No. 35. Nahan – the story of a town

Nahan, the town beautiful in Himachal, where the little girl and her family had moved in 1966, will remain another memorable chapter in her book of life and that of her siblings. It was in Nahan, where the kids actually grew up. It was here, where life for each of them changed completely, as they all crossed their thresh holds which landed them in very new, very different stages of their individual and collective lives.

The little girl, for example, stepped out of her childhood to enter her girlhood in Nahan, and it was here that she became aware of herself being a girl!

Her younger brother, now an adolescent, discovered himself in Nahan. He found his singing voice and along with it developed confidence in being around people. He was to become the star of their small gatherings where he would sing a couple of his favourite Mohamad Rafi songs and win every heart.

Their older brother had started his pre-medical year and was just a step away from going to the medical college. He was still their hero, and they both followed his lead, in most of things, especially the little girl.

Now, Nahan was not like other Himachal towns, where the family had lived. The Shivalik hills, which surround the town, are much lower in altitude to the other areas of Himachal There was also no river going through the town, and the weather was drier, and warmer. People in Nahan also spoke in Hindi, instead of Pahari, so, it was easier to communicate. The town was also very well planned and built beautifully, using a lot of white marble and red sand stone, and wide paved streets.

The town itself, built around the small hills, is scattered within the open and the wide ridges in between them. The King’s palace and a few royal buildings were majestically situated on the top of a hill, on an open ridge, from where, small streets spread down like the branches of an upside down tree, with houses stuck on them, their old fashioned, traditional verandas, and balconies sticking out. This was the most interesting part of this town, with shops, and temples and old historic houses all along the streets.

The college precinct was in the open area down from the palace, just next to the big playground, Chougan, the focal point of the town. This is where most of the sport and cultural activities of the town took place. This was also where each year, in October, Ram Leela was held, an amateur drama showing incidents from Lord Ram’s life, and his adventures in the forest with his brother Lakshman and wife Sita.

There were three colleges in Nahan. One of them was the Degree college, where Papaji was the principal now, and then there was also an Arts College, offering dance, drama, classical and vocal music classes both during the day and the evening, which functioned under the charge of the principal of the Degree college, and then the Degree college building also hosted the Evening PG classes in the evening, hence all these institutes were under his supervision.

There were two other hills in Nahan, one was known as the hospital round where naturally the hospital was, and then the Shervilla , or the military round, which was a few kilometres long road circling a dense forest. This road would become famous for Papaji’s morning walks, and around which the kids would also have a few memorable adventures, like getting lost in the forest, on one of their morning walks, under the tutelage of their handsome Air force mamaji, uncle, Virender Soni, who visited them in his holidays every year, and left a few college girls in that town pining for him.

The principal’s house was half a kilometre away from the college precinct. It was not a bungalow or a kothi like the ones in the previous places, but just a big house with a huge terrace on its roof, and an open area right in the middle of the house, with kitchen, bedrooms and drawing room around opening in it. This was used for a variety of things, a makeshift sitting area, dining area. The kids studied or played there. This was also where they all had evening tea, and the parents received their visitors. Nahan in summer could be quite warm, but evenings were quite pleasant, especially outside, or on the roof top, so sometimes they would all sleep on the roof, though many times, they had to run downstairs when it started to drizzle at night.

The little girl was now in the Girls’ high school, where her Biji also taught, so both mother and daughter walked together to the school, which was just half a kilometre or so from their house. Her younger brother went to the boys’ school a bit further away, and enjoyed walking alone. He was shaping up to be a hardworking and a hard-playing person, achieving high marks in studies through sheer hard work, and then also enjoying his hobbies, exploring possibilities to have fun and spending time with his friends. He was though quieter than his siblings and was also a bit shy in front of others.

Sometimes, the brothers fought, as they shared a bedroom, and there were always reasons to fight over things. At times, the girl had come home to find her younger brother’s wooden almirah that he kept under lock and key, as it held his valuable diaries, and other stuff, sitting outside their room, and she knew the brothers had had a fight that day, and the older brother had exiled him from their shared room.

But they always ended up sitting together at night, back in their room, both younger kids, listening to their older brother’s stories, or listening to songs on his makeshift transistor which could catch radio waves.

Those were the days when they had started enjoying Hindi film music, especially programs like Binaka Geetmala, from radio Ceylon, and Tameele Irshad from Urdu service, but unfortunately, the program times clashed with Papaji being home, in the late evenings, when the radio could not be switched on.

Papaji was an early riser, and Biji also had to get up early to practise her classic music lesson that she would then teach to her students at the school, so the radio was switched off after the nine p.m news.

In Nahan, it was a very busy schedule for both Papaji and Biji. Early morning, Papaji went for his walk, then after breakfast he walked to the college, coming back around 4 p.m. to eat something, take a quick power nap, refresh himself and go back to the college, which would turn into the evening college. He would come home around 8.00 p.m., when they all had dinner together. After dinner, the parents went for a walk, and the kids did their homework, and after 9 o’clock news, everyone retired to bed.

