Prem Kissa

By Pravin Maharaj

Prem was six years old, and the only son to his parents but from the outset, after their daily storytelling evenings with, their grandfather, Baba. He gave all the children stories from the past, when they were noticeably at a young and tender age. Being a brahmin, he hated the caste system in which he grew and lived in, during his growing up days. His life started in a rural area of Deganga, in India, and grew up in an extended family.
As a young adult, he graduated as an educated teacher, from an established university. Prem remained a bachelor for a short time only, whilst he lived on the farm, with his mum, until he was twenty-two years old. Soon he was introduced to and then married a pretty damsel. He grew up to be an elegant, handsome and charming person and his journey abroad highlights his attributes, friendliness, career, aligned with his explorative ideals, romance and dreams in all of his endeavors. He was the only member of his family that wanted to get away from the poor life in India, and decided to get away to London, which leads to the second book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Aug 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781543770650

Pravin Maharaj

My name is Pravin Maharaj, and the author of all six books. My ancestral roots were seeded in a little farm in Maudihaan, in the district of Rohtas, in the state of Bihar, in Eastern India. My great grandfather, left as an indentured labourer, in 1879, to South Africa, on British sailing ships, and his ship, which was called the HMS Truro. My grandfather and father and myself were all born in South Africa. I grew up and lived in South Africa and I had a love for writing, from a young age. When I was thirty-eight years old, living with the discriminatory laws in the apartheid era in South Africa, when non-whites were victimised and separated according to the race, creed and culture, that I left my mother country, and immigrated to New Zealand, where I reside currently. I studied and at the age of twenty, I graduated as a schoolteacher, and then quickly I was promoted as Senior leader, Deputy Principal and Principal at various schools both in South Africa and New Zealand. I had a short stint in the UAE as a Team Leader, after I was taken on contract to support American and other teachers from around the world, with the NZ curriculum and pedagogy, between 2014 and 2017. It is in the UAE, whence my flair for writing erupted, and it is here that I wrote 6 books, because I had lots of time available after school, which ended at 1.00pm, daily. It is funny, that I wrote novels as a past time, and at no time I had the intention to get them published. It happened by chance when, I was still in the UAE, for whatever reason, I had an email from Xlibris, and then Author House, with information about being an up-and-coming author and each one sent me an offer as a package deal, separately. On arrival to NZ, I started to read my stories, again, and rewrote many parts, and did a few edits. When I felt happy, I made fresh new contact with many publishing companies. This was the start of my communication with both publishing houses, and 8 years later, in 2022, my first book is in publishing sequence with Partridge, Author Solutions. The first book is entitled ‘Prem Kissa’. Currently I am still in the teaching profession after completing 45 years, so far, and on my way to retirement, and thereafter I will take up writing as a full-time hobby.

Book preview

Prem

Kissa

PRAVIN MAHARAJ

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Copyright © 2022 by Pravin Maharaj.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/singapore

CONTENTS

Introduction

Storytelling Of The Past

Early Life In Deganga

A Shift To Education

The Class System

Struggles And Strife

Prem Goes To School

If Music Is The Food Of Love, Play On

Weddings, Joys, And Sorrows

Music Rediscovered

After High School

Love, Romance, And Fate

Musical Talents

Second Year In Teaching

Mandir And Temple Duties

Third Year Of Teaching

The Big Turn In Life

Early Married Life

The Maharaj Family

Life Of Prem Revisited

A Trip To Remember

Final Days Of Maha Sungeeth

The Predicament

INTRODUCTIOn

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W ere it not for the Moguls, the Aryans, the Muslims, the British, the Portuguese, and even the Dutch infiltrating the borders of India, creating havoc, uncertainty, and unpleasantness most of the time in the last two centuries, India and its wonders would have remained untapped. However, the battles that originated and continued for so many years created so many upheavals, struggles, battles, and takeovers which subjugated the people and leaders of India into disarray. This only ended when India became its own independent republic and identity, and the people rejoiced on the return of their own motherland. The boom soon followed when the people adopted myriads of cultures and linguistics emanating from their own habitat after they created a niche for themselves. India restarted from its poorest and gloomiest period to its own glory.

The Sharma parivar (family) was one such family who lived a very poor life, working on the farms and in the fruit orchards, with the rich colonial Europeans supervising and making sure that every second or every grain of rice or wheat was never wasted as they toiled on the farm. The movement of Indians to escape colonialism was always present, and this affected Prem’s family as well.

Premchandra Mahindra Sharma (Prem) was a Brahmin by birthright, and therefore, his family was categorised as upper caste, which was a product of the ancient social reorganisation culminating into a class system in society. Prem’s family history spans nearly ten generations, dating back to the early 1800s to the modern time today. The Sharma family had its origins in Kolkata, but colonialism shifted the family to many parts of India: Bareilly, Patna, and then a tiny, little farmland in Maudihan, near Dehri-on-Sone, in the district of Rohtas, outside of Patna, in the region of Bihar. However, one generation finally moved away to Deganga back to Kolkata in India. So in great treks, the Sharma parivar established roots all over the northern and eastern parts of India.

Prem’s great-grandfather left the glamourous, upper-class priesthood life in Maudihan for Deganga, where Prem was ultimately born and which was about two hundred miles from Maudihan. They grew rice and vegetables which provided food and sustenance for the joint family. The family sold the better harvest, which was their livelihood and became their only mode of income as years cruised along. This was the reason why they left Bihar, in search of better prospects and also to generate income for economic reasons. Soon they had little contact with their family in Maudihan.

In Deganga, the rice field and sugar crops blossomed and flourished as well as the fruit orchard on the little piece of land which was not too far from the tropical seaside. Prem’s grandfather extended his family, and his sons and daughters ensured that they grew bigger and bigger. They soon climbed up the social ladder and brought more money into the household. Prem was one of the twenty-four grandchildren who were born in Deganga when the family grew larger. Much of his growing-up days were interwoven with financial strains and petty internal family disputes and nepotism in the nuclear family. Obviously, this happened within the extended system and built up pressure with adults and the wives, together with their children.

