The Legacy of 37 Hukam Singh Road

Albert Einstein once said, “Compound interest is the eighth wonder of the world. He who understands it, earns it; he who doesn’t, pays it”. In a similar way, 37 Hukam Singh Road is also an eighth wonder. Those who are touched by it know what it means to them, those who don’t – sorry nobody will ever be able to explain it to you. Today, if three or rather four generations of our extended families, their spouses, their children and even their grandchildren are staying in affectionate touch with each other, the credit must go to our ancestral home – 37 Hukam Singh Road at Amritsar. Mention that address in front of anybody from our Bhatiia Family and you will see their eyes light up automatically as they each recall their own memories of the happy, carefree days they spent there together.

So what exactly is 37 Hukam Singh Road all about?

During the days of undivided India, when Amritsar and Lahore were closer than Noida and Gurugram, my great-grandfather Bal Mokand Bhatia, (Lalalji) a well-known lawyer of that era bought an extensive plot of land on Hukam Singh Road to build a Kothi for himself and his four growing sons. They were all living together in a house in Hall Bazar which was unfortunately destroyed in a fire incident. The year was probably 1928 or thereabouts. As such, there was nothing unusual about his decision. A lot of well-to-do people like him were doing exactly the same. Amritsar was an up-and-coming town, blessed with good air, and fertile land, was also the home of the Golden Temple and was seen as a preferred destination for permanent settlement. Lalaji was in good company. Several other prominent lawyers and businessmen were also building their houses there. In fact, the plot diagonally opposite ours (No. 35) was bought by Mr. Bedi, also a lawyer, whose elder son Brij Mohan Bedi later married Kiran Peshawria and made her Kiran Bedi. Across the lane at No. 33 lived Mrs. Chander Batra  (before she moved to Delhi),  sister of Dolly Nanda (House of Escorts) who treated Mummy like a  daughter and who even accompanied me personally to my final interview at Escorts Ltd. in Faridabad after I graduated from IIT in 1973. Hukam Singh Road was a short street, hardly 200 metres long but housed some of Amritsar’s best. Our kothi too, like most kothis was designed to accommodate the male children with enough rooms and space, large common areas like the massive drawing room yet ensuring adequate privacy and independence as well as a separate kitchen for each family.  Besides the living accommodation, there were office rooms,  verandahs, terraces, vedhas,  wide open spaces and three big, lush lawns. Hand pumps ensured clean water in abundance. Later a bore well replaced them. It was expected that the sons would continue to live here and pursue their lives while the daughters would move out once they were suitably wed.

So it was with our kothi too. The eldest of Lalaji’s sons was Amar Nath Bhatia (Baujee). Baujee loved the good life. He was an aristocratic gentleman, immaculately groomed, and Lalaji sent him to London for his education. Baujee took his own time in London to complete his studies,  and upon his return, Lalaji let Baujee take over the control of their factory that had been set up at Chheharta, a suburb of Amritsar. The Surgical Dressings Manufacturing Co. Pvt. Ltd of which Baujee became the CMD. Other Board Members included Raghunandan Lal Bhatia (the Congress MP from Amritsar), Kamal Nath’s father-in-law, (yes, his wife is from Amritsar), plus other prominent businessmen. For Bauji, it suited him perfectly. He would often get to travel to Bombay for ‘Board Meetings’, staying at the Taj and having a great time. There is a story about one of his trips, when he could not get a reservation at the Taj so he checked in at the Breach Candy Hospital instead. ‘The tariff was about the same and at the Breach Candy Hospital they even gave me a free checkup in that price,” he explained. Pran Chachaji with his resources and contacts at the ground level, would be looking after the down-to-earth affairs –  like sales and marketing etc.

