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The Airforce Wives of Gorakhpur

The Airforce Wives of Gorakhpur
Mrs. Radha Krishna (my mother) with her friends, Mrs Puri and Mrs Roy. Gorakhpur. Uttar Pradesh. Circa 1965.

Mrs. Radha Krishna (my mother) with her friends, Mrs Puri and Mrs Roy. Gorakhpur. Uttar Pradesh. Circa 1965. Image and Narrative contributed by Kavita Krishna, USA. My Amma's (Mrs. Krishna) life has been what can easily be phrased as that of constant transformation, from a simple south Indian orthodox girl into a cosmopolitan fauji (military officer’s) wife. Her life saw so many moves and travels that it made her into an extremely adaptable and a flexible person. Everyone who knows her agrees that she is the epitome of, what was once a compliment, a secular Indian. My mother was born in Bandar or Machilipatnam in the then Madras State in1946 (now in Andhra Pradesh) into an orthodox Telugu Brahmins household. Where orthodoxy meant continuing the family's brahmin traditions but also possessing liberality of thought that helped her later in her fauji married life. Adjustments began with her family moving to Vijayawada and then to Nallakunta, Hyderabad in 1955; right in the middle of the Telangana agitation of 1954-56. She was just a school kid at Narayanguda Girls High School but remembers being teased as 'Gongura Gongura' by boys following in bicycles. Boys those days simply stalked you singing the latest songs but didn't do anything, she tells me. (Gongura, a sour green leaf Sorrel, is the staple diet in an Andhra household and belongs to the same family as Marijuana) For someone who dressed and spoke very conservatively in Hyderabad, Amma blossomed into a more cosmopolitan person enjoying the very popular shows on All India Radio like Vividh Bharati and Binaca Geetmala, she like millions of others also became into a huge fan of Ameen Sayani, AIR’s most famous talk show host ever. She would hog…

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Uncannily bonded to a famous grandfather I never knew

Uncannily bonded to a famous grandfather I never knew
(Left to Right) My grandfather Salil Chowdhury with my aunt Tulika, his sister Lily with my eldest aunt Aloka, and my grandmother Jyoti Chowdhury with my mother, Lipika. Bombay, Maharashta. Circa 1959

(Left to Right) My grandfather Salil Chowdhury with my aunt Tulika, his sister Lily with my eldest aunt Aloka, and my grandmother Jyoti Chowdhury with my mother, Lipika. Bombay, Maharashta. Circa 1959 Image and Narrative contributed by Aurina Chatterji, Mumbai / Toronto, Canada Even though he died when I was 12, I never really knew my grandfather, the famous music Director Salil Chowdhury. Bapi Dadu, as we called him, was an infrequent visitor at 16, Hillcrest, Perry Cross Road, Bandra. It was my grandmother, his wife's house, the site of almost daily family congregations. I never wondered why he didn't live in this house. Maybe it was because Bapi still occupied 16, Hill Crest like a benevolent ghost. The walls were plastered with his photographs, posters, awards. His songs drifted lazily from my grandmother's trusty companion, the radio transistor, the sound often muffled by pillows. I remember watching Bapi on Doordarshan, on one occasion talking to Asha Bhosle, on another - in the valorous yet invariably mangled Hindi of Bengalis - talking about Kishore Kumar. I remember numerous videos of him conducting a choir. I remember the twinkle in his eye, his proudly bald head and the way his hair always curled at his nape, begging for a hair cut. One day, in our Bapi-bedecked hall, my older cousin told me in conspiratorial tones that Bapi had another wife and he had other children and that is why he lived in Calcutta and that is why we rarely saw him. I don't remember being particularly affected. I do remember the puzzle pieces rapidly fitting into their places, but the complete picture, to me, was just a piece of delicious…

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A love story borne out of love for cinema

A love story borne out of love for cinema
My Father Jagdish and mother Usha at their wedding. Old Delhi. December 12, 1954.