Premchandra Krishnand Ramachandra Gurudev Mahindra Sharma, or Prem for short, was an eighth-generation offspring born in the Deganga farm district and continued to live on the farmhouse in an extended family system because he was a great-grandson of the pioneering and prominent Sharma parivar who lived in the mighty Deganga (Kolkata) and Maudihan (Bihar) ancestral households.

Tracking back more than 200 years in history, that was when the family started to trace their roots. The first and second generations did not have conclusive historical recollection, especially of the names of Sri Ramharak Sharma and Sri Shivharak Sharma. These two names were inscribed on a metal tool they found in the shed. It seemed as if it was the earliest roots of the Sharma parivar; however, nobody could have any memory of the first two generations or even remember names beyond Mahindra.

So in putting a family root structure in place, the oldest ancestral name that the family ever had known was Sri Mahindra Sharma, whom they classified as the third generation because his son carried his name as Sri Prithvi Mahindra Sharma, so in essence, the name Mahindra definitely existed. There were no pictures or images or recollection of what he looked like to prove that he ever existed, but he remained as the apex of the ancestral history from the little that some people knew about him and his existence. It had been recorded in memory by his son Sri Prithvi Mahindra Sharma as he lived with his dad, siblings, and relatives, and a glimpse of information trickled down to the newer generations.

Sri Prithvi Mahindra Sharma (fourth generation) was the only surviving son whom the family could remember or knew about, although Sri Prithvi had many brothers and sisters in his lifetime when he lived. Other folks who were friends to the family did give some anecdotes and names, but it was hearsay and did not have grit or continuance. There were even no paperwork, certificates, or any other form of recollection or any pictures or even a drawing as evidence that more family existed. The reason why Sri Prithvi Mahindra Sharma was remembered was that there was a smudged solitary picture of him in an ageless frame that was hung on the ancestral main home in Maudihan with a name on the back of the picture and dated 1885.

Sri Gurudev Mahindra Sharma (fifth generation), one of the four siblings, was born out of wedlock from Sri Prithvi Mahindra Sharma and his wife. They all lived in Maudihan, and the family grew bigger and bigger as the four sons, their wives, and all the grandchildren lived in a little house near each other. Thereafter, Sri Ramachandra was born, making up the sixth generation, and he was Prem’s grandfather. Prem remembered and lived with him, and his stories created a wealthy knowledge bank with bags of memories of the early history of the Sharma parivar.

Sri Ramharak (first – no historical recollection) – early 1800s

Sri Shivharak (second generation – no historical recollection) – 1820s

Sri Mahindra Sharma (third generation) – 1832

Sri Prithvi Mahindra Sharma (fourth generation) – 1858

Sri Gurudev Big Aaja Mahindra Sharma (fifth generation) – 1881

Ramachandra Mahindra Sharma (Baba) (sixth generation) – 1901

Krishnand Mahindra Sharma (seventh generation) – 1926

Premachandra Mahindra Sharma (eighth generation) – 1959

Aaravindra Mahindra Sharma (ninth generation) – 1983

Aviresh Mahindra Sharma (tenth generation) – 2022

With this backdrop, the story began.

STORYTELLING OF THE PAST

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P rem grew up with his cousins, uncles, aunts, and a few other relatives who lived on the huge farmhouse with their elders, especially their grandfather, whom everybody called Baba, but his real name was Sri Ramachandra Mahindra Sharma. He was inspirational all through his life, and his recitals each evening to all his grandchildren gave deep understanding to them about the scriptures and the stories of his ancestral life and his parents and grandparents and described the history of their migration from their original abode in Kolkata, West Bengal, and then to an area in Rampur in Bareilly State, and then many years later, some family trekked and lived in Maudihan in the state of Bihar. The kids all had dinner together each evening after prayer, sitting on the floor, and then they waited for their daily thirty-minute storytelling moment from Baba before going to bed. He gave anecdotes about how in the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries, their ancestors, especially those who lived in the east of India, worked for the British colonials when they took India as their own protectorate as workers or slaves.

With the Dutch travelling around India, they created the Dutch East India Company (DEIC), more interested in the jewels and riches that India produced. But soon after the British colonials started a tug of war with Holland, the tension rope grew tighter as they competed and battled with each other for supremacy on the east coast of India. This period in the history, especially of the north and south-eastern part of India, cannot go unnoticed in the plight of the country and its prosperity after it took many directions when the colonials and other European settlers started leaving India to their own colonial homes, allowing India to regain its prowess as its own country. Baba related a few stories about Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi as well and how he struggled all his life to bring India glory. The struggle finally ended when India was given independence in 1947.

However, much of the storytelling was about his family and ancestral roots, linked with how India flourished after their many struggles, trials, and tribulations even before the Industrial Revolution because it formed an important trade route from the west to the east. India was regarded as a rich source of gold, diamond, and other gems; silk; and luxury items which royalty always wanted. So the West, especially the British, Dutch, and Portuguese, were in a greed race to usurp this wealth.

Coupled with the riches, Baba also mentioned that, long time ago, large areas and districts that made up the eastern rim of India near Kolkata, where his ancestry was seeded, had been struck by severe famine, poverty, and an epidemic of catastrophic proportions, so the poor Indian workers or slaves had to leave with their families away from their poverty-stricken abodes and venture out to the south and north of India to get away from the disease, plague, and cholera epidemic which were widespread and rampant and resulted in severe loss of thousands of lives. He related how the scourge was a continuous struggle for the people of eastern India. In that period, Baba’s ancestors were affected, and many of them perished as well, leaving a few who braved the great trek to better pastures for survival and food. The kids were glued to his stories, and some felt sad upon hearing about the hardships they faced and asked many questions.

Baba answered all their questions and then gave the children more stories. He told all of them how hundreds and thousands of people left their villages with their miniscule and meagre possessions and whatever bits and pieces they could carry and tied them in a bundle and placed them on their heads or on a huge dried branch they carried on their shoulders, with their dangling belongings attached at either end. From the storytelling, Prem and his cousins learnt how Baba’s eldest great-grandfather, Sri Mahindra Sharma (third generation), in the middle of the 1800s, also walked for many thousands of miles with his wife; two sons, Prithvi and Tanvi; and two daughters, Harishma and Kamalisha. They trekked away from their villages and from Kolkata into the explorative journey inland up north, away from the coast and the colonials.

