My mother was an engaging narrator and told me many incidents about our family so vividly that sometimes I feel I have witnessed it myself. This story is about my grandfather who lived in a village in India in the 1930s.
My grandfather had a larger than life persona and as was the norm in those days the designated head of the joint family who all lived together which included grandma, seven children and their wives a battelion of grandchildren of all ages and many househelp.
Within the household they followed a disciplined regimen and patriarchal social order - however my grandfather made sure there was no dearth of fun and laughter in house environment.
Entertainment in a pre-silver screen world meant impromptu plays and music arranged by the men and boys from the neighborhood in his own backyard but the crown jewel of all entertainment was an annual winter day trip with the 40 or so family members.
They would usually go near the local river on a bullock cart for the day but one year my grandfather decided to go a little far away using the newly inaugurated Public bus. This was met with much excitement particularly from the women and children. Women at that time wore long veils to hide their faces from men and stayed within the perimeter of the house taking care and cooking for the family. The furthest they would go out all year was to the local pond,;
so a journey by public bus to a place far away from the village was the most adventurous thing that they would do that year.
On the day of the trip my grandfather took the full family to the bus stop. He had counted the number of heads several times in the backyard before reaching the bus-stop - this was a challenge already. There were veiled heads of the women, the heads of children and other of different heights and no one would stand still in fixed place.
The bus came honking and chased by a billowing dust cloud as it made its way through the dirt roads of the village. The children clapped and shouted in joy and ran around in circles on seeing the bus - it was a first bus ride for most of them - it was with a lot of effort and counting and double-counting , recounting by my grandfather and his friend- cum-attendant man-.
At last Once after accommodation in the bus, the veiled daughter-in-laws , who are my aunts, struggled with the toddlers unused to the commotion and movement and other screaming children. Some screamed their lungs out, some settled well on their mothers' laps while some babies just gave up and fell asleep. My youngest aunt, a new mom of two toddlers below the age of two was finding it difficult and embarrassing to manage her long veil that covered her face completely and her little boy and girl both crying for attention on her limited lap space. A kind elderly co-passenger, seeing her situation, offered to take the baby girl off my aunt's lap into hers'. The baby girl was called by the name Putul –[in Bengali meaning 'doll'. ]
…. Soon Putul made herself comfortable in the new comforting lap and fell asleep.
When the bus reached the stop, my grandfather roared to the driver,
………"Stop, E-st--op!" and the bus screeched to a halt making passengers sway violently in their seats. Grandfather with his helper got down first; the children were impatient and nudging each other to get down first; all the aunts with their awkward long veil trying to find their own children.
Some grown-up children thronged near the driver requesting to honk just for their entertainment and when the driver complied they all started imitating the noise in their voice ; and the crows from trees nearby also started caw-ing probably on hearing a foreign noise.
It was chaos and a logistical nightmare trying to get everyone off the bus in an orderly manner. But baby-girl Putul continued to sleep on the stranger's lap blisfully in spite of the commotion!!
Once the family was off the bus and my grandfather had counted them he bellowed to the veiled daughter in laws and grandma - do you all have counted of your own children?... everything good? ...
My young aunt murmured behind her veil ,"
"My Putul is left in the bus."
Daughter-in-laws rarely spoketo their father-in-laws, let alone in a voice higher than a whisper or a nod.
My Grandfather said, "Let it be! "
My shy aunt repeated a little louder "My Putul is left in the bus".
My grandfather dismissed it by saying "Let it be!
I will purchase a new putul ( doll ) for you from the village fair !
Don't be so upset about a toy!. ….Let us proceed towards the spot for picnic .”
NB:
[ Putul means a doll in Bengalee language.]
And proceeded to walk away from the bus in his usual majestic gait using his walking stick.
Just then my grandmother intervened with a loud shrilling voice probably heard for the first time in public,
"Listen, this Putul is not a toy but our youngest granddaughter who is left in the bus"!
... Another chaos ensued with my grandfather and uncles shouting to stop the bus; jumping into the bus to take their sleeping daughter like a movie hero and handed her over to my aunt, leaving the rest of the bus bewildered at all the action.
My aunt embraced her rescued baby and kissed her with tearful eyes and thankful glowing face and she was completely unaware that her veil had dropped from the head by the wind and lay around on the ground.
My grandfather with angry burning eyes surveyed at my grandma and all the aunts to announce with a lot of gravity,
"Henceforward",......
striking his majestic stick “it is my order, that nobody should choose such a silly name in my family !.. hmm!
"
N.B 'Putul' in Bengali means a ‘toy –doll’ for the little girls.
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It is only hundred yeas ago Indian social system or culture was so different
...!Family !
that time the word family included not only extended family but also friends and neighbors , menials
together---------the 'bonding' of communal togetherness was amazing!
This incident also reminds me that how small changes from regular life used to bring enormous joy to the children in those days!
Now most families are composed of one child. And parents buy lots of toys for them one after another and the child becomes bored quickly with the old one. The goal of all parents is how to make own child the happiest one in the world. But my view is that the result of too much care is not always good for the child.; sometimes little negligence rather than indulgence is better fruitful for their future wellbeing.
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