Baujee was married to Lilawati, or Maamijee as we knew her. Maamijee was quite the contrast to Baujee, she knew no English and was often the target of jokes at social events when she attempted to speak it. But she rather enjoyed it and took it all in good humour. Some of her attempts at English were legendary. Not many people know that in those days it was possible to book a telegram on the phone, a phonogram it was called. One fine morning, everybody was surprised to hear Mamijee shouting into the phone in English. “Come Come Not Come Not Come”, she was explaining to the person at the other end. Apparently, she was dictating a phonogram to the befuddled telegraph operator and those were the contents. When asked what was all this about she explained, Baujee is delaying his return from Bombay every day. I’m fed up. Finally I’m telling him Come Come Not Come Not Come – Aana hai te aao, nahin aana te naa aao. There was another time when Baujee gently reprimanded her for speaking broken English at a gathering. Her response was, “Mein Shorthand Bol Rahin han”

 

 

Baujee and Mamijee had three children – a daughter Bimla Masi, an elder son called Brij Mohan and another son Jag Mohan. Jag Mohan joined the Army and retired as a Colonel. If my memory is right, Jag Mohan was one of the earliest alumni of the NDA. It was probably before Daddy moved there. I recall seeing pictures of Baujee and Mamijee at his Passing Out Parade.

 

 

Brij Mohan joined the Civil Services and eventually retired as a senior bureaucrat. He was married to Kanta, they were stationed in Dehradun and had two daughters Anita and Ritu.

Bimla Masi got married to Behari Lal who came from a rich business family of Amritsar. She moved to the ‘Shehar” (Old City), after her marriage but later they built their own independent kothi in Green Avenue, just off Mall Road, which was more easily accessible from Hukam Singh Road.   She had two sons Deepak (Bappi)  and Mohinder (Kukki). Bappi was about 11 months older than me while Kukkki was 3 years younger.

 

Bappi and Kukki were among the cousins I spent most time with during my Amritsar visits. Chaji tried her best to keep me away from them as they were not considered good company. They were not particularly interested in studies, bunking classes regularly, and having taken multiple attempts to finally get through school and then to clear their BAs. They always felt that they had the family business behind them anyway, so why study? Behari Lal Uncle tried his best to get Bappi interested in their business, but Bappi would not be ready to sit on the ‘gaddi’. He would stay away and instead while away time with his equally rich friends, playing cards, billiards or pool at the Amritsar Club – a hangout of the really rich and idle. I went with him a couple of times, as an observer mostly, not really interested in billiards or cards. However, one fine evening when we were at the club,  I played Tombola and my ticket won the Snowball.  A princely sum (in the 1960s) of Rs. 500.  I had expected Chaji and Papaji would be pleased, instead, when I got home,  I got a whack from Chaji, my prize money was confiscated – we’ll use it to buy new clothes for you – and that put an end to my even thinking about going to the club with them ever again. For a long time,  I didn’t even  walk on the same side of the road as the Amritsar Club.

Then there was the morning breakfast. Bappi would arrive on his scooter without warning and we would want to go to Novelty on Lawrence Road for Puris. Once there, we would have a competition as to who could eat more puris (I would always lose). Or else we would go driving through the city and Hall Bazaar for Giani’s Lassi (hated the stuff with so much malai), sometimes we would pop in at his dukan to take a peek and say hello to Behari Lal Uncle. It was like Bappi registering his attendance because seeing that Bappi was with me meant he was excused from being at the shop. Behari Lal Uncle was another jovial person, he had a cute laugh quite like Santa Claus’ – “Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha”-,  only slower and much softer.