Biji had started feeling the stress of her job, and Papaji’s busy schedule, and their busy social lives, as they always had to go to the district functions, the college functions, dinners and sometimes lunches. She finally left her job to take care of her household, especially her children, that she thought needed her to be home. She had worked for four years all together and used to say,

‘do aarzu mei cut gaye, do intizar mei’, out of four days of life, two were spent in pining for it, and two in waiting for it to end.

The kids’ days were quite full too. As after a full day at school, they had N.C.C. (National Cadet Corps) training and parade, a government-initiated program to keep students fit and disciplined in military style. The training for both girls and boys from year six onward would take place in their respective schools a few days a week, after which some snacks and cold drinks, juice, cold milk, or some cola, were distributed, which they all loved. They also sang patriotic songs there, that the girl loved even more. She loved music. Songs and singing were a part of her being, just like stories and books.

In Nahan, due to the arts college, she had started to learn classical music from a teacher, and she dreamed of singing a duet with her mother one day, as her auntie, Teeshi massi used to sing. After a few months at it, though she did pick up some melody, sur and taal of singing, but she couldn’t get much further in playing the harmonium, while her older brother, without any teaching, could play any song on the harmonium, he had this knack of instrumental music. Whether, a flute mouth organ, or even empty cups and spoons, he could create music.

He had flexible hours, and the college was quite close to their house, so sometimes, he would come home early, when no one else was home, and sit in his room or the roof top, and play his flute. He played it so melodiously.

The roof was a versatile place, as many summer evening and winter Sunday mornings were spent there, the kids getting an oil massage or after lunch basking in the afternoon sun, reading a book, taking a nap. Biji would be knitting, or rolling vadhiayan, the little nuggets of lentil and spice mix, which had to be kept in the sun to dry, or she would make pickles, on the roof top. It was so peaceful to just be there, with everyone doing their thing.

The roof was also a hiding place, the little girl would read her first novel there, as she was not allowed to read novels till then, and the younger brother, who was a bit shy used to hide there to get away from others. Or when he didn’t want anyone to find him, as he wanted to ‘think’! Once some guests arrived to visit their parents, and the brother quickly went up to the roof to avoid them. But then the visitors ended up staying for a few hours, so he couldn’t come down for hours, till they all left.

That year, the girl celebrated her 12th birthday and Biji organised a party on the roof top, and a few of her friends came over. Biji baked a cake which was a novelty in Nahan, and all her friends couldn’t stop talking about it the next day.

The younger brother did not want a fuss on his birthdays, but Biji always invited some guests to have a party. And he also received a handknitted jumper, a gift from Biji, as she used to knit at least one sweater for each one of the kids, and one for Papaji.

And then the older brother turned 18, and celebrated his birthday there. He had invited his whole class, boys and girls, but, that evening, one of the girls, whom he really liked, didn’t come. She had turned down his invitation, by saying, “Vesi to koi baat nahi, par mei aaungi nahi”, meaning, “don’t take it personally, but I won’t be able to come to the party”!

The little girl was quite disappointed, as she had heard a lot about her, that she always wore white, and looked like a dove, so she had been looking forward to meeting this girl. But then after a few days, they were to find out why she hadn’t come!

Everyone had fun that evening late into the night and the younger kids, the little girl and her younger brother were allowed to join in too. There was music, with young people singing, and clapping, her brother played his flute and mouth organ. His best friend, Munnu, Ranbir was into poetry so lots of poems both Hindi or Urdu and English were recited.

Such parties remained quite a part of their life in Nahan, in addition to many picnics in and around Nahan, that they went to, sometimes, with friends, or with family members, and sometimes with the college students, and staff.

On Sundays, they used to go to visit the beautiful places in and around Nahan. There were a few lakes, or tanks in Nahan, with gardens around them. Some elite families had moved out of the congested old town to build their palatial houses in these beautiful areas, and the kids would get a chance to get together with the aristocracy of Nahan. With their children studying in faraway private and convent boarding schools, the little girl and her brothers were welcomed by these lonely parents, as Biji and Papaji would befriend a couple of these families.

For example, they all used to visit a Mr and Mrs Chauhan, who were the most aristocratic family they had ever been close to. Surprisingly both were quite down to earth people, and were very friendly and affectionate towards Papaji and Biji, and of course the kids. Their own children studied in a boarding school.

Professor Bhardwaj, one of Papaji’s colleagues at work, also became a part of these meetings, along with his wife, who adored the kids, not having any of hers, and they all ended up spending a lot of time together, talking, cracking jokes, singing and reciting couplets. The girl still remembers these evenings that they all spent on Mr Chauhan’s elegant terrace in his palatial villa.

