My mother, Nirmala Devi, was born on a"Kumar Purnima" day in October 1914. Her family was of old aristocracy (Zamindars) of the area and were known for their benevolence. When she was born, the 'zamindari' had already been usurped long ago by Calcutta based touts who had manipulated non deposit of 'zamindari Royality' by her ancestors to the British government then ruling India. Thus, subsequent pro genies had to fall back on income from landed property or join government service. My maternal grandfather had joined the postal department to augment his income that he was having from the landed properties at his village. For a better part of his service he was based at Cuttack where from he had retired as Post-Master of Cuttack's "Chandini Chowk" post office. Thus, my mother spent most of her early life between village 'Balipadia' and Cuttack town.
Being the youngest and only daughter, her parents gave her abundant love and complete freedom right from childhood. During those days freedom to girls or their education were more a misnomer which, the then conservative society, could hardly tolerate. Because of grandfather's social standing none in the village could raise their voice and mother merrily enjoyed her childhood! Initially she went to the village school but later she completed her education (up to class VII only) at Cuttack. During this time the paternal love & freedom made her more like a tom-boy. She used to climb up the trees to pluck fruits and berries. This was real embarrassment for the village elders who had to shut their mouth per force! This habit my mother carried even till early days of her marriage.
In keeping with the tradition of the time, mother was married off at the age of 16 in the year 1930. She had to move to the official residence of my father. The house was located within the compound of 'Lalbagh Police Station' at Cuttack where my father had the posting. Near this house there was a fruit tree locally known as "Jamunrole". It bore lot of fruits and was a primary attraction for mother who was but a little girl at heart. This tree was her prime target for the climbing act and she forgot that she was married and was supposed to behave more like a docile bride! A lot of persistent persuasion from my father and her parents finally made her relent to drop her tree climbing act.
My elder sister was born in 1931 and, in 1933 mother gave birth to a son who survived only for a few months. There was radical change in my mother after the death of this son. She became highly religious although she could not shed her quicksilver temper that remained a part of her till she was alive. I was born in February 1935 after a lot of prayer & offering by my parents to the ruling deity of Cuttack (goddess CHANDI) and was named as her servant! In October 1939, my second sister was born; my younger brother was born in1941 where as, in April 1944, my mother gave birth to my youngest sister.
During 1983, at the age of 69, she lost my father. During 1990, when mother was 76, my elder sister also died. Thus ended an era of grieving for mother as she could never reconcile with the abnormality of her eldest child who had become her prime responsibility after father's death.
During 1983, at the age of 69, she lost my father. During 1990, when mother was 76, my elder sister also died. Thus ended an era of grieving for mother as she could never reconcile with the abnormality of her eldest child who had become her prime responsibility after father's death.
Mother had abundant love for her family. She was very possessive of her children. She was also very possessive of my father; at times this was such that it bordered embarrassment in gatherings having ladies! However her heart was clean and she lived only for her family. She avoided mixing with people, even distant relatives; this made us highly unsocial. The reason for this may be that she married at an unripe age and, therefore, always felt insecure in spite of her loving, adoring and faithful husband. She was a perfect housewife and an excellent home maker. Her main pleasure was in taking care of her family. My father was an upright and honest police officer whose only income used to be his salary which was not enough to make life comfortable in relative terms. To manage the household with that money and, never to make us children feel uncomfortable at any time, was nothing short of a miracle. But my mother used to make that miracle happen day in and day out throughout her life. She was a true companion of my father in this game of life.
The culinary art of my mother had no limitations. The dishes and the cuisine, that had the deft touch of her hand, were so good in taste that none could compete. The varieties of dishes, different type of "Oriya cakes" etc that she used to make had such taste and flavour that I have yet to get a match. When all of us grew up and went to schools, colleges and universities, the festive days like Durga Puja, Sambar Dashmi etc were eagerly awaited by all of us for gobbling up her special preparations during these festivities.
Like father, she was always concerned about my eldest sister who had been mentally affected due to an accident when she was 17. But all the children got equal love and affection from both the parents. With the passing of time, the other four children got married and settled in life. After father's retirement in 1958, mother moved with father and all children to our newly constructed bungalow at Cuttack. From this house, arrangement for the marriages of rest of the four children were solemnised. Death also visited my parents and my elder sister at this house,
After the death of my father in 1983, I tried my best to persuade her to come and live with me at New Delhi; she never agreed to leave the Cuttack home where she had all her memories etched. She left her mortal frame in the year 2000 at the age of 86. Let her soul rest in peace!
In her memory I had penned a few lines in the form of a poem that is part of my book "Bouquet of Wild Flowers". The poem is reproduced below:
My Mother
Holding your finger I learnt to walk
Your voice inspired me to talk;
Seeing sweet smile in your face
My childhood basked in solace.
You wiped my tears drove fears away
Your look at me gave the strength;
Passage of time unable to destroy
Remembrance of dear mother's faith.
Times tyranny hasn't diminished
Memories of your affection for me;
Love and goodwill immortalized
Can not vanish with the tide in time.
Sadly I recall your persistent denial
To favour me with the welcome stay;
Agreed not for the place of duty's call
Efforts failed to put objections away.
I missed your talk, smile and patience
Children missed your loving company,
Wife was depressed at your abscence
Life was an opera without symphony!
Work and life's varied responsibility
Kept me away, Mom couldn't come,
Late Dad's wish I failed to fructify
As she refused to leave her home.
Year after year continued to roll
Only on few visits I could see her,
With pleasure the tears would fall
Attachment for Mom grew further.
A sever cyclone once beat our town
My presence was her consolation,
Storm awaiting her life then unknown
I bid her adieu unaware of transition.
In a few months her end appeared sure
I had to return to the ancestral home,
Saw her in bed full of body sore
She looked and gave sign of welcome.
The physical pain in her last few days
She borne out with heroic grace,
In pain I watched life's flickering rays
She could hold my hand only in trance.
She could not feel the tears I shed
Spirit was passing her sorrowing son;
Grieving all as mother lies dead
The task for the funeral has begun.
Flames consuming her mortal frame
I looked at the sacred shores of the sea,
In mind's eye the childhood came
Vision of sweet memories to flee;
The memory reminds of thy kindness
You cocoon the child from the harm,
Times good and bad were priceless
Your teachings made the life warm;
Constant flow of love from your end
Never stopped for any gifts return,
I see your face at life's every bend
Without you I feel lost and forlorn.
Your august soul rest in eternal peace
Remembrance of you fills all with joy;
Oh sweet angel you look at our face
Find us lost in pain and angers foray.
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