Fragments from my childhood

I am a member of an amazing writing group called Story Circle - this story by me was published by them in their annual anthology

I grew up in 1940s India with parents, grandparents, siblings and cousins.   My father was a loving patriarch who we adored. My mother was kind and soft-spoken. He worked for the Indian Railways and we moved often. As India celebrated Independence from centuries of British rule, we moved to a quaint town named Madhupur.  Madhupur was built to remind former residents of English villages they left and missed - mansions, manicured lawns, churches.  And railway employees were now being housed in those mansions.

Outside the atmosphere at home was very festive.  But I was not as cheerful as I should have been growing up in that loving environment.   I carried a sense of melancholy, sometimes for reasons unknown, throughout my life.

My father was the third of six brothers.  His eldest brother was an eccentric popular scholar and a professor at a prestigious university in another city. My father took up the responsibility of his four children, to allow his brother continue his scholarly pursuits undisturbed.  And his brother seemed to enjoy this arrangement.

 His eldest daughter, Renuka, who stayed with us, was beautiful and my mother’s confidante in managing our large family. Word of her beauty spread and brought many marriage proposals.  My uncle relieved himself of the responsibility of Renuka’s marriage and was happy for my father to make the decisions.   Arranged marriages were the norm and was considered a parents’ responsibility – a daughter’s marriage was considered to be great burden given the social pressure to get them married young and the financial pressure of sending the daughter to her in-laws’ home with jewelry and gifts. Marriage negotiations involved a complex routine of exploring families, bride’s home making skills and beauty and the grooms’ job prospects.  Finally a groom was chosen for Renuka.

My father wanted to celebrate this marriage magnificently to keep up the family status.  He distributed the marriage expenditure among his five brothers according to their financial capacity while he took up the largest share.  Renuka’s father was tasked to buy gold jewelry for the bride and groom.

The week of the marriage a massive gazebo was set up and Indian flute played in the background while all the children played under the gazebo.  My uncles gave my father their part of the expense.  Except for Renuka’s father.  And then on the morning of wedding I witnessed a drama unnoticed by most.

My mother insisted Renuka’s father to show the jewelry he was responsible for.  He sat calmly with eyes closed.  My father stood at the door of his room.  On being pressed more he said, “Renuka is beautiful, many princes will come for her hand even without jewelry, let us break this alliance”.  First there was silence, then disbelief and then my father was furious at his brothers’ suggestion and the thought of what this meant.  At one point my frustrated father said, “Bring me a gun, I will kill him and me”.  My mother somehow managed to pacify the warring brothers.  All the thrill of a wedding vanished like camphor for me.  I followed my mother like a shadow who slipped into the dimly lit room where Renuka was sitting with her mother.

Mother told Renuka that her father wanted the marriage to be called off.  Renuka embraced my mother and began to cry inconsolably, “Please do not listen to that crazy man.  I will marry here otherwise I will kill myself”

My mother said “But Renu, we do not have money to purchase the jewelry needed to marry you.  Since we cannot marry you without jewelry, maybe I will loan you my wedding jewelry.  Let’s keep it a secret ok?”

“But promise me that you will return it all to me because this is all I have to give for my daughters’ wedding”

Renuka and her mother leaped at the proposal, “Let us get the marriage ceremony done peacefully and we will return it.  We are ever grateful to you”

My mother left the room and in the dark of that room I saw Renuka and her mother’s face awash with a satisfied glow.  In the evening, all the women sat around the bride and praised the jewelry and how she looked like a princess.  My mother sat next to her proudly, partly at averting a family disaster and partly at the appreciation of her jewelry.  I sat there blankly and listened to the nostalgic tunes of the Indian flute which stirred a strong ennui in me about days gone by and what lay ahead, the happiness all around but the sad undertones of this festivity, which I witnessed.  I wore a brocade dress but all the drama of the morning had drained me, before I knew I was asleep.  I woke up late into the night and ran across the courtyard to the gazebo and saw Renuka and the groom standing by the fire, as the priest chanted wedding vows.  The courtyard was lit with lanterns and I thought my sister and her husband looked angelic.  I was hungry but could not find any food – tired I fell asleep again in the dimly lit room where much drama unfolded earlier in the day.

Soon after, my own sister Mira got married in another wonderful ceremony leaving my father submerged in debt from frequent marriage and medical expenses.  Every year Renuka and her husband visited us – she never mentioned the wedding jewelry or returned it.  Neither did my mother mention the loan or ask her for it.  I never heard my parents regret or boast about this act of sacrifice ever even in the worst of their financial struggles – much to my surprise, my mother seemed happy about Renuka’s happy married life and spoke of her with great affection. 

So often in life, underneath the joy and festivity lies the reality of a less joyous story and my heart fills with pride thinking about the nobility of my father and gentle mother in how they went about it all so gracefully.

 This picture is of me around the time this story took place

My parents and extended family.  Middle row extreme left - my father and mother

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