The little girl even visited the royal palace, a couple of times, to play with the two princesses of Nahan, a privilege that remained in her memory for a long time, something which actually made her grateful for not being born in a royal family, and to have the freedom of going around unattended, choose who to play with, and be able to eat golgappe at the chabri, the street food, or just walk around the town with friends, unencumbered by the restrictions imposed on the royalty.

Then, there was another beautiful house, in the Ranital area, where a family, with four sisters lived, and the youngest of them was her favourite. She was her English teacher too. The girl just adored her, the way she taught, the way she dressed or did her hair. That family always threw parties and the girl would look forward to going there with her parents. She missed not having sisters.

At one function, at their house, they met an older couple, a retired army officer and his wife, a fragile looking beautiful woman with snow white hair, that she still remembers. They had a beautiful young girl with them, maybe their daughter. But, when they were introduced, they found out this girl was not their daughter, but their daughter in law, their son’s widow. She looked so fresh and beautiful in her white outfit, with a chiffon chunnie covering her head, that the little girl couldn’t take her eyes off her.

This beautiful girl, she found out, was actually her older brother’s classmate, the girl, who had not come to his party!

In the 1962 war many young men had not come back home, and their parents, their wives, or fiancés had to bear the biggest loss of their lives. This was the truth of war, the other side. As before this the little girl had only associated war with singing patriotic songs, and marching an NCC parade, that always ended in refreshments, and everyone coming back home.

She left the party sobbing all the way back home. She was discovering a lot in life, which was not all that rosy, what she had thought of life, when she was little.

Things could be ugly, and people could be cruel, she was finding out. Once, a student in her school said to her, “rolly polly duck, or something rude on these lines, calling her ugly, and fat, as she was a bit fat, as compared to other girls in her class, and she came home feeling really down and teary. She was also becoming conscious of her own skin colour which as compared to her Biji, was not that fair. This had a depressing impact on her, and she didn’t want to go anywhere or see anyone and this went on for a few months.

Then, Papaji spoke to her one day, explaining to her about inner beauty, and intelligence, and the light, which she carried, and which made her unique and beautiful.

He said to her, “while others cannot see it, but you know that, don’t you? That is your secret, you know who you are, and how beautiful,” this conversation might have been Biji’s idea, but it worked.

And since that day, the little girl held her head high. And this lesson about inner beauty and confidence, that no one can take away from you, has remained with her forever.

The college sports lecturer, Ms Ponga was also instrumental in bringing a change in her thinking, and in building her confidence, that she did through building her physique. She took her out to join a volleyball camp, and then also got her involved in playing sport at a regular basis, table tennis, badminton etc.

Soon, the girl came out of herself, and started to get involved in cultural activities at her school. In her year 8, she was the monitor of her class. She wrote and directed a play on Chacha Nehru and Red Rose, which they then played at her school. She also participated in a satirical drama with college students for a youth festival competition, acting as an eccentric lawyer trying to sue Lord Ram for breaking Lord Shiva’s bow, a mythical story with a modern touch.

During Ram Leela, that year, she took part in a debate on Ramayana, and was awarded Rs 10 for winning the second place. With her award money, she bought a green silk scarf from the Gandhi Khadi stall, her first chunnie!

Next summer, she participated in the Summer festival held annually in Simla, where she went with other students, and Ms Ponga, and stayed in a hostel for a week. She had never stayed away from home, and felt quite grown up without Biji to look after her.

In their school holidays, she and her brother had already started to spend a few days with their grandparents, in Chandigarh, without Biji. Papaji would take them there on his tour to attend a meeting and the kids would spend their holiday there, oscillating between their paternal and maternal grandparents’ houses, enjoying their very different food and lifestyles.

Sometimes, after a couple of weeks, Biji would arrive and they would go to visit their auntie Nannaji, and her family, who also lived in Chandigarh, or sometimes they would go to Delhi, where Biji’s other younger sister and their Bua, Papaji’s sister lived, to spend a week or so with each one of them.

All of these families also visited them in Nahan, and even though they all had a very different lifestyle, one thing was the same in each one of them, and which ran beneath everything, it was love. Papaji’s brothers and sisters, and Biji’s younger brothers were also in this network, and very much a part of their circle of loved ones.

The atmosphere in their house was always warm, as Biji was a great host, generous and hospitable. Many of the kids, especially the older brother’s friends would come and spend time at their place, being part of their routine. Their brother, R.D., who had become a part of the family since Bilaspur days, when Papaji had supported him to study medicine, also came to spend his holidays from his medical college in Maharashtra.

This was also the time, when the kids were confirming their friendships with their cousins, on their own, which would last their lifetimes. Their cousin, Nannaji’s son came to study in Nahan, and became a part of their trio.