Baba started to describe how so many of his grandfather’s close friends and other people in their group lost their lives along the long journey because of exhaustion, hunger, or infection. In that journey, from what he heard, Sri Mahindra lost his wife and a daughter, Kamalisha, through malnutrition and sickness. Prem and the kids started to tear up, and some of the young girls whimpered. The little audience on the floor started to dislike the white colonials because they believed that, with the mass exodus and movement of the deprived Indians, they became an easy target. So if they did not venture out, they would have survived, but staying meant that they had to work for a living in their new-found territories controlled by the British Empire. They were not happy and learnt how the Indians who left were greeted and despised by the colonials with animosity and hostility. This was the start of a discord, and their own vulnerability as poor nomads started to grow worse as they left in large numbers from the coast.

Baba said that those who remained on the Kolkata coast had been forced to work for the white colonial farmers or shipped out to other countries to work abroad. However, the Indians who worked for the colonials were then provided with meagre rations made up of mealie meal and were never given their staple diet which was rice. So they were forced to eat what they got to satisfy their hunger pangs. Often, they had eaten so little and forced to get to their workplaces which were far and wide by walking.

Baba mentioned that his grandfather and his family still continued their journey up north, and yet again more Indians died on the way. Some were given a decent burial, and others whom nobody knew were given a pauper’s burial or cremated wherever they had died. About a thousand Indians had died, Baba said, and his grandfather decided to stop at a place in Rampur in the state of Bareilly. His grandfather and father walked more than 500 miles from Kolkata to Rampur and stayed in a little house made of straw and mud. There was no electricity, and the gaps in the straw kept them miserable and cold at night because they had little clothing. The kids all huddled together and shrugged as they listened to Baba describe how the people lived.

However, about twenty years later, only Sri Prithvi Mahindra Sharma (fourth generation), living with his wife and three sons and two daughters, was alive and in a newly built shack they constructed, but the rest of the family had died due to poor health conditions and starvation. Sri Prithvi, who took the status of a priest, began to gain respect with the community that he lived in. The crops and rainfall did not do well. Sri Prithvi, Baba’s grandfather, wanted to find a new domain. A few years later, Sri Mahindra suffered his demise and died, and the children wept and wiped their tears. Altogether, there were fifteen cousins from the sons and daughters of Sri Prithvi Sharma. Sri Prithvi, Baba’s grandfather, took over the family reins and tried his best to maintain some stability.

He suggested to the community that he was leaving the temporary shack and that whoever wanted it could have it because he was heading back south towards Patna or Dehri in Bihar as he heard that the orchards, wheat, and rice did well. Also, it was the time when the colonials were going away as Mahatma Gandhi and the government were reaching a compromise to make India an independent state, governing on its own. With prosperity looming, many families started a new trek for better livelihood, but the rest of Prithvi’s brothers and sisters stayed behind in Bareilly but were sad to see their close family leave Rampur. A month later, Sri Prithvi split from the larger family in Rampur, and he arrived in Patna in Bihar some weeks later.

Prithvi, his wife, and his two sons, Gurudev and Prishdev, trekked back and lived away from the sea as the land was cheaper, and they borrowed money from the white colonists to buy some land and work for them to pay off the loan. Because it took many years before the colonial employers could provide them with a decent accommodation, the workers built tin shanties later when they could lay their hands on harder materials and wood.

In Patna, Sri Prithvi and other priests in the group became the elite, and soon merchants were organised, and many farmers organised the land for planting and harvesting, whilst the laymen worked on the farms to produce the food. Everybody shared their resources, and a work and class system was created. Sri Prithvi’s sons, Sri Gurudev and Sri Prishdev, helped establish themselves in Patna and married their sisters to Brahmin homes. They lived together under the strict rules of their father, Sri Prithvi Sharma.

Another twenty years passed, and Sri Prithvi was no more, and his eldest living son, Sri Gurudev Mahindra Sharma (fifth generation), was the most senior amongst them. Sri Gurudev married his wife, Kaikeyi, when he was much older; whilst the extended family grew larger in Patna, he and his wife decided to leave Patna for Dehri. Soon after arriving in Dehri, his wife gave birth to their first and only child, Sri Ramachandra Mahindra Sharma (Baba), in 1901 (sixth generation) after their treacherous and long journey into Dehri.

Because they had no proper housing and there were no building materials to build homes and none was provided for them, the laymen or the low-paid workers had to cut big trees from the forest and haul them in to build and erect homes and shacks which they made from leaves and branches. These temporary abodes did not protect them from the stormy weather or the rainy season, and here again, they perished as illness struck as they could get no medical assistance. The large group splintered into smaller units and started to relocate in different areas in Bihar.

Baba told his grandchildren that his family had split in many ways. The children wanted to know more about the split and which families lived in Kolkata, Bareilly, Rampur, Deganga, Patna, Dehri, and Maudihan. He could not remember the names of the people who were living in other areas, but what was most important to the children was that his father, Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, finally relocated to Deganga, so he stayed with his father, and his adoptive mother left the big family from Bihar to their final destination in Deganga.

Baba said that most of the family worked for the British government as labourers to work on the wheat, fruit, banana, and sugar cane plantations. By 1869 to 1900, the class and caste system was deeply entrenched and well pronounced, and divisions in the community according to what work they did gave certain groups and communities privileges due to their status and the jobs they did. Prem and his cousins realised that their great-great-grandfather was classified as the highest caste as he took responsibility as a priest in the community, and the status travelled down to all the sons who were born into the Sharma parivar. They looked at one another and smiled, knowing that they were higher-class children in the community.

During one story time, the children asked Baba some questions. Can you tell us a story about anything you remember that happened that was nasty and bad and what you saw and experienced as farmhands and labourers? Lalman, a cousin, asked.

Oh, yes, there was one very bad incident about Krishnamurthy, and I will tell you tomorrow as it is late now, Baba suggested.

The kids moaned and groaned, but Baba wanted to get to bed as it was his bedtime. Disappointed, the kids scrambled out of his room and to their own beds, with their parents if they were small. However, the farmhouse had extra rooms which were called the boys’ or girls’ rooms, and the boys or girls could leave their parents’ rooms when they were old enough. Once the girls grew into puberty or older, before marriage, they had a room for all the cousin girls, and they shared sleeping spaces. It was the same for the boys.

