Chapter 2 - My Birthplace, Banigram
Almost dusk, the sun is setting in the horizon - the sky flaming vermillion-red, a few birds, probably eagles - are still visible in the sky far away. The train is running far away from Kolkata. Can’t believe, we, a group of twelve, are leaving Kolkata for the mountains in the North! We had a lot of chat throughout the morning, a bit tired now, eyes drooping heavy, and memories from the past are crowding in my mind. Many years have passed, I never had time to sit quietly, and ponder about my own life! Today, not sure why, many memories are stepping forward with small steps from the innermost corner of my heart.
In East Bengal, which is now Bangladesh, I was born in a small village called Banigram of Mymensingh district. My parents had two sons, and three daughters when I was born. Yet my parents were delighted and ready to welcome another child. My father, Hemendra Mohan Choudhury, was working as the manager of United Bank in the city of Mymensingh. At that time.. I am talking about the time before the Partition of India in 1947...there were very few people with a university degree of BA, and BL. Practising Law was a dream for many. But what I heard from my mother, although my father had the degree, he didn’t like the profession - he found too much manipulation and politics in a court-room. So he opted for a job with the bank, which was situated at the heart of the city. Our family started living upstairs in the same building. Till then, India was under British rule.
We had many acres of land in Banigram of Mymensingh District - my father’s two elder brothers - Surendra Mohan, and Mohendra Mohan - used to look after that property. We had a huge house on one acre of land, where our family lived peacefully with many extended relatives. There were ponds full of fish, there were orchards full of mangoes and jackfruits; they grew vegetables in their own land, there were paddy-fields, and there were betel-nut trees in rows. Women used to stay in the inner quarters, but our mothers and aunts managed to sell, via women in their village, those betel-nuts, and buy their favourite nick-nacks with that earning. That was their belonging and their privilege, men did not interfere with that transaction - they did not ask for a share or account of that money.
For looking after and harvesting the paddy-fields, my family hired a few men of subordinates, living in the same area in small huts with their families. Hindus and Muslims lived beside each other in that village, although the all-powerful landlords were all Hindus. There goes a saying - instructed by zamindars, tigers and cows drank water from the same river. That may not be true, but I know - if anyone walked past the door of Surendra mohan Choudhury, my father’s eldest brother, they were supposed to take off their shoes. Walking with shoes on in front of Surendra Choudhury, the landlord?! Never!
Surendra Mohan Choudhury, on the other hand, did not hesitate to give shelter to his people, if they were in distress. Once there was a big riot between Hindus and Muslims. The British Government had a hard time controlling and coping with it…people from surrounding villages were shivering with terror. Surendra Mohan Choudhury offered shelter to many villagers in his own land, and saved residents of five villages from terrible consequences. Later the villagers composed a song honouring him as their saviour and hero. The British Government appreciated his courage and bravery, and awarded him a rifle. The magazine “Prabashi” released a picture of him.
My mother, Probasini, got married when she was only thirteen, and my father was eighteen. My mother was born in a wealthy landlord family of Masua. My mother’s father, my grandfather, Kunjamohan Aich Bhowmick, had an elephant as a pet. And my grandmother was such a voracious reader that she had a library of her own. My mother was their eldest daughter, but she was not considered pretty in those days. She had beautiful eyes, and wonderful features, but she was not exactly petite, which was regarded as the norm of beauty. She was tall, and her skin-colour was dark. So she was not considered as attractive as a bride to be chosen. My father lost his parents when he was barely seven…so my mother’s wealthy parents found him as the groom for their daughter, and supported their son-in-law to get a degree from the university.
My mother was the eldest among her siblings, but after she got married, she was sent to live with her husband’s family in a village far away, and from then on, had very little contact with her own parents. That was the normal custom for women in those days, they almost forgot the family they were born into - one reason was the distance, the other was the expectations from the society. After they got married, women were regarded as part of their husband’s family…it didn't matter if they came from a rich, or a poor family…women used to accept their new family and their status as their fate.