Bappi and I would also see a lot of movies together when I was in Amritsar. It was the Single Screen Days, no multiplexes, no advance bookings, no seat numbers. We would stand in queues to buy tickets for the 1st Day 1st Show and rush like cattle when the doors opened. But besides the new releases, we would be seeing other movies as well, especially in the morning shows. Old Raj Kapoor, Dilip Kumar and Dev Anand Movies, Musical Classics, anything. I remember one morning, I had seen in ‘The Tribune’ an ad for a Double Feature of Laurel and Hardy – ‘A Chump at Oxford’ & ‘BlockHeads’.  Bappi and I decided we’d see that today. I looked for the paper to confirm the time, etc., but was told the paper was in Papaji’s Office. So I went charging there, politely barged in, picked up the newspaper and started looking at the movie page. Papaji was sitting there with some clients, but made light of my interruption and asked me, “Aaj kya program hai?” I pointed to the ad and showed him, we are going for this Laurel & Hardy movie. Papaji’s client quietly picked up a piece of paper from Papaji’s desk,  scribbled something on it and handed it to me. Apparently, he was the owner of Chitra Talkies where the movie was showing, and that was a free pass to the best seats (BOX) in the hall. Later that day, Papaji joked with me – “Yaar toone aaj mera nuksan kara diya hai. Jab usne tere ko free pass de diya to mein us se fees kaise le sakta tha ?” Anyway, that was the one and only time I have ever sat in a Box in a movie hall.

Narinder Nath Bhatia (Papajee – my grandfather) was the second brother after Baujee. He was a serious person, focused,  docile, simple, straight forward and totally down to earth. He followed his father’s profession and went on to become one of Amritsar’s prominent legal luminaries. He was a self-made man and did not ask for nor need any special help from Lalaji to settle him. He got married to Kaushalya (Chachijee or Chaaji) and they had two daughters – Nimma born in 1928 and Saroj born 8 years later.

(Please click on the first photo in the gallery to view it as a slide show)

 

In 1948, Nima got married to Harmohan, my father who was then teaching French at Hindu College, Amritsar. In 1954,  his capabilities in teaching French, earned him a scholarship to the Sorbonne University in France, where he studied for slightly over a year. Mummy too joined him for a couple of months while he was there. Upon his return from Paris, he was appointed as a Lecturer in French at the National Defence Academy, Khadakwasla where he and all of us stayed. In 1981 he retired from there as Head of Foreign Languages Department. They had 2 children, Harinder (Tony) born in 1950 and my sister Nira born in 1955.

Saroj Masi married an army officer Inder Mohan Chhabra,  something she had always wanted to do. She just adored men in uniform. They were a made-for-each-other couple,  both complemented each other perfectly, both of them enjoyed socialising and networking and got along wonderfully together. I think they still do. They had two children Sarinder (Bittu) and Nisha (Munna).

Bittu and Munna were considerably younger than me, and this, together with our different school terms, plus being located in different cities, it was not often that we spent time together at the same time in Amritsar.

The third brother was Prithvi Nath Bhatia, married to Shukla (Shukla Chaji). Very well-read and intelligent he was working with a private company in Calcutta. Sadly, he passed away at an early age leaving behind a widowed Shukla Chaji to raise their two children – a daughter Uma (Uma Masi) and a son Lalit Mohan (Bobby) who was then still in school.  The staunch support of the other brothers was of immense help in those difficult times. Those are the pros of a joint family setup. Shukla Chaji later joined Sacred Heart School as a teacher where she worked right till her retirement and was known as a strict and dedicated no-nonsense teacher.  I think more than half the girls of Amritsar have been her students at one time or another.  I also studied in Sacred Heart while Daddy and Mummy were away in Paris. The school is a co-ed in the early classes.

Bobby went on to join the National Defence Academy in 1961. We were very much there during those years, I was 11 at that time, still in school, and we met rather frequently when he would come home. I too would sometimes pop into his cabin in Kilo Squadron to say hello. Unfortunately, we lost Bobby at a very young age when he was martyred in the 1971 Indo-Pak war,   His name was put on the roll of honour in the Sudan Block of the NDA and I would proudly show it to my friends who visited us.