The next day, all the kids waited impatiently for his promised story about a man called Krishnamurthy. However, Baba had visitors and relatives staying over on the farm for a week. So Baba postponed his storytelling for a week, until the visitors had left. The visitors also had younger children, so all the cousins had a break and new company to play with. A week later, Baba gathered all his grandchildren and some others who were around to continue his story about Krishnamurthy, whom Prem heard from his granddad; and therefore, he tried to remember the explicit details as some parts were vague or could be inaccurate. Baba started to recite the story about Krishnamurthy as all sat listening, glued to their seats on the wooden floor.

He said that it was one of the many incidents which he knew about that his father and grandfather made him aware of. The story was about a white man brutally hurting an Indian man. The kids all prickled up their ears to hear what Baba was going to tell them.

Coughing a bit, he drank some water and started the recital. ‘Once, a white colonial employer was very angry with Krishnamurthy because he spoke back to him. He was tied and secured upon a railing outside their brick house in full view of other workers and other laughing colonials, who enjoyed the drama that unfolded. One of the colonials then took a whip or sjambok and thrashed him stroke after stroke and ensured that Krishnamurthy felt pain and suffering, taking his pride and dignity. He hit him very seriously, but Krishnamurthy just took every lashing, holding his pain within himself, but he grit his teeth as the sjambok struck his naked skin time after time.’

The kids shrugged and got a bit scared and started to hate the white people who were doing bad things to the Indian people.

Baba continued and stated, ‘It enraged the boss even more when Krishnamurthy just accepted the punishment without flinching or showing visual signs of pain, so he whacked him with greater force and intensity. He moved the battered man and then tied him to the rafters of the roof so that more of his body could be exposed, and then he hit and hit until he could hit no more. Krishnamurthy’s back had many opened wounds, and streaks of blood and lumps oozed from the injuries. The skin was tattered in place as the blood drizzled out onto the floor, to the despair of his fellow workers watching his agony and pain, and they felt it as well.’

Some of the little girls hugged Baba and started to cry as they felt the pain in that story. Baba waited for them to calm down, and he stopped reciting and asked them to wash their faces and go to bed. Quickly, they rushed out and told their mums and dads about the incident with Krishnamurthy, and they had a laugh, saying it happened so long ago and that it would never happen in this day and age. All the kids still felt scared and empathetic as they went to bed.

At the next sitting two days later, the kids still wanted to know what happened with Krishnamurthy, but Baba was reluctant to continue. ‘Please tell us, Baba. We want to know what happened to Krish . . . the man,’ Akshar pleaded.

‘OK but no crying this time, and if you start crying, then I will stop telling you about Krishnamurthy. OK, children?’ Baba said lovingly, caressing Nireshi’s and Remala’s hair as they were close to his knees.

All the kids yelled together, ‘We will not cry! Please tell us!’

He started with Krishnamurthy’s story but had forgotten where he had stopped the night before. ‘He had lots of hurt on his back!’ Akshar screamed.

‘Oh, OK’, Baba said and he continued, ‘Krishnamurthy’s story never ended there because Krishnamurthy was taken to the public officer by his friends to complain. The officer listened and then ordered him in a harsh tone to get back to the estate to work because, as a labourer, he should not have argued with his boss.’

‘What kind of judge is that?’ Prem retorted.

‘Then what did Krishnamurthy do?’ Lalman added.

Smiling at the youngsters and looking at their innocence that justice should have been served, Baba continued, ‘Krishnamurthy did not go back to the estate, but he and his friends walked more than a hundred miles to Calcutta to complain to the high court, and they laid the complaint, and Krishnamurthy showed the judge his injuries.’

Hoping that the court would give them some justice and give the white colonials some punishment, Akshar, asked, ‘What did the judge do?’

‘Put them in jail, I hope,’ Nireshi said in a soft-spoken voice.

‘No,’ Baba said aloud, ‘the judge of the high court arrested Krishnamurthy and his three other colleagues for absconding and not going to work and locked them up into jail.’

‘That is so bad and so cruel,’ Prem said emphatically and sadly.

Baba said, ‘There were more stories like that one, but I will not want to tell too many sad stories like this, but the colonials were nasty and very harsh to all the Indian labourers on the farms, and the white farmers showed many injustices, discrimination, and thuggery, and the white colonists continued to wreak havoc with all Indians for many more decades.’

Some of the kids were still confused that people could do bad things to others and not get punished. They felt that the law should protect people and not only one type of people, but then the kids had no idea that a hundred years ago, life was different, and they could not comprehend that kind of living that happened in the past.

Baba wanted to use his time after dinner to get his accounts and payments completed, so he gave the children some time for themselves for a week and stopped the storytelling. He also had lots of prayers and puja to do at people’s homes during a religious period, and he was tired. However, he promised the kids that he would call them in two weeks’ time after the religious period ended. The youngsters were thrilled as they could do other things in their rooms in that time.

Two weeks had passed quickly, and Remisha asked Baba to start with his stories again. Baba asked Prem to gather all the kids after dinner, and the next sitting for another storytelling episode was ready to start again. Before he could start, some questions were asked. ‘But, Baba,’ Ronin asked, ‘we are now all living in Deganga, and Maudihan is so far away from here. How come?’

‘Yes, my child,’ Baba answered. ‘I wanted to know as well because I also was not born in Maudihan but in Deganga, so I will tell you what my father told me.’

Baba started to relate the story that evening, and he said, ‘Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, was the only son to break away from our ancestral family home in Maudihan. He wanted to come back to a place near Kolkata, where we once lived about 200 years ago. That is why he chose Deganga. My father, or Big Aaja, married my mother, Srimati Kaikeyi, in Maudihan, by arranged marriage as she was the daughter of another priest near Maudihan. They started to continue the cycle of life with lots of uphill battles and struggles, being poor all the time. My mother did not want to fall pregnant after she got married.’

‘How did you know that?’ Prem asked.

‘My father told me once when I was with him on the rice fields,’ Baba said. ‘And because my mum also worked in the rice fields with my father, she did not want to have children, until she felt that they could bring up children in this world safely and provide food and shelter.’