Although my mother was not in touch with her parents, she inherited many artistic skills from her paternal family - no one could stop their daughter to carry those inherent talents nurtured with love. My mother’s culinary skills were incomparable - whoever had tasted her food once, had to come back again. Her desserts were sumptuous and famous - especially her sweets were a must for wedding presentations. My mother was an artist, she designed and sculpted her own moulds for sweets, literally, on stone or cement. Every year on the auspicious day of worshiping Goddess Lakshmi, neighbours and everyone around, used to wait to see her paintings on the floor, done skillfully and artistically with a paste of rice-flour and spices.
Her grandchildren stole pickles from her storage innumerable times. And, she had such a variety of pickles - probably of ten kinds; only of mangoes - green, ripe, hot, sweet, sour - all kinds possible. Other than mangoes, she used tamarind, and a variety of berries for making pickles…My mother used to hide those mouth-watering condiments in her puja-room…but very soon, miraculously, they would all be gone. Children used to rule the afternoons, they could not be stopped by restrictions .
Let me tell you about my childhood…about my brothers and sisters. My three sisters, and two brothers were born in Banigram, the village in Mymensingh district..me too. My siblings were all quite handsome, and light-skinned...my mother was dark, but my father was fair. My eldest sister, Putul, had such a light skin that people used to call her “memsahib (white woman)”. And my eldest brother, Sisir? He was as handsome as a Hollywood movie star! He was academically brilliant, and excellent in all kinds of sports as well. Brave, courageous, generous, kind, charming - he was the Dream Prince on horseback, who many girls used to swoon over. Even their parents sincerely wished Sisir married their daughters.
Anyway, that story comes later. Let me tell you the story of my birth. I was not light-skinned like my brothers and sisters. In those days, children were born at home. People did not go to hospitals for child-birth. All my mother’s children were born at home, in our ancestral home. The midwife used to arrive, when they were called. Same was happening when I was born. My mother had five children born at home…all were healthy, her sister-in-laws took care of them after birth, the same would happen this time.
But no, unfortunately the same did not happen. No one ever talked to me about my birth in detail, but I heard bits and pieces from my family-members. The midwife was shocked when she saw me after birth. This child didn’t look like a normal baby! They didn’t have electricity in their houses, but why were there dark spots all over the baby’s body? What are these spots...which did not go away even if cleaned! Midwife Myna had witnessed many births, never had experienced anything like this! She was so bewildered, she called the other women in the family - “can you come, Ladies, and have a look?”
My mother was exhausted, still she got up in shock - “What happened, Moyna? Do I have a girl?”
“Yes, you have a girl”.
“Then what happened? What are you talking about?”
Mayna kept quiet. She didn’t want to burden my mother, right after delivery, with more pain.
She said “You need to take a rest. We are taking care of the baby”.
My father, from outside the room, wanted to know how his wife was doing, and how the baby was doing. Nobody uttered a word about the abnormality. My mother’s eldest sister-in-law wiped her tears, and said “Yes, everything is fine”.
This is the story of my birth. My mother was sad, wept for a few days, perhaps for a few months. My father didn’t know how to comfort her, but I was healthy and normal in every other way - I was fed on mother’s milk, I moved my body like a normal baby. Everyone had this huge question about me - why did this happen to our baby-girl? Why was there such an abnormality in her skin? There was no answer, I was growing up like any other normal baby in my mother’s lap.
No one has actually narrated the story of my birth to me, but I heard from my relatives, even from the women who lived in the village - in bits and pieces from their conversations. When I was too young, three or four, I definitely didn’t notice why some people stared at me with questioning eyes, but after growing up, at six or seven, I started noticing. By that time, my parents, my siblings got used to the abnormalities of my skin, but neighbours were not. So, quite often, me or my mother, had to face these questions: “ What are those spots on Lakshmi’s body? Does she have those scars from her birth?’
Oh I am sorry, forgot to mention - my family called me “Lakshmi” - the goddess of wealth in Hinduism. Who named me like that? What for? Actually it was my father’s eldest brother, who won a huge legal battle on the day I was born, named me saying “Oh, she is our Lakshmi”. I had another official name - as many Bengalis used to have two names, official and a pet-name. My official name is “Namita”. But most people knew me as “Lakshmi” - the official name was used in schools, colleges, and much later, at the workplace. At home, I was only Lakshmi - the goddess who brings wealth and happiness to families!