(Please click on the first photo in the gallery to view it as a slide show)

There is also a Bust erected in Bobby’s  memory in Amritsar. That bust and the memorial have seen considerable movement and relocations over the years since they were erected, but it is now likely to be permanently installed at the Amritsar War Museum which is under construction

Uma Masi married Chunilal Bhatia, a senior IFS bureaucrat and together they made an adorable couple. They had two children Raman (Bonny) and Reena (Binny) who are about the same ages as Nira and me. They spent a large part of their lives in Dehradun,  but later Chunilal Uncle was appointed Director of the Delhi Zoo. A large lovely house luxuriously landscaped within the zoo premises from where you could walk across into the zoo. Or equally, from where Deer, Peacocks, Rabbits and other fauna could walk across into the house as well.

After the completion of the Big Kothi, Lalaji decided to construct a Choti Kothi as an annexe on the same plot. This would be for his own use and he would live there independently while the children would live in the main kothi as planned. The Choti Kothi came up in 1936. But Lalaji did not get to occupy it. Instead, it became the home of the youngest brother, Pran Nath Bhatia.

Pran Chachaji was born very much later and was therefore around the same age as Mummy. He became her Rakhi Brother rather than her uncle. Then later on, Saroj Masi started tying Rakhi to Ashok, Pran Chachaji’s son. Such cross-border relationships were quite common in the house. In fact, for many years, Saroj Masi treated me too as a younger brother instead of as a nephew and tied Rakhi to me as well. Eventually, I think Chaji put a discontinuance to it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pran Chachaji was married to Phoolan, and they had two children, a daughter Rajesh (Bille Maasi) and a son Ashok. Rajesh Masi got married to a corporate executive called Vinod Khosla and moved to Calcutta and there was not much contact with her except when she would come for visits to Amritsar.

 

Rajesh Masi had one daughter Monica and twin sons Rajeev and Sanjeev. Ashok also followed in Bobby’s footsteps and joined the Army and retired as a Brigadier. He married Ritu and they have a daughter, Gauri and a son, Gaurav.  Gauri is married to an internationally acclaimed investment banker Ashish Gupta, while Gaurav has decided to live his life by himself and has shown no inclination towards getting married.

So now think about it. In addition to the first generation, we now also had a generation of 14 second cousins  – Bappi and Kukki from Bimla Masi;  Tony and Nira from Nimma; Bittu and Munna from Saroj Masi;  Bonny and Binny from Uma Masi;   Gauri, Gaurav, Rajiv, Sanjay and Monica – who in their early years were all centred around 37 Hukam Singh Road.

At the same time, even amongst the first cousins,  in some cases, the age differences were so nominal and in some cases so large that one didn’t know what to make of them. For example, there we had Mummy tying Rakhi to Pran Chachaji, so they were more like a brother and sister than an Uncle and Niece while Saroj Masi was tying Rakhi to Ashok. I myself was just slightly younger than Rajesh Masi,  Ashok and Bobby so even though they were from one generation earlier, they were more like elder brothers and friends, not like uncles. This was how the beautiful relationships at Hukum Singh Road played out.

Sure, the huge sprawling mansion and outhouse could clearly identify the physical boundaries of each family but for us kids there were none. We went across from one part of the house to the other as if it was just one big house,  we sat down and had a meal wherever we felt like. A visitor to the house, especially a first-time visitor, would often knock on the wrong door, but no matter. Any visitor or guest of any one family was a guest of everybody. Nobody minded this. However, as life edged on, a time did come when it became necessary to clearly demarcate what portion of the property belonged to whom so that it could be bequeathed, sold or dealt with separately and independently when the time came.

It was decided to give this responsibility to Papaji and it was agreed that he would be the one to demarcate the built-up property and the outside areas amongst the four brothers fairly and equitably without any disruption or dispute. As far as possible, no partition walls or permanent separations were going to be built.