‘Then why don’t you have any brothers and sisters, like we have?’ Jamilene questioned.

Baba continued, ‘The money we earned was not enough. It never rained for a while, and some of our crops perished in the heat, and we could not harvest our crops for the market. So Big Aaja, as a young married fellow of 20 and childless, and my mother left their ancestral home in Maudihan and travelled by ox wagon for months in the most dangerous part of India.’

‘So Big Aaja and Big Ajie [Granny] went alone?’ little Akshar asked.

‘No, many other families who also had hardships joined them, and they all went together to another place,’ Baba explained.

‘It must have been so hard,’ the girls said in chorus; they felt sorry for their great-grandparents and their struggles.

‘Yes, they all travelled south-east on a lengthy journey and horrendous terrain up and down hills, over rugged mountains and acres and acres of marsh and bush. Because Big Aaja left at a young age, he also lost some contact with his cousins and siblings. And therefore, he did not have knowledge of his family and those who lived or perished as a lost generation.’

‘Why?’ Lalman queried.

‘It’s not like today when we have a telephone, talk with people far away, and travel by a car and bus to get to places quickly,’ Baba remarked. ‘Big Aaja only had his legs and his cow and a bull to pull the wagon and plough the fields.’

‘Oh, it was so hard in those days, Gramps.’ Little Nirendra sighed in despair.

‘Oh yes, my dear.’ Baba comforted Nirendra. ‘Because it was fortunate that they managed to stay alive after going through some of the harshest weather like monsoon rains, crossing over wide rivers, and trying to hide from predators lurking around. Up in the sky, the eagles and vultures were circling in case one of them fell down breathless, and the birds swooped quickly. Down in the bush were tigers, leopards, hyenas, and a host of wild animals waiting for their moment.’

Intrigued by Baba’s description, Prem asked, ‘So how did they manage to be safe when there was so much danger in the journey and bushes, Grandpa?’

‘Big Aaja said that they were lucky to travel in groups, and at night, they lit large bonfires to ward off any danger. It so happened that other couples and families were around on the same great trek and were handy when they needed support, reassuring safety from unexpected danger.’

‘It surely would have been exciting then, Baba,’ Ronin said as he was the eldest among the kids listening that day.

‘No! It certainly was not,’ Baba exclaimed. ‘But Sri Gurudev or Big Aaja witnessed many deaths as well, and my father, as a Brahmin, performed the final rites of any person who died on the journey by quickly cremating the body in a makeshift cremation pyre as they were en route on their trek.’

‘How sad,’ Nireshi said empathetically with tears in her eyes. ‘And where did they do in the funeral?’

Baba knew the kids were feeling sad and in pain but answered Nireshi, ‘Well, my sweetie, they found an open, flat space near the water’s edge for cremation. Otherwise, they did a burial in unknown territories as they had shovels to dig a grave, and all helped.’

‘It must have taken our great-grandparents a long time to get to where they were going, Baba,’ Prem remarked.

‘They travelled for some weeks and almost a month, and the toil was exceptionally cruel and unhospitable. There were times when my mother wanted all of them to go back, but Big Aaja, my father, was not in the least interested in Great-Granny’s demands or requests to return, and her pleas fell on deaf ears as they plodded along slowly and cautiously.’

‘And food to eat and water to drink?’ Akshar asked.

‘Luckily, to their advantage, they had lots of food and water as they found lush greeneries on their journey south-east, and wild berries and other fruit provided the basic diet they needed as vegetarians. After the drudgery and hardships with sweat and tears, they adapted to the life of nomads, and the spirit of going to a new-found land made them optimistic. They started to see a less treacherous route, as well as loads of water in streams and trees ladened with fruit, and it started to pay dividends,’ Baba summarised.

The kids started to get happy as the journey of the nomad travellers was nearing its end as Baba continued, ‘They finally reached a place where they found some shelter with some unknown but friendly people in a tiny, little lush farmland in Deganga in the district of Barasat in the outskirts of Kolkata.’

‘So what did our great-grandparents do when they reached Deganga, Baba?’ Prem asked.

‘Well, quickly through some contacts, my father managed to get some work with a rich colonial farmer and offered him a one-room compound where Dad stayed with his young wife, who finally managed the long journey.’

‘But wasn’t our great-granny unwell on the journey? How did she cope?’ Ramilene, Prem’s elder sister, remembered and queried.

Baba replied, ‘Yes, although she was sickly, she managed to stay alive in their ghastly and unspeakable travels from the north as she fell ill many times, and my father, Big Aaja, thought she, too, will perish when she collapsed once.’

‘Then when were you born, Grandpa, as you did not tell us yet?’ cute and pretty Remashi asked as she was curious.

‘Because my father worked for the white colonial for about six months, when he was settled into a routine, their overheads were not vast as the white colonial farmer gave the workers rations and food, which was enough. They did not have to pay rent, so saving money was easy and vital. So my father and my mother decided to have children. So my mum fell pregnant, and I was born.’ Baba laughed and smiled.

Baba ended his story with the kids at a point when he was born. He decided that the death of his mum when he was so little would get his grandchildren upset and make them cry again, so he kept the delicate parts away from them and maybe tell them one day. As they grew older, he would tell them.

The rest of the untold story to the kids remained a mystery to them, and the course of Baba’s history continued herein. The next day, the next storytelling was about tales from the Hindu scriptures on the Ramayana and the Bhagavad Gita to ensure that they had knowledge about their religion.

EARLY LIFE IN DEGANGA

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A fter being established by verbal agreement, with a thousand rupees, Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, purchased and owned the large tract of land and promised to pay in small amounts each month from his wages to the government. He built his first original mud house with a straw roof for him and his wife, Kaikeyi Sharma from Maudihan. Gurudev and Kaikeyi started their life in the mud house and loved their little independence away from their rowdy and inquisitive neighbours in the compound for about a year. Her son, Ramachandra, Baba, was born a few months after they moved into their mud house.