These visits would be cherished by them all their lives, the time they spent with their aunties and uncles, and cousins, was memorable. Especially for the little girl, cousins were very important, and because she had always missed not having a sister, her love and affection for her cousin sisters grew tremendously, giving her a warm feeling inside.

Then the love their grandparents showered on them, the simple home cooked food they enjoyed at their houses, gave them everlasting wonderful feelings, and the stories that the grandparents told them about their parents, as through these stories, they got to know a lot about their own parents, about their childhood, and youth, their struggles during partition, the good and the not so good times, the families had gone through.

Especially from their paternal grandma, Bibbee’s stories, the little girl learnt a lot about her own father, but she also learnt about storytelling, knitting a yarn, and having a twist in the tale at the tail end! For example the story Bibbee told them about her bangles turning into snakes, is imprinted on her mind still!

The little girl had always indulged in the imaginary world, thinking up stories, and telling stories, may be because she had been lonely, and also because reading stories was a very important part of her life. There were always books at their house, non-fiction or story books, as everyone in their family used to enjoy reading. Papaji read the newspaper, and always had a couple of English periodical journals, and a few hard cover books at hand, which he was always diving into. The brothers also read books, comics, magazines, novels, anything that they could get their hands on.

She mainly read her mother’s weekly and monthly magazines, and the library books or novels that she was allowed to read, and then she also started buying books and magazines from her pocket money, a habit to last her forever. In Nahan, she found the Geeta Press Gorakhpur stalls, which is a charity organisation, that used to publish a variety of religious books, and autobiographies of great people, or tales from other countries, and sell them quite cheap, just for one or two paisa each.

It was through these books, that she read stories from the New Testament, Aesop’s fables, and Jataka stories and then Hindi translations of Bhagwat Gita, and Vedanta stories from the Upanishads. These books naturally widened her mind, and gave her much fodder for thought too. She mainly read books in Hindi, but had started to experiment with English books too. As she read fairy tales from many other countries and cultures around the world.

Hindi had become a preferred language at home, along with Punjabi, and English used mainly by Papaji, had also started to become a part of their multi-lingual repertoire. The kids had already been exposed to Urdu, as Papaji always recited couplets but also thanks to their older brother’s recitations, that they had to ‘suffer’ and appreciate every night. The girl especially enjoyed Urdu poetry, trying to understand the nuances of this elegant language. So much so that she ended up taking Urdu language as a subject at school in year nine.

In terms of study for the purpose of studying, as compared to her brothers, she was not very studious, though they all had to study, as it was expected of them. Her younger brother always studied hard, finishing his home work and doing extra study every day, though their older brother would rebel against any study rules at home, as he would study only when he felt like, sometimes while listening to music, or would start playing his flute in the middle of his study time, which grown ups couldn’t understand. After his pre-medical exams, he was selected to go to the medical college in Amritsar, which was in Punjab, he went there, but then he didn’t like it there and got sick, he was missing Himachal and came back to Nahan. The rest of the year, he spent at home, reading novels, and poetry books, and spending a lot of time on the roof, playing music, meeting his friend Ranbir, and reciting poetry.

And then towards the middle of the following year, he left for Simla to study at the newly opened medical college, and everyone missed him. Biji was not able to eat anything without shedding tears for months, and the house was quite empty without his typical noises, and his music. And the girl missed him a lot too.

Being an only daughter, she had always been a bit lonely any way, but after he left, it was even more lonely. So, she turned to books, her best companions as they would remain for ever, especially whenever she felt sad or lonely, keeping her warm always.

But then, one thing that warmed her all over, and made her a very happy girl happened, as finally, in Nahan, she was allowed to have her own pet, a dog, that she had always wanted.

Lucy was the world’s cutest golden puppy that she had found playing beside the road, and had fallen in love with. She brought it home, and named it after Wordsworth’s poem, Lucy Grey, the girl lost in a snow storm, that she had recently read.

Lucy was to become her companion, and she would play with it, talk to it and sleep with it.

And then the time came for them to leave Nahan, as it always did.

They had spent three years in Nahan, coming there as children, but were youngsters now, the older brother was already in his second year of medicine in Simla, the younger brother was going to start college soon, and she was in year nine, with just one more year to go before she also finished high school.

The kids were quite excited to leave Nahan, as future awaited them there in the new place, the next town, Una, the newest town of Himachal, where Papaji had been transferred to open a new degree college.

When their furniture and other household stuff, which had to be sent separately by a truck to Una, was getting packed, she spoke to her father about taking Lucy with her, but dogs were not allowed to go in the bus, and the family had to travel that day by bus, so Lucy couldn’t come with them.

She spent the whole journey missing Lucy, and speaking to it in her imaginary stories, and feeling miserable. But when she finally arrived in Una, a surprise awaited her there.

(The post 35 A will be a story that the girl remembers that her Bibbee had told them on a winter evening).