My Father Jagdish and mother Usha at their wedding. Old Delhi. December 12, 1954. Image and Narrative contributed by Renu Shukla, Jaipur This picture is of mom Usha Sharma and my Dad Jagdishwar Nath Sharma right after their marriage ceremony on December 12, 1954. My mother at the time was only 15 years old & my father was 23.  He was the Assistant Commissioner with the Income Tax Department in Jaipur, Rajasthan and my mother was studying in 10th Standard. She completed her education after marriage. My mother Usha was exceptionally fond of movies and so was my father. He was studying Law (LLB) in Agra at the time and on a serendipitous day decided to visit his hometown, Ajmer, Rajasthan, for holidays along with some of his friends. Young blooded, the friends and he spontaneously made a detour to Delhi for a fun day & also to watch a movie. The latest movie at the time "Barsaat" had been running in Moti Mahal, a well known theatre at the time in Chandani Chowk, Old Delhi. Describing that fated day, my mother would tell us, that she too, along with her cousins, had landed up to watch the same movie and she noticed 'this strange boy in the front seat who would keep turning around to stare at her continuously!' She was into the movie, yet was beginning to get more and more annoyed with this shameless fellow whose stares were distracting her. So much so, that ultimately and in a huff the girls left  the theatre half way through the movie, cursing the boy away. What she did not know, was that the boys too left and followed the girls…

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His advise helped manifest one of India’s most famous songs

His advise helped manifest one of India’s most famous songs
My grand-aunt, RD Burman and my granduncle on the Burman Terrace, Calcutta, West Bengal. 1975

My grand-aunt, RD Burman and my granduncle on the Burman Terrace, Calcutta, West Bengal. 1975 Image and Narrative contributed by Anupam Mukerji, Mumbai This picture was photographed on the terrace of R.D Burman's home in Bombay.R.D Burman was one of India's finest Music composers of the Indian Film Industry. With him are my grand-uncle Nirmal Kumar Dasgupta and his wife Shukla.RD, whom he lovingly called Tublu, was the apple of my granduncle's eye. RD loved him back equally calling him Moni Dadu. R.D Burman's mother was my grand uncle's sister, technically a niece, but since they were closer in age the relationship was like a close sibling. In March of 1975, Moni Dadu and family were visiting R.D Burman. RD was busy recording the soundtrack for now India's biggest box office hit film ever, Sholay. On this morning, sitting on his terrace, RD was playing back for Moni Dadu the scratch recording (rough recording) of his now exceptionally famous song Mehbooba Mehbooba. He had been recording the song through the night. RD had recorded the song in his own voice, even though the final song was to be recorded in Kishore Kumar's. Liking what he had just heard, Moni Dadu advised RD to keep the song in his voice. As fate would have it, Moni Dadu's wish was granted. Kishore Kumar was late for the recording of Mehbooba Mehbooba and RD decided to record the song himself. As we say the rest is history. From the 1960s to the 1990s, R.D Burman composed scores for 331 movies and influenced a generation of Indian music directors. He would have been 73 today, on June 27, 2012.

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Indulging fantasy avatars at a photo studio

Indulging fantasy avatars at a photo studio
My mother, Mohini Goklani, Pune, Maharashtra. Circa 1950

My mother, Mohini Goklani, Pune, Maharashtra. Circa 1950 Image and Narrative contributed by Sunita Kripalani, Goa In 1947, after partition, when my grandfather Nanikram Goklani and his wife Khemi migrated to India, along with their extended family from Karachi, Pakistan, they settled in Pune, Maharashtra with their 9 children. My mother Mohini, second of seven sisters, was just 16 at that time. Grandpa got a job in the Income Tax department and although times were tough, my grandfather made sure all the children received excellent education. My mother and her older sister Sheela went to Nowrosjee Wadia College and my grandfather managed to procure admission for some of the younger children in reputed schools such as Sardar Dastur Hoshang Boys’ High School, and St. Helena’s School for Girls. The children studied well, they were voracious readers, and led a simple life. During the 1950s, the sisters were well versed in household skills, especially the art of stitching and embroidery. They fashioned their own clothes, copying designs from magazines and the displays in the shop windows of Main Street. At home however, they maintained decorum and modesty, but ever so often, Duru, my mother’s younger sister, would coax her to go with her to a photo studio on Main Street called The Art Gallery to get their photographs taken. Duru would pack all kinds of stuff for both of them: ties and beads, scarves and skirts, hats and belts, not to forget some make-up, and the two of them would mount their bicycles and head for the studio where they indulged their fantasies, using studio props and their own accessories. In the picture my mother is wearing “Awara pants”, a style made…

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