administrative training. Life in these places was also different from the Delhi life, but it was nothing like life in this new place.

Talking of dinner parties, I have to tell you about our first get-together. On the very day Babuji took charge of his post, we were invited to a sit-down dinner hosted by the Rotary Club.

‘SIT –DOWN’ dinner! I was aghast!!

I was full of fear and apprehension. It was the first of its kind we were invited to. Though I knew how to use cutlery in an off-hand manner, at a sit-down dinner one had to use the correct spoon, fork and knife for each course. And I was very ignorant of these things.

To add to my confusion, Babuji was seated at another table, while I was seated at the centre table, at the head of which sat the Chief Commissioner – the head of the state. Thank God I did not show my fear or nervousness on my face. As soon as we were seated, I started a conversation with the lady sitting next to me. When the food started coming, one after another (and it was a five-course dinner), I waited till the lady next to me picked up her spoon and fork. I followed her example and the day was saved for me – the ordeal over.

Later in life, more than three decades after, Gowri and Mohan, with Parvati, took me out to lunch at a famous restaurant. I was amazed at the way Parvati, a three-year-old kid, handled the food with her knife, fork and spoon so deftly. Thanks to the tea garden culture she was growing up in.