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My foster father, my glorious friend, Rathindra Nath Tagore

My foster father, my glorious friend, Rathindra Nath Tagore
My foster father Rathindra Nath Tagore, with his father Rabindra Nath Tagore. Calcutta. (West Bengal) Circa 1935.

My foster father Rathindra Nath Tagore, with his father Rabindra Nath Tagore. Calcutta. (West Bengal) Circa 1935. Image & Narrative contributed by Jayabrato Chatterjee, Kolkata My earliest memories were borne back in Dehradun (now in Uttarakhand), where I spent my childhood with my mother, Meera Chatterjee, my maternal grandmother, Kamala Bisi and my Jethu, Rathi Jethu (Bengali term for father's elder brother), Rathindra Nath Tagore. Jethu was Rabindra Nath Tagore’s second child & eldest son. Those were the first eleven and most impressionable years of my childhood. I still remember the rattle of the Dehradun Express that would carry us back to our home in the valley, away from the bustle and noise of Calcutta (now Kolkata). Jethu had left his home in Calcutta to come and live in Dehradun with my family. It was Jethu, who had allotted me a garden patch in Mitali, our home at 189/A Rajpur Road, Dehradun and asked me to tend it with care. He even bought me gardening tools, a pair of sears and a watering can. And as I had held his finger tightly, he had led me through the nursery, pointing out names of flowers usually associated with an English garden – Phlox, Larkspurs, Hollyhocks, Ladies lace, Nasturtium, Sweet-peas, Crocuses, Azaleas and Narcissi. Mitali our home was sheltered by the Himalayas, by the Shivalik ranges that were a riot of Mary Palmers, Crimson hibiscuses and sprawling lawns flanked by flower beds down five cobbled steps. I remember watching the shooting stars that raced across the sky at twilight. Mitali was Ochre in colour, with six large bedrooms, two kitchens, garages, servants’ quarters and a tin shed near the Mango and Lichi orchards where…

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“I am American, I live in Australia, but India was my true home”

“I am American, I live in Australia, but India was my true home”
My friends, Jeff Rumph, Martyn Nicholls, and I (centre) with my father my father, Rudolph Rabe (right). Dehradun, Uttar Pradesh (now Uttaranchal). June 1975

My friends, Jeff Rumph, Martyn Nicholls, and I (centre) with my father my father, Rudolph Rabe (right). Dehradun, Uttar Pradesh (now Uttaranchal). June 1975 Image and Narrative contributed by Nate Rabe, Melbourne. Australia This photograph was taken outside the Kwality's Restaurant in Dehradun in 1975. My friends (from left) Jeff Rumph, myself, Martyn Nicholls had all graduated from Woodstock School, Mussoorie just a couple of days earlier and we were about to embark upon a Himalayan trek before we left India. My father, Rudolph Rabe, (pictured on the far right) and Martyn's father accompanied us on the trek to Kedarnath (revered Hindu holy town). My parents came to India in 1952 as educational missionaries. My sister and I were both born in Karnataka (southern India) but we had been living in Allahabad, Uttar Pradesh (northern India) since 1964. Like most western children in India, I attended a boarding school in the hills; in my case, Woodstock in Mussoorie. We had grown up in India and I certainly felt as much an Indian as the little Indian boy looking at the camera. While I was excited about the trek I was acutely sad that I would soon have to bid India, the land of my birth and so many happy memories, farewell and even though I had an American passport I did not feel any affinity with USA whatsoever. At the time, Jeff Rumph's parents were stationed in Bangladesh as engineers working on a major infrastructure project. He now is now a Osteopath and lives in Colorado. Martyn, with the gumcha (casual head gear) on his head, has been a very successful banker, wine grower and entrepreneur. He now lives between New Zealand…

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Leaving everything behind in Scotland to an unknown future in India

Leaving everything behind in Scotland to an unknown future in India
My Gradndmother, Sydney Gorrie, on her wedding day. Lahore (now Pakistan). December 1923

My Grandmother, Sydney Gorrie, on her wedding day. Lahore (now Pakistan). December 1923 Image and Narrative contributed by Janet MacLeod Trotter, UK This is a photo of my Scottish maternal grandmother, Sydney Gorrie (nee Easterbrook) on her wedding day in December 1923. She and my grandfather, Robert Gorrie, were married in a cathedral in Lahore (now Pakistan). She looks beautiful but perhaps to me, also slightly apprehensive. This may be because she hadn’t seen her fiancé in over a year and had just travelled out by ship with her parents from Edinburgh, Scotland to get married. For some time their home was in Lahore (now Pakistan) which my grandmother enjoyed. Robert Gorrie fondly called Bob, a veteran of the World War I and survivor of trench warfare, had secured a job with the Indian Forestry Service, as a conservator of forests. Sydney was an only child and had left behind home and extended family in Edinburgh, Scotland for an unknown future trekking around the Himalayan foothills with her new husband. Bob was enthusiastic about trees and conservation and became an expert on soil erosion. He worked all over Punjab and the remote foothills of the Himalayas, and my grandmother would have to plan and organise camping trips for a month or so at a time. When my mother was born, she was taken along too; her pram hoisted onto poles and carried along jungle paths. According to his Work Records, Scottish Bob was “a tiger for work” but was impatient with the bureaucracy and criticised for being outspoken. My granny would sigh that she was constantly having to ‘smooth the ruffled feathers’ of the administrators. He was also based at…

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