Being the main instigator who left the north of India and the priesthood life in Bihar for the south-east in Deganga near Kolkata, the long travel took its toll on Kaikeyi. And weakened by the travels and the work on the rice and wheat fields, she suffered her demise one night away from an asthma attack and died from breathing loss with Ramachandra (sixth generation) in her arms as she lay in bed in 1901. Sadly, she had one child only, Baba, who was a few months old and had no mum or female to look after him as a little baby.

Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, could not handle the tragic loss of his wife when he found her lifeless body. Ramachandra was hungry and cried incessantly, and his mother lay lifeless and could not feed little baby Ramachandra. Sri Gurudev or Big Aaja was heartbroken and inconsolable and just wailed outside his home. The people rushed to find out what had happened, and those who came to console him saw him broken-hearted and distraught for the first time. Some ladies quickly took baby Ramachandra away and made him quiet by rocking him to and fro. Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, after he calmed down, eventually realised that he could do nothing. He could not understand the Almighty above because he felt that they had everything to live for, and Kaikeyi braved the worst conditions on their long-distance travels from the north to the south-east of India, and suddenly, when they started to have it all, she passed away in an instant.

Deep in emotion, he bellowed to his friends and cried again and again, ‘Why has God done that to me and taken my wife away from me and from our little four-month-old baby?’ All they could do was console Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, and keep him company.

Her body was cremated near the river and her ashes strewn all over. He completed all the rituals, and because he was in deep mourning, some close friends stayed with him until the thirteenth-day prayer and ceremony, and the ladies took care of Ramachandra in those two weeks. Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, realised that the risk and the challenges to venture away from their poor ancestral life in Bihar should not have happened as it was the main cause of his young wife’s death. But then he looked at himself, and because of economic reasons and the search for greener pastures, he had to relocate in a more prosperous part of India. This was the main reason why Gurudev Sharma left Maudihan (Bihar) for Deganga (Kolkata). He wanted now to devote his life to his son as that was what he thought his beautiful wife would have wanted.

Ramachandra Mahindra Sharma, Baba, was the only son to his father, who now was a widower and refused to remarry, even after being advised by his boss and colleagues in Deganga, so that Ramachandra could have a stepmum. Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, could not bring another woman so quickly, and Kaikeyi was fresh in his mind. He felt her spirit around him all the time. He found it a huge struggle to raise Ramachandra as he went to work; he carried him on his back as he worked. It affected his work, and his white boss was not impressed and reminded him to get a new wife when they joked during breaks.

One day after Baba was born and whilst he was a little baby, Big Aaja’s best friend, Jainath Hari, sat him down and advised him that there was a young widowed lady living in another town in Baduria because she just lost her husband soon after she was married and had no children. Her father took her away to live with him but agreed that if a suitor could be found for her, he would allow her to remarry. Her father was not able to look after her financially, and because she, too, was very young, he wanted her to find another man. The problem was that she was of a lower caste and not a Brahmin, and Jainath Hari was aware that this was the greatest barrier and obstacle, especially all the people lived in extricable ways and embroiled deeply within the caste system. Jainath Hari showed Big Aaja a little black-and-white picture of the young widowed woman. She was fair and extremely pretty but shorter.

Baba’s dad, Sri Gurudev, was not interested, and marriage was out of the question, especially to a lady who was not in his caste and not a Brahmin. He asked his friend not to bring anyone to him, or their friendship would be ruined. Big Aaja’s other companions, as well as his white boss, criticised his reaction and decision and advised that he was still so young and that he should reconsider.

A week later, after much thought and trying to be logical, especially for his son’s sake, Sri Gurudev told his friend that he would consider another option. He stated that he would not marry the pretty widow whom his friend proposed to him but would take her under his wing. He would look after her on one condition, that the widow must look after his son, Ramachandra, and that she could stay in his mud house. Jainath Hari was ecstatic and took the news quickly to the father of the young widow about twenty miles away, where they lived in similar poverty.

All was agreed and set, so the transfer happened with no pompous festivities and no ceremony, and the young widow was happy to live with Gurudev and look after Baba. Jainath Hari spoke to the young widow; she gave her name as Jagdae. Reluctant at first because she was of a lower caste after she heard that Sri Gurudev was a Brahmin, she said that she would agree with non-marriage and live with her new partner and accept the role of being Ramachandra’s foster mum. She explained how she had just lost her husband in the same predicament, on their travels from Bihar to Maudihan. He was cremated on the journey near a river, but she had to carry on as they had reached Deganga by then, and her father was happy for her to remarry. She therefore agreed to Big Aaja’s arrangement because he came from an upper class.

As per the agreement, Sri Gurudev did not marry Jagdae but took her under as his wing to look after his baby son. So he added another room to the mud house and made it a two-room shack with hay and grass as the roof. He soon bought another cow and used the milk for domestic use and to feed his growing son. He used the cow dung to plaster the walls and on the floor and outside, which made it stronger and withstand the weather. Jagdae lived with Sri Gurudev as if she were his wife, and at one time, they cavorted in her room so that his manhood was exposed, but he never wanted another child from her for various reasons but had sexual intercourse on odd occasions when he wanted.

Young Ramachandra helped his dad on the farm, and they hired some labourers to cut the sugar cane they planted and harvested for the mill. Ramachandra helped with the rice fields and the vegetables which provided food and sustenance for their little family. The family sold the better part of the harvest, which they separated for the market place. This brought small dividends, which was their livelihood and only mode of income for the many years that passed because he had to pay the government the money he had borrowed to buy his land.

In Deganga, the rice field and sugar crops blossomed and flourished as well as the fruit orchard on the little piece of land which was not too far from the tropical seaside. As time passed, the family in Deganga lost contact with their family in Bihar and met either once in a year as travel and communication were difficult to sustain. Therefore, Sri Gurudev Sharma or Big Aaja and his son, Ramachandra or Baba, sent some money to Bihar on odd occasions during Diwali and Holi festivals as a gesture of goodwill as their fortunes started to grow. Life up north was not as prosperous as the south. All the locals called Gurudev ‘Big Aaja’ as he was the community priest and did the puja for everyone, and they paid him in groceries and some people with money, and that helped his household. As time passed and Ramachandra, Baba, grew older, his father trained him to be a very young priest just as he was, and Baba wanted to be just like his dad.

