The Battle to Belong!

A chance remark by my grand daughter sparked off this trilogy. Here's Part III.

For my defense, I say only this :

"Just write the truth! But truths are many, and that is the problem. Memory is treacherous, as distinct from history as emotion."

Cohen, Roger. “The Girl from Human Street.” 

"You can live somewhere for decades, and still in your heart it is no more than an encampment, a place for the night, detached from community."   Roger Cohen

Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.

As I sit here in my balcony in Besant Nagar, Chennai, overlooking the lush green trees, typing out my blog, my mind deludes me again  into believing that I'm at home in Jamshedpur. The incessant cawing of a murder of crows brought me out here. Recently,  a nest had been built on the tree and from my vantage point, I could see two soft black heads of the precious baby birds. The parents had protected this pair from rain and storm, and from the lurking alley cat which chose to rest under the tree everyday.  And as this cacaphony reached my ears, I was sure there was big trouble.

 I was shocked to see two monkeys resting on the window parapet and I prayed fervently for the safety of the nest. The neighbors were already shouting and shooing away the animals. I witnessed the mighty crow clan  cawing and swooping down on those intruders from all sides. They had no choice but to beat a hasty retreat. Since then, this pair of growing twins are having the time of their lives, exploring the world and not venturing beyond the nearest branch, being fed and protected by the constant attention of the loving parents. 

 The story of my life was being played out here! That's my memory of Jamshedpur. My father was born there in 1928 and I was born in the Tata main Hospital in 1959. At that time my parents lived in my grandfathers home in 52 N. Road, Bistupur. I have no memories of that house. But I must record my gratitude and indebtedness to The Tata Iron and Steel company where three generations of my family were employed. My grandfather worked in the Accounts Department, my father was an Internal Auditor and I served as a Teacher for ten years. The Company nurtured us and provided us the succor for the foundation of a happy and successful family and enabled us to grow wings and soar high up in the sky.

I grew up with my sister in Kadma, Farm Area, Road no. 22, Quarter no. 2. I spent my childhood here. I remember the little garden in front of my house. In the corner stood a tall Champa tree and the fragrance of its yellow flowers wafted in those cool summer nights. I went to school by bus with my sister and played a lot with the children in my neighbourhood. Usually in the evenings, we would walk to the main road, and across to the Runkini Mandir to watch the deepardhana. After dinner, most of us came out of our homes and as our mothers sat chatting on the culvert, we played late into the night.  It was here that I leant to cycle, to embroider, to knit, to study and to dream. 

Opposite our lane lived Lal ji who was a teacher. Next door to him lived Mishra ji. Their large families were very close knit. They were very disciplined and soft spoken, very helpful and friendly. There were several Bengali and Oriya families too in our neighbourhood . We got to hear so many languages and enjoy all kinds of vegetarian cuisines. My next door neighbor, Mr. Rao was from Andhra Pradesh. He was the company's official photographer. He lived in quarter no. 1 and had only one daughter, Ammulu. Her mother was 'Ammulu ki ma - Amuulu's mother!'. We lived in quarter no. 2, ironically we were two sisters and my mother was known as Geeta ki ma, Geeta's mother. In Quarter no. 3 lived Mr. Malkiat singh from Punjab with 'Mantu ki ma' and their three sons, Mantu, Bittu and Jhantu. I had the good fortune of meeting this old neighbor of mine, now 85 years of age ,  in Birmingham, in 2019. People like Malkiat Singh carry the warmth and love in their hearts wherever they may live. 

From there we moved to a large flat with a sprawling garden, no. 17 K D Flats, Kadma. . These apartments had no balcony and the 'match box' design was the contribution of Russians, who were associated with Tata Steel. The town planning was American, and employees lived in neatly laid out  1, 2, or 3  roomed quarters, flats and bungalows with a kitchen and verandah. The bathrooms and toilet were usually situated at the end of the house. Here I formed lasting bonds with my friends and family. I can never forget my high school days, spent in the company of Shamita and Mitali, with whom I was fortunate enough to reconnect after 45 long years. I went to college with the inimitable KG Lalitha, my then  BFF Revathi and the chirpy Shyamala. I remain in close touch with all of them even today, thanks to the tech revolution.

The home at No. 64 XN - Type, Bhima Road, Sidgora, has a special place in my heart. It was a small 2 roomed house with a little garden and a backyard. We moved into this home soon after I got married.  It is here that I learnt to manage household chores and balance my life as a teacher, And enjoy motherhood. My daughters were born and brought up in this home, here my children spent the formative years of their life. They were fortunate to have both their sets of grandparents around and they were spoilt to the core by their aunts. The neighbourhood was very friendly and if they were allowed, I'm sure my children would find friends to play with the whole day! I think I was a strict mother and tried to bring in some semblance of discipline in our lives. My husband was a very supportive parent  and he also spoiled his daughters no end.

We moved  to  13 K. D. flats in Kadma from where both my children also attended school. By this time I had learnt to zip around in my two wheeler. My friend Lata entered my life and she continues to occupy a special place in my heart. That is the house where both our daughters grew up. The house where they read books all summer, under the shade of the trees. Where guavas were in abundance only to be eaten by bats at night. Here is where our pet dog Daisy, the fifth member of our family joined us. It is here that  we loved and lived together as one family and the like of which we would never ever experience again in our lives. 

It's twenty years since we moved into Chennai, after having lived in Nagpur for three years.  Daisy left us  on 15 th September 2001 in Chennai and is buried here. We were indeed blessed to have got her as a month old pup and she showered us with unconditional love in her thirteen years of existence.  She taught us the value of selfless love and the joy of togetherness. For Daisy, the words of Joseph Brodsky come to my mind,  “If there is any substitute for love, it’s memory."

Within almost a 100 years since my grandfather had set foot in that prosperous land, we left Jamshedpur for good. He had arrived in Jamshedpur with nothing but a hope to provide the basic necessities for his family. To his credit he achieved much more. But it also must be said - Jamshedpur fulfilled the promise she had made to this stranger from Palakkad.

I dedicate this and the last two blogs to my precocious granddaughter, who wanted to know if her great grand parents loved her. I'm certain they do and shower her with blessings as only loved ones can. And how wisely her parents have chosen for her a charming name  - Samyuktha. It means to bring together, to be united. She has succeeded already to live up to her name, having brought together the legacy of her family, created a strong bond between the past and the present as she takes forward the story into the future.