Oh Yes – Papaji and Chaji also had a permanent attendant- that’s probably not the right word,  he was more like a family member-  called Rama. Rama came into the house as a 5 or 6-year-old boy when Saroj Massi was just 40 days old. in fact, he was so small, that Chaji often bathed him like a kid by herself. He served the family right till his death in the early 2000’s. He was married to Kalawati and they had 5 sons – Ramsaran, Sitasaran, Radheysaran, Prabhusaran and Jagannath. Papaji,  together with helpful advice from Indu Didi (Indu Banga), made sure they got a proper education and as a result, all of them did very well for themselves. One became a doctor, another a senior manager in a  PSU Bank,  another was a national-level hockey player and so on.  Before his death, Papaji and Chaji had transferred to Rama a substantial portion of land from his share and from the portion where they used to live in the servant’s quarters. He also made sure it would be mentioned in his will so that it could not be challenged. Over a period of time and even as we watched,  Rama and his sons used their own resources to build 4 flats for themselves where they continue to live till today. Their standard of living rose, they bought good cars, SUVs, TVs, modern appliances but they never let it get into their heads and their respect for all of us did not change. Rama is of course no more

My own memories of 37 Hukum Singh Road are far too many and start almost from my birth when Daddy was away to Paris. As the smallest boy (or toy) at that time, everybody used to love playing with me and I loved being the centre of attraction.  I started my schooling at Sacred Heart School, Amritsar and Rajesh Masi and I would go together along with a couple of other kids in a cycle rickshaw. Shukla Chaji was also a teacher at Sacred Heart and saved us many times when we were late reaching the gate. Rajesh Masi was one big entertainer, especially on the rickshaw rides and no wonder we would be late.  She would be making ridiculous rhymes, playing silly games, concocting unsolvable riddles and keeping us amused all the while. Something new every day. Being a lot younger, I was not old enough to join Bobby and Ashok in their active hide-and-seek games, Kick the Stone,  and other outdoor activities which they played in our huge lawn, along with the other like-aged boys from the neighbourhood, but I would be there watching and cheering.

I would really look forward to the summer holidays when we would be in Amritsar and I would get a chance to be with my cousins, especially with Bappi and Kukki. In the hot summer nights, we would be sleeping in the lawn outside, where about 12 to 15 charpoys would be laid, all in a row. There would be one bechara table fan – a Rallifan –  placed on a stool, blowing across the array. Naturally, in accordance with seniority, Papaji’s bed would be the one closest to the fan, then Chaji, Mummy and Daddy and finally, we bachchas were among the last. In any case, the fan breeze was not going to reach beyond bed 4 or 5 but still, it was far more comfortable than sleeping inside.

Every night before we went off to sleep, there would be a singing fest in the lawn. Bappi was a very good singer and would render Mukesh’s songs very melodiously.  “Bahaaron ne mera chaman loot kar”, was a favourite along with many others. English Songs were a novelty for everyone, and Bappi would insist I sing at least one or two. I would sing some Cliff Richard songs that I knew and my interpretations of ‘Summer Holiday’ and ‘Living Doll’ were usually received well.

I would end up spending a lot of time at home too, but I would try and spend it usefully. Papaji had a massive collection of Readers Digests and I would go through them. I had no inclination to read the stories,  but I would read all the jokes (Laughter the Best Medicine, Humor in Uniform, All in a Day’s Work), and those one-liners which appeared at the end of some stories. Papaji also received regularly a magazine called The Rotarian (he was President of Amritsar Rotary Club) which also had a nice joke section, so that was fun too. Incidentally, Papaji had a great sense of humour and he would always be ready with a joke on any occasion. I have definitely inherited this from him.  There have been numerous occasions when we would be together and we would have a jugalbandhi of sorts, each of us cracking jokes one after the other, one leading to the next. Both of us could tell our jokes with such poker faces!

Then, once again, and again going by Papaji’s advice, during one vacation i decided to study and learn the Gurmukhi script. The very next day, Papaji promptly brought home a Punjabi Alphabet Book and then there was no going back from Ooda, Aada, Iidi, Sassa, Haha.  i already knew how to speak Punjabi, so getting to learn to write it was not that difficult, especially since the script is quite similar to Hindi.

Bauji also had a huge collection of books. There was this series he had, quite like the Tell Me Why books, but considerably more voluminous in size, almost the size of an Encyclopedia Britannica.  It was called the ‘Book of Knowledge’  and each volume was dedicated to a particular subject like Science,  Nature, Animals, Machines and so on.  I would spend hours of my time reading through each volume like a storybook,  going through those topics that interested me.  If I’m so smart, a lot of it is because of the books that I read during those days.  Sadly,  after Bauji’s death, Mamiji sold all those books to a local kabaadi wala for a pittance,  but then I don’t think anybody else in the family would have valued those volumes for what they were really worth. Incidentally, Papaji also possessed the whole print edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica. Nira had made him and Chaji promise that after his death she and only she and nobody else would be allowed to take it. I remember it was lying around for some years after his death, wonder what happened later. Google probably made it redundant.

Then, in another year I remember, I would be sitting with my grandmother and my grand aunts in the veranda where the Fad of that Year was weaving baskets and bags from Plastic Cane. That Flat Plastic Cane. For the ladies, it was an opportunity to sit together, gossip, chat while weaving was just an excuse. But for me, I took the weaving very seriously and made dozens of those bags that vacation. In fact, Phoolan Chaji would often give me what she was doing and chaabi me to finish it for her. I would feel so pleased and happy about the good work I was doing.

Papaji was a very good tennis player.  in fact, he was very proud of the fact that even after the age of 40 he was among the few of his contemporaries who could still play a good game. Papaji would often take me along with him to the Lumsden Club which is where he played. Lumsden Club was patronised more by young professionals, lawyers, as well as business people but the filthy rich felt it was below their standard and preferred the Amritsar Club. I would sit and watch Papaji play and after the game, we would sit together with his friends for snacks and drinks. Papaji was not an alcohol person anyway,  and nor particularly were his friends to the best of my knowledge,  so it was quite harmless. I would be sitting with them at the same table listening to their banter,  not one bit bored but rather enjoying it and often participating in it too. The speciality at the Lumsden Club was Fried Pomfret with a special sauce made by their Chef,  whom the Club had inherited from British Times. Angrezon ke zamaanon ka Chef. I used to love it. Chajii was happy that I was happy,  but not happy at the expense which was being incurred at the Club.  So, considering I was so fond of that fish dish,  she would often get Rama to buy the Pomfret from the market and make it for me at home. No doubt Rama was a super cook and his dish probably was as good if not better than the one at the club,  but it was just not the same.

Of course, a visit to the Golden Temple was always a must. Every year after the Darshan, I would buy a new Kara for myself and use it through the next year. A visit to my paternal grandmother, Jhaijee, who lived in the old congested city area in our very own Kandharian di Gali was was also an obligatory visit.  But that was a visit treated as a cannot avoid visit and the idea was to quickly meet her and get back to Hukum Singh Road as quickly as possible. This is the same lady who moved in with us and took such good care of Mohit in Bombay just after he was born so that both Tiny & I could go to work. In hindsight, one wishes one had found more time for her.

Yet another person who I was very close to at 37 Hukum Singh Road was Kaalu – Shiv Kumar Bhatia. I don’t know his exact relationship with the family, but he lived in the barsaati above us together with his very old and infirm grandmother. His grandmother used to climb down the stairs, one step at a time,  holding a soap dish in one hand and a walking cane in the other, to come for her bath to the bathroom which was downstairs. Cold water, 24/7/365. And then make the same journey back upstairs. Kaalu was a movie buff who was determined to become a movie star. He was a Raj Kapoor fan, totally inspired by him and had seen each of his movies 20 to 30 times – Aan, Aag, Chori Chori, Anari, Shree 420,-  and he would do Raj Kapoor’s dialogues from those movies almost flawlessly. He was a great storyteller too. In the evenings before we dozed off, he would sometimes come down and start a story – complete with amazing sound effects, building up a terrific atmosphere, often scary. And then at the best part, he would announce – baaki ki kal sunenge. And tomorrow would be yet another new story.

Kaalu did manage to get a break in a Punjabi movie called Punjabi Munda which actually made it to the screens. It was shot in Punjab, and one of the scenes was shot at Crystal Restaurant, a well-known Amritsar restaurant. It is a respectable restaurant, but at night they have a ‘Floor Show’, so it’s not really for kids in the evenings. I was in Amritsar those days when parts of the movie were being shot, and on this particular day, there was to be a shoot at Crystal. Kaalu told us that they needed guests for the song shoot. You know the guests who would be sitting at the tables while the cabaret was going on, maybe the cabaret dancer would frolic near their table and even sit in their lap, or maybe play with their hair, so if anybody wanted to come, they were welcome, he would take them. Of course, I jumped, ‘I want to go’ but was promptly told, to sit down and don’t get up again. I know Papaji declined, but I think Bauji and perhaps Pran Chachaji as well went for it. Never dared to find out. Incidentally, when Tiny & I got engaged – we got engaged at 37 Hukam Singh Road -, just after the ring ceremony, Papaji thought it would be nice if both Tiny and I went out together for a coffee or something before Tiny returned to Jammu with her parents. No prizes for guessing where we had our coffee date. It was at Crystal.

Kaalu later moved to Bombay, which is where you have to be if you want a Bollywood break. He was living in a guest house at Santa Cruz “Lovely Guest House” it was called, together with several others like him, squeezed three or four to a room, all in search of that elusive dream. I was in IIT those days and would go and meet him on some weekends. Listen to his stories and trivia about the movie business and the stars. Hear about the struggles he and his roommates are going through and how it is only the distant dream of stardom which is keeping them going. Sometimes we would go for lunch to the nearby Shere-e-Punjab.

Papaji also met Kaalu during one of his visits to Bombay where he had stopped over on his way back to Amritsar after visiting Mummy and Daddy in Poona. He was staying at Wadala at Harbans Uncle’s place and I too had come over from my hostel at IIT to be with them. Raj Kapoor’s father Prithvi Raj Kapoor and Papaji were old friends, and at Kaalu’s request and insistence, Papaji was to take him to meet Prithvi Raj at RK Studios in Chembur. Much as I wanted to join them, Papaji felt it would not be right. Unfortunately, Prithvi Raj explained there was nothing that he could do to help Kaalu and I think that’s when Kaalu gave up mentally and joined Calico as a salesman selling sewing threads and yarn. In any case, he passed on not long thereafter.

And the years rolled by but Hukum Singh Road was always there to give support. Marriages including my own were among those arranged from that house. Many were solemnised at that location. Our generation of grandparents aged,  many passed on and many had no option but to move out. Sell the place. For a long time even after Papaji’s death, Chaji was adamant about staying there with Rama and his family,  not wanting to move out. Mummy and Masi would visit them from time to time but eventually, even Chaji had no choice but to sell the place and move to Noida where Mummy and Massi stayed. Shukla Chaji and Phoolan Chaji had already moved out earlier. In any case, at that age, there was very limited support that any of the ladies could expect to offer to each other.

Upon our return to India in 2011 we paid a visit to Amritsar and 37, full of nostalgia. Only Rama’s wife Kalavati recognised us. Nobody else did. The new owners have kept the place in good shape trying to preserve its heritage, and as we walked through the compound we remembered and could recognise the nooks, corners,  mango trees and other landmarks which had been so much of part of our growing life.

 

 

Here’s a picture of the front of the Kothi taken just a fortnight ago. The room with the cooler used to be Papaji’s old Office, from where I collected my Chitra Talkies pass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh Well. The only thing permanent in life is change.