Over the next decade, Sri Gurudev Mahindra Sharma, or Big Aaja as the locals called him, spotted a wonderful family in another town, Barrackpore, and saw a lovely very young spinster when he went to do some puja. He immediately asked for her hand in marriage with his son without Ramachandra’s knowledge. He was very young – actually, 14 – and his father secured a little girl, Suminthra Maharaj, who was just 11, from Barrackpore. It was agreed and arranged, and the men shook hands, which was the gospel in the ancient days. In Deganga, Ramachandra was amused that he had proposed and wanted to see who his wife would be. However, that never happened as movement between towns was rare and expensive, and it was actually forbidden for the groom to see his bride-to-be before marriage.

When Suminthra Maharaj was 16 years old, according to the Indian law, Gurudev married his son at a large gathering and a pompous traditional wedding in Barrackpore. Both Ramachandra and Suminthra had never met or seen each other before, and during the wedding, her head was always covered, so Ramachandra could not peep or see her, except when she came as the bride and wife to him in Deganga two weeks after her wedding. The meeting ceremony was called the bidaai, and it was on that night that Suminthra had to share a bed with her husband, touch him for the first time, and consummate their wedding vows and marriage.

Life continued in Deganga. Both Big Aaja and Baba grew inseparable, and everyone helped on the farm. Suminthra, as Prem’s young ajie (granny), and Jagdae, as his old ajie, became great soulmates on the farm in Deganga.

Ramachandra’s married life started like a bomb after bringing his new wife to his household. They grew older and worked with his father in the farmhouse, and in the first year, their firstborn came into the world, and they named him Parunand Ramachandra Sharma. A year later, they had a daughter and named her Dhaniwat Sharma. Baba and Suminthra had two children soon after being lawfully married, and they were born in quick succession.

Sadly, Sri Gurudev, Big Aaja, who started the journey to travel away from Bihar to Maudihan and resettled in Deganga, went with his wife in heaven after he succumbed in 1921. He had an incurable disease to his kidneys just two years after Ramachandra got married, and he saw the birth of his two little great-grandchildren and passed away. His keeper, Jagdae, continued to be strong and lived in Deganga after his funeral. She was very desolate and remained forlorn that she was going to be alone because she had no other place to stay and thought that she would be sent away as she was not Ramachandra’s real mum.

When his father, Sri Gurudev, was dying, Ramachandra promised his father on his deathbed that his foster mother would be well taken care of for the rest of her life and that he would look after her as his own mother and as the senior person in his household. Those were the last moments between father and son, and the lifeblood between them finally separated. Ramachandra lost his father when he just turned 20 in Deganga, Barasat, on his bed in his rickety, rusty old tin shack they first built after their mud house.

Ramachandra inherited everything from his father, including his prestige, respect, and dignity in the community. He still had to pay his father’s debts, and with the money his father left for him, he built a bigger new tin and steel house to accommodate his new wife with three rooms and a kitchen and an outdoor toilet for all of them. His young family were made up of his young wife and two children. There was no electricity, and the stove used wood and coal to cook the food, and paraffin lamps were lit at night. The house smelled of paraffin as each lamp was lit in the rooms.

As Baba grew older, he remained as the wisest person and controlled all the money, as well as held his family together. In the next ten years, Baba and Suminthra had another four children, which made up the seventh generation. They were Krishnand (third sibling), Benanand (fourth), Kedarnand (fifth), and Tikawat (sixth), and the Sharma Deganga household started to grow bigger and bigger. Harinand and Raminand were born in that time, but Raminand died a few weeks after birth through some complications. Two more children, girls, were born many years later, and they were Mayawat and Sithawat.

So to put things into perspective, originally, it started with Prem’s great-grandfather, Sri Gurudev Mahindra Sharma, who left the north, and then his only son, Ramachandra, was born, and he married Suminthra, and they had his six sons and four daughters, who all started their lives on the large farmhouse in Deganga. So the six sons were Parunand, Krishnand, Benanand, Harinand, Kedarand (passed away at 21 with a leaking heart), and Raminand (who died after a few weeks after birth). He also had four daughters, and their names were Dhaniwat, Tikawat, Mayawat, and Sithawat.

Over time, the surviving four sons continued to live on the large farmhouse and were a great income support to Baba and the household. The two elder daughters, Dhaniwat and Tikawat, were married and left Deganga. The other two daughters, Mayawat and Sithawat, were much younger and grew with their nephews and nieces, who were children of their brothers, although Mayawat was most senior amongst the girls on the farm. She married first, and then the elders’ nieces and suitors needed to be found to get them married. They were all living on the large house in Deganga and created a robust joint family which grew bigger and bigger, establishing a respected niche in the Deganga community. Sithawat married very much later as she was younger than her so-called nieces. Altogether, Baba and Granny had ten children, of whom two sons passed away at a very young age. By then, the sons had married, and the farmhouse filled up with many grandchildren.

Baba was a witty wizard and with his wife, Suminthra, managed to save lots of money and had enough finances to support the expenses, and together, they built a very large, six-bedroom brick and tile home without electricity in the beginning. It was built on a flatter piece on the farm for his growing family, and they hired local builders, Ramsewak Builders, to construct the dwelling. The tin house was kept as a storage place for the crops and fruit from the orchard. Four rooms were allocated to the four surviving sons with their offspring. One room for Old Ajie and the last room for Baba and Young Ajie. Later, they added another outdoor extension building with a garage, a dining room, and another bedroom because the children started to grow older, and more rooms were needed.

Because they were about 400 miles away from the original Prithvi Mahindra ancestral main house in Bihar, the Deganga household lost contact with their ancestry as transportation was scarce. So they never actually visited and never came for the funeral rites of the late Sri Gurudev Mahindra Sharma.

In Western cultures, the terms uncle and aunt were used constantly to describe a father’s brother or cousin or a mother’s sister and cousin. In India, it is different, and depending in which places you visit, wherever Indians emigrated and lived around the world, it was common to use specific Hindi words to describe specific people. For example, for Prem,

• his father’s sister is referred to as Phoowa (Aunt) or Bua,

• his phoowa’s husband is Phoopa (Uncle),

• his mother’s brother is Mama,

• his mama’s wife is Mamie,

• his father’s brother is Kaka (Uncle),

• his kaka’s wife is Kaki (Aunt),

• his mother’s sister is Mosie (Aunt),

• his mosie’s husband is Mosa (Uncle),

• his paternal grandmother is Ajie,

• his paternal grandfather is Aaja,

• his maternal grandfather is Nana,

• his maternal granny is Nani,

• his sister’s husband is Bhonoi (brother-in-law),

• his wife’s sister is Sali (sister-in-law),

• his wife’s brother is Maama (Uncle),

• his maama’s wife will be Maamie (Aunt),

• an elder brother is bhaiya, and

• an elder sister is bhainie.

So when those terms were used, a specific person was addressed in an instant, and the discussion was easier because it pinpointed the exact person being spoken about or to.

The Sharmas were sanctified as Brahman by birthright, and as such, the Sharma parivar kahaani or family history spanned nearly ten generations, dating back to the early 1800s, from the earliest known memories of the knowledge they had accumulated. As generations followed, this hierarchy was passed down from one generation to the next to the modern time today. The family had its origins in a tiny, little farmland in Maudihan in the district of Rohtas, outside of Patna, in the region of Bihar, India.

Prem’s upstanding and astute grandfather Ramachandra, whom everybody referred to as Baba even in the local community, took care of the newly built farmhouse filled with an orchard of delicious fruit trees of all kinds, as well as large fields of sugar cane and hundreds of rows of banana trees. For its upkeep, Baba hired numerous poor, low-class Indian labourers to work on the farm. He built a four-room block compound on the farm for the labourers, which was located near the farmhouse. Baba controlled all the small and miniscule finance, that came in. As he was wise with his outstanding financial acumen, the household bank balance slowly moved upwards.

At the end of each month, he collected all the cheques and cash from weekly market sales and banked them personally. This was methodically operated and assisted how the large household was run. He ruled the farmhouse by the sword and with his iron fist, and his extremely strict control and unstinting mannerisms created lots of wealth into the household. He did not believe that money could be squandered on personal needs or social fun. Therefore, entertainment was scarce, and every ceremony, function, or party, no matter how small or big, had to be sanctioned by Baba. The sons and their wives had to plead through the grannies, who then had to beg Baba, if they needed to buy personal items for themselves, but they had to have numerous reasons to justify any handouts. Reluctantly, money was given, and the younger granny delivered the dough without a smirk or a smile. However, some of his sons and their families were better off than the others.

Baba’s eldest son was Parunand Mahindra Sharma; everyone in the district and town knew him as PM, and in the household, all the children called him Big Daddy. And his brothers and parents addressed him as Big Bhaiya, even the ladies and his siblings. Big Daddy’s wife was referred to as Big Ma, but her real name was Sureakumari Maharaj, and they had four children: three daughters, Raina Sharma, Kamoli Sharma, and Thanara Sharma, and only son, Ronin Sharma.

The second son was Prem’s dad, Krishnand Mahindra Sharma, and his nickname was Jaggers. Krishnand had many aliases like Nan Kaka, Small Brother, and Nan Bhaiya, and all his students referred to him as Mr K. M. Sharma. He was married to Kanola Devi Maharaj, and she had four pretty daughters: Jameera Sharma (Jami), Premilla Rani Sharma (Premi), Ramilene Sharma (Rami), and little Jyanthimala (Mala) Sharma. Prem was the only son, just like Ronin. Prem was born many years later as one of the many grandchildren of his grandfather Ramachandra Sharma or Baba.

Benanand Mahindra Sharma, Bena, was the third son, and he had three sons – Lalman Sharma, Akshar Sharma, and Manush Sharma – and an only daughter, Amanya Sharma, and their mother was Goodimathie Sharma or Goody Kaki. Benanand was strict like his father, and everyone was fearful of him.

The youngest son, Harinand Mahindra Sharma or Hari, was married to Bhimmy Kaki, and they had three daughters – Nireshi Sharma, Romashi Sharma, and Remala Sharma – and an only son, Nirendra Sharma. Hari was Baba’s pet son, but he was an alcoholic, although he gave up drinking in the latter part of his life. His four children were close to Prem and Prem’s mother. All the grandchildren in the Sharma household, about twenty altogether, grew up as true brothers and sisters and never referred to one another as cousins.

Prem’s father and all his uncles had their wedding settled by his grandparents by arranged marriages as it was a bonding of families because, during the wedding, their faces were covered, and then only two weeks after the wedding could they meet in person. Hence, Prem’s mother saw his father for the first time in the bedroom about two weeks after the traditional wedding. Life was so traditional, unique, and strange in the decades that passed.

The cousins could not understand so many things, and questioning the logic seemed to be a waste of time, even if they tried to comprehend and make sense of their traditional beliefs. They were given discourses upon discourses by their elders to impregnate the moral reasons why all decisions must be conformed to. These indoctrinated thoughts soon disappeared as the youngsters tried to piece together why things happened as they grew up on the farmhouse, and only did them when the elders were around.

Baba was the great preacher, and his discourses that were recited indoctrinated all of them to believe that the scriptures were the truth. They lived by strict command and had no right whatsoever to challenge. Therefore, all the grandsons and granddaughters grew older on the farm and ensured that they just accepted and did what they were told. They hated that life and wanted to grow up quickly and either get married or, for the boys, work and earn money. They lived under heavy traditional discipline in modern times and could do no wrong. If they were caught, they were punished by getting strikes on their bums or hands with a ruler or a belt. The protocol was the biggest priority in their extended family, and this rested on the shoulders of Baba and then Young Ajie and then according to age thereafter.

A SHIFT TO EDUCATION

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T he sons, with Grandad’s pressure, all ventured into academic study, so they climbed up the social and status ladder further and brought more money into the household. At that time, all of Baba’s four surviving sons graduated to become teachers. Parunand, Krishnand, Benanand, and Harinand studied to become prominent schoolteachers, and each had their own groups of friends, and all through their academic careers, they provided Prem’s grandfather and the household bank account with money. Big Daddy and Prem’s dad went to the training college to qualify as teachers a year after another but after doing a year of studies left to teach as junior teachers as Baba needed money on the farm to make it even more prosperous.

Parunand started at Mohan Dass School while Krishnand at